Reciprocity

by Sean M Locke

  “I saw that he got a little worked up when he found out Kasper tried the thing out against those Rademaker guys.”

  “Yes, and now that the cat is out of the bag, I see even less of him. He spends much of his time helping Hendrik with certain business ventures, which I haven’t paid much attention to, if I’m honest. He doesn’t tell me where he goes, and he doesn’t try to convince me to come back to Bacigalupi Tower anymore.”

  “Not that you want him to do that, right?”

  She looked toward Abby’s Abattoir again. “Of course not. I’m having a fine time.”

  I looked over there too, and the man who’d gone inside was back out again, talking to his fellows and they were all looking at us. One of them jerked a chin at us, and they all ducked back inside, hands jammed into pockets and heads swiveling this way and that.

  “They’re ready for us,” I said, gesturing at the slaughterhouse. “Shall we?”

  A too-sudden smile brightened her face. “But of course!”

  * * *

  Our three silent guides lingered inside long enough to see that we’d come in, and then started walking away with hardly a backward glance. I shrugged at Henriette and led her onward. The inside of Abby’s Abattoir was about what you’d expect, if you knew what an abandoned slaughterhouse in high summer might look and smell like. Big vertical saws stood idle and rusted, and the suspended conveyor chains that straddled them carried nothing but empty hooks. The coppery stink of old blood soaked everything.

  “Are you sure about this place, Kaeri?” Henriette asked in a low voice. She kept her eyes on the back of the goons, maybe to stop herself from looking at anything else.

  I had started to think about how tomorrow I’d need to take my suit to the dry cleaners to get the smell out, and then stopped short. Did I really have any business thinking I’d live long enough to run errands? I put on a false half-smile. “A little dangerous, just like you like it. Isn’t this fun?”

  “Yes, quite,” she said, uncertainty weighing down her voice. We continued toward the back wall of this cavernous building. “But I would have thought there’d be more people here.”

  “The party is in the back,” I lied. “Can’t have everyone out front. It’d attract attention.”

  One of the guides smirked over her shoulder at us, and one of the others hauled open a heavy steel door marked cold storage keep closed all times. He held the door while the other two went in and disappeared behind a leather curtain.

  The cold room wasn’t so cold anymore; the brackets in the walls that once held meter-thick blocks of ice were empty and dry. When the curtain closed behind us, only a thin sheet of light sliced through the gloom. It didn’t illuminate so much as show how dark the room really was. I could hear the breathing of at least half a dozen people in there. Henriette should have twigged to the idea that things were all wrong now, that this wasn’t the fun sort of danger she was hoping for. The idea of her panicking and shooting blindly into the dark left my guts as cold as this room should have been.

  I patted her wrist and tried to remember whether her gun hand or sword hand was on my arm. Then I said something meaningless like, “They’re just having a laugh. Don’t worry; happens all the time.”

  There was a sound like a glass rod snapping, and then it happened a couple more times. Ghostly yellow smudges of chemical light appeared in front of us and grew stronger to reveal a young man sitting cross-legged in a chair. A pair of tough guys stood to his left and right, flanking him, stern as statues. A quick look over my shoulder told me the three mooks who led us in here were behind us, standing on either side of the leather curtain.

  Henriette’s hand went slack, and I could hear her breathing hard. I eeled my arm out of her grasp and took a half step behind her.

  “Kaeri Hawen,” said the young man, grinning hugely. His brow and upper lip were sweating more than the heat of the room could account for. He made what might have been a gracious gesture with his hand, if it was still attached. “Glad you came.”

  “Tommy Sforza,” I replied, heart hammering in my chest. Tommy’s stump was wrapped in about ten kilos of gauze and tape. “Good to see you up and about. How’s the arm?”

  “Been better. I get fitted for a hook tomorrow. But let’s lose the small talk, huh? We got business.”

  “Kaeri,” Henriette said over her shoulder, her voice tiny. “What is this? What have you done?”

  “I’m sorry, Henriette. I lied to you.” I kept my eyes on Tommy. “There’s no fights here. Just these guys.”

  “Oh, bail me out!” Tommy barked. “Kaeri Hawen, are you getting soft? This is rich!”

  “Kaeri,” Henriette repeated, her fingers twitching close by her weapons. I laid a hand on her shoulder; her body quivered with restrained violence. She was about two seconds from doing something beautifully, gloriously stupid.

  “Don’t. Go with them, and don’t give them any trouble. They know better than to hurt you.” Tension in the room surged, but no one made a serious move. “Maybe you got bullets enough for all six of them, but are you fast enough to pass them out?”

  “Five,” she replied, her voice full of venom. “The first one’s for you.”

  I nodded. “That’s fair enough. But stop and look at how the clothes hang on these mooks. At least two of ‘em have their own guns. Not as fancy as yours, and they’re not as good as you. All the same, it’s poor odds. Taking poor odds is what got you here in the first place.”

  Her head turned like a cannon to regard all the tough guys in front of her. “I might still win. My sword is sharp and doesn’t run out of ammunition.”

  “Sure, you’ve got a chance. Or you might lose. Is this a place you want to die, my lady? What would people say?”

  She took a huge breath of fetid air, and Tommy’s crew stiffened and held their collective breath. Fingers clenched weapons, and hardened men and women leaned forward on their toes. The moment hung heavy in that closed space.

  “All right. But you don’t have to make fun of me.” She bore herself up again, all aristocrat once more. “Very well. Tommy Sforza, was it? It appears that I am at your disposal. What happens next?”

  Tommy tapped one of the goons with the back of his hand. “Jura, get her iron.”

  “What about hers?” Jura said, jerking his chin at me.

  “If you think seven of you chumps can’t handle one Lange affiliat with an old, rusty sword, then yeah, take it from her.”

  “Do be careful with those,” Henriette said as Jura took her gear. “They’re worth more than your entire household, such as it might be.”

  Jura handled the looped belts and weapons like they might bite him. When he got out of arm’s reach, the Rademakers relaxed a little. Smiles all around. Two others came up and made to take Henriette by the elbows.

  I stepped between them and Tommy, my hands held up to forestall them. “Hold on. I did like Vedette asked, and I’m due something. Any chance at all of you holding up her end of the bargain?”

  Henriette jerked her arm out of the goon’s grasp and leaned in to me. She was close enough to grab my throat if she wanted.

  “Are you getting a good price at least?” she asked with bared teeth. “I would feel insulted if you sold me cheap.”

  I straightened my shoulders under her acid gaze and looked at Tommy. “Well?”

  Tommy laughed, but stopped short with a wince. He looked at his stump, and his face contorted like he was wiggling fingers that weren’t there anymore. “No, Kaeri. Your friend ain’t here. But you had to know I wouldn’t bring her, right?”

  “Yeah. Thought as much.” I fought to control my breathing. The air was too close, and Henriette’s bubbling rage made it hotter than it needed to be. “Vedette know you’re holding out on me? Did Big Sister sign off on this?”

  Tommy stood, knocking the chair over, and thrust his remaining thumb into his chest. “I do what I do. She don’t sign off on my business. How about you shut your gob and walk out of here while you c
an?”

  “Have it your way. When I get her back, she and I are gonna flip a coin. Winner will do worse for you than a lopped-off hand.” I pulled the saber a few centimeters out of the scabbard and slammed it back down again. “If we’re nice to you, you won’t live to crawl back home and take your licks from Vedette for reneging on her word.”

  I turned my back on him and walked as he started hollering. Henriette joined in the ruckus when she realized my price for handing her over. They were saying the things anyone might expect—Vedette don’t run my life yeah you’d better walk away, you traded me for Maria why would you do that I’ll kill you. Et cetera.

  None of that mattered. I walked out of there with my head up and shoulders back, but I felt hollow as a drum and just as tight. Cold, oily guilt reached its hand inside and pulled my insides down and down. If I looked back, I was sure I’d see all my guts trailing behind me, but damned if I was going to look back. I felt like I could collapse in on myself at any second, like a tin can under a boot. Shouts rained on my back as I left Abby’s Abattoir, and my insides felt cold as gelato on a winter’s day. But none of it mattered.

  I had to talk to some people, people I didn’t want to ask for help. Maria might already be dead, for all I knew, but if I didn’t try everything, every last hateful little thing, then what good was I?

  * * *

  The Cirkelvormige swayed and rattled as it took me around the island. It gave me time to think, and that would have been grand if I’d actually done any thinking. Mostly I sat with my forehead pressed to the window, watching the streets and neighborhoods of the Lower roll past. A wink of light made me look up, and I saw the glittering towers of the Middle Terrace not too far off. I studied the towers and wondered which one was Maria’s, which black speck of window should have held Maria right now, if things hadn’t gotten so fouled up.

  My gaze drifted back to the tenements and factories of the Lower, and I saw a familiar church, one with a spire sheared in half. I was on my feet and moving toward an exit door before I had time to really think about it.

  The train slowed to a stop, but I wasn’t getting off at the station with the other commuters. The trip I took from the maintenance platform to the gantry and across to Piet’s rooftop was the reverse of what I’d done the day before. It was a damn sight more fun with her around. I opened the roof trapdoor, hopped onto the ladder, and closed it behind me quick, in case Piet was hanging around in his storeroom.

  Pallets of tarp-covered aker still sat where I’d seen them, though I reckoned there was less of it now than the day before. The spot where Sofie had been melting down stolen jewelry the day before was swept clean, and there was no sign of her at all. Maybe she’d gotten herself out. I hoped so.

  I made my way out of the storeroom and planted my ear on the cheap plywood door to Piet’s office.

  “. . . were some difficulties last night,” I heard Josef say.

  “Joe, I’m glad you survived and all, but I really don’t give a damn.” That was Piet, with some steel in his voice. It sounded brittle to my ears—a kind of bravery you forced out when you didn’t want to look like a coward. “Where the hell is my paper?”

  “As you can see, I didn’t come with a suitcase full of money, which is too bad. But I did come to settle accounts.”

  There was a sound like a gun getting pulled from a holster, and then another sound like a gun barrel scraping a wooden filing cabinet. No one shot anyone for a good minute or so. I heard fast breathing on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, my nerves prickled like tiny lightning bolts between my shoulder blades. It occurred to me, late as usual, that if I could hear them breathing through the thin plank of a door, a stray bullet could easily find me right through it.

  “Well, this is a surprise, Meneer Sandoval,” Josef finally said. “I’ve underestimated you. I suppose I shouldn’t have considered you a loose end to be tied up.”

  “You would have been better off kicking in the door and shooting me without any preambles.” I imagined Piet clenching his teeth together. “But I guess your noble chivalrous nonsense wouldn’a let you do that.”

  “You are correct in that regard.”

  “Yeah,” Piet said. “So either pull the trigger and we’ll see who’s lucky, or start talking. Tell me what the hell happened out there, and when I can expect my money.”

  “Do you suppose we can put the guns down and talk like reasonable men?”

  “You must think I’m stupid,” Piet replied hotly. “That makes me angry. When I get angry, I get twitchy. If I’m gonna smear you all over the wall, I’d hate to think it was on accident.”

  “All right, very well. The guns stay if it makes you feel better. Where should I begin?” Josef asked.

  “Start at the buy. You met with Rademaker last night to make the deal. A little bird told me that some Lange boys ambushed you.”

  “That’s correct, though there was one woman among them. In any case there were too many, and they had the drop on us. They overwhelmed us and took both the aker and the money Rademaker owed me.”

  “Owed me,” Piet corrected.

  A pregnant pause, a shift of cloth. “Of course.”

  “The Rademaker guys didn’t put up a fight? You didn’t?”

  “A fight implies a chance,” Josef said. “I had none, so I didn’t resist. The Langes had the drop on us, and they beat the Rademakers savagely with cricket bats and come-alongs and pistol butts. They also took one of the Rademakers for sport.”

  “But they didn’t touch you?”

  “No.”

  “They wouldn’t want trouble with the great House Cantabile.” I could hear the sneer in Piet’s voice.

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  They stopped talking a little while. Long enough for some wheels to turn in Piet’s head. Long enough for him to probably get an ugly, thoughtful look on his face. Long enough for Piet to remember Maria’s face, her posture, and how she looked a little like Josef. Long enough for Josef to get worried about what Piet was thinking.

  My hand knocked on the flimsy door before I had a good idea I was doing it. My other hand opened the door before anyone said anything, and I stepped inside. It occurred to me that someone might panic and start shooting.

  Piet was half out of his chair, a sawn-off shotgun in his hands, pointed in Josef’s general direction. Josef’s head snapped toward me like a compass needle pointed north. The room flushed warm, like I’d caught some couple in the act.

  I let a smarmy grin creep up my face as I shut the door behind me. “Hello, boys. Lovely day out.”

  “You,” they both said—Piet with genuine surprise, Josef with the disgust you saved for finding a rat in the pantry.

  I laughed at them. “Oh, stop it. That only happens in bad talkies.”

  Piet sat heavily and turned enough that his cannon covered the both of us. “The hell are you doing in here? I changed the locks yesterday.”

  “Oh, Piet.” I laughed again. “There’s more than one way in here. Anyway, I came to talk to you about a mutual acquaintance, but it looks like I interrupted you. Sorry.”

  “You’re not sorry,” Piet said, peering at me close. “I guess you overheard everything just now.”

  “Yep. But don’t worry, you don’t have to introduce me to your friend here.” I smiled at Josef, but the look he gave me could have frozen it off my face. “We’re acquainted.”

  “Why exactly are you butting in on a private business matter?” Piet asked, looking down his gun at me. “Did Kasper send you?”

  “Gosh, no. I didn’t even expect to hear you two talking business. I guess the usual thing to do is to ask for a partnership in your venture, since I know so much now. If I was a smart girl, I’d offer my services—and my discretion—for a cut of the pie. All that stuff.” Josef’s cheeks flushed, and he opened his mouth to yell something at me, but I was quicker. “But maybe I’m not so smart. Your business is filthy stuff, and I don’t want any part of it. I came here
for something else. Josef, I’m willing to bet you can guess what.”

  I let my fingers rest casually on the pommel of Maria’s saber and drummed my fingers on the family seal. Josef looked at the sword for the first time, and his face twisted up ugly and mean, the kind of look a man got when he walked in on his wife and another man. A beautifully manicured hand shot to his own sword, and he had it out before I could take another breath. The wickedly sharp point of his old-fashioned but completely functional rapier pricked the skin of my throat.

  If I took one deep breath, it would be my last.

  “I should cut you down where you stand.”

  “Like you did those limpets in the graveyard?” I said. His face didn’t move much—just a small movement of his jaw, like he was grinding his teeth together, and one eye made a funny twitch. “I don’t see why. Not like I’m going to touch you or get your coat dirty.”

  He exhaled once, then twice. “You will hand over that weapon now, beggar.”

  “Easy now, Joe,” Piet said, ignoring the barrels of Josef’s handcrafted, beautifully inlaid pistol. He pointed the shotgun from the hip, covering mostly Josef now. “Just take it easy.”

  Josef’s gaze slid over to Piet. “You don’t understand, Sandoval. That is my father’s sword, and this creature has stolen it. I am within my rights to reclaim it.”

  “You’re real good about claiming your rights, Joe, and I like how you’re looking after your family’s reputation. But I’ll tell you that you’re making me real nervous right now. I mean, you cut her throat, I get distracted by the blood, and you take advantage and plug me in the heart.” Piet tucked the shotgun closer to his hip. “I ain’t no marksman, but I don’t have to be with this thing.”

  Josef came to some kind of decision, and he holstered his pistol and sheathed his sword. He smoothed his hands down the front of his coat and folded them behind his back. The lines of rage in his face dissolved into the cool, aristocratic planes and angles I was used to seeing. And just like that, ice wouldn’t melt in his mouth.