The Devil's Opera(155)
As he got to his feet, Gotthilf saw Fraulein Ursula sit back with the same disappointed look that Simon had.
“Promise?” Simon asked.
“Promise,” Gotthilf replied.
Outside there was a police department cart waiting for them.
“Is this about Metzger?” Gotthilf asked as he climbed into the cart.
“Probably,” Byron said. “But he’s not at the scene now, even if he was earlier.”
* * *
Hans ducked into the Chain. It was early in the day, and hardly anyone was there besides Veit behind the bar, a girl sweeping the floor, and a couple of addled-seeming women who had to be the worst sort of prostitutes. He went over to where Veit was tending to the ale barrels, and dropped a pfennig on the board that served as a counter.
“Genever,” he rasped. “Short cup.”
Veit grabbed a squat brown bottle from the shelf behind him. It wasn’t the good gin that Hans usually got, but since he was only buying a cup, he didn’t expect the good stuff.
Veit put the cup of gin on the counter, and counted out three quartered pfennig pieces as change.
Hans picked up the cup and threw his head back as he drained it in three swallows. When he put the cup down, he saw Veit was staring at him.
“Hans?” the barman whispered. “What are you doing here?”
Hans leaned forward.
“Buying a drink. Why?”
“There were men in here earlier looking for you. Hard men. Very hard men.”
Hans shrugged. “Yah. Some of them found me a little while ago. I’m here, they’re not.”
Veit’s gaze moved past Hans.
“They’re back.”
* * *
Erling Ljungberg opened the door and glared at Ulrik. It wasn’t a personal glare, Ulrik decided after a moment; not something directed at Ulrik for cause. Rather, it was more of a general notice to the world glare, delivering a warning that today was not a day to cross the emperor’s bodyguard.
After a moment, Ljungberg stepped aside, and Ulrik entered the room to discover the emperor seated in one of two chairs, waiting.
“Come, Ulrik,” Gustav beckoned. “Join me and take in some of this excellent coffee.” The emperor slurped at his cup with gusto.
Ulrik took the other chair and accepted a cup from the servant. He stared at Gustav over the rim of the cup. Whatever he had expected when the emperor had summoned him for their first private conversation, it wasn’t to be seated in comfortable chairs and drinking coffee as if they were two merchants sitting at a table in Walcha’s.
Gustav seemed oblivious to that stare as he finished his cup of coffee. He set the empty cup on the small table between the two chairs, but when the servant moved to refill it, Gustav pointed to the door instead. “Leave us,” he said.
The servant bowed and left without a word.
Gustav looked around. “You, too, Erling.”
The bodyguard said nothing, but to Ulrik’s eye seemed to solidify into one of those standing stones that could be seen in some of the forest glades; stones that were rumored to be part of pagan sites. Looking at Ljungberg’s face at that moment, Ulrik could believe that. A more fitting image for old Wotan’s face he couldn’t imagine.
“Erling, I am as safe with this man as I am with you,” Gustav said. “Stand outside the door, if you must.”
Now Ulrik was on the receiving end of a personal glare from the bodyguard. It was much more…pointed…than the previous glare had been. He had no doubt that it promised all manner of mayhem and hurt to him if Gustav suffered even a stubbed toe while they were alone. But after a moment, Ljungberg turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a certain amount of firmness.
Gustav chuckled.
“A good man, that, who takes his responsibilities seriously.”
“Don’t tell me that he wouldn’t harm a flea,” Ulrik responded, “for I won’t believe that.”
Gustav chuckled again, then said, “Oh, he is a hard man, there is no doubt. But he is my hard man, which is what’s important.”
Ulrik had to nod at that.
“So,” the emperor continued, “you have been here—on the ground, so to speak—for some time. You must have observations of the politicians, the CoC, and what has been going on. Talk to me.”
* * *
At the end of the discussion, Ulrik was exhausted. Gustav had drained him of almost every thought. Gustav, on the other hand, was still sitting erect, eyes shining, rubbing his hands together.
“So,” the emperor proclaimed. “All is good. All has gone well here in Magdeburg, not least because of you having the wisdom to bring Kristina here.”
“Your daughter…” Ulrik began.