Reciprocity

by Sean M Locke

  “Perfectly wretched,” she replied, “but that is exactly what I fear. Is it all so transparent?”

  “As new glass. But what else is there?”

  “Must there be more?”

  I turned up my palms. “You tell me.”

  “If there is more at play, then I don’t know what it is.”

  I nodded. “Why don’t you tell me what you saw back at Lewis’s place? You got a little excited about the package I had to deliver.”

  Maria took a tiny brass cylinder from the sleeve of her robe. She rolled it carefully between slim fingers and brought the open end to her nose and gave it a sniff, the way I imagine people did with wine corks. Then she turned it so that I could see the family crest debossed on the side.

  “This is a 40-bore pistol cartridge bearing my family’s seal.” Her face was suddenly hard, and I could see all the planes and angles I’d seen on Josef’s face. “How did you come to have this? Do you already know of the reciprocating repeater carbine?”

  I drew back. “I’m not sure I like your tone. How do I know that’s not from the piece you’re carrying?”

  Maria set her lips into a thin line. “I do not need to explain myself to you, but this is important, so I will. Do you see this symbol below the seal?” It was tiny, but I saw it: a set of concentric circles, like an archery target, and the number eleven. “It denotes the purpose for this particular round. We use this round on the firing range—a fully copper-coated lead slug weighing eleven grams. It’s a lightweight round, easier for our armorers to make en masse, but unsuitable for dueling. These rounds may pass through one’s opponent and strike unintended targets.”

  She set the spent brass on the table and casually drew her gun from her robe. I didn’t need to look around to hear the scrape of chairs on the wooden floor, the startled gasps from the other diners, the clatter of dropped forks. Maria pulled the strange sliding component on top of the gun, and its well-oiled snicker-snack noise chilled me. A brass shell popped out, and she caught it with the ease of long practice. She laid the pistol on the table and showed me the bullet she’d snatched from the air.

  “Again, my family’s crest. Do you see the symbol below it?” I nodded—a pair of crossed swords and the number thirteen. “Thirteen-gram scoop-slug only partially coated in copper, suitable for dueling. The hollowed tip of the bullet causes it to deform and slow down when it strikes one’s opponent. This shape decreases the chance of striking a spectator or damaging property unintentionally.”

  She didn’t mention catastrophic organ damage, splintered bones, traumatic shock, or fatal blood loss. She didn’t say anything about how a bullet like that, a tiny thirteen-gram slug of copper and lead, could wreck lives. She didn’t say anything about how a bullet was an angry word you couldn’t take back.

  Maria picked up the gun again and pressed a stud near the trigger. A thin box carrying more scoop-slugs fell from the handle of the pistol. She pushed the single cartridge into the top of the box and reinserted it.

  I’d never seen anything like it before. Every other gun I’d ever seen, whether in the hand of a noble or otherwise, had a revolving cylinder that held the shells. Sometimes a clever or stupid crook would make his own single-shot gun out of a brass tube, a chunk of wood, and a bit of wire. But whether it was fancy or it was junk, a gun was a gun, and any gun was bound to give me the cold sweats. Never mind that a blade or a blackjack could kill you just as dead, or a broken bottle or getting pushed into an elevator shaft. I would have happily put every gun in the world inside a giant barrel and launched it into the sun, if I could’ve.

  Whether I liked the thing or not, something about the smooth, mechanical motions of Maria’s weapon hypnotized me. I watched her manipulate the pistol and slide it back into her robe, and it reminded me of the time I watched the snake-man at the circus handle a hissing viper.

  “It is irresponsible to carry range rounds anywhere but at the range.” She never took her eyes off mine the whole while. They glittered with hot anger. “I don’t expect you to know this, but any noble worth her purse will carry only fighting rounds when about town, or at a ball, or any other place a reputable lady might go.”

  I nodded dumbly and cleared my throat. She was right—there really was no reason for me to know that.

  A quick look around told me that the diners sitting nearest us had suddenly found other places to be. “All right, I believe you. But is there a chance that this might be a forgery of some kind? I mean, I know a couple guys who can do bogus papers, guys who have made bogus plates to print funny money.”

  “No,” she said, her back stiff and her eyes narrow. “It is not the done thing. Every family of worth has craftsmen and armorers bonded to its service, and they take their calling very seriously. I have known the man who made this ammunition since I was old enough to walk. I cannot imagine him allowing the printing plates for these symbols out of his possession for even a moment. I must believe that the shell casings you were carrying are the genuine article.

  “You also had in your possession a rudimentary drawing of a component of Father’s experimental weapon. The drum magazine for that weapon is different in shape but similar in function to the box magazine for my pistol. They both use a system of springs to feed cartridges into the chamber of the weapon, allowing the weapon to be fired repeatedly and rapidly.” She lowered her voice and used a hand to shield one side of her mouth, like she was telling me a schoolyard secret. “Whereas my pistol’s magazine can hold eight cartridges, the magazine for my father’s carbine holds sixty. Whereas I must squeeze the trigger every time I want to fire a shot, the carbine can expend all of its ammunition with a single squeeze.”

  A single gunman could do the work of a small army with a weapon like that. The braadworst and brötchen in my stomach turned into a lump of cold iron as I remembered the butchery at the warehouse earlier in the morning. I remembered how Kasper’s hands shook, how pale his lips were. Was that what a man looked like after murdering a dozen people with a single pull of the trigger?

  Abruptly I snatched the bottle of vermouth and took a pull. She was right—it was too sweet and syrupy. “Look, Maria, I have to ask—why are you telling me all this?”

  “I believe you can help me,” she replied, her voice small and white-hot. “And I believe that you are indeed acquainted with my sister, even if you haven’t said so.”

  I scowled to hide my surprise. This girl was gorgeous and good with her hands, sure, but she had the nerve to be perceptive, too? I could feel myself falling hard, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Just what do you expect me to do about all this?”

  Maria sat back and slumped her shoulders. “I confess I had not thought that far ahead. But you are the only person I have met here who has been remotely kind to me, and surely it is fate that we’ve met. I think you are capable of helping me recover my father’s property, if you are willing.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that I might take advantage of you somehow?”

  “How could you?” She laughed miserably. “I am cast out of my house, and I cannot return without the weapon. I am rapidly becoming destitute, so there is very little for you to steal. But I don’t believe you would steal from me even if I had ten thousand guilders on my person right now. You look trustworthy to me.”

  “As trustworthy as the next gangster.”

  “I don’t believe you are much like these rough characters my sister has been spending time with lately. Something in your face tells me so.” She smiled, and it was like a dagger under my sternum. But in a good way. “In fact, I should like you to accompany me tonight to the club that Kasper visits. Come to the Hotel Mercure tonight, around six o’clock, room 413. We’ll dine and then go to this club.”

  “Why, Lady Cantabile,” I said, trying and failing to smother my nerves with a chuckle. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  She considered me through slitted eyes, and her smile stayed put.

  I shook my head and leaned in. �
�Maria, this isn’t a great idea. I could be the worst kind of con, and you wouldn’t even know it. That kind of gullibility will get you killed. And Club Madill won’t be safe.”

  “Then I am fortunate to have you with me,” she said, leaning forward, matching me like a mirror. “For you have proven more than once that you can save my life.”

  I frowned and stared at the remains of lunch. Half a dozen smart-sounding things rolled through my head, but none of them sounded right. Nothing was clever enough, charming enough.

  Instead of saying anything, I left Kasper’s ten guilder note on the table and jerked my head toward the door. She nodded and grinned, obviously pleased with herself.

  We stood, and my head swam. How had I gotten myself into this? Rocks sometimes fell from the Spray, and streaked through the southern sky and into the sea. If they landed somewhere other than the storm-tossed water, maybe on some faraway person’s tropical hut, I’d always thought that would be a rotten way to end the day. And yet here was my own personal meteor, burning bright and falling fast, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

  * * *

  We headed toward the Mercure, taking back ways that I knew, keeping awnings and buildings between the aerostats and us. It didn’t matter, in the end. I had a feeling trouble would find us, and find us it did.

  A new and unwelcome voice spoke as we emerged into a small, busy plaza. “Well, there you are. You’re a hard woman to track down.”

  “Felix,” I said, stopping short and laying a hand on Maria’s forearm. I didn’t bother sounding nice. “I must be slipping. I didn’t hear you land your flyer.”

  “I daresay you were too wrapped up in your stroll with this stunning beauty.”

  Felix smiled, his teeth too white and even, his charm thicker and sweeter than cheap vermouth. His hair looked artfully tousled and windblown, and he carried a leather aviator’s helmet under his left arm. His other fist was planted on his hip, close to the revolver he carried. He was every inch the dashing bravo, and he was simply begging for a punch in the mouth.

  “Kaeri Hawen,” he said with a sigh. “It is, as always, a pleasure.”

  “No, it isn’t. My brother couldn’t be bothered to hassle me himself, so he sends you?”

  “I’ve always liked that about you, Kaeri—your capacity for self-flattery. It so happens I’m not here to see you at all.” Felix turned his blue eyes on Maria, studying her like some interesting museum piece. “You simply must introduce me to your charming friend.”

  I stole a quick look at Maria; she was blinking like someone had thumped her between the eyes, and her cheeks reddened. I sighed and waved at Felix with a dismissive hand. “Fine. This is Felix Bonaventure, a fearsome apprentice trade regulator. Partners in crime with my dear brother Wolfgang. During the week he closes down unlicensed gelato carts and kicks over little girls’ lemonade stands. On weekends he likes to drown kittens. Felix, this is my charming friend, who is too smart to be dazzled by a pretty face like yours, and who likes to keep to herself.”

  “She thinks I’m pretty,” he said to Maria, his head tilted to one side just so. “A distinct pleasure, Miss . . .”

  “Cantabile. Maria Irena Cantabile. Quite charmed,” she murmured. She dipped her chin and stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes. If she minded him botching her title, she didn’t show it.

  Felix took her hand and bowed over it, brushing his lips on her knuckles. When he let her hand go, she curled it in to herself.

  “It doesn’t surprise me to see Kaeri keeping interesting company,” he said. He set his hand on his hip again, his thumb now resting casually on the snap that held his revolver down. “But I am a little astonished to see a companion of such caliber.”

  Alarm flashed across Maria’s eyes at the word caliber, and her hand twitched near the collar of her robe. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to come to a decision but fighting panic at the same time. I’d seen this before when someone got cornered. This was the moment where they decided to play ball or decided pull a weapon.

  I hoped Maria was in a mood to play ball. I really did.

  After a long moment, Maria deflated a little and folded her hands in front of her waist. “Is it so obvious that I’m not an acolyte?”

  I suppressed a sigh of relief. Felix could have shot her with impunity if she’d made a move. No one in the plaza would say a thing. No one questioned the trade regulators.

  “Oh the disguise is fine enough from a distance,” Felix said, “but you are no shy choir girl. No, I am sure you are something more exceptional than that.”

  A bright smile abruptly lit her face, and she was all charm and class again. “You flatter me, Meneer Bonaventure. I am nobody’s fashion plate this morning.”

  “On the contrary, you are strangely fetching in the novice’s robe. If you are not careful, you may start a trend among the better young ladies.” His leer was precisely calculated: obvious enough to be detectible, subtle enough to not spark outrage in a noblewoman.

  “Oh, come now,” Maria replied, waving a hand at him. I couldn’t tell if she bought it, or if she was still playing along. “But never mind that. Are you truly a trade regulator?”

  He took this as an invitation and gestured toward a burbling fountain. As we sat, the six people already there found somewhere else to be. “Well, we do not all wear sandwich boards saying so, but yes, I am.”

  Maria crossed her legs and propped her chin up on one palm. “And surely not all trade regulators can be so handsome. You would stand out like a sore thumb.”

  Felix looked like he was going to say something, but my sudden coughing fit interrupted him fine enough. “Gods, sorry. That’s too much.”

  “Are you all right?” Maria asked.

  “Yeah, fine. I’d just save the flirting, is all. He’s completely immune to the charms of women, if you catch my meaning.”

  She pouted. “But I wasn’t flirting.”

  I waved her off. “Never mind. It’s one of the reasons me and Felix don’t get along, you see. He can’t play the charming rake with me, and I can’t exactly wiggle my hips at him and expect good results.”

  “Indeed,” Felix said, his face marred with annoyance. “We must actually treat each other like professionals.”

  “Annoying, isn’t it? But why don’t you get around to saying why you’re here, Felix.”

  “Very well, if you wish to hear it.” He tilted his head back just enough to catch the sun in his hair. Like he couldn’t help it. “Sources have informed me that a young noblewoman of some repute has been seen in rougher parts of town with a person who has ties to organized crime. I am investigating those reports and would hope to see that the gentlewoman remains safe.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. You wouldn’t have happened to see anything like that, have you?”

  “I couldn’t say,” I replied.

  Felix looked at Maria, his face a little softer. “And you? Have you seen any gentlewomen in distress recently? Perhaps in the company of a gangster?”

  Maria grew animated in thought. This was it, then. She could spill her story to Felix and maybe get his help in retrieving her father’s weapon. Any sane person would do just that. Any sane person would trust in the law and run the other way from mooks like me.

  Then again, maybe Maria would stick with me. Trade regulators would ask uncomfortable questions, and they had no reason to be discreet. If her family’s pride meant half as much as I thought it did, then maybe she wouldn’t want to talk to Felix at all.

  “Meneer Bonaventure,” she said finally, “I cannot say anything about gangsters, and Kaeri has been perfectly helpful and kind. I will admit to a little distress, however. Perhaps this isn’t the place to discuss such matters.”

  “Say no more. I am entirely at your disposal. Do you require strict confidence?”

  “It is a matter of some delicacy, yes.”

  “Isn’t it always?” He turned to me. His smile was smug and eminently punch
able. “Kaeri, you have done commendable work keeping this gentlewoman safe from the predations of the Lower Terrace. Especially considering your other obligations.”

  I stared at him. He could eat my other obligations. “It’s nothing.”

  “We’ve talked about this before, but I’ll ask you again if you might consider a career change. You’ve got just the kind of compassion for others and sense of law and order that our outfit is always looking for. I’m sure your brother could work something out for you.”

  It was an old and familiar line. I stood and faced Maria. “If you don’t need anything else from me?”

  “I only require a few words alone with this man. But I hope we will see each other again soon. Perhaps even tonight?” She raised an eyebrow. “If you’re still interested.”

  Hotel Mercure. Room 413. Six o’clock. My heart kicked up a notch despite my wishes to the contrary. Maybe Maria was on the level with me after all. I had no way to tell except to wait and see.

  I nodded once, thinking of that meteor falling out of the Spray again. I could feel its heat growing against my back; I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to see it coming.

  “All right. Until then.”

  Felix asked, “Shall I say hello to Wolfgang for you?”

  I stood from the fountain without answering and weaved my way into the crowd. The city swallowed me, but I knew it couldn’t hide me for long.

  Chapter 6

  I guessed that I’d find Kasper in his usual spot in the Exedra Arms—a screened booth in the back of the bar. He had Henriette with him, and they were flying pretty high. Basket-wrapped bottles lay scattered, some of them full. Whatever had spooked them this morning had got drowned in a generous helping of wine and brandy. Someone was sitting with them, his back to me. I knelt behind the screen and took a good long time to tie my boots.

  “I do hope your men are up to the task. It should not be difficult.” I knew that voice. Same rich vowels as Maria, but he made the words sound like poison. “But do remind them to watch what they’re doing. I won’t be responsible if I am forced to strike one of them down.”