by Kage Baker
“I do hope Mr. Hirsch has come to his senses and is waiting for us at the hotel,” said Lady Beatrice, as they crossed the street. Ludbridge scowled.
“I’ll have a few things to say about him, by God. He’d better be there.”
“Er… there are rather a lot of police about this morning,” said Ressel, looking around uneasily.
As they stepped within, the desk clerk saw Ludbridge and waved.
“Herr Ludbridge? A parcel and a letter for you.”
Collecting them, Ludbridge noted Hirsch’s handwriting. He sighed and shook the small box experimentally; only a faint rattle gave any idea of its contents. In a casual tone he remarked: “Rather a lot of police in the street, aren’t there?”
“There have been two robberies!” said the clerk. “Both in one night! Herr Kimmel the jeweler and Herr Lantz the pawnbroker, both robbed of hundreds of marks in goods. Herr Lantz is in bed with a fractured skull.”
“What a dreadful thing,” said Ludbridge. He went upstairs, followed by Lady Beatrice and Ressel.
Ressel went into his room to pack his bag; Lady Beatrice seated herself in a chair by the window, gazing out, as Ludbridge opened the box. He shook its contents into his hand and swore. Lady Beatrice looked at him inquiringly. He held out a signet ring and a cameo pendant, both set with red tektite stones.
“That’s all we had found here in Budweis,” said Ludbridge. “But I hadn’t given him the word to do the burglary yet.”
“Hirsch’s bag is gone,” said Ressel, appearing in the doorway.
“Oh, dear,” said Lady Beatrice. Ludbridge ground his teeth and opened the letter.
My very dear Ludbridge,
This letter serves as notice that I have, after much reflection, decided to take my talents to more appreciative (and better-paying) masters than the Gentlemen. However, do not despair! Here as a token of good faith are the bits of red tektite I found for you. I got them at a bargain price… however, you may wish to find a way to conceal them from the customs agents. You may find things a trifle hot in Budweis now, also, until the police find someone to arrest for my little indiscretion, but do not fear; I am sure the Gentlemen can easily arrange for your release, if worst comes to worst. I myself intend a swift departure.
Please convey to the Gentlemen that I will soon communicate a postal location where my wages may be sent, as well as the monthly stipend I expect for my silence on the matter of the red tektite’s astonishing properties. A hundred pounds a month is not too much, I think, considering the value of the information and the delight with which it would be received by certain interested governments.
Farewell, old man, and a big wet ravishing kiss with my tongue for the lady in red. Or perhaps something more. I leave it to her imagination.
Your much undervalued friend,
Hirsch
“That’s done it.” Ludbridge folded the letter and tucked it inside his coat. He drew out his watch, thumbed a button on its side, and studied it a moment. “That stupid son of a bitch. Your pardon, ma’am, but he’s run off, or so it would appear. Ressel, finish packing. Ma’am, can you be ready to depart within the next ten minutes?”
“Certainly.” Lady Beatrice rose to her feet.
“Good.” Ludbridge bounded upright and began packing with breathtaking speed.
THEY DEPARTED THE hotel a few bare minutes before the police descended on it to question all foreign visitors, or so Ludbridge learned later. At the time he was not disposed to be communicative about his reasons for flight; as they hurried toward the horse-rail station he kept checking his watch. Only when they were seated in the car was Ressel able to lean forward and look at the watch face.
“But that is not a clock,” he remarked in surprise. “That is a little map of Budweis!”
“So it is,” said Ludbridge, chuckling. “D’you see the tiny red light flashing there? That’s our friend Hirsch. One doesn’t cross the Gentlemen, you see.”
“I just saw him,” said Lady Beatrice in a low voice. “He’s here. He hid behind the kiosk when he saw us. I can still see his boots and the corner of his bag.”
“I should look away if I were you, ma’am,” said Ludbridge.
He gave his watch stem a quarter-turn and depressed it. There was a bang followed by screams and shouting. Glancing over at the kiosk, he saw the fan-splatter of blood. Bits of Hirsch’s head began to fall hither and yon. The silver molar crown, that had concealed the tracking mechanism and explosive, landed with a particularly musical tinkle on the cobbles not four feet away.
“That’ll teach him,” said Ludbridge, and lit a cigar. Ressel stared at him in horror. Lady Beatrice shrugged regretfully and took out her knitting.
Table of Contents
The Women of Nell Gwynne's
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
The Bohemian Astrobleme