Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)

by Simon R. Green

  Hawk and Burns hung around the Constables’ cloakroom for a while, but it soon became clear that the Constables were uneasy in their company and had nothing to say. The Forensic Laboratory was up to its eyes in work, as usual, and the technicians were all too busy to talk. Vice, Forgery, and Confidence Tricks were all evasive and occasionally openly obstructive. Hawk had his enemies in the Guard, and some saw this as their chance to attack while he was vulnerable. Hawk just kept on smiling, and made a note of certain names for later.

  Of all the departments, the Murder Squad turned out to be the most forthcoming—probably because no one was going to tell any of its members who they could and couldn’t talk to. They were the toughest of the tough, took no nonsense from anyone, and didn’t care who knew it. Unfortunately, what they knew wasn’t really worth the telling. The crates of super-chacal had been taken down to the storage cellars, and signed in, all according to procedure. But when the time came to check the contents, there was no sign of the crates anywhere. Everyone in Stores swore blind that no one could have got to the drugs without breaking Stores’ security, and all the wards and protections were still in place, undisturbed. Which meant it had to be an inside job. Someone in Stores had been got at. But when the Stores personnel were tested under truthspell, they all came out clean as a whistle. So whoever took the drugs had to be someone fairly high up in the Guard, with access to the right keys and passwords. Hawk mentioned the possibility of a Captain on the take. There was a lot of shrugging and sideways glances, but no one would admit to knowing anything definite. Hawk thanked them for their time, and left.

  That just left the Drug Squad, but as Hawk expected, no one there would talk to him. They were already under suspicion themselves, and weren’t about to make things worse by helping a pariah like Hawk. He nodded politely to the silent room, and then he and Burns left to do some hard thinking. They found an empty office, barricaded the door to keep out unwelcome visitors, and sat down with their feet propped up on either side of the desk.

  “The more I learn, the less this case makes sense,” said Hawk disgustedly. “There’s no way anyone could have got those crates out of Stores without somebody noticing, passwords or no passwords. I mean, you’d have needed at least half a dozen people just to shift that many crates. Someone in Stores has got to be lying.”

  “But they all passed the truthspell.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s possible to beat the truthspell, if you know what you’re doing.”

  “It could have been sorcery of some kind,” said Burns. “Morgan had one sorcerer working for him in that factory; who’s to say he doesn’t have another one working for him?”

  “Could be,” said Hawk. “Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Did you see their faces in the Drug Squad? I know those people. I’ve worked with practically everyone in that room at one time or another, and they looked at me like I was a stranger. It was the same with all the others; they don’t trust me anymore, and the fact of the matter is, I don’t trust them either. I don’t know who to trust anymore. You heard what Intelligence said; it isn’t just a Captain who’s on the take, it’s a well-respected Captain. There aren’t too many of those.”

  “Maybe we should go talk to Commander Glen.”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  Burns looked at him. “Are you saying you don’t trust Glen either? He’s the one who gave you this brief, told you to find out what’s going on!”

  “He’s also the one who let Morgan go. And it’s clear there’s been a lot of pressure coming down from Above to keep people quiet. What better way to conceal a potentially embarrassing investigation than to be the one who set it up?”

  “But why would someone like Glen bother about a few missing drugs?”

  “He wouldn’t. More and more it seems to me the drugs are only a part of this. Something else is going on, something so big they can’t afford for it to come to light.”

  “They?” said Burns.

  Hawk shrugged. “Who knows how far up the corruption goes? Why stop at a Captain or a Commander? Morgan said there was a lot of money to be made out of this super-chacal. Millions of ducats. And don’t forget, most of the top people in the Guard are political appointees, and there’s a damn sight more corruption in politics than there ever was in the Guard.”

  “Hawk,” said Burns carefully, “this is starting to sound very paranoid. We’re going to need an awful lot of hard evidence if we’re to convince anyone else.”

  “We can’t go to anyone else. We’re all alone now. We can’t trust anyone—not our colleagues, not our superiors, not our friends. Anyone could be working for the other side.” Hawk hesitated, and looked intently at Burns. “You know, you don’t have to stay with me on this. When I asked you to be my partner, I didn’t know what we were getting into. There’s still time for you to get out, if you want. Things could get very nasty very quickly once I start pushing this.”

  Burns smiled. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Especially not now the case is getting so interesting. I’m not convinced about this massive conspiracy of yours, but there’s no doubt something fascinating is going on. I’m with you all the way, until we break the case or it breaks us. Morgan’s people killed my partner. I can’t turn my back on that. So, what’s our next step?”

  “There’s only one place we can go,” said Hawk slowly. “The Guard Advisory Council.”

  Burns gaped at him for a moment. “You’ve got to be kidding! They’re just a bunch of businessmen, Guard retirees and idealistic Quality who like to see themselves as a buffer between the Guard and the Council’s politics. They mean well, but they’re about as much use as a chocolate teapot. I mean, they’re very free with their advice, but they don’t have any real power. They’re mostly just public relations. How can they help us?”

  “They’re all people in a position to have a finger on the pulse of what’s happening in Haven. And just maybe they’re divorced enough from both Guard and Council not to be tainted by the present corruption. Maybe we can get some answers there we won’t get anywhere else. It’s worth a try.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” Burns hesitated a moment. “Hawk, this Captain who’s working for Morgan. What if it turns out to be someone we know? Maybe even a friend?”

  “We do whatever’s necessary,” said Hawk flatly. “Whoever it is.”

  Burns looked as though he was going to say something more, and then both he and Hawk jumped as someone knocked briskly on the office door. They both took their feet off the desk, and glanced at each other.

  “Captain Hawk?” said a voice from outside. “I have a message for you.”

  “How did he know where to find me?” said Hawk quietly. “No one’s supposed to know where we are.”

  “What do we do?” said Burns.

  “Answer him, I suppose.” Hawk got up and walked over to the barricaded door. “What do you want?”

  “Captain Hawk? I have a message for you, sir. I’m supposed to deliver it in person.”

  Hawk hesitated, and then shrugged. He pulled away the chairs holding the door shut, drew his axe, and opened the door. A Guard Constable looked at him, and the axe, and nodded respectfully.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Captain. It’s about the child you rescued from under the collapsed tenement. The little girl.”

  “I remember her,” said Hawk. “Has there been some improvement in her condition?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. She’s dead. I’m told she never regained consciousness.”

  “I see. Thank you.” The Constable nodded and walked away. Hawk closed the door. “Damn. Oh damn.”

  Out in the corridor, the Constable smiled to himself. The news had obviously shaken Hawk badly. And anything that slowed Hawk down had to be good for Morgan and his backers. The Constable strode off down the corridor, patting the full purse at his belt and whistling cheerfully.

  5

  Under Siege

  Fisher peered out t
he study window, chewing thoughtfully on a chicken leg she’d liberated from the delegates’ lunch time snack after they’d disappeared back into the pocket dimension. She’d spent the last half hour checking out the house security and searching for weak spots, but she had to admit ap Owen seemed to know what he was doing. Every door and window had locks or bolts or both, and they were all securely fastened. There were men-at-arms in servants’ livery on every floor, making their rounds at random intervals so as not to fall into a predictable routine. Routines could be taken advantage of. There were caches of weapons stashed all over the house, carefully out of sight but still ready to hand in an emergency. Outside, the grounds were a security man’s dream. All the approaches were wide open—nowhere for anyone to hide—and the thick covering of snow made the lawns impossible to cross without leaving obvious tracks.

  All in all, everything was calm and peaceful, and showed every sign of staying that way. Which was probably why Fisher was so bored. Ap Owen’s people seemed to regard her as an outsider, and her appointment as some kind of negative appraisal of their own abilities. As a result, none of them were talking to her. Ap Owen himself seemed friendly enough, but it was clear he was the worrying type, constantly on the move, checking that everything was running smoothly. Fisher wandered aimlessly around for a while, committing the layout of the house to memory and trying to get the feel of the place.

  It was an old house, creaking and groaning under the weight of the winter cold, with a somewhat erratic design. There were rooms within rooms and corridors that led nowhere, and shadows in unexpected places. But everything that could be done to make the house secure had been done, and Fisher couldn’t fault ap Owen’s work. She should have felt entirely safe and protected, and it came as something of a surprise to her to find that she didn’t. Deep down inside, where her instincts lived, she couldn’t shake off the feeling she—and everyone else in the house—was in danger. No doubt part of that uneasiness came from knowing there was a pocket dimension nearby. After what had happened in the Hook she was more than a little leery of such magic, for all of ap Owen’s reassurances. But more than that, she had a strong feeling of being watched, of being under siege. She had only to look out of a window to feel the pressure of unseen watching eyes, as though somewhere outside a cold professional gaze was studying her dispassionately. and considering options.

  And so she’d ended up back in the study, staring out the wide window at the bare, innocent lawns and wondering if she was finally getting paranoid. Ap Owen acted as if he was expecting an attack at any moment, and she was beginning to understand why. There was a definite feeling of anticipation in the air, of something irrevocable edging closer; as though her instincts were trying to warn her of something her mind hadn’t noticed yet. She threw aside her chicken leg, turned her back on the window defiantly, and looked around for something to distract her. Unfortunately, the study was briskly austere, with the bare minimum of chairs and a plain writing table. Bookshelves lined two of the walls, but their leather-bound volumes had a no-nonsense, businesslike look to them. There was one portrait, on the wall behind the desk, its subject a straight-backed, grim-faced man who apparently hadn’t approved of such frivolities as having your portrait painted. The study had clearly been intended as a room for working, not relaxing.

  Fisher leafed through some of the papers on the desk, but ap Owen’s handwriting was so bad they might have been written in code for all she could tell. She looked thoughtfully at the wine decanters left over from the delegates’ break, and then looked away. She’d been drinking too much of late. So had Hawk. Haven did that to you.

  There was a definite crawling on the back of Fisher’s neck, and she strode back to the window and glared out at the featureless scene again. The snow-covered lawns stretched away before her, vast and unmarked. There were no trees or hedges, nothing to hide behind. Everything was quiet. Fisher yawned suddenly, and didn’t bother to cover her mouth. She’d been hoping to snatch a couple of hours’ sleep here, but it seemed her nerves were determined to keep her restless and alert. She almost wished that someone would attack, just to get it over with.

  She started to turn away from the window, and then stopped, startled, and looked quickly back again. The wide open lawns were empty and undisturbed; no one was there. But for a moment she could have sworn... It came again, a sudden movement tugging at the edge of her vision. She looked quickly back and forth. and pounded her fist on the windowsill in frustration. There couldn’t be anyone out there. Even if they were invisible, they’d still leave tracks in the snow. Things moved at the corner of her eyes, teasing her with glimpses of shapes and movement that refused to come clear. She backed slowly away from the window and drew her sword. Something was happening out there. There was a sound behind her and she spun round, dropping into a fighter’s crouch. Ap Owen raised an eyebrow, and she flushed angrily as she straightened up.

  “Dammit, don’t do that! Come and take a look, ap Owen. Something’s going on outside.”

  “I know. Half my people are giving themselves eyestrain trying to get a clear look at it.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “I have a very nasty suspicion,” said ap Owen, moving over to join her before the window. “I think there’s someone out there, hiding behind an illusion spell. It must be pretty powerful to hide his trail as well, but as he gets closer to the house the protective wards are interfering with the spell, giving us glimpses of what it’s hiding.”

  “You think it’s just one man?”

  “Not really, no. Just wishful thinking. I’ve put my people on full alert, just in case.”

  “Does whoever’s out there know we’ve spotted something?”

  “Beats me. But they haven’t tried anything yet, which suggests they still trust in the illusion to hide their true strength.”

  Fisher scowled out the window, and hefted her sword restlessly. “All right, what do we do?”

  “Wait for them to come to us. Let’s see if they can even get in here before we start panicking. After all, it would need a bloody army to take this house by force.”

  There was a sudden, vertiginous snap and the world jerked sideways and back again, as the house’s wards finally broke down the illusion spell and showed what lay behind it. The wide lawns were covered with armed men, and more were pouring through the open gates. Dressed in nondescript furs and leathers. they advanced on the house in a calm, professional way. Fisher swore respectfully. There had to be at least two hundred men out there.

  The four marble statues had come alive, and were cutting a bloody path through the invaders. They were coldly efficient and totally unstoppable, but were hard put to make any impression on so many invaders. Half a dozen guard dogs blinked in and out of existence as they threw themselves at the intruders, leaping and snapping and now and again tearing at a man on the ground, but again there were simply too few of them to make any real difference. No one had expected or planned for an invasion on such a scale as this.

  “I don’t want to disillusion you. ap Owen,” said Fisher grimly, “but it looks to me like they’ve got a bloody army. We are in serious trouble.”

  “You could well be right. From the look of them, they’re mercenaries.” He yelled something out the study door, and four footmen burst in, each carrying a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Ap Owen grinned at Fisher. “They don’t have much use for bows in the Guard, but I’ve always believed in them. You can do a lot of damage with a few bowmen who know what they’re doing.”

  “No argument from me,” said Fisher. “I’ve seen what longbows can do.”

  The footmen set up before the window, pulling off their long frock coats to give them more freedom of movement. Fisher and ap Owen struggled with the bolts that held the window shut, until Fisher lost her temper and smashed the glass with the hilt of her sword. Ap Owen threw the window open and stepped back to let the archers take up their position. Bitter cold streamed in from outside, and the archers narrowed their eyes ag
ainst the glare of the snow. The attacking force realised the grounds were no longer hidden behind the illusion spell, and ran towards the house, howling a dissonant mixture of war cries and chants. Sunlight flashed on swords and axes and morningstars. Fisher couldn’t even guess how many attackers there were anymore. The archers drew back and released their bowstrings in a single fluid movement, and four of the attackers were thrown backwards with arrows jutting from their bodies. Their blood was vividly red on the snow. The archers let fly again and again, punching holes in the attacking force, but they just kept coming, ignoring their dead and wounded.

  “They’re professionals, all right,” said ap Owen calmly. “Mercenaries. Could be working for any number of people. Whoever it is must want us shut down really badly. An army that size doesn’t come cheap. I didn’t think there were that many mercenaries for hire left in Haven.”

  “How long before reinforcements can get here?” said Fisher tightly.

  “There aren’t going to be any,” said ap Owen. “We’re on our own. Low profile, remember? Officially, no one knows we’re here.”

  “And we’re expendable,” said Fisher.

  “Right. We either win this one ourselves, or we don’t win it at all. What’s the matter, don’t you like a challenge?”

  Fisher growled something under her breath. The first handful of mercenaries to reach the window ducked under the flight of arrows and clambered up onto the windowsill. The archers threw aside their bows and grabbed for their swords. Fisher thought briefly of the door behind her. She didn’t believe in suicide missions. On the other hand, she didn’t believe in running, either. She moved quickly forward to join ap Owen and the archers, and together they threw the first mercenaries back in a flurry of blood and gore. More of the attackers crowded in to take their place. The war cries and chants were almost deafening at close range. Fisher glanced at ap Owen, saw him palm a pill from a small bottle, and swallow it. He caught her gaze and smiled.