The Devil's Opera(139)

The fresh blast of pain must have staggered Recke, for he stopped still for a moment. That was all Hans needed. He became a rapid-fire automaton, throwing punch after punch after punch, all aimed at Recke’s head.

The crowd continued to shout for Stark Hans, Simon included. He shook his fist up and down and jigged from foot to foot, all the while shouting and all the while with his gaze glued on his friend’s magnificent return from the brink of defeat.

Blow after blow landed on Recke’s blocky head, snapping it from side to side. Cuts opened, blood poured, his nose was smashed flatter and flatter and spread across his face.

The final blow was an uppercut that seemed to rise from the ground. It landed on Recke’s chin. His head jerked back and he crumpled to the ground.

Hans stood over his foe, glaring at his battered form. It took Herr Pierpoint a moment to get him to move back, then the ten count began and this time there was nothing to stop it.

The crowd erupted in wild cheering. Hans lifted both arms in victory. The cheering resolved into thunderous chants of “Stark Hans. Stark Hans. Stark Hans.”

Simon felt tears in his eyes as he chanted along with everyone else. He saw Hans turn to his side of the ring, look at him and grin. He waved back.

Behind the victor, the defeated Recke stirred. He pushed to his hands and knees, shaking his head, then clambered to his feet where he wobbled a bit. Recke passed a hand in front of his eyes. With each passing moment his vision and his mind obviously began to clear. He shook his head again and saw Hans.

Simon pointed to Recke, trying to shout to Hans to watch out. He couldn’t be heard over the chants of the crowd. Others began to point as well. Hans saw that and began to turn.

Recke screamed and charged, arms spread wide. Simon watched in horror as Hans tried to evade. He spun far enough out of the way that Recke’s hand scraped down his back, leaving bloody furrows.

The Hannoverian plowed into Hans’ corner. Hans was on him before he could turn. The official fight was over and Herr Pierpoint was no longer in charge. What happened now was governed by street law.

Hans grabbed Recke’s hair and slammed his head into the corner post over and over again. When he released Recke, Hans did so only to slam several blows onto his kidneys.

Recke was hurt. He tried to turn around and Hans let him stagger a few steps away from the corner before he kicked the back of the big man’s leg. On one knee, Recke was almost helpless as Hans delivered fists to his face and head. Then Hans threw a kick to his belly and he doubled over.

Hans raised a fist. To Simon it seemed to reach up to the sky. For a split second, no one moved. Then the fist fell like a thunderbolt and hammered the back of Recke’s head.

Recke dropped prone on the canvas. Hans stood over him, fists clenched, chest heaving.

The crowd had gone quiet watching Hans take Recke down. No one doubted that Recke deserved it after his attack, but Hans’ violent response seemed to shock most of the crowd.

Hans toed the form of his foe with his boot. Simon was afraid he was going to give Recke another kick, but Hans spat on him and turned away instead. Tobias tossed Herr Pierpoint the microphone, and he stepped over to Hans and raised his arm.

“The winner,” Pierpoint proclaimed loudly, “and still undefeated champion, Staaark Haaans Meeetz-geeerrrr!”

* * *

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Hans slowly climbed through the ropes and dropped to the ground, where he was immediately mobbed by what seemed like every male in Magdeburg over the age of ten, all shouting and congratulating and clapping him on the shoulder or back.

Simon had been ignoring certain signals from his own body for what seemed like hours. Now that the pressure of the fight was over and his adrenaline was dropping, he became aware that his bladder was about to burst. He turned to Gus. “I’ve got to pee. Watch this and tell Hans I’ll be back in a minute.”

He pushed Hans’ shirt and coat into Gus’ hands and headed for the darkness.





Chapter 54

“Schardius,” Ciclope mused. “A merchant?”

Schmidt nodded.

“This is the man you’ve been trying to ruin all this time?”

Schmidt gave another jerk of his head.

“So what has changed that you want him dead instead of ruined?”

“All those dead men,” Schmidt whispered after a moment. “The Polizei will be looking, the CoC will be looking, and Schardius himself will be looking. If the Polizei or Schardius find me, I am ruined. If the CoC finds me, I am dead. But I will take Schardius down with me, no matter what.”

“Ah.” Ciclope tilted his head to one side as he considered the man who had brought him and Pietro to Magdeburg; the man who was ultimately responsible for Pietro’s death. “I believe I understand.”