Death's Reckoning (22 page)

Mikels turned back and smiled. “Yeah, good nights like this are to be cherished, Cubbins. Don’t forget that. Me and the missus gotta have you over again for dinner. Martha will fix you up good, don’t worry.”

Mikels patted his arm and moved away to the other group of, leaving Cubbins standing alone. The police captain felt an unexpected lump in his throat, but he cleared it and shook it off.

The next night saw much of the same, visiting street corners instead of taverns, listening, hoping, praying to hear a tidbit of news on the right subject, but nothing came. But activity on the streets was more varied than one might think, so he stuck it out there for a third night in a row. For those with no money left over from the betting tents or arena, or those too poor to drink at the taverns with regularity, talking and congregating on the streets was a common occurrence.

Some of the whores, so prevalent this side of town near the shipping yards, worked the street crowds as often as possible, hoping to snag a late night customer once the taverns cleared out and people were more intoxicated. The girls were more desperate to turn a trick than normal.

Several of them mingled with street dwellers. The girls were beautiful, young, and willing, everything a man could want, but times were different in the wake of the riots and naval bombardment. The powers that be were tightening their purse strings, and the common people suffered for it.

One of the girls, a voluptuous brunette with long curls dangling over her oval shaped face, wore a red silk corset. He stepped up to Cubbins and smiled.

“Master Cubbins. Well, well. So unusual to see in these parts this time of night. Been a long while since I’ve seen you about at all.”

She squeezed his shoulder, and Cubbins tried not to frown. “The loss is mine, Gloria. You’re one of the Madam’s fairest.”

She laughed, flattered with his honest words, so she flirted with him for a few moments about common things.

“Wasn’t the weather warm tonight?”

“Of course. This time of year and all.”

“I love lying down in bed when it’s this warm, yes, all naked and rolling up in the sheets. How wonderful! How nice it feels when a cool breeze shoots through the window. And what does the captain like to do with his time? Yes, that sounds nice. And drinking with his friends, of course, what real man doesn’t like to share time at the tavern with other men, sure. A rugged man like you should do that. Maybe head to the docks-oh, you haven’t had much time the last few weeks, is it? Sorry to hear that.”

Cubbins thought to take a night off and spend some time with Gloria. She was working hard to tempt him, and he had spent some of his hard earned cash with her before. But it wasn’t to be that night. Another girl ran up to the area, out of breath and yelling for help. The people closest to her tried to calm her and make sense of her nonsensical ramblings while Cubbins worked his way through the crowd.

She kept yelling. “We need help! Town Watch, where are they? Come to the Madam’s House! Please, we need help!”

Some of the crowd dispersed, bored by the request for assistance. They wanted tales of slaughter. Fire in particular brought out the gawkers and onlookers.

Cubbins got to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, Julie. Tell me what’s happened.” She didn’t answer right away. She was distraught, a very young girl, perhaps seventeen, and this was probably the most dramatic thing to ever happen to her. “Listen to me. Settle down and tell me what’s happened.”

“They-they… these men, they came in. They were after Gi. Came in right before them. He acted crazy.”

Cubbins stopped her. “Gi. Tell what you mean. Tell me who Gi is.”

A few other girls came around her, trying to comfort her, including Gloria who looked at Cubbins with admiration.

“Gi-Giorgio. He came in raving like a lunatic. Said men were after him. The Madam told him to hide, but they won’t leave. Please, you must come!”

“Of course I will.”

Cubbins found someone from the city watch that happened to be roused by the commotion and told him to run off and find as many police officers as he could and meet him at the Madam’s House. For some reason he thought this might be more than it seemed.

* * * * *

“How many times must I tell you gentlemen? I have no idea what you mean.” Madam Dreary tried her best to put on an air of professionalism, but her patience was almost at an end. “There is no one here,” she put her hand on the shoulder of one of her girls and smiled. “Of course we have customers here, but no one that matches the description of who you are after. We have a bevy of beautiful women for you to choose from. There is no need for violence.”

The five men looked unconcerned with what she or any of her girls had to say. They glanced around. Two of them spoke to one another every so often in a harsh sounding language. Madam Dreary recognized it but spoke very little; enough to say hello, goodbye, and a little more, and these men spoke far too fast for her to understand more than the gist of their conversation. They might’ve been from Mermadon or some other southern nation, an area of the continent with sand and rock and little else.

From what she caught of their gestures and bits of language, it was clear the men were both excited and confused by what they found in the whorehouse. Three of them did little of anything but stand and stare at Madam Dreary’s guards with cold eyed stillness. They were handsome, and Dreary wouldn’t mind getting to know them a little better, even with their stern demeanor, but they were also dangerous. They stood with their hands close to their belts. Polished scimitars sheathed at their hips.

They were thick shouldered men with muscular chests and knobby arms that poked through their black shirts. The stubble on their dark faces looked as if it could cut paper, and their beards were sharp as shovels. She wondered what it might be like to be on top of them.

A fierce, irrational fear of them struck. Their presence was fateful, harmful, and would hurt her and her girls. She became so frightened of them in an instant that it was difficult to focus on anything other than getting outside and away from there.

“Would you gentlemen,” she said and had to control her breathing. “Would you gentlemen care for something to drink? There is a nice chilled wine in the back or some tea if that is what you crave. It is rather late, but we could get some goat’s milk for you.”

The oldest one glanced at her with a stern glare. He shook his head and frowned. “No. Not why we come. Man is here, there is not doubt, good lady. He is very dangerous. Will hurt many ladies here. Important find soon.”

Her security men, four of them on shift that night, were getting restless. They were well armed, well trained, and loyal, but she knew men better than themselves most times. When tempers flared, it was anyone’s guess what could happen.

She put on her best smile and stepped closer to the older man. “Even if I believed ye, sir, and I am not calling you a liar mind you, but even if I believed ye, I would not be allowed to take you to him. We have strict codes of privacy here, and anyone within my House is protected. This is sanctuary. Please leave.”

A shorted man with sharp eyes conversed with the elder, and Madam Dreary felt frantic energy creep into her mind. Stubborn men. There was an instant swell of heat in her breast, and the sudden desire for them to leave increased to full rage. These men had invaded her House, her home, her place of business. They would leave, that instant!

The men became more animated in their discussion, with even the still and silent trio taking part. She pulled aside one of her guardsmen.

“Go rouse more men, wake Paul and Julian. Tell them I want these men out of here now! Go!”

The last word was spoken with such rage and hatred, the guardsman started and looked at Dreary as if her head were on fire. But he obeyed and grabbed another guard, and they took off down the hallway to other sections of the House.

Madam Dreary took a few shuddering breaths, but it did little to calm her searing hate, and she glared at the men. Every inch the fiery red head she appeared to be. The men must have been watching the guards, for when they moved away, they pushed passed the girls and the other two guards toward the three separate hallways that led to the back rooms.

Dreary’s guards looked to her, and she ignored them. So intent was her focus on the interlopers and their audacity. She and the girls yelled at them to stop, but they didn’t listen. Instead they split up in their search for Giorgio.

Madam Dreary stepped in front of the older man while the others snaked around the guards and girls like fish swimming against a current.

“I told you, he is not here! Damn you,
get out of my House
!”

She lost all semblance of control and began beating the man’s chest with her closed fists. He looked shocked by her outburst, but he defended himself by putting his hands up and grabbing her wrists.

But the lady was possessed. She scratched at his face and screamed in demonic fury, clawing thin lines of skewered flesh on his cheeks before he could get a hold of her arms. Madam Dreary screamed and cursed him to the abyss. She kicked and snapped her teeth at his neck, and the world spun in a manic dance of insanity.

The Madam saw nothing but a blunted blur of fogginess, a haze of hatred. People yelled her name, the girls screamed in fear and confusion. There was an iron grip on her arms, hot breath on her face as the stranger tried to pull her down to the ground. Rough stubble on his cheek scraped against her flesh.

She snapped at his nose like a cornered badger, but he was too fast. The foreign invader brought his head back and then slammed it forward, smashing into her face.

The world went dark.

Chapter Thirteen

When Cubbins, a few of his men found on patrol, plus several town watchmen entered the house of ill repute, there was a scene of chaos no one would have ever expected to see at Madam Dreary’s place. Not in a thousand years.

Several girls shouted in fear or anger. The frightened ones held their dainty hands to their mouths while the braver ones stepped in closer to the fracas that enveloped the center of the room.

Three men dressed in dark clothes with chainmail poking through around the chest and upper arms. They grappled with some of Dreary’s guardsmen. No one had drawn steel yet, but Cubbins didn’t like the looks of the curved swords hanging from their belts. They fought like they knew how to use them, and it could get nasty real fast.

Captain Cubbins took in the entirety of the scene in scant seconds. The group behind him came to an abrupt stop and almost knocked him over as he stood motionless for a moment. He didn’t stay still for long, pulling out his police club; a thick, sturdy weighted cudgel that was well used and efficient.

If no one drew a sword, perhaps there was hope to end this without bloodshed. Cubbins felt a deep nervousness at that moment as if his life were at risk. This was the end. The guardsmen were in dire straits as the trio of men had them out numbered and were putting them down.

One had a security man face down, his leg twisted behind his back. He snapped it hard, and the bone popped. The security man rolled to his back gasping in pain and held the injured joint as the foreign man jumped to his feet. The other two grappled with a guard and had him firm in a headlock. The aggressor looked not strained at all.

Another man, older looking with a salt and pepper beard, stood in front of several girls. He pleaded with them to settle down and let the men do what they needed to do.

Cubbins headed straight for this man. At least he was talking instead of fighting. The two foreigners let go of their opponents and turned to face the new threat with shocking agility. They started drawing their swords, but the older man stopped them. “No, my brothers! Show them the truth of our words.”

Perhaps the older man recognized who Cubbins was because he stopped and made a formal bow. People shouted and shoved, but the Town Watch and police stayed busy calming the room down. A few moments later, Cubbins stood in front of the commanding gentleman.

“I am Unri, good sir. There are two of my cousins, Beni and Yoseph. We are come from another land, travelers drawn here by a devilish creature. Track one of his agents here to this house.”

He stopped short when two more men, dressed much the same with similar builds and appearances came into the room from an adjoining hallway. They went into defensive postures when they saw the number of men arrayed against them. Unri bade them to stand down.

“We will not fight here, brothers,” he said and looked Cubbins in the eye. “Please, sir. If only you speak more with us now.”

The Madam was injured, and after some fuss, the staff got everything straightened out for the time being. They all went outside, the five foreigners, Cubbins, with his few men, and the town watch in tow. They shuffled out into the early morning air, dawn rising up in the east.

Cubbins kept his eyes fixed on the exotic men as they all grouped together. Tempers were high. They were an impressive group of men to be sure. Their muscular yet compact frames heaved with the recent exertion, yet they recuperated fast.

“Thank you for time here,” Unri said and nodded to him. “Please, believe. We come to help only. Very bad man come here. Will make great trouble for all.”

A glimmer of hope lifted Cubbins’ spirit for a moment. He had the idea in mind that this was the break he was waiting for. However, the situation needed caution.

He took a good long look at Unri and his cohorts and decided to trust them for the time being.

“Let me hear all that you know, and we’ll go from there.”

* * * * *

They had all the men at their mercy now. It took some time waiting for each one to come stumbling into their trap, but Jerrod thought an understanding was close to fruition. The men had no other choice but to play along, and they knew it.

He and Zandor had them all lined up in the front room of the opulent house, and while a couple of them continued to glare at them from time to time, the toad McGivens and the shit face Ginatti were beaten and docile. It was Jerrod’s intention to keep them that way.

“You boys had a nice little run here, all these years,” Zandor said. He gave a whistle and smiled. “Very impressive. Not sure I woulda done it any different myself. That takes some courage what you’ve done. You should be applauded for that.” Zandor leaned forward and put his foot on one of the chairs near an ornate table, resting an elbow on his knee. “But understand this: it’s over. All that’s gone now, here and forever. You all gotta know that, right? Put that real tight in your minds, and it’ll be easier from here on out. No doubts. Doubting gets you killed.”

Most of them hung their heads, but that bastard Ginatti shook his head towards the end of Zandor’s speech. “You can’t do this. Not without our consent, you dumb pricks. You don’t have a single clue in those thick heads of yours. You need all of us, or you would’ve killed us by now.”

Jerrod grunted, looked at the others, and pointed at Ginatti. “You boys think we need him? Or can we get along without him? He’s only one man. I think we can get someone to fill in for him while he burns in hell. Whadaya think?”

The men understood the threat very well. If it was a choice between themselves and letting the lone Ginatti take the brunt of Jerrod’s wrath, it was obvious what they would choose. It was in their glances.

“Wait a minute, fellas,” Zandor said and looked at Jerrod. “Let’s be reasonable here. There’s no need to lose our heads.” There was the ever so slight emphasis on the word “
lose”
that made Jerrod smirk.

“Listen here,” Zandor said and looked back to them. “We all want the same thing, and that’s to get paid. Right?” There was a murmur of general agreement, and even Ginatti couldn’t argue. “Good. The way I see it is we need each other. Now, I respect the fact you boys kept it going for as long as you have, but the truth is you got lazy, and lazy doesn’t pay. Your only option is to accept this and move on.”

Ignacio, the man responsible for coordinating things in Sea Haven, spoke up. “What do you propose? I’m willing to listen. What do you want from us?”

Zandor let out a lustful howl and slapped his knee. “Whoo-hee! That’s what I like to hear, son. Positive thinking looking to the future instead of focusing on the past.” Some of them looked at Zandor as if he were mad, but others relaxed at his show of levity.

“First thing to understand, boys, is that I don’t propose many changes. You’re all making money, right?” They all agreed this was the case. “Fine, that’s fine. But I think more revenue is to be had here.”

Zandor stood tall, but to Jerrod’s mind he was nothing more than a midget with stilts. He put his hands on his hips, and he said, “You all need to think of me and my partner as you thought of ol’ Tanner.
In charge.
In fact, think of us as his sons come to collect on the family business. Think on that and think hard. This is how it’s gonna be.”

A few of them looked defiant, just a glimmer of it in their eyes, and Jerrod knew the situation would take time to solidify. But he also knew that greed outweighed pride most of the time, and survival trumped everything regardless of who it was.

“The thing you wanna make real clear in your minds about us,” Zandor said and paced back and forth in front of them, “is that we know people, we have people hired, lots of people, all kinds of men that work for us, all over the continent. So keep in mind this ain’t just the two of us. You got a whole organization behind you, protecting you, protecting your interests in how the gaming tents and the arena run.

“These are the kind of people you need backing you, to make sure this never happens again. Plus, we got plans in motion to make sure the arena and tents make even more money than it did before. You ain’t gonna lose a thing. I’m pretty confident you’ll make even more money once we’re up and running, even with our cut.”

For the first time since their capture, all of the men looked relieved, even excited. Perhaps they realized their situation could pay out well for them. It wasn’t disaster; it was a new start.

“We need more people at the tents,” Ignacio said and flicked his chin to Jerrod, “because he killed a lot of the managers. Everyone knows about it. It’s no secret.”

“Wasn’t meant to be, slug,” Jerrod said and stepped forward.

Zandor put his hands up. “Easy, now. That’s all in the past, so let it go. If they were good at what they did, they wouldn’t have got caught in the first place. We’ll get better people. People that won’t be skimming off the top.” The men looked embarrassed as Zandor put emphasis on his next statement. “No more.”

Jerrod smirked as the men squirmed. Dealers skimmed no doubt about it, and now things were changing. They should’ve been embarrassed. Jerrod would have shut that practice down real quick if it was up to him, and now it was.

“We’re gonna clean the whole place up,” Zandor said. “That alone will see a substantial increase in profits. Makes sense, yeah? Fair enough?”

Jerrod had to admit it. Zandor was good. Very smooth, a little off putting, maybe to make people drop their guard, but very smart. He knew how to talk to people, how to make them see things how they were, how they could be.

“Plus, I got a way to get the arena back up to the level it was before Castellan shut the place down. We’ll bring in lots of foreign spectators. The arena will have an attraction no one will be able to resist, believe that.”

He interested them, every single man in the room including Jerrod.

Later, they came to an understanding. Jerrod and Zandor would run things as if Tanner McDowell were still alive. All operations went through them and them alone. They were in charge, and Jerrod left it to their imaginations of what would happen if the men crossed them.

Some of his men arrived in the next couple of days at McDowell’s mansion, Zandor’s as well. Jerrod didn’t recognize the sailors and didn’t trust them either. He told Marko and his fellows to keep an eye on them.

After the verbal agreement was made with the prisoners, the six men would continue to do what they did and pick up Tanner’s take with the tacit agreement that the secret of his death would remain. Even Jerrod’s and Zandor’s men didn’t know the full truth. They only told them Tanner would not see anyone under any circumstances. The men only need to worry about their tasks on hand.

Zandor pulled Jerrod off to the side at one point and spoke with him. “This is how it’ll work. We head back to town, take this Ignacio guy with us. We leave a lot of our boys here to watch out. But we let them alone for a bit. Let them get back to work like normal.”

Jerrod nodded, happy they were heading for home. The place smelled like piss and fish. They put two men back on guard duty at the shack per normal, Stan and McGivens. The rest went about their regular duties sans Ignacio who was going back with them on their hidden boat.

The vessel was right where they left it, and early evening of their third day they rolled along south with a light breeze.

“What a beautiful night,” Zandor said as they made way, sails up. “Couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Jerrod lit a smoke and grunted.

Ignacio looked sullen. Zandor wagged an admonishing finger at him. “You should be happier, bub.” He sat back, his hood down for once. His smarmy stupid face so tan and weathered, scrunched up in a wicked smile. “We’re gonna make you a very rich man. That’s why you started this in the first place, ain’t it? Why you kept Tanner’s death a secret and kept all this up for so long? Be honest.”

Ignacio knelt down on the side, staring at Zandor. His voice was guarded but maybe honest. Jerrod didn’t give a shit which. “Not at the beginning. Most of us loved Tanner. He was good to us and paid well. They should not have tried to kill him.”

Jerrod barked out a laugh. “Is that right? You’d just ask a nice fella like McDowell to step aside all quiet like, and that would be that. That’d work fine.”

“No,” Ignacio said, and his voice was cold, harsh. “They should have let it alone and not done a thing. Tanner McDowell built his empire through hard work. Not by using thugs.” He steeled himself and eyed them. “Thugs like you two. Thugs that steal instead of working for something.”

Jerrod let his cigarette drop to the side and imagined what it would feel like to pop the man’s head off and roll it off the side of the boat.

Zandor looked amused. “You know, I like that attitude, I do. Shows loyalty. That’ll serve you well in the next several weeks, bubba. Make sure you remember who your new bosses are.”

He kept his voice light, but Jerrod heard an undercurrent of menace there as well. Good. These bastards needed to be reminded this was a coup, not a joint venture where they could dictate terms. They lived or died by his will.

When they arrived back in Sea Haven, they went straight for the arena in the back office area, a behind the scenes spot Jerrod knew little about.

It was a lot more comfortable in the labyrinthine corridors underground, surrounded by the hundreds of cut wood shafts than on the open sea. He was glad Zandor decided to go there first. What he didn’t like was wearing a disguise as simple as it was, but Zandor insisted.