The Devil's Opera(180)

Amber straightened and looked around the house. It was filling nicely. Most of the box seats were occupied. The imperial box was the only one that was totally empty. The wine was starting to flow in some of those boxes, which worried her for a moment. But then she decided that Marla and Dieter could overpower anyone in the auditorium—could probably overpower all of them combined. A small smile appeared at the thought of someone trying to outshout Marla’s voice. Let ’em try.

* * *

Simon heard the gunshots as he stood on the east bridge from the Altstadt to the Neustadt. He had been staring at the water in the Big Ditch as it rolled under the bridge for some time. Now he looked up at the sound of the shots. It sounded like they were coming toward him. He moved off of the crest of the bridge toward the north shore, craning his neck to try and see what was going on.

* * *

Schardius fired back at them one last time as he ran. It was a shot fired half-wildly, but by a stroke of bad luck the bullet struck the leg of Phillip the patrolman. He fell with a shout of pain in front of Gotthilf.

Gotthilf slowed, but Karl Honister knelt beside the patrolman and waved Gotthilf on. “I’ll take care of him, you catch up to your partner.”

Finding new reserves of strength, Gotthilf stepped up his pace.

* * *

Simon heard running steps coming toward him. He looked to the west, and could see a man running for the bridge, with another man apparently chasing him.

Simon moved to one side to clear the way, but the first man reached out and grabbed the corner of the bridge railing and swung himself around in a tight arc, which brought him into a collision with Simon.

“Oof!”

They both went down. The man was panting hard, and he swung and scrabbled at Simon, trying to win back to his feet. Something hard connected with Simon’s head, and he saw stars.

The chasing man stopped at the foot of the bridge.

“Stop running, Schardius! Throw down the gun. It’s over.”

Simon recognized that cold voice. It was Lieutenant Chieske. He looked up, and through the fading stars he recognized the man who crashed into him as Andreas Schardius. But not the smooth, urbane, in-control Master Schardius. This wild-eyed man had disheveled hair, disarrayed, ripped, and stained clothes. His hands trembled.

“No,” Schardius panted as he scrambled to his feet. “No,” and the pistol in his hand began to rise as he started to back away.

* * *

Gotthilf was panting as he drew even with Byron. They were spread out, facing the wild-eyed Schardius, whose pistol was wavering between them. Gotthilf’s gun was rock steady in his hands, for all that his chest was moving like a bellows.

“Give it up, Schardius,” Byron said, edging forward a half-step. As Schardius’ pistol aimed toward his partner, Gotthilf eased forward himself.

“It’s over, Herr Schardius,” Gotthilf said. “Give us the gun.”

“No!”

* * *

Simon reached out and grabbed Schardius’ leg, wrapping his one arm around the man’s ankle and pulling his own body on top of the foot.

Schardius shouted as he tried to move, and discovered he was tied to that spot. Simon could see the pistol begin to waver towards him. He scrunched his eyes closed, and hunched his shoulders.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Several shots went off in almost the same instant. Simon flinched, and Schardius yanked his foot out from the boy’s hold. Flat on his back, Simon saw the merchant stagger back to the opposite side wall of the bridge and raise his pistol one more time.

Bam! Bam!

Simon heard two final shots from behind him. Schardius jerked backwards, overbalanced as the side wall caught him behind the thighs, and fell into the Big Ditch without a sound.

* * *

Lieutenant Chieske cursed and the detectives rushed to the railing, guns leading the way. Simon shakily pushed his way to his feet and moved to stand beside them. He looked over the side wall to see Schardius floating in the Big Ditch, face down, arms spread out like wings. After watching the body for long moments, with no movement other than the ripples of the water, it finally came to Simon that Schardius was dead.

At that thought, the cold hand that had wrapped Simon’s heart since he had seen Hans’ body that morning began to loosen and thaw. Quiet tears tickled down his cheeks, but there was a smile of sorts on his face. Justice had been done, in his mind, and he had played some small part in it. It was enough.

“Simon?” Sergeant Hoch said as he put his pistol away under his jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“I was following you to the opera house,” Simon replied. “I wanted to see you arrest Herr Schardius.”

“Well, that’s twice you’ve been in the right place at the right time,” Lieutenant Chieske said, resting a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “But let that be enough. You almost got shot this time.”