The Devil's Opera(115)
“Sure, kid, take off,” Byron said. “Just be careful.”
Simon turned after a couple of steps and looked at them both. “Hans didn’t do anything to those men.”
“We know,” Gotthilf said.
Simon nodded, turned, and trotted off.
Gotthilf turned back toward the police station, and his partner fell into step with him.
Byron looked at Gotthilf with a sidelong glance. “‘Wise man,’ huh? Well, at least you didn’t call me a wise guy.”
Gotthilf shrugged. “My pastor said you were ‘a man of wisdom, integrity, and insight,’ and suggested I listen to you.”
“So do you memorize everything I say? If you tell me yes, I’m gonna have to be even more careful about talking.”
Gotthilf snorted. “You barely talk now. If you restrain yourself even more, your tongue is going to dry up from lack of use.” He turned sober. “I learn from you every day, Byron. But that statement, from our first day on patrol together, is engraved in my mind and heart. If I live long enough to slip into dotage, it will be the last thing I forget.”
“Well…” The up-timer hesitated. “Thanks…I think.”
* * *
Pietro carefully fitted the plug he’d just finished whittling into the hole in the end of the hollowed out log. Almost perfect. He pulled it out again.
“So, are you done yet?”
He looked up as Ciclope came in the door.
“Almost, si.”
“Got the gunpowder?”
“Some.”
“Already?” Ciclope was astounded.
“Brought it with me from Venice,” Pietro said absently, flicking at one spot on the rim of the plug with his knife.
“You what?”
“Fellow never can tell when he might need to make a big boom.”
Pietro put the plug back into the opening as Ciclope choked for a moment. It fitted perfectly this time. He turned the log upside down and shook the plug out.
“Seriously?” Ciclope finally got out.
“Si. In the bottom of my saddlebags. Not a lot of it, though. I need to find some more.”
He nodded to where two other logs waited, hollows filled and plugs firmly in place. “Had enough for those, though.”
Ciclope moved to stand over them. “So, how long to find enough powder to finish the other two?”
“Not long. I know where I can find some. The moon is dark for the next few nights.”
“So we can move with this soon?”
“Si. Soon.”
* * *
At last, Frau Linder appeared in company with Frau Higham. Schardius watched and listened from his shadow.
“So what do you think, Amber?” the younger woman asked. “Are we good to go?”
“Oh, yeah,” Frau Higham replied. “Every show I’ve ever directed was like this at this stage: full of rough edges. It’s coming together well, though, and we’ll be fine on opening night. Trust me.”
“Okay,” Marla replied. “If you say so. I do wish we didn’t have the observer, though. He makes a lot of us nervous.”
“Comes with the territory, kid. Producers and supporters always find a way to get these kind of perks.”
“Mmm.” Marla made a noncommittal noise.
“It’s true. But as long as all they’re doing is just watching the rehearsals, I’m okay with it. But when they start making passes at the girls—or the guys, for that matter—that’s when I start kicking butt and naming names. Nothing like that’s going to happen around one of my shows.” Frau Higham’s tone was quite firm.
“Good.”
“Speaking of which, has Herr Schardius made a pass at you, or anyone else?”
“Not at me,” Marla said in an icy tone. “And he’d better not. I honor my marriage vows and I honor my husband. I’m not for sale, and if he tries anything, you won’t have to act.”
“How so?” Frau Higham asked.
“Think about it,” the younger woman said. She started counting on her fingers. “One—my brother-in-law is Lieutenant Chieske of the Magdeburg Polizei. Two—I am very good friends with Mary Simpson, who is very good friends with Senator Abrabanel. Three—I know Prince Ulrik.” She concluded just as two large figures bounded up the steps of the opera house and came to a halt, looming on either side of her.
“And four,” Frau Higham laughed, “you’re a cheerleader for the Magdeburg Committees of Correspondence. Point taken. He’d be lucky to get out of town with his skin intact. You’re probably safer than I am. Hi, Klaus; hi, Reuel.” The two CoC guards returned her greeting.
“I don’t know, you’re a good-looking woman, Amber.” They laughed together. Marla continued with, “But even if I was the sort who was open to that kind of proposition, Herr Schardius is no Johnny Depp.”