Crooked Kingdom (23 page)

“I doubt it. The
stadwatch
will be investigating, and tourists don't come to Ketterdam for the thrill of being blown to bits.” A lot of businesses were going to lose money. Come tomorrow morning, Kaz suspected the front steps of the Stadhall would be crowded with the owners of pleasure houses and hotels demanding answers. Could be quite a scene.
Good.
Let the members of the Merchant Council concern themselves with problems other than Jan Van Eck and his missing son. “Van Eck will have changed things up since we lifted the DeKappel.”

“And now that he knows Wylan is with us,” agreed Inej. “Where are we going to meet the old man?”

“The Knuckle.”

They couldn't intercept Haskell at the Slat. Van Eck would have been keeping the Dregs' headquarters under surveillance, and now there were probably
stadwatch
swarming over it too. The thought of
stadwatch
grunts searching his rooms, digging through his few belongings, sent fury prickling over Kaz's skin. The Slat wasn't much, but Kaz had converted it from a leaky squat to a place you could sleep off a bender or lie low from the law without freezing your ass off in the winter or being bled by fleas in the summer. The Slat was his, no matter what Per Haskell thought.

Kaz steered the
gondel
into Zovercanal at the eastern edge of the Barrel. Per Haskell liked to hold court at the Fair Weather Inn on the same night every week, meeting up with his cronies to play cards and gossip. There was no way he'd miss it tonight, not when his favored lieutenant—his
missing
favored lieutenant—had fallen out with a member of the Merchant Council and brought so much trouble to the Dregs, not when he'd be the center of attention.

No windows faced onto the Knuckle, a crooked passage that bent between a tenement and a factory that manufactured cut-rate souvenirs. It was quiet, dimly lit, and so narrow it could barely call itself an alley—the perfect place for a jump. Though it wasn't the safest route from the Slat to the Fair Weather, it was the most direct, and Per Haskell never could resist a shortcut.

Kaz moored the boat near a small footbridge and he and Inej took up their places in the shadows to wait, the need for silence understood. Less than twenty minutes later, a man's silhouette appeared in the lamplight at the mouth of the alley, an absurd feather jutting from the crown of his hat.

Kaz waited until the figure was almost level with him before he stepped forward. “Haskell.”

Per Haskell whirled, pulling a pistol from his coat. He moved quickly despite his age, but Kaz had known he would be packing iron and was ready. He gave Haskell's shoulder a quick jab with the tip of his cane, just enough to send a jolt of numbness to his hand.

Haskell grunted and the gun slipped from his grasp. Inej caught it before it could hit the ground and tossed it to Kaz.

“Brekker,” Haskell said angrily, trying to wiggle his numb arm. “Where the hell have you been? And what kind of skiv rolls his own boss in an alley?”

“I'm not robbing you. I just didn't want you to shoot anyone before we had a chance to talk.” Kaz handed the gun back to Haskell by its grip. The old man snatched it from his palm, grizzled chin jutting out stubbornly.

“Always overstepping,” he grumbled, tucking the weapon into a pocket of his nubbly plaid jacket, unable to reach his holster with his incapacitated arm. “You know what trouble you brought down on me today, boy?”

“I do. That's why I'm here.”

“There were
stadwatch
crawling all over the Slat and the Crow Club. We had to shut the whole place down, and who knows when we'll be able to start up again. What were you thinking, kidnapping a mercher's son? This was the big job you left town for? The one supposed to make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams?”

“I didn't kidnap anyone.” Not strictly true, but Kaz figured the subtleties would be lost on Per Haskell.

“Then what in Ghezen's name is going on?” Haskell whispered furiously, spittle flying. “You've got my best spider,” he said, gesturing to Inej. “My best shooter, my Heartrender, my biggest bruiser—”

“Muzzen is dead.”

“Son of a bitch,” Haskell swore. “First Big Bolliger, now Muzzen. You trying to gut my whole gang?”

“No, sir.”

“
Sir.
What are you about, boy?”

“Van Eck is playing a fast game, but I'm still a step ahead of him.”

“Don't look like it from here.”

“Good,” said Kaz. “Better no one sees us coming. Muzzen was a loss I didn't anticipate, but give me a few more days and not only will the law be off your back, your coffers will be so heavy you'll be able to fill your bathtub with gold and take a swim in it.”

Haskell's eyes narrowed. “How much money are we talking?”

That's the way
, Kaz thought, watching greed light Haskell's gaze, the lever at work.

“Four million
kruge.
”

Haskell's eyes widened. A life of drink and hard living in the Barrel had turned the whites yellowy. “You trying to cozy me?”

“I told you this was a big haul.”

“Don't matter how high the pile of scrub is if I'm in prison. I don't like the law in my business.”

“I don't either, sir.” Haskell might mock Kaz's manners, but he knew the old man lapped up every gesture of respect, and Kaz's pride could take it. Once he had his own share of Van Eck's money, he wouldn't have to obey another order or soothe Per Haskell's vanity ever again. “I wouldn't have gotten us into this if I didn't know we'd come out of it clean as choirboys and rich as Saints. All I need is a little more time.”

Kaz couldn't help but be reminded of Jesper bargaining with his father, and the thought didn't sit well with him. Per Haskell had never cared for anyone other than himself and the next glass of lager, but he liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a big, criminally inclined family. Kaz could admit he had a fondness for the old man. He'd given Kaz a place to begin and a roof over his head—even if Kaz had been the one to make sure it didn't leak.

The old man hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat, making a great show of considering Kaz's offer, but Haskell's greed was more reliable than a faithfully wound clock. Kaz knew he'd already started thinking of ways to spend the
kruge
.

“All right, boy,” said Haskell. “I can portion you a little more rope to hang yourself. But I find out you're running game on me and you'll regret it.”

Kaz schooled his features to seriousness. Haskell's threats were almost as empty as his boasts.

“Of course, sir.”

Haskell snorted. “The deal is the deal,” he said. “And the Wraith stays with me.”

Kaz felt Inej stiffen by his side. “I need her for the job.”

“Use Roeder. He's spry enough.”

“Not for this.”

Now Haskell bristled, puffing his chest out, the false sapphire of his tie pin glinting in the dim light. “You see what Pekka Rollins is up to? He just opened a new gambling hall right across from the Crow Club.” Kaz had seen it. The Kaelish Prince. Another jewel in Rollins' empire, a massive betting palace decked out in garish green and gold as some ridiculous homage to Pekka Rollins' homeland. “He's muscling in on our holdings,” said Haskell. “I need a spider, and she's the best.”

“It can wait.”

“I say it can't. Head on down to the Gemensbank. You'll see my name at the top of her contract, and that means I say where she goes.”

“Understood, sir,” said Kaz. “And as soon as I find her, I'll let her know.”

“She's right—” Haskell broke off, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “She was right here!”

Kaz forced himself not to smile. While Per Haskell had been blustering, Inej had simply melted into the shadows and silently scaled the wall. Haskell searched the length of the alley and peered up at the rooftops, but Inej was long gone.

“You bring her back here,” Haskell said furiously, “
right now
.”

Kaz shrugged. “You think I can climb these walls?”

“This is my gang, Brekker. She doesn't belong to you.”

“She doesn't belong to anyone,” Kaz said, feeling the singe of that angry white flame. “But we'll all be back at the Slat soon enough.” Actually, Jesper would be headed out of the city with his father, Nina would be off to Ravka, Inej would be on a ship under her own command, and Kaz would be getting ready to split from Haskell forever. But the old man would have his
kruge
to comfort him.

“Cocky little bastard,” growled Haskell.

“Cocky little bastard who's about to make you one of the richest bosses in the Barrel.”

“Get out of my way, boy. I'm late for my game.”

“Hope the cards are hot.” Kaz moved aside. “But you may want these.” He held out his hand. Six bullets lay in his gloved palm. “In case of a tussle.”

Haskell whisked the pistol from his pocket and flipped open the barrel. It was empty. “You little—” Then Haskell barked a laugh and plucked the bullets from Kaz's hand, shaking his head. “You've got the devil's own blood in you, boy. Go get my money.”

“And then some,” murmured Kaz as he tipped his hat and limped back down the alley to the
gondel
.

*   *   *

Kaz kept sharp, relaxing only slightly when the boat slid past the boundaries of the Barrel and into the quieter waters that bordered the financial district. Here the streets were nearly empty and the
stadwatch
presence was thinner. As the
gondel
passed beneath Ledbridge, he glimpsed a shadow separating itself from the railing. A moment later, Inej joined him in the narrow boat.

He was tempted to steer them back to Black Veil. He'd barely slept in days, and his leg had never fully recovered from what he'd put it through at the Ice Court. Eventually, his body was going to stop taking orders.

As if she could read his mind, Inej said, “I can handle the surveillance. I'll meet you back on the island.”

Like hell.
She wasn't going to be rid of him that easily. “What direction do you want to approach Van Eck's house from?”

“Let's start at the Church of Barter. We can get eyes on Van Eck's house from the roof.”

Kaz wasn't thrilled to hear it, but he took them up Beurscanal, past the Exchange and the grand facade of the Geldrenner Hotel, where Jesper's father was probably snoring soundly in his suite.

They docked the
gondel
near the church. The glow of candlelight spilled from the doors of the main cathedral, left open and unlocked at all hours, welcoming those who wished to offer prayers to Ghezen.

Inej could have climbed the outer walls with little effort, and Kaz might have managed it, but he wasn't going to test himself on a night when his leg was screaming with every step. He needed access to one of the chapels.

“You don't have to come up,” Inej said as they crept along the perimeter and located one of the chapel doors.

Kaz ignored her and swiftly picked the lock. They slipped inside the darkened chamber, then took the stairs up two flights, the chapels stacked one on top of another like a layered cake, each commissioned by a separate merchant family of Kerch. One more lock to pick and they were scaling another damned staircase. This one curled in a tight spiral up to a hatch in the roof.

The Church of Barter was built on the plan of Ghezen's hand, the vast cathedral located in the palm, with five stubby naves radiating along the four fingers and thumb, each fingertip terminating in a stack of chapels. They'd climbed the chapels at the tip of the pinky and now cut down to the roof of the main cathedral, and then up the length of Ghezen's ring finger, picking their way along a jagged mountain range of slippery gables and narrow stone spines.

“Why do gods always like to be worshipped in high places?” Kaz muttered.

“It's men who seek grandeur,” Inej said, springing nimbly along as if her feet knew some secret topography. “The Saints hear prayers wherever they're spoken.”

“And answer them according to their moods?”

“What you want and what the world needs are not always in accord, Kaz. Praying and wishing are not the same thing.”

But they're equally useless.
Kaz bit back the reply. He was too focused on not plummeting to his death to properly engage in an argument.

At the tip of the ring finger, they stopped and took in the view. To the southwest, they could see the high spires of the cathedral, the Exchange, the glittering clock tower of the Geldrenner Hotel, and the long ribbon of the Beurscanal flowing beneath Zentsbridge. But if they looked east, this particular rooftop gave them a direct view of the Geldstraat, the Geldcanal beyond, and Van Eck's stately home.

It was a good vantage point to observe the security Van Eck had put in place around the house and on the canal, but it wouldn't give them all the information they needed.

“We're going to have to get closer,” said Kaz.

“I know,” said Inej, drawing a length of rope from her tunic and looping it over one of the roof's finials. “It will be faster and safer for me to case Van Eck's house on my own. Give me a half hour.”

“You—”

“By the time you make it back to the
gondel
, I'll have all the information we need.”

He was going to kill her. “You dragged me up here for nothing.”

“Your pride dragged you up here. If Van Eck senses anything amiss tonight, it's all over. This isn't a two-person job and you know it.”

“Inej—”

“My future is riding on this too, Kaz. I don't tell you how to pick locks or put together a plan. This is what I'm good at, so let me do my job.” She yanked the rope taut. “And just think of all the time you'll have for prayer and quiet contemplation on the way down.”