Following the gendarmes (who were, indeed, the `bandit hunters' of Irapuato) at about fifty yards distance, Jacuzzi and his companion reached the harbor police station. The prisoners were divided at that point: four were herded on, while the team leader personally took Tangorn and the mountain man chained to him (Ras-Shua had already identified him as one Chekorello, Sarrakesh's nephew twice removed) into the station. After waiting fifteen minutes for propriety's sake, Jacuzzi went inside, too. When the guard attempted to stop two ragged beggars, he showed him a police commissar's badge (he had plenty of badges on his person, from Admiralty flag captain's to a customs inspector's -- the important part was not to mix them up) and drily ordered him to take them to the local chief.
"Commissar Rahmajanian," he introduced himself once in the chief's office. Its occupant, a mussed-looking fat man with hanging jowls who looked like a caricature of a police chief come alive, made a not-entirely-successful attempt to pry his expansive backside out of the chair and greet his visitor: "Senior Inspector Jezin. Have a seat, Commissar. How can I help you? Is the girl from your staff, by the way?"
"Certainly." Fay's disguise had not fooled Jezin for even a second. A bunch of clues had already led Jacuzzi to conclude that the chief was, on the one hand, sufficiently perceptive (which was not surprising, given that the harbor station was a real gold mine, with plenty of contenders for that plum post), and, on other hand, simple and straightforward: for example, his table sported an unopened bottle of Elvish wine, which would have cost him about three months' salary in the Elfstone store on the Three Stars Embankment. Way too brazen, Jacuzzi thought sadly. Fortunately, keeping police noses clean was not part of DSD's duties.
"About half an hour ago two arrested mountain men were supposed to be delivered here..." he began, but the Senior Inspector protested vigorously: "You're mistaken, Commissar, no prisoner deliveries here for the past couple of hours!"
This was so unexpected that Jacuzzi tried to explain to the fat man that arguing was useless, since it all happened in his plain sight.
"You must've been hallucinating, Commissar," the man answered impudently, signaling the guard at the door. "The Corporal here will attest: we have no mountain men detained here and never had!"
Jacuzzi shook his head sorrowfully: "We're misunderstood here, girl." This was a code phrase. The next moment Fay stabbed the corporal in the base of the neck, straight between the clavicles, with her suddenly steel-like index finger; a second later the thick office door was locked from the inside, cutting the Senior Inspector off from his subordinates in the corridor. Meanwhile, Jacuzzi intercepted Jezin's hand, which was going towards the nearest weapon, and with a single twist of the wrist made him collapse into the chair, choking on a scream. Looking around, the Vice-Director of Operations broke off the Elvish bottle's neck with the edge of his palm and dumped its precious contents on the policeman's head and neck; once the man came to, Jacuzzi pulled him up by the collar and asked with all possible fondness: "Where're the prisoners?"
The fat man shook and sweated, but remained silent. Having no time to spare -- at any moment someone might start breaking down the door -- Jacuzzi made his proposition short and to the point: "Ten seconds to think about it. Then I'll start counting to five, breaking a finger at each count. On the count of six I'll cut your throat with this razor. Look in my eyes -- do I look like I'm joking?"
"You're from the Secret Service, right?" the Senior Inspector mumbled mournfully, gray with terror. It was clear as day that he had not earned his stripes capturing criminals in the Kharmian Village slums.
"Six seconds gone. Well?"
"I'll tell you everything I know! They ordered me to let them go..."
"Ordered?" Jacuzzi felt the floor drop out from under him; there was a revolting feeling of freefall in his stomach.
"They're men of the King of Gondor, from his Secret Guard. They were on a secret mission in the Peninsula, but the mountain men figured them out and were about to execute them. They managed to escape to Irapuato through the woods, made contact with the city gendarmes who're looking for Uanako there, and ordered their commander to evacuate them to the city as prisoners... Here at the station they told me to get them some clothes and let them out by the back door. They also said," the man cringed pitifully, "that if I told anyone about this, they'd find me anywhere, even in the Far West... I understand that legally the Secret Guard of Gondor has no authority here, but... you know?"
"What made you think that they're Aragorn's men?"
"One of them is obviously a Northerner from Gondor, and he presented a Secret Guard sergeant's badge..."
"Sergeant Morimir or Sergeant Aravan..." Jacuzzi muttered, not recognizing his own voice. What bout of insanity could have made him forget the badges Tangorn got from his raid on 4 Lamp Street?!
"Yes, sir, Sergeant Morimir! So you know these people?"
"Yes, better than I'd like to. When this Morimir changed clothes, have you noticed whether he had anything in his pockets?"
"Just money, nothing else."
"How much?"
"About ten castamirs and change."
"What kind of clothes did you give them?"
The Vice-Director for Operations nodded mechanically while Jezin described the rags he obligingly gave to his important guests in minute detail, paying only minimal attention -- this information was nearly useless. Ten castamirs... He turned to Fay.
"Leave right now through the same exit they've used. Eruko's store is to the left, towards the Ring Canal. It's possible that they will buy new clothes there: it's not cheap, but ten castamirs should be enough. If not, continue along the bank..."
"To the Flea Market?"
"Correct. Right now they badly need to change clothes, and soon -- it's our only chance. Move."
He sat down heavily on the low stone wall by the entrance to the police station and stretched out a hand without looking. Ras-Shua, sitting down by his side, immediately put a flask of rum in his hand; Jacuzzi took a couple of swigs and stared fixedly at the setting sun. His head was achingly empty. Sure, they'll pick up Tangorn's trail eventually, but that won't save him: Almandin's deadline is in an hour. He felt no animosity towards the baron: the man played by the rules.
"I got them, chief!" Suddenly, a beaming Fay appeared before him, looking happy and winded -- apparently, she ran all the way. "They've changed at Eruko's, just like you said, and then went straight into the Seamen Credit Bank next door!" It could not be, but there it was. It looked like today Fate undertook a pointed demonstration of how little our efforts and skills mean compared to her whims. After all, he thought as he hurried after Fay towards the Seamen Bank (the girl had prudently engaged three street urchins to watch the place), after all it looks like I got away with a scare, whereas the baron is really unlucky today: he's doing everything first-rate, good enough to include in the Operations Manual, and still...
By the time Tangorn and Chekorello left the bank, dressed now with understated luxury, the DSD's finks have woven an unbreakable web around them. The friends embraced three times in the mountain fashion and then went their separate ways. The reason for the visit to the bank became clear as soon as one of the operatives, who had superb pick-pocketing skills, detected by touch that Chekorello was now "brimming with coin like a September trout with eggs." Jacuzzi ordered everyone to forget the mountain man -- let him go in peace -- and concentrate on following Tangorn. Just then reinforcements showed up (an observation team), and the baron's chances of escaping surveillance became nil: no lone individual can beat an organization, provided it is a halfway decent one. Tangorn spent the next two hours cruising around the city expertly and flamboyantly -- melting into market crowds, hiding out in empty echoing open-ended courtyards, suddenly jumping into gondolas for hire -- but utterly failing to either lose or even spot the surveillance. Unlike the Gondorian spies, DSD professionals were of the highest caliber. Only once did the Higher Powers warn Jacuzzi (who had calmed down and was now hanging back like
a mobile headquarters of the operations) that he should not relax prematurely. Observers reported that the baron, having carefully checked his surroundings, had entered the Green Mackerel restaurant; should they follow him inside and risk detection or simply wait outside?
"Is the back of the restaurant covered?" Jacuzzi asked for formality's sake. The operative paled and swallowed convulsively.
"Holy crap!" the Vice-Director roared, once again experiencing freefall in his stomach.
"Don't you know that the damn Mackerel's restroom window is large enough to push a boar through? I'll fire the whole damn lot of you idiots!"
While saying that Jacuzzi had time to think that if Tangorn had indeed spotted them and had already ducked into that restroom, then he, at least, won't be doing any firing... But the scare blew over: it turned out that the baron was having a proper dinner in a private room with two gentlemen, one of whom the operatives identified as the missing Junior Secretary Algali.
Chapter 52
Umbar, the Green Mackerel restaurant
June 27, 3019
"By the way, how did that story with your cousin's broken engagement end up?" Tangorn asked nonchalantly once the meal was over and Algali had left them for the common room at his companion's barely discernible gesture.
"Nothing much; I suppose that Lin el is already seeing someone else. By the way, if you expect to impress me with your knowledge of L rien's high society gossip, then the effect is rather the reverse: this bit of news is really stale."
Score one for me, Tangorn thought, else why did you volunteer an explanation right away? Maybe these Elves aren't as perceptive as rumor has it. Aloud he said: "I just wanted to ensure that you are, indeed, Elandar: you mentioned the name Lin el, and that's what I was looking for. Very primitive, of course, but..." he smiled a slightly bashful smile, "actually, could you please remove your half-mask?"
"As you wish." Yes, his interlocutor was undoubtedly an Elf: he had vertical rather than round pupils, like those of a cat or a snake; one could also ask to take a look at the tips of his ears, hidden under the hairdo, but there was no real need. You've made it to your goal, knight. Through the mossy forests and churning rivers, through treacherous bogs and snowy peaks did the noble knight struggle, until the magic ball led him to the Uggun Gorge, with burned slag for ground, bile flowing in the streams, and no grass. There did the Dragon abide in his lair under the granite boulders... Actually, as long as we're in the ancient ballad mode, let's be frank: rather than the noble knight, you're his tricky armor bearer whose only task is to steal up to the entrance to the lair, throw some poison bait inside and run away immediately. It will be up to Haladdin to battle the great worm once he emerges, but the doctor will only have a chance if the monster gobbles the poison bait first: the well-sealed package you had retrieved two hours ago from the Seamen Bank safe where it had spent all this time together with the mithril coat and some other stuff. Sure, this is hardly knightly behavior, but our task is to rid the world of the dragon, rather than to make it into children's books.
"You're satisfied, I hope?" the Elf broke the prolonged silence. Scorn shone in the depth of his eyes like a pair of bluish swamp gas flames.
"I suppose so. I don't know Elandar personally, but the verbal description seems to match." That was pure bluff, but it seemed to have gone over smoothly; in any case there were no more ways to check. "Should you not be who you say you are, now is the best time to drop out, believe me. The thing is that the information I'm about to entrust to you may cost some of L rien's higher-ups their heads, so they will most likely hunt its keeper as vigorously as Aragorn's men are hunting me. Clofoel Eornis' son will be able to handle it appropriately while, importantly, staying alive, unlike any lower-placed Elf. It's a well-known axiom that dangerous information is destroyed together with its carriers; I'm sure you understand what learning what one is not supposed to know, even accidentally, means..." With those words Tangorn glanced meaningfully towards the exit Algali had used.
"Yes, you're right," the other man nodded calmly, having followed Tangorn's glance. "I am, indeed, Elandar, while you, Baron, since you know Lady Eornis' internal title, do indeed know how L rien works. But I'm afraid that you're overestimating my rank in the hierarchy."
"Not at all. You're to play the same role as I am -- that of an intermediary. The information, as you've probably guessed, is meant for your mother. Moreover, I have reasons to believe that clofoel Eornis is not the ultimate addressee, either."
"Ah so?.." Elandar drawled thoughtfully. "So Faramir did manage to obtain proof that certain parties in L rien have indeed befriended Aragorn and are about to use the Reunited Kingdom as a trump in their game against Lady Galadriel... Is the Prince of Ithilien hoping that she will return the throne of Minas Tirith to him as a reward?"
"I repeat -- I'm just an intermediary, I'm not empowered to name any names. Why, does something in this scheme seem unlikely to you?"
"Theoretically it's quite plausible... maybe too plausible. It's just that -- no offense -- I don't trust you personally even a little bit, Baron. There's way too much noise about your person. Aragorn's people do seem to be hunting you, but you're suspiciously lucky, first at the Seahorse, then at that Castamir puddle. Or take this story with freeing Algali -- who can believe such a coincidence?"
Tangorn shrugged. "It is difficult for me to object, as the story is, indeed, incredible. Do you still suspect that the incident at 4 Lamp Street is my doing?"
"I did until yesterday," Elandar admitted glumly. "However, yesterday Captain Marandil was arrested and had testified thoroughly about the incident. He did order Algali's kidnapping..."
Tangorn had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. Truly it is said: "Too good is no good, either."
"We're spinning wheels, dear sir," he said abruptly, feeling that it was time to mount an attack. "In any event you won't be the one to make decisions in this matter -- not your level, if you pardon the expression. All I need to know is whether you have the means to deliver my message to milady Eornis and keep anyone else in L rien from finding out? If not, I have to seek other channels, and this conversation is pointless." The Elf stroked the package lying on the table thoughtfully, clearly looking for traces of magic. Tangorn held his breath: the dragon approached the bait and sniffed it warily. Actually he had nothing to fear -- physically, the package was clean and trick-free. He smirked: "I hope you can detect the absence of poisons or directed magic without opening the package?"
"I'll manage somehow..." Elandar hefted the package. "This weighs almost half a pound, and I clearly detect metal inside... quite a bit of metal. What else is there beside the message?"
"The message is wrapped in several layers of thick silver foil, so that it can't be magically read from outside." The Elf nodded almost imperceptibly. "The outer cover is sackcloth; the knots of the cords tying it are sealed and have metal rings woven into them right under the seals. It is impossible to secretly open such packaging: one can neither boil the wax away, since it's too deeply infused into the sackcloth, nor carefully slice the seals away with a thin hot blade -- the rings are in the way. This is how they seal government mail in Khand, and I know of no method that's more secure. Another precaution is that the knots that secure the rings are unlikely to be known to any Elves. Please observe." With those words Tangorn quickly tied a piece of string around the handle of a fruit knife and handed it to Elandar. The Elf tried to figure out the elaborate pattern, then gave up with obvious displeasure: "One of the local marine knots?"
"Not at all. It's just that the Elves are very conservative and only use a single knot to tie string to a bow, whereas there are at least three such knots, of which this is one." Elandar stuffed the package inside his jacket in annoyance and examined the knot again. Sure, it's annoying for a member of the higher race to fail at such a trifle. Tangorn froze, afraid to believe his eyes. The dragon swallowed the bait... he did... gulped it, munched, gobbled, wolfed it down! Suddenly, as if se
nsing the happy jumble of thought and emotion in his mind, the Elf raised his gaze and stared the baron in the eye. With horror Tangorn felt an irresistible force pull him inside the slits of Elandar's bottomless pupils, felt cold fingers picking through his soul with habitual disgust... Even a small child knows you can't look the dragon in the eye! He pulled away with all the power of his despair; so does a fox spring out of the steel trap, leaving behind scraps of hide, bits of flesh with shards of broken bones, and ragged sinews. I know nothing -- I'm a messenger, nothing more! The pain was terrible, almost physical, and then it was suddenly over -- he managed to free himself... or did the Elf just let him go? Then he heard Elandar's voice, muffled as if in a dream:
"That you hate us is immaterial: politics bring even stranger bedmates together. But you're hiding something dangerous and important about this package, and that is really bad. What if all that's inside is some local state secret like the Umbarian fire recipe or one of the Admiralty's maps, and the DSD is waiting at the door to send me off to the galleys for thirty years or so, or perhaps straight to the Ar-Horan gallows, it being wartime and all? Wouldn't it be nice to have me arrested for espionage, eh?"
The Last Ringbearer Page 31