Dark Wolves

by J A Deriu

  “What side are you playing, Harry? Why are you aligning yourself with the Progressives and their fearmongering? The same people that accuse me are also accusing you. They are saying that you are financing militia in Africa. There were even reports that you are in Africa yourself.”

  “Yes, clearly not true. Like everything, it is complicated, and I certainly do not play both sides – you can be certain that there are no secrets with me. But perhaps to bring clarity to the situation, I must state unequivocally that the banking institutions of the Hapsburg State will not allow the transactions that you desire.”

  Carsten produced a soft grumble. “This is disturbing. I regret my business with you. I was fooled by a reputation that now seems to have been misplaced. Nonetheless, my lawyer has traveled with me. He is a resourceful man, we will regroup, and you will hear from us further.”

  Harry Habsburg replied with an unrevealing smile.

  “I had an unsatisfactory meeting,” Carsten said to Rovis. They met in the foyer of the hotel where they had booked rooms.

  Rovis looked carefully around the hushed area. “So did I.”

  “It seems we are used to bad news. You go first.”

  A porter, hands in pockets and whistling, strolled past. Rovis waited until he was gone. “As instructed, I stood on the pier looking like a lonely soul. A chubby guy came along. He didn’t make eye contact, but he dropped the line I was waiting for and asked if the ferry was coming or going. Very professional. I could get used to the cloak-and-dagger world. We pretended as though we didn’t know each other, which was easy because I didn’t know him. There didn’t look like there was anyone watching, but, I know, you say that there almost certainly was. We walked along the pier until we could be sure there was no one within earshot. He said he would not linger and that the message from the Grand Master was urgent and critical. The news of the Templar victory in the Horn of Africa was great news, but it is no victory if they cannot keep moving to the ultimate goal. The Lord Commander has done what she could to keep the momentum, but to force the Africans too far would be dangerous. In other words – and it always comes down to this – the fat little man said that the Templars have run out of money. The Templars themselves can be paid on a promise, so the bulk of the army is not the concern. It’s the rest, all the ancillary support and what keeps them moving, transport, and what keeps them ready to fight, food, fuel, ammunition, the rest. I don’t think any of this is any surprise. I mean, that is why we are here, isn’t it? But I’d say what is new is the urgency. The chubby fellow made it very clear that he was using the words of the Grand Master herself, and these words were desperate and urgent.”

  Carsten considered. “Hmm, the urgency is a concern.”

  “The little fellow said that if the battle group does not keep moving, it will fall apart, be picked apart, and many other bad things.”

  “This seems logical when you consider the breadth of what is happening.”

  “What about you, sir? How did you find the Habsburg fellow?”

  “He was a dashing, impressive-looking man, but of no help, only a hindrance. He made it abundantly clear that he was under the influence of the political class. He has locked away the capital as though it is in the most impregnable of safes and we are robbers watching from the outside.”

  “Rainclouds.” Rovis lifted the volume of his voice slightly. “This is forlorn. Even if the funds were held – how could we get it to them in an urgent way? I thought the whole idea of the Hapsburg State was to be free of the control of the Metropolis.”

  “It is impressive what they have achieved here. They have not only created this haven so close to the Metropolitan beast, but it is something that I have also admired for its reach.” He looked across the marble floor to a huge picture that covered a wall of the prestigious hotel. He could make out the outline of it by struggling with his poor vision. He recalled the treasures of the library and assumed it was another masterpiece from some distant shore. It was of a foreign and dramatic landscape. More than that he could not see. He refocused on the dutiful face of Rovis which was staring expectantly at him. “I am wondering if one problem fixes another.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  She hated this place or perhaps was indifferent to it. Krass sat quietly in the driver’s seat and waited for her to move. He read her well and held up a packet of cigarettes with one stuck out. She touched it with her outstretched finger and then dropped her arm. She got out of the motor vehicle without saying a word.

  It was windy. Her clothes flapped. The sky was cracked with half of it a mellow light and the rest an ugly gray, signaling that a storm was coming. The gate was unlocked. She pushed against the rusted iron, and it groaned open.

  The alternative he had offered was to meet at the old family home, which was certainly a place she hated. This place was more palatable in the daytime, yet an eerie darkness caused by the overhanging branches loomed in front of her. Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to meet anywhere public. The only people who were in this place were dead, and the people who had stood over the graves when they were buried were also long dead. She stopped to look at the nearest headstone, weathered and covered in lichen. The dates could not be read. She reminded herself that she did not have to meet him. His warnings from the last time she had seen him kept repeating in her head. A hunger made her move again. He had knowledge. She had been disdainful of it, but events had made her more than curious.

  He was sitting on a bench. A gap in the trees allowed light to fall on him. She breathed easier knowing that the meeting was to be in the open rather than inside the disturbing mausoleum where they had met the last time. He was dressed in his constant uniform of a gray business suit with the white square of a handkerchief protruding from his breast pocket and the dark patterns of a vest underneath. He sat easily. His body angled to the light, and his chin lifted so that his face was looking toward the sky. He did not show that he noticed her until she stood in front of him. He lowered his head and smiled with a minimal change in the shape of his mouth.

  “Please, sit down. Let’s sit out here. It may rain. In this city the weather is fleeting. They say – if you do not like it, wait a few minutes.” She sat down. His face had lost some of its luster. “Your speech was brilliant. It has been compared to Montague the last and broadcast continually … I was terribly worried when I listened to what was happening at the university …” He stopped talking like a person who had realized that they were dancing alone.

  “Last time we met, I left. I didn’t listen to you. You had more to say. You called him the Old Man of the Mountain.”

  There was no surprise on his face. He took a long breath. “I can tell you everything I know. If this will satisfy you, I cannot say. The man you are dealing with is part of an organization. They are secret. They ply a trade. They have done this for centuries. Europeans first began to know about them in the time of the Crusades, but they existed well before this time. They follow power. Their motivations are not known. They are artful in hiding their true beliefs. They attach themselves to power. They want to alter the political reality of the day in order to further their own agenda. The Ottomans used them to advance in their charge through Old Europa. Many of the generals and leaders of the old countries were slain by their daggers. Lord Wellington himself barely escaped, to die in battle instead. The reason the world we live in looks the way it does is no doubt shaped by their hands.” He paused to measure her face. “Our family has been in the halls of power in one form or another since this city became great. They have stalked us for generations. Appearing as though magicians. Aiding us when in trouble. They look to be guardian angels. And because of this, we have not always made the right decisions. Power is seductive. We for many generations were a natural attraction for them, and we did their bidding without knowledge, care, or both.”

  He reached across as if to touch her arm but did not complete the movement. “The p
lans of this man are not to be an anonymous benefactor or a sage with useful advice. They will use the power acquired to rule from the shadows.”

  “You tell me all this, but you cannot tell me their true motivations, what they want. What if it is not sinister? There are strings for all power in this city.”

  “Everything that is hidden is sinister. I cannot answer better than this. The Old Man in the Mountain will talk in riddles. And he will talk endlessly. His topics will be vast, seemingly unrelated, and obscure. He will have detailed knowledge of history and historic events. He will talk as though he were there. Every generation one of them comes to us. I have the history of our family to inform me of this. He wants to be positioned to use the strength that comes from government so that when he is ready, he can implement his program at will. Think about this logically. What has he been telling you?”

  She considered him before answering. Bertram von Esbeck looked like an easy man to trust. He was neither old or young, ugly or handsome, witty or serious. The kind of face that did not bother anyone. “It is true. He has spoken to me. And yes, much of the discussion is esoteric, philosophical, and religious debates. I have little interest when he is talking, but later the topic will turn up in my mind. I will wake in the night thinking of world history as cyclical, Neoplatonism, that God exists but is incomprehensible. Is this what he told you also?”

  He lifted a hand slightly. “The man that is talking to you is not the same man that talked to me. Although I have not met your man, I can be sure that the man I talked to would have been his predecessor, but, yes, the conversations were the same. Long, detailed, but intense and fascinating. I, of course, listened for many more hours than you have accumulated. I believe at their core these men are of a religion. My man talked of initiatory grades, degrees of wisdom, hidden rulers, the secret histories, alchemy, metempsychosis, yet he stressed the need as a public face to show the support for science over mysticism, accordant with any Progressive.” He paused for a moment. A droplet landed on his jacket. “I ended my term on the Trio and did not seek any further political office. He did not meet with me anymore. They waited for you.”

  “He has made it very clear that I must be ambitious and rise.”

  “This is for you to decide. I would say that you should be patient. I have no doubt that you will rule in this city, but you have not even faced an election yet. Please believe me. They will age you like nothing else. Make your name slowly. Become involved in industry, trade, and diplomacy. These are the areas that helped the Metropolis to become great. I worked these fields for a dozen years.”

  “Why are you only telling me this now?”

  “I could not be certain that he would come to you. They may have sought your brother – I know, this was far-fetched. I saw and sensed what was happening. We met when you first became a councillor.”

  “No. That is not what I meant. You could have spoken to me well before then. You never talked. We have been cold. Why?”

  He touched his hand to his face. More droplets landed. “This is hard to say. I am a weak person. I avoid conflict. Hence why I was such a poor politician. You have come here. I must be honest. You were an unforgiving child that I found hard to stomach. Retreat and avoidance are what I chose.” He looked away. She looked at a stone angel that knelt atop a pillar. They sat in silence. Neither of their breaths could be heard. Finally, Bertram spoke. “The past cannot be changed. Will you take heed of what I have said today?”

  She did not look at him. She stood. “I am pleased that we spoke.”

  “Let me implore you to be a Cato, not a Caesar. You have shown that this is your natural way. Look at your marriage to Pierre. It was not for fortune. This is unlike any of the other patrician families who conspire marriages among themselves. Is he returned, Pierre? I have not heard.”

  “He has not returned. I did want to see you.”

  “I trust he will be back shortly. The Fugger Corporation will not sleep until he is safe. I have told you the truth. None of it is pleasing.”

  “They have done nothing for him, and it is only because of that bastard Vandergrift that he is gone.”

  “I have no influence, but even now I still know people.”

  “You have told me what I wanted to know. Let’s end this conversation. There is much to consider. I will leave now. If you can aid in any way in regard to Pierre, that would be appreciated. I am at a loss.”

  Molly was talking while shuffling the newspapers with one hand and holding an overflowing glass of red wine in the other. They were quickly getting drunk. “What really happened with this Carsten Cheval?” Molly asked. “This is the question. This is what reporters are asking on every page of this waste of paper. Who reads this? It is not a Fugger newspaper.” She held up the newspaper for Ida to see and then lowered it with disdain.

  “I cannot escape. The deal I made is haunting me. The demise of Inspector Milo has meant nothing. Unfortunately, too many people read that waste of paper.”

  “How to counter it, then? His business may be ruined, but he is a free man. This is what they are trolling. There has been no reckoning for his role in setting this Templar controversy in motion. You had him cornered. And then nothing?”

  “You know the truth of that deal can never be told. If it was known that I traded his freedom for my husband, who would understand?”

  “What does it matter? Who even knows where that old bastard is?”

  “It matters because these bastards will keep writing their pathetic and jealous stories.”

  “What is to be done then?”

  “I must find him. We had a first date. We need a second.”

  Molly laughed. “How? He may not be a willing participant.”

  “You have seen that weasel-like man that I keep company with – Casanova Krass.”

  Molly put her hand to her mouth and kept laughing. “Is that really his name?”

  “He is very good.” They were alone in the office that had once belonged to Councillor Newton. She had not taken down the moose head. She looked up at it and thought that she would keep it. Both of them were draped at each end of the plush sofa with their shoes strewn on the floor. Ida rolled it across the cushion.

  “What is that?” asked Molly.

  “It is a dragon stick.”

  “It looks dangerous.”

  “Set it alight. It will distract from politics and everything else. You will stay, won’t you?” Ida let her empty glass fall on a cushion. She reached for Molly’s arm and tugged it toward her. Their bodies were against each other without effort. Her hand felt Molly’s firm waist. “I do not want to be alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Remember to keep your heads low. Do not make eye contact with anyone. You are the lowest of the low.” It was Felix talking. Jack thought that the words were only directed at him, but the others were all paying equal attention except Odo, who was smirking. Gaspar stood behind Felix grim faced. He looked over their uniforms with a critical eye.

  Jack did not think he was ready for this, but if he thought of himself as Landry, he was certain that he was. They had crossed on the morning ferry to the great city island. He was Landry on his daily work permit. The Zaptie had shown the same disinterest as the last time when it was held out for them to look. Gaspar, Odo, and Hoston crossed with him. Amblard, as usual, stayed with the cat and the dog to watch the room. They had not returned on the ferry at the daily expiry of the permit. Instead, they mingled into the throngs that lived on the great island. They would be safe as long as they did not encounter any curious Zaptie or other vigilantes who did their job for them. The Zaptie were scarce. Gaspar had explained that their enforcement was lax, and if stopped a quickly paid bribe would see them able to continue. The vigilantes, like the Ghouls from the border, were more worrying. They could spring from hiding, with many ruses used to lure the violators from their cover. They were pa
id bounties for apprehending any trespassers, and their activity was linked to the local economy. If there was not money aplenty to be made in the streets of the city and the surrounding world, the trespassers would be drawn to the center and the Ghouls drawn to them. They had found that times were lean. The governor was not spending. Prosperity payments had not been made for weeks. Thus, it was a dangerous time to be in the city for those not allowed to be there.

  They had spent the evening hours in the one-room city apartment of Roberto. It was incredibly high up in a building, many, many floors from the ground. Jack had never been that high. He was nervous, but he had managed to look out the window. He could see the windows of other rooms that were equally as towering. Gaspar had pulled him away from the window. “We need to be careful. Someone in one of those rooms across there sees a face they are unfamiliar with, they run to a telephone exchange, and soon the Zaptie will be knocking at that door.” They sat in silence. Once it was completely dark, they left the apartment. Roberto nodded a farewell.

  The streets were still teeming with people. The four of them kept to the inside of the sidewalk. Their collars were up, and they walked briskly. They walked for many blocks. The crowds thickened. Competing food stands manned by squawking vendors tightened the walking traffic even further. Jack saw and smelled heavily salted pretzels, charred meats stuffed into thin slices of bread, and skewers of chicken cooked over flames. Gaspar stopped in front of one. “Let’s have something to eat. I will order. It will be plain, no sauce. I don’t want anyone stinking.”

  After eating, the area they came to was lit up by thousands of competing lights. Jack gaped skyward to see huge signs also lit up. Gaspar noticed his astonishment. “This is the theater district. You know of a theater, don’t you?”

  “I have read of them.”

  Gaspar kept them close together. By the signal of a quick jerk of his head, he hustled them into a narrow side alley that stunk of garbage. There was a door ajar. They went inside without looking back and stood in a dark room with dripping pipes. A person waited in the shadows. He stepped out of them to show himself as Felix. It was only then that Gaspar started to talk of the mission. Felix had a sack full with uniforms that he tipped in front of them. They had changed and moved into a lit room for Felix to inspect.