Grantville Gazette. Volume 21

by Eric Flint

  Lasse had come up again to empty a couple of slop-buckets over the side and Hans was watching the diving seagulls when the captain cried out. The man let go of the helm, took a few steps, and fell flat on the deck. Without a hand to hold it the wheel started spinning. Shit! They were close to those small rocky islands, and who would steer the ship? Had those incompetent morons even thought about that?

  Hans ran towards Tat'yana as she came up from the cabin holding a hand mirror. "There's nobody to steer! We'll be smashed against the rocks and killed!"

  "Stupid!" She pushed past Hans and signaled with the mirror in direction of the islands. Hans turned in time to see Lasse calmly grab the helm.

  How mortifying. For a moment Hans felt the blood rush to his cheeks, only to go faint at the sound of a desperate scream from below.

  "Damn it! There's always one who can't hold down his dinner," Tat'yana shouted over her shoulder. "Lasse!"

  "Just need to secure the helm, Tat'yana." Lasse tied the helm with a rope and walked toward the wild-eyed sailor who had just stumbled up from the mess, screaming and covered with vomit. Lasse led him to the gunwale, and with one quick movement slit the sailor's throat before tipping him over the side.

  Christianso, the Ertholmene islands, 12.5 miles northeast of Bornholm

  Grigori kicked at the ashes of an old fire. "Probably from the Swedes when they based themselves here before trying to invade Bornholm last summer."

  "And Viktor was most displeased at the Swedes for doing so. He'd been planning on selling the Bornholmers muskets so they could rise against their overlord. Instead the Swedes made a mess of their invasion and left a couple of thousand good muskets in the hands of the Bornholm militia. Bang goes that market," Boris said with a shrug. He was as dour as ever, but he seemed in a fairly talkative mood, so Grigori decided to see if he could get a bit more information about the man who had hired him.

  "You and Viktor go back a long way, don't you?"

  "Yes, more than ten years. We first met in Brazil when the Dutch West India Company took Bahia from the Portuguese. We were doing very well until Colonel Jan van Dorth died and the Schouten brothers took command. Then everything went to hell in a hand basket. When Bahia capitulated with barely a shot being fired, we were returned to the United Providences in prison ships with only that loot we could conceal within our bodies. Viktor decided that fighting was a mug's game and that the real money was in supplying the military. He asked me to join him as his bodyguard and I've been with him ever since."

  "What about the clerk, Tat'yana? She doesn't seem Russian."

  "She's not. Viktor discovered her on the back streets of Paris."

  "The back streets of Paris? Then how did she learn to read and write?"

  "I have my guesses on how she paid for lessons, but don't ask Tat'yana. Her past life in Paris is buried alongside Brigitte."

  "Who's Brigitte?"

  "That was Tat'yana's old name. If you want to die, just try calling her that."

  "Die? But Tat'yana is such an inoffensive little thing."

  "True, but Brigitte wasn't. She couldn't be and survive eighteen years on the streets of Paris."

  Grigori swallowed and gazed off into the distance. He knew how his widowed mother had been forced to earn money to support him and his younger brothers and sisters before he was old enough to get this job with Viktor. That sort of thing changed a person. He could well imagine Tat'yana's desire to bury her past.

  Out to the east he thought he could see something flashing. He pointed. "Boris, is that the signal?"

  Boris looked. "It looks like it. Let's warn Viktor in case the lookout has missed it."

  "He's over with the captain of the Dunking Dolphin," Grigori paused, "Boris, I don't trust Captain Erland and his crew."

  "You're wise not to trust them. They are our employer's men, not some of Viktor's. Keep your gun ready at all times."

  Grigori passed a hand under his jacket to fondle the butt of his automatic pistol. It was a beautiful weapon, inspired by the automatics from Grantville, and with its custom made brass cartridges and high-capacity magazines it offered considerably more firepower than any revolver. If Boris wanted him to be ready, he would be.

  Off the coast of Christianso

  Boris and Grigori boarded the Martha of Wismar before Viktor, and while they kept a lookout for possible threats Viktor walked over to Tat'yana. "Where is the clerk?"

  "He's in the hold looking for his cargo. Captain Erland and his men have joined him to look for loot. Don't worry; Lasse is keeping an eye on the little creep."

  Viktor sniggered at Tat'yana's description. "Did he try it on?"

  "Yes, but I soon put him right."

  "I'm sure you did, but I'm also surprised you let him live after so grievous an offence."

  "I almost didn't, but he claims to have left a letter betraying your part in the theft of the Doppels' new weapon with his lawyer."

  Viktor turned to stare at the cargo hatch. "Do you believe him?"

  "I don't know. He might have. By the way, what is this weapon system that Hans Johansson's master wants?"

  "I don't know. Whatever the cargo is, it isn't as important as getting the Doppels. By the way, what have you done with them?"

  "Follow me. Lasse and I left them in their cabin."

  Viktor and his bodyguards fell in behind Tat'yana as she guided them toward the Doppel brothers. "What condition are they in? I want them to know what is happening to them."

  "They should be awake by now," Tat'yana reassured Viktor.

  The sight of both Doppels lying hog-tied on the cabin floor pleased Viktor no end. "Johann and Georg Doppel, so we meet again."

  "Who the hell are you, and why are we tied up? Untie us immediately. Do you have any idea who we are?" Johann demanded.

  Viktor exchanged smiles with Boris and fell into his game of talking about himself in the third person whenever he wanted to intimidate someone. "They do not recognize Viktor."

  "Maybe it's the bad light," Boris suggested taking the cabin lantern and holding it up close to Viktor's face.

  Viktor waited hopefully, but neither brother recognized him. "You still don't recognize Viktor? You don't remember stealing from Viktor ten years ago?"

  The brothers mutely shook their heads.

  Boris held the lantern over them. "Maybe they make such a habit of changing contracts on people that they have forgotten something from so long ago."

  "A pity. They will die not knowing why. But if they forget from who they steal, they are not owed that kindness."

  "Look, if it's money you want we have plenty. In the strong box by the bed. Take what you want. Take it all, but don't kill us," Georg Doppel begged.

  "Grigori, the strong box."

  The looks of relief on the brothers' faces amused Viktor. They were such naive fools, worse even than he and Boris had been when they first did business with the Doppels. He used the key he found around Johann's neck to open the strong box. It held a number of heavy bags. He emptied one out on the lower bunk. "Boris, do you remember how much they owe Viktor?"

  "Yes." Boris moved over to the bunk and rapidly counted out coins. "There, that covers what they stole."

  Viktor scooped up the remaining coins and returned them to their sack before putting it back in the strong box. Then he picked up the strong box. "Tat'yana, see what is happening on deck."

  Seconds later Tat'yana returned. "It's all clear. The creep and his followers are still in the hold."

  "Very good. Grigori, Boris, if you'd be so good as to help our friends up on deck."

  "Now just a minute! We gave you our money," Georg cried as he was carried out of the cabin and dumped on the deck.

  "And Viktor is grateful for finally getting the money you owed him. But Viktor doesn't take more than he is owed." He opened the strong box and tossed money bags alternatively to Boris and Grigori until the box was empty. "Viktor is a man of honor. Viktor does not steal from the people he does business with.
You value money above honor, so Viktor will let you keep your money." He turned to his men. "Tie the bags to their belts. We don't want them to lose any of their precious money."

  The Doppels looked at each other in confusion as Boris and Grigori tied the drawstring purses to their belts. Georg was the first to realize what was coming. He started to struggle as Grigori picked him up and carried him towards the side.

  Grigori paused at the gunwale, the struggling Georg held firmly in his arms, waiting for Viktor's instructions.

  Viktor nodded and Grigori threw Georg over the side.

  There was a high-pitched scream suddenly extinguished by the splash of Georg hitting the water.

  Johann started to struggle in earnest. "No, please, I beg you. Don't kill me."

  "Viktor is not going to kill you. He is leaving your life in God's hands. If you reach land Viktor will let you live in peace. Boris."

  Johann screamed when he went over the side.

  Viktor calmly watched the men struggling to keep their heads above the water. He didn't expect to have long to wait. The water was icy cold and, hog-tied as they were, the brothers would have difficulty saying afloat, while the copper, silver and gold coins tied to their belts would help counteract the buoyancy of their fat bodies.

  It was barely five minutes before Georg sank for the last time. That brought out a renewed effort to stay afloat from Johann, but three minutes later he too succumbed to a combination of the cold water and fatigue.

  Viktor pushed away from the gunwale and looked around the Martha of Wismar. "Where is Hans Johansson? It is time we discovered what this wondrous weapon is."

  The four of them walked over to the hatch where Lasse was watching Hans and the crew of the Dunking Dolphin struggle to lift a crate from the cargo hold.

  With Viktor, Boris and Grigori helping they soon had a number of crates and barrels stacked on the deck.

  "What is it?" Viktor asked.

  Hans, in the process of supervising the levering open of a crate looked up. "It should be a prototype of a new machine gun, a 'Gatling Gun.'"

  When Captain Erland's crew opened the crate Hans dived on it, pulling away the straw packing to expose the multi-barreled machine gun. "Yes. Right, close this crate and check the others. There should be a second 'Gatling Gun' and several thousand rounds of ammunition."

  Viktor crouched down and passed an expert eye over the Gatling gun. He'd heard about the up-time weapon and had Tat'yana read out several articles about it. "That looks like it's twelve bore," he observed.

  "Yes," Hans agreed. "It fires the same rifled ammunition as the American 'shotguns.' The Doppels claimed it could fire as many as six thousand rounds per minute."

  "Nobody can afford to pay for that rate of consumption," the bookkeeper in Tat'yana cried out. "Shotgun slugs were selling at almost four dollars apiece last time I was in Grantville."

  ***

  Captain Erland Mansson exchanged looks with his crew. Four Grantville dollars a round-and Hans said there were more than twenty thousand rounds in the barrels-added up to a considerable sum. He looked down at the pile of loot he and his men had collected. It had looked impressive, but that was before he learned how much the weapon system his nephew wanted was worth. Behind him he could hear the murmurings of his crew as they did the arithmetic. His cheapskate cousin was shortchanging him. Erland reached for the butt of one of the wheel-lock pistols in his belt. Drawing it to provide some authority to his complaints, he turned on his cousin. "You didn't tell me how much the cargo would be worth when you hired me."

  He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and turned in time to see one of Viktor's men pulling his pistol out from under his jacket. Erland fired before the man could raise his gun, hitting Grigori in the gut and dropping him to the ground.

  Erland looked at the fallen man. He'd had no choice but to shoot, but this changed things. He had only wanted to force his cousin to pay a fair price, now he had to think about killing Viktor and his men. Edging on panic he struggled to prioritize. First he needed to gain control of Viktor and his men's guns. Pointing his second wheel-lock towards Viktor he called out, "You and your men, drop your weapons."

  He watched the play of emotions between the men. The girl, Hans' doxy, seemed pale and shaken. She was no threat. Best to worry about Viktor and his men.

  "Boris, Lasse, drop your weapons."

  Lasse dropped a couple of knives while Boris dropped a large pistol just like the fallen man's. Erland looked pointedly at Viktor. "Your weapons."

  "Viktor employs dogs and Viktor should bark?"

  Erland was confused for a moment by Viktor's way of speaking, but he recognized the attitude. Which left the matter of gaining the guns without getting too close to Viktor and his men. He gestured toward the girl. "You, bring me the guns."

  He was surprised when the girl turned to Viktor for permission. He'd thought she belonged to Hans. He took his attention from her to check what Viktor and his men were doing.

  ***

  Tat'yana turned her head toward Viktor and silently asked for instructions.

  "Do it, Brigitte."

  For a moment the past threatened to flood the present. Then the iron gates of her will clamped down on her past life in Paris. Tat'yana knew what Viktor wanted her to do. Could she do it without calling upon Brigitte?

  She walked over to the moaning Grigori and reached down for his pistol. She had to peel his fingers off the butt. Then she walked toward where Boris had dropped his pistol. She didn't know Grigori well enough to know if his pistol was ready to fire, but the slight nod from Boris was enough to let her know his was loaded and ready. She held the heavy steel pistols and walked toward Captain Erland. The man was looking beyond her, completely ignoring her. "Now," a voice in her head screamed. She dropped Grigori's pistol and grabbed the thick butt of Boris' pistol in both hands. Then she rushed the last couple of steps to Captain Erland, pushed the barrel into his gut, and squeezed the trigger as rapidly as she could.

  After four shots the voice in her head ordered her to stop shooting and check what the rest of the crew were doing. She looked up to see the pale faces of the Dunking Dolphin 's crew staring at the mess that had been their captain. Her body was starting to shake as she aimed the pistol at the closest one. But she didn't have to fire. Boris had arrived. He took the pistol from her hands and dispatched the crew one by one.

  Tat'yana slumped down against the foot of the mast, her shaking hands wrapped around her legs. She could see Boris picking up the spent brass cartridges while Viktor held Grigori in his arms. Lasse had retrieved Grigori's gun and was keeping an eye on Hans.

  ***

  Viktor held Grigori in his arms, tears running down his face. "Grigori, silly boy, why did you have to go for your gun?"

  Grigori struggled to talk. "My family. Who will look after my family?"

  "I will care for family." Viktor stared into Grigori's pain filled eyes, then he slipped a fine stiletto from under his sleeve and thrust it deeply just behind Grigori's left ear. Grigori's body slumped in his arms. He lowered the body to the deck and slowly stood. He knew who was to blame for Grigori's death. He turned toward Hans, the stiletto still in his hand. "This is your fault."

  Hans blanched.

  Tat'yana hurried over to Viktor and placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Remember the letter, Viktor," she whispered.

  Viktor paused. He wanted to kill Hans just like his man had killed Grigori, but it seemed he couldn't do it, not as long as that letter existed. He had to settle for wiping the blood from his stiletto on Hans' lace collar. He glared down at Hans before turning and walking away.

  Aboard the Dunking Dolphin

  Viktor was fuming. He'd finally gotten even with the Doppel brothers for fooling him with the written word only to be screwed over by that ass-kissing little creep Hans Johansson and his letter. He slammed his fist down on the gunwale. "I won't have it. Tat'yana, when we land you will follow Hans. See if he goes to a lawyer. If h
e does you will visit the lawyer and look for Hans' letter. Bring me that letter. Do anything you have to do. Even call upon Brigitte. But get me that letter."

  Viktor knew he was asking a lot of Tat'yana's loyalty to him by suggesting she call on Brigitte if necessary, but he wanted to be sure she understood how important that letter was. He reached out his arms and gave her a comforting hug. "I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important, Tat'yana."

  "I understand, Viktor."

  Stralsund, two days later

  Hans paid Viktor the full amount they had agreed on and got off the Dunking Dolphin as quickly as he could. He needed to secure passage to his master and the sooner the better. He was lucky to still be alive. Who'd have thought a man of Viktor's reputation would worry so much about a mere underling? But obviously he did, and he blamed Hans for the young man's death. He fingered the blood stain on his collar where Viktor had cleaned his stiletto. He'd been sure Viktor intended to kill him then and there, but he hadn't. Hans could only assume the girl had told Viktor about the letter he'd claimed to have lodged with a lawyer and that had stayed his hand.

  Hans knew that lie wouldn't protect him for long. He had to do something about Viktor before Viktor did something about him. A grim smile brightened his face. A letter. Not a letter left with a lawyer to be forwarded in a month's time. That wouldn't do him much good; he could well be dead by then. No, he needed something much more immediate. Like a letter to the Doppels' family implicating Viktor in Johann and Georg's disappearance… one they would receive soon after he left Stralsund.

  ***

  Tat'yana paid off the street kids she'd asked to follow Hans. Unfortunately the creep hadn't headed for a lawyer as soon as he'd arranged passage for himself and his cargo. That worried Tat'yana. Could he have really left a letter with his lawyer before going to Wismar? Such a letter could be anywhere.

  She edged closer so she could see what Hans was doing. It looked like he was writing. Then he bought one of the new pre-paid postage stamps from the shopkeeper and stuck it onto the letter before handing it to the shopkeeper.