[Marienburg 01] - A Murder in Marienburg

by David Bishop - (ebook by Undead)

  “Continue on the path you have chosen and it will bring about your utter destruction. Not only will the station close before the end of Geheimnistag, but every soul within those walls shall have perished in the most exquisite agonies possible. You will be saved for last, giving you the opportunity to see your colleagues slain one by one before you join them in death,” Henschmann vowed.

  “Should I consider those as threats?”

  “Promises, Captain Schnell—consider them as promises.”

  Kurt marched towards Henschmann, his face expressionless as granite. He stopped a few strides short of the crime boss, looking Henschmann up and down before speaking. “I fought in the war against Chaos. I’ve battled creatures beyond your worst nightmares and I’ve faced blood-sucking fiends in battle that would chill the marrow in your bones. If you believe the threats of a petty felon will shake my resolve, your intelligence reports about me are sadly lacking in depth or detail.” Kurt spat a mouthful of phlegm on the marble floor in front of Henschmann to emphasise his disdain.

  Helga had been bristling with barely contained fury by the door during this exchange. Kurt’s insult was too much for her and she stormed round the table, ready to attack him. But Henschmann commanded her to stop with a simple gesture. The bodyguard returned to her position by the door, muttering threats of blood and violence under her breath. Henschmann smiled at Kurt. “You’ll have to excuse Helga, she lacks my sense of restraint in such matters.”

  “Two steps closer and she would have been a dead woman,” Kurt replied.

  Henschmann smile faded. “I think you’ve said enough for one visit, Captain Schnell. Regretfully, my hospitality to you must come to an end. Please remember what I said about the fate of the station on Three Penny Bridge and all those assigned to it. It would be a shame to sacrifice the lives of so many upon the altar of your childish, impossible ambitions.”

  “The Black Caps are here to stay,” Kurt vowed. “Get used to it—Casanova.” The visitor turned on his heel and marched out, Helga close behind, leaving Henschmann still fuming in the meeting room. The commander of all crime in Marienburg waited until Schnell had left the building before smashing one of the gold inlaid chairs to splinters on the marble floor.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kurt returned to the station but found his way in blocked by a steaming pile of pig heads sprawled across the entrance, and a woman descending from the first floor on a rope ladder. She had reached the cobbled street before noticing him or the captain’s insignia on his tunic. “Did you order all these pig heads?” the woman demanded, pulling a mass of fiery red curls back from her face and tying them into a ponytail. “They’re doing terrible things to our business, nobody’ll come near the place!”

  “Your business?”

  “That’s right. Customers don’t want to visit me and my girls while the place stinks of dead meat.”

  “Well, I’ll have to see what I can do about that,” Kurt agreed, still trying to work out what the woman was doing descending by rope ladder from the first floor.

  “I’d talk to that nice Sergeant Woxholt, but he’s busy with Gerta the Blurter right now.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yeah, he is. No idea where his boss, Captain Schnell, has gone, either.” Kurt cleared his throat and tapped a finger against his insignia of office. The woman squinted at the symbols before retreating a step. “Oh! So, you’d be Captain Schnell then?” Kurt nodded, expecting the woman’s attitude to change now she knew who she was talking to. It did, but for the worse. “In that case, can’t you get these pig heads shifted, for the love of Shallya? I know there’s a shortage of fresh meat thanks to the war, but we’re trying to earn a living here, you know!”

  “And I’m trying to reopen a watch station,” he replied, finally losing patience with her tirades. “What is your name and why are you running a house of ill repute from my first floor office?”

  “My name’s Molly and because Sergeant Woxholt said we could.”

  “Did he know?”

  “Yes!” She folded her arms obstinately. “You got a problem with us being here, you take it up with him, alright?” Having vented her anger, Molly marched back to the rope ladder and scrambled up to her first floor window. Before climbing inside, she lobbed a parting remark down to Kurt. “And don’t forget about these bloody pig heads, while you’re at it!”

  Kurt counted to ten before yelling for his sergeant. Woxholt appeared outside a few seconds later, after climbing from a ground floor window. He ran to Kurt, his hands held out in supplication. “I know what you’re going to say. I was busy with Gerta when the butchers dumped this lot outside. I’ve only just found out about it myself. Give me twenty minutes and we’ll have them shifted.”

  “And our female guests on the first floor?”

  Jan rolled his eyes. “It’s temporary, until we find them somewhere else to work, that’s all.”

  “Why do we have to—” Kurt stopped himself, not wanting to get dragged any further into that conversation. “Never mind, I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  “I did,” Jan agreed. His eyes flitted up to the centre window. “Which one did you talk to?”

  “Molly. Quite a firebrand she was, too.”

  “What did she look like?” the sergeant asked innocently.

  Kurt stared at Jan. “What did she look like?”

  “I haven’t seen her yet, we’ve only spoken through a barricaded door.”

  “What did she look like?” Kurt repeated, fury starting to engulf his voice.

  Jan held up his hands. “Forget I even asked.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  Jan nodded. “So, would you like to take a tour of the station, meet the new recruits and see what we’ve got to work with? Everything’s pretty much up and running now—”

  “If you don’t count the pig heads blocking the doors or Molly’s girls plying their trade upstairs.”

  “Aside from those things, yes, everything else is pretty much up and running,” Jan said soothingly.

  Kurt shook his head despairingly. “Fine. Good. Give me the tour.”

  “Excellent.” Jan turned to lead Kurt inside, before remembering the pile of porcine remnants. “We’ll use that window over there for the moment, it leads into the old taproom. I was thinking that could become our main holding area, maybe turn the long bar into a reception desk.”

  “Sounds promising,” Kurt said. “What about the pig heads?”

  Jan nodded, before bellowing at the building. “Scheusal! Holismus! Get out here!” The big man from Bretonnia was first to emerge, climbing awkwardly out a window before hurrying over to stand at attention in front of his captain. Holismus was slimmer and perhaps a decade younger than Scheusal, but he moved no quicker, staggering several times before reaching them. His dirty blond hair hung forward over his pockmarked face, and the stench of stale ale was apparent on his breath. Jan sighed and shook his head before introducing the two men to Kurt. “I believe you met Scheusal earlier?”

  Kurt shook Scheusal’s hand, his own vanishing inside the big man’s fist. “You fought well…?”

  “Jacques, captain.”

  “You fought well, Jacques. Considering what some of the other captains have sent me, I’m surprised your last boss let you leave his station.”

  “Captain Rottenrow said I was a troublemaker, because I got into a fight with another Black Cap.”

  “I see. What was this fight about?” Scheusal looked away, apparently too ashamed to answer. “You can tell me, Scheusal. As far as I’m concerned, every man assigned to this station starts with a clean slate. Whatever mistakes you made in the past stay in the past. I’ll judge you by what you do here.”

  “It was Raufbold. He kept making remarks about my accent, saying he couldn’t understand me.”

  “Raufbold… Jorg Raufbold?” Kurt sighed. “The man who calls himself Gorgeous Jorg?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “So, Captain Rottenrow transferred both
of you here, rather than trying to resolve the problem.” Scheusal shrugged helplessly. “Well, Jacques, it’s good to have you here,” Kurt said, smiling at the recruit. “With men like you backing me up, we can achieve great things here.”

  “Yes, captain.”

  Jan moved to stand beside the other watchman. “And this is Lothar Holismus.” The man in question snapped into a salute, but almost toppled over in the effort.

  “Holismus—any relation to Joost Holismus, the last captain here?” Kurt asked.

  “He was my elder brother,” Holismus slurred.

  “Joost was one of the best thief-takers in the city,” Jan said. “I’m hopeful his brother will share some of those same talents.” Holismus hiccupped. “Assuming he can climb out of the bottle long enough.”

  “Indeed,” Kurt said. “What I said to Jacques applies to you too, Lothar. I don’t care what got you sent to Three Penny Bridge or what you’ve done in the past. Your career starts here and now as far as I’m concerned. But if you want a future anywhere in this city, you’ve got to control your drinking.”

  “Yes, captain!”

  “Introductions over,” Jan announced. “I want you two to shift those pig heads away from the station entrance. Take them to the nearest butcher and have them cured, we could do with the rations.”

  Kurt frowned. “It goes against the grain, accepting anything from the likes of Henschmann, but…”

  “I doubt they’re poisoned, but that’ll need to be checked before we eat them.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Woxholt sent Scheusal and Holismus on their way, before leading Kurt towards one of the ground floor windows.

  “What do you make of them?”

  “The Bretonnian seems promising if we can keep him and Raufbold apart. As for Joost’s brother…” Kurt shook his head. “I’ve seen men go that way too often. One in a dozen ever comes back.”

  “I was thinking of putting them in charge of a shift each,” Jan confided. “Scheusal on nights, Holismus on the graveyard detail. Give them two men each to lead, see how they cope.”

  “And you on the day shift?”

  “Naturally. I’m too old to be prowling around looking for trouble in the middle of the night. Taal’s teeth, I have to get up twice most nights to empty my bladder.”

  Kurt stopped to look over at the two recruits dealing with the pile of pig heads. “Sure you’re not throwing them in too deep, too soon? You honestly believe they can handle the responsibility?”

  Jan smirked. “I had the same conversation with your first captain when you joined the watch. You turned out alright, didn’t you?” He grasped Kurt by the shoulder. “Trust me to do my job, yes?”

  “I trust you, you know I do.”

  “Then trust my judgement.”

  “I will. I do.”

  “Good.” Jan held the window open for Kurt to climb inside, before following him in.

  * * *

  The taproom was larger than Kurt remembered from his brief visit earlier in the day. It helped that the low cloud of smoke had cleared and blazing torches now hung at regular intervals along the walls, providing considerably more illumination. A long wooden bar ran down one side of the room, leading to the shattered window Kurt had dived through. All the chairs and tables formerly used by drinkers at the tavern were being stacked in a corner by the rest of the watchmen, leaving a wide expanse of empty wooden floor. A handful of doors fed off the taproom, two leading to staircases that went up to the top floor, while two others preceded steps that descended into the bowels of the building.

  “We’ve got six rooms upstairs—three at front, three at the back,” Jan explained.

  “With Molly’s girls in the centre room at the front,” Kurt cut in. “That was to be my office.”

  “All in good time. I’m planning to erect four cells in the centre of this space, clustered together—that way those on the desk can see the prisoners at all times, know what they’re up to.”

  “Not much privacy.”

  “Nobody will be in there for long. Drunks we’ll keep in one cell until they dry out, women in another, newly arrived men in the third and those waiting for transportation to Rijker’s in the fourth.”

  “Sounds sensible. What about people we want to interrogate or keep in solitary?”

  “There’s four rooms down the stairs. They tend to flood at high tide, so we can’t keep anyone in them for long, but that’ll serve a purpose.”

  Kurt nodded his approval. “And upstairs?”

  “Interview rooms for witnesses, an interrogation room for suspects. Plus sleeping quarters for the men when needed, and a room for ablutions.”

  “What about Belladonna?”

  Now it was Jan’s turn to look bemused. “Who?” Kurt explained about the intriguing young woman who had volunteered for the station, and her talents in deciphering the clues left behind at a crime. “Never served with a woman in the watch before,” Jan said. “Can she handle herself amongst the men? What happens if she starts a relationship with one of them?”

  “She’s kept the commander at bay for three years, I think she can cope with the likes of Gorgeous Jorg and his cronies.” Kurt studied the rest of his recruits as they finished stacking the tables and chairs. “Tell me about the others. Who’s going to be our biggest problem?”

  “Sounds like you’ve already encountered Raufbold.”

  “We had a few words. He’s certainly fond of himself, but I doubt he’s much use on the watch.” Kurt shifted his gaze to the Black Cap talking with Raufbold. He had chiselled good looks, framed by dark brown hair and the bold stance of someone who knew what they wanted. “I’m surprised you suggested Holismus ahead of him. He looks like leadership material.”

  “That’s Hans-Michael Mutig, from Tempelwijk. Captain Wout can’t speak highly enough of him.”

  “Which begs the obvious question: if Mutig is such an asset, why did Wout offload him on us?”

  “Exactly. Give me a drunk and you know where you are,” Jan said. “Mutig looks to me like a man waiting to be found out, with all that bluster and bravado. He’s hiding something.” Faulheit went past Kurt and Jan, huffing and puffing as he dragged the last table towards the corner, his considerable paunch impeding the effort. “You already know what I think of Martin Faulheit—all guts, no glory.”

  Kurt patted his sergeant’s stomach affectionately. “None of us are as thin as we used to be.”

  Jan sucked his stomach in, making his chest swell out even further. “I’ve got an excuse, I was retired until this afternoon. Faulheit’s simply lazy, doing the least he can manage to slide by. I’d trust him about as far as I could throw him, and that’s not far these days.”

  Two watchmen were standing by the broken window, ignoring each other as they looked out over the Bruynwarr. Kurt recognised the man on the left, but hadn’t seen the other recruit before. He had a shock of black hair, a hooked nose and small, dark eyes. “Narbig was the only other volunteer besides Scheusal when I stormed in here earlier. Punched well above his weight.”

  “He got those scars two years ago, but won’t tell anyone how it happened. Refuses to go below ground, no matter what. Narbig’s been disciplined four times as a result, that’s how he ended up here. Stupid thing is Joachim’s fearless above ground, one of the best men I’ve ever trained,” Jan volunteered. “The other one, he’s trouble too. Name’s Helmut Verletzung. He’s got a temper like a caged animal, judging by the bruises his last wife sported whenever she dared go to market. He was in the River Watch for a spell, but got kicked out for violence. Specialises in stealing from the poor and the weak. The worst thing is, Verletzung gets results. But the end always justifies the means with him. He’s trouble, no doubt about it.”

  Kurt frowned. “That doesn’t exactly make Verletzer unique amongst this lot.”

  “His name’s Verletzung, not Verletzer,” Jan corrected.

  “Sigmar’s beard, how do you remember all their names so easily?”


  “I’ve been a sergeant for fifteen years, you’ve been a captain less than fifteen hours. Give it time, Kurt, and you’ll get to know them. Best way I’ve found is to go out on patrol with the men. There’s nothing like walking the streets and alleyways with a new recruit to help you uncover their strengths and weaknesses. That’s how I got to know you, back when you’d first joined the watch.”

  Kurt nodded. “There was another man here earlier, a weasel-faced little creature…”

  “Bad moustache, grovelling manner, lecherous eyes?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Willy Bescheiden—plucky and devious in a fight, but has something of a gambling problem. Little Willy is rather too fond of playing dice, but his skill at the Anchor and Sun doesn’t match his enthusiasm for it. He’s got a direct line to the League, so he knows even more than me about what’s happening in Marienburg most days. But that direct line has got a hook buried in Willy’s money pouch. There’s no telling who he’d sell out to save his skin, let alone turn a profit.”

  “Where’s he now?”

  “Upstairs, making sure Gerta the Blurter doesn’t leave until you’ve had a chance to talk with her.”

  “At least he’s useful for something then,” Kurt said, his glance passing across the bulk of his force. “Is it my imagination, or have we been given the city’s worst collection of thugs, drunks and cowards?”

  Jan grinned. “I’d say that’s a pretty fair summary. There’s a rough diamond or two amongst this lot, but most of them will stab you in the back the first chance they get.”

  “Charming.” Kurt noticed how the light was fading outside the station. “It’s nearly dusk. You want to start patrols tonight, or wait until morning?”

  “Might as well start as we mean to go on,” his sergeant suggested.

  “Fair enough. Call the men together.”

  Jan saluted crisply before shouting at the recruits to form themselves into two rows in the centre of the room. Holismus and Scheusal had finished shifting the pigs from the entrance and joined the others. Bescheiden was last to appear, hurrying down the east staircase and inserting himself into the front row. “I left her talking with Molly through the wall,” he offered by way of explanation, jerking a thumb towards the ceiling. “I think they’re swapping war stories after men.” Kurt waited for silence before speaking.