The Devil's Opera(143)
* * *
“Why are we out here in the cold night again?” Gotthilf asked as he climbed into the police cart that Byron had brought the house.
“Todd Pierpoint came by, told me that Metzger apparently took a beating in a fight tonight, and says he wants to talk to us. Now. At his place.”
Gotthilf mulled that over as the cart started moving and Byron gave directions to the driver.
“You think maybe he got some sense knocked into his head?”
Byron snorted. “As hard-headed as he is, I’m not sure that’s possible. Would take a pretty hard tap to the noggin to do it. But I guess it could happen.”
Gotthilf yawned, and the conversation lagged as the horse moved on down the street. After a minute or so he asked, “How is Jonni taking this?”
There was enough moonlight that Gotthilf could see Byron shrugging.
“She doesn’t like it much. No wife does. Keep that in mind, if you ever get serious about a girl.”
“Or if my mother does,” Gotthilf muttered.
Byron chuckled, then continued, “But she knows what to expect. I was a policeman in Shinnston for a while, back in the old West Virginia before the Ring fell. And I was trying to get on with the sheriff out of Morgantown. We do this work, you and me, and we’re right to do it, but we’re not the only ones who pay the price for it. Jonni handles it okay, though, and I try to make it up to her in other ways.”
“A good wife, then.”
“One of the best.”
* * *
Simon worried all the way back to the rooming house. Hans wasn’t walking at his normal rate. He’d speed up, then he’d slow down, then he’d speed up again. A couple of times he stopped and held his hand against his right side. But every time Simon tried to help, Hans would wave him off and start walking again.
Gus didn’t say anything. He just walked along, and kept looking around.
It didn’t help any that Hans didn’t walk the straightest route. Once they got closer to their own neighborhood, he started taking turns and twists seemingly at random. After the fourth such, Simon spoke up.
“This isn’t the way home.”
“Yah,” Hans responded, his speech still sounding a little slurred. “Want to make sure no one is following us.”
So Simon bit his tongue and trudged on after his friend.
After a few more jaunts, Hans seemed satisfied that they were alone, and set a straight course for their rooms. Just before they arrived, he pulled Simon under a stairway for a moment.
“Give me the purse,” he said.
Simon handed it to him. Hans fumbled with it for several moments, then Simon heard the sound of paper crinkling. After another moment, Hans pushed it back to him.
“I took a little for me,” he said. “Tell Uschi the rest is for her.”
Simon stuffed the purse back in his jacket, and they walked the short remaining distance to their own stairway. A horse-drawn cart was coming down the street from the other direction, and they all melted into the shadows under the eaves of the house, out of the moonlight. The horse drew up in front of their stairs, and Simon felt that cold hand of fear make a fist in his belly again.
“Wait here,” Simon heard a familiar voice say as two men got down out of the cart, one tall and one short. He sagged in relief as the moonlight confirmed that it was Lieutenant Chieske and Sergeant Hoch.
Hans apparently recognized them, too, as he lurched away from the wall. Both the Polizei men turned to face him, pistols appearing in their hands almost like magic, but their tension eased as soon as Hans walked into the moonlight.
“Herr Metzger,” Lieutenant Chieske greeted him. “You’re lucky we didn’t shoot you.”
“I have my luck,” Hans mumbled, pulling Simon forward to stand by him.
“So I see,” the up-timer said, putting his pistol back under his coat. “Todd’s message was pretty urgent. Life-or-death, I believe you said.”
“Yah. Mine.”
Hans walked closer, and they got a good luck at his face. Chieske whistled, and Hoch exclaimed, “Mein Gott, man, you’re beat half to death. How are you still walking?”
“You should see the other guy,” Hans said with a rasp that might have been a dying chuckle.
“So, we’re here,” Lieutenant Chieske said. “Talk to us.”
“First, you have to take Ursula some place safe. Really safe. Take Simon, too.”
“Hans!” Simon protested.
“You can’t stay here,” Hans said in a gruff tone. “They’ll come here for the money, and anyone who’s here will get hurt or killed. Nobody crosses Master Schardius and gets away with it. Remember the guy in the river.”