[Blood on the Reik 02] - Death's City

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  “I’m glad you’re all so well disposed to our colleagues in the excise service,” Rijgen said. “Because that brings me on to item thirteen. A joint operation between ourselves and the River Watch.” He held up a hand to quieten the chorus of groans and protest. “I know, but they’ve promised it won’t be another fiasco like last time.” He turned aside, making room for Captain Marcus at the front of the room. “For one thing Sergeant Flaaken was tragically drowned trying to board a suspect vessel last month, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “Thanks Jaak.” Captain Marcus took over the briefing smoothly, and a sense of suppressed urgency settled over the room. Rudi could feel the tension beginning to build. Marcus looked around with an air of mild interest. “I’m sure you’re all eager to volunteer, but let me put your minds at rest. The assignments have already been made. Sergeant Rijgen will be leading the operation. Loos, Anders, Kuyper, Gerrit, Walder, Maartens and Strijker, you’re assisting. The rest of you, bugger off and find a lowlife to happen to.” He waited until the majority of the watchmen had left the room, most of them palpably gloating at their good fortune, and turned to the little knot of Black Caps remaining. None of them, apart from Gerrit, seemed particularly enthusiastic to have been chosen for the assignment so far as Rudi could see.

  “Right.” Rijgen nodded in agreement. “For one thing, the Waterboys haven’t got jurisdiction on this one, or even a claim of it. We’ve got complete operational control.”

  “That’s what we thought last time,” one of the Black Caps said sourly. “Until a bunch of them turned up and tried to claim the arrest.”

  “Sorry, sergeant, I don’t understand.” Rudi hesitated, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, then went on. “I thought everything on dry land was ours and everything wet was theirs.”

  “Oh right, you’re new in town.” Rijgen nodded and looked questioningly at Marcus. “Captain?”

  “Better fill him in,” Marcus said. “We’ve got time.”

  Rijgen nodded and turned back to Rudi. “You’re more or less right. But like most things in Marienburg, it’s open to interpretation. By the strict letter of the law, their remit on land is limited to within a hundred yards of a waterway. Which seems clear enough.”

  “I see.” Rudi nodded. “So this raid was within a hundred yards of the water and they butted in.”

  The Black Cap who’d spoken before, Maartens he thought, snorted in disgust. “Nowhere near it,” he said. “Two hundred and fifty at least, if it was an inch.”

  Rijgen nodded in agreement. “That’s about right,” he said. “It was our collar, no question about it. Warehouse full of Tilean cheeses someone had evaded the excise on.”

  “Stank to high heaven,” Loos put in.

  “Then how could they justify interfering?” Rudi said.

  “Sewers,” Rijgen said in disgust. “There was a sewer running underneath the place, right? And the smart bugger just grins at me and says, ‘That’s a waterway.’ So while we were busy arguing the toss about it, the smugglers legged it. Bloody embarrassing. For weeks afterwards every time we felt a collar we got ‘hang on, I’ve just pissed myself, shouldn’t you hand me over to the river watch?’”

  “Well that’s not going to happen on this one,” Captain Marcus said shortly. “We’re well away from the water, there’s nothing underneath the place, and I’ve politely informed my opposite number in the waterboys that if any of his mob happens to wander into the vicinity he’ll be looking for a new career with the cathedral choir.” The little knot of watchmen sniggered appreciatively and most of them began to relax. “How it’s going to work is very simple. We find the smugglers, we bust the smugglers, we bring them back here and we send a runner to let the Waterboys know they’re in custody.”

  “But he doesn’t have to run very fast,” Sergeant Rijgen put in. “Some of the villains we pull in might have information we can use too.”

  “Quite. By the time our esteemed colleagues turn up to collect them, I want them wrung dry.”

  “Any questions so far? No? Good.” Rijgen paused for a moment and resumed his briefing. “The target’s a boarding house in the Kleinmoot. The owner’s an old friend of ours, Rollo Meadowsweet.” Most of the watchmen present nodded in recognition of the name. “He also owns a flash tavern in the Elfsgemeente, which backs on to a waterway, with a small landing stage at the rear. Our information is that leakage from the docks finds its way there, and then back out to riverboats on their way up the Reik. The waterboys are busting it tonight.”

  “But if the contraband’s being stashed on the other side of the city, why are we turning over a halfling flophouse?” Gerrit asked, frowning in puzzlement. Rudi nodded, feeling equally baffled.

  “Because Meadowsweet’s too smart to do business like that,” Captain Marcus explained. “The money changes hands here, in the Winkelmarkt, where there’s no direct connection. Our job is to grab the paperwork before he hears about the raid over the water and destroys the evidence.”

  “Any more questions?” Rijgen asked.

  Rudi had been in the Kleinmoot several times since his arrival in Marienburg, so he knew roughly what to expect. The first time he’d been there he’d been vaguely surprised to find that most of the buildings were normal sized ones, left over from earlier occupants, although the newer structures which crowded every vacant or semi-vacant space in typical Marienburg fashion had waist-high doorways perfectly sized for the halfling physique.

  Perhaps Meadowsweet, whoever he was, had been pretty smart basing his operation down here, where human-sized watchmen would find their usual tactic of kicking down doors and charging into suspect premises difficult at best.

  Having less need for space than their human neighbours many of the local residents had erected homes or businesses in the middle of the wider thoroughfares, narrowing them to choke points barely wide enough for the party of watchmen to slip through in single file. By the time they neared their objective Rudi was getting heartily sick of small, curly-haired heads barging past at a pace and height which made him even more grateful than usual for the armoured codpiece which, on the advice of his more experienced colleagues, had accounted for most of his first week’s wages.

  Halflings being halflings, which is to say outgoing, cheerful and curious, by the time the purposeful little group of Black Caps had reached its destination it had acquired a comet tail of diminutive followers, chattering cheerfully and loudly about their probable destination and reason for being there, augmented by several enterprising street hawkers who had seen the need for snacks to go along with the evening’s entertainment.

  “I heard it’s mutants in the sewers,” a young female said, tugging eagerly at Rudi’s trouser leg. “Is that right, mister, you’re hunting mutants?”

  “Witches,” her companion asserted, nodding his head with the complete assurance of total ignorance, spraying crumbs from the pastry he’d just purchased as he spoke. “A whole coven of ’em. That’s what I heard.”

  “Piffle, young Shem. Ain’t no witches in the Kleinmoot, not now, never have been.” An older halfling nodded sagely and drew on a pipe which directed a stream of choking smoke into Rudi’s face. “Mark my words, it be body snatchers they be after.”

  “What about old mother Goosegreen?” Shem persisted. “She got cursed, didn’t she? Got turned into a lobster a fortnight ago last Festag. Who done that then if it weren’t witches?”

  “I saw old mother Goosegreen yesterday,” his girlfriend said scornfully, “and she looked just the same as she always did.”

  Shem nodded sagely and swallowed the rest of his pastry. “I never said she didn’t get better, though, did I?”

  “Right!” Sergeant Rijgen’s bellow cut through the bedlam of excited chatter. Scores of small faces turned expectantly in his direction. “That’s better. Now hands up everyone who wants to be run in here and now for obstructing the watch.” A ripple of agitation ran through the crowd, and a few halflings on the fringes began to sli
p quietly away. “No takers? Good. Then bugger off!” He sighed in mingled exasperation and relief as the crowd began to disperse, then lunged at one of the diminutive inhabitants of the quarter. “Not you, Drogo.” He hoisted the kicking, squealing halfling into the air by one arm. “Give that lady her purse back.”

  “All right, all right, no need to make such a song and dance about it.” The pickpocket glared resentfully at the sergeant as he was lowered back to the cobbles and handed a small bag of coins to a plump matronly halfling, who received it with an audible sniff. “I’m entitled to make a living, aren’t I?”

  “What you’re entitled to is six months on Rijker’s Island.” Rijgen fixed the halfling thief with his best intimidating glare. “Just think yourself lucky I’ve got better things to do tonight than run in some penny-ha’penny dip.”

  “Did you see that?” Drogo expostulated as the watchmen turned away and resumed their march. “That’s just what I’ve been talking about. A whole city full of mutants and witches to arrest and they’ve got nothing better to do than pick on an innocent thief…”

  “You should have taken him in, Sarge,” Gerrit said. “He wouldn’t have slowed us down much.” Rijgen laughed.

  “Bring in my best informant? You must be joking. That little pantomime will have done him no end of good in keeping his cover solid.” Rudi sighed and shook his head. Everywhere he went in Marienburg, it seemed, he found nothing but deception and duplicity.

  To his relief the boarding house turned out to be one of the older, human-sized buildings, although like many of its neighbours a halfling-sized doorway had been cut into the original one. According to the briefing the original ceilings were still in place too, so at least the raiding party wouldn’t have to bend double once they were inside. Rijgen paused on the front step to glare at the remains of the audience which had continued to follow them at a safe distance, and redirected his attention to the watchmen.

  “Anders, Loos, stay here. Grab anyone trying to make a run for it. Kuyper and Gerrit, round the back.” The four designated watchmen nodded and shifted away from the others. As he went, Gerrit flashed a grin at Rudi.

  “Right then.” Rijgen watched Loos and Anders take up their positions by the door, waited a few moments for the others to reach the rear of the building, and gathered the rest of the party together. “Let’s get on with it.” Rudi half expected him to break the door down, but instead he knocked on the slab of wood almost gently.

  After a moment the small door in the middle of it opened and a halfling girl dressed like a kitchen maid stuck her head out.

  “Yes?” After a moment the size of the visitors dawned on her and she glanced up, the expression of polite enquiry freezing on her face. “It’s the Caps!” she shrieked and tried to duck back inside, but Rijgen was faster, yanking her out of the hole like a dog with a rabbit.

  Seeing an opportunity, Rudi bent double and ducked through the tiny portal, straightening up again just in time to avoid a punch in the face from a halfling tall and muscular enough to have passed for a shaven dwarf in a bad light. Not that such a thing existed so far as Rudi knew, among the male ones at least. Instead the blow clanged harmlessly against his single piece of armour and his assailant danced around the hallway nursing his bruised knuckles.

  “Ow! Ow! You broke my hand, you orc-snogging git!” While he was distracted Rudi tripped the latch on the main door and the remaining watchmen piled in.

  “You’re under arrest,” Rudi snapped, turning on the diminutive bouncer. “Assaulting a watchman, abusive language and gross indecency.” Leaving the door party to scoop the fellow up, he followed Rijgen.

  “Smart work, lad,” the sergeant said, acknowledging him with a nod. He gestured to the main staircase. “We’ll take upstairs. Maartens, Strijker, you’ve got the ground floor.”

  “Right, Sarge.” Maartens nodded, and the two watchmen began systematically kicking down the doors leading off from the hallway. Rudi followed Rijgen up the stairs and found him contemplating a corridor lined with similar entrances, presumably leading to bedrooms. The nearest one seemed more elaborate, larger and panelled, no doubt marking what used to be the master bedroom when this was a more prosperous establishment.

  “You take the left side, I’ll take the ones on the right,” Rijgen said. Rudi nodded. The sergeant kicked out at the door in front of him; it burst open with a crack of splintering wood and Rijgen disappeared inside. Most of the room was invisible from where Rudi was standing, but he could clearly hear a squeal of feminine outrage. Rijgen raised his hat politely. “Pardon the intrusion, ma’am. Rollo, get your breeches on, you’re nicked.”

  Rudi lost no time in following the sergeant’s lead. The first room was empty, apart from the same utilitarian furniture he’d seen in taverns and boarding houses before, and the next two held nothing more sinister than sleeping halflings who seemed too confused or terrified at being confronted by a sword-wielding watchman to do anything more than stutter out their names and occupations before scuttling down the stairs to join the growing throng in the hall being penned in by the Caps guarding the door. When he entered the next room, though, he was the one taken by surprise.

  “Don’t move! City watch!” This time the occupant was awake, dressed, and sitting in a chair, the expression of bored anticipation on his face giving way to shock and surprise. He was human and familiar, dressed in a fading blue coat that didn’t quite fit. As he looked up and saw Rudi’s face his expression changed again, to one of astonishment.

  The vague sense of recognition crystallised and Rudi felt as though he’d just been punched in the stomach. Shenk, the riverboat captain who’d tried to turn him and Hanna in for the bounty Gerhard had put on their heads.

  “It’s you! Rudi whatsisname.” The man’s expression changed again as he took in the watchman’s headgear, to one of almost comical bafflement. “You’re a Black Cap now?”

  “Damn right,” Rudi said, wondering what on earth to do, but determined to retain the initiative. “Feel like resisting arrest?” Shenk’s face paled, clearly wondering if Rudi was capable of killing him to keep his secret. Now the idea had been planted, it was seductively simple. One quick sword thrust and the only man in Marienburg who could identify him as a fugitive from Imperial justice would never be able to testify against him.

  “I won’t say anything,” Shenk said hastily. “Honest. I swear on my boat. I’ve never seen you before tonight, all right?”

  “I can’t take the chance,” Rudi said, and the riverboat captain’s face paled even more. He pointed to the bed. “Hide under there and wait till it goes quiet. Don’t try to get out the back, there are men posted.”

  “Thanks. Thanks, I owe you one.” Relief flooded Shenk’s features. “Really . The Reikmaiden is berthed at the candle wharf in Suiddock, halfway down the Luydenhoek Reach. Anything I can do for you…”

  “You can start by shutting up before my sergeant hears you,” Rudi said, backing out of the room. He turned to call to Rijgen. “Another empty one.”

  “No problem.” The sergeant was carrying a set of account books under one arm, an expression of intense satisfaction on his face. “I think we’ve got what we came for.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  By the time the suspects had been assembled in a grumbling huddle in the street outside, ready to be taken to the watch house for interrogation, the first faint blush of dawn was beginning to appear over the rooftops. A surprising number of them were non-halflings: several human men and women, a couple of dwarfs and a well-dressed elf, who somehow managed to convey the impression that he was doing the watchmen a tremendous favour by condescending to be arrested by them, towered over the majority of the group.

  Rudi didn’t envy his colleagues the job of herding them through the constricted streets of the Kleinmoot, especially as the respectable inhabitants of the quarter were beginning to stir and go about their business. Rijgen nodded at the elf as the loudly-protesting prisoners shuffled past the doorway of t
he boarding house, surrounded by watchmen like sheep by dogs.

  “That’s a bonus,” he remarked. “Pretty much confirms the Elfsgemeente connection.”

  Overhearing, the suspect favoured him with a disdainful look. “I’m here to discuss the delivery of a consignment of Lustrian spices to Esmeralda’s Apron with Mineer Meadowsweet. And my lawyers will be speaking to you shortly, you can be sure of that.”

  “Course you are. Course they will.” Rijgen didn’t sound terribly convinced of either statement. “But we’ll be having a nice little chat ourselves before then.”

  “Savages,” he said, turning away. “Shave an ape and find a human, as they say in Uluthan.”

  “Who are you calling a monkey?” one of the human prisoners demanded, clearly feeling that if he was to be denied the satisfaction of punching the watchman who had interrupted his evening’s assignation, an elf would be an acceptable alternative, and Gerrit waded into the ensuing fracas with a short club and his habitual expression of cheerful goodwill.

  “What about these other people?” Rudi asked, ignoring the noise.

  “We’ll find out. There’s a lot more going on in there than just smuggling, you can bet on that.” He nodded at one of the human women, who smiled and nodded back as though in response to a friendly greeting. “Kamilla there’s the second biggest fence in the Winkelmarkt, for a start. And some of those rooms rent by the hour, if you get my drift.”

  Rudi, who had been in the city long enough to do so, nodded, and regarded a few of the female suspects with renewed and slightly guilty interest. Not that he had, or would, of course, but sometimes he couldn’t help wondering.

  “Well that about wraps it up,” Rijgen concluded. He yawned loudly. “All we need to do now is send a note to the Waterboys over in the Paleisbuurt telling them to come and collect their presents.”

  “I can take it for you,” Rudi said, blessing whichever of the gods had handed him the chance of crossing the city without arousing suspicion. If he had legitimate business in the Paleisbuurt, what could be more natural than taking the opportunity for a social call on Fritz while he was there?