Ciclope considered that, and reluctantly came to the conclusion that the boss probably knew what he was talking about. The man had had a lot more contact with up-timers that he had, after all.
“All right,” he conceded. “You take the money in exchange for money we can use, good silver from Venice or Amsterdam.” The boss seemed to choke, which was almost—but not quite—enough to make Ciclope laugh. “After all,” he continued, “we have expenses, too. And we deserve some…compensation…for our work.”
The boss seemed to have his breathing back under control, although his face was perhaps a bit darker. It was hard to tell for sure in the shadowed interior of the tavern.
“I cannot exchange all of it. I doubt that anybody in Magdeburg has that much silver on hand, except…” The boss’s expression twisted. Ciclope noted that the man apparently knew how to hate. And given the reasons why he and his partner had been called to Magdeburg, that gave him some idea as to who the unnamed source of silver might be.
“And having that much silver would be almost as dangerous as having the paper money,” the boss continued. “I can get you maybe…”
Here came the offer, Ciclope thought.
“…maybe enough for one part in ten.”
Ciclope gave the man marks for sheer arrogance. “I was thinking more like three parts in four,” he replied. “Maybe even five parts in six.”
The boss choked again, and this time Ciclope did smile; just a bit, a narrow blade’s edge of a smile, but a definite smile. The boss saw it; his color seemed to pale a bit.
They bargained back and forth, before finally settling on three parts out of ten.
“It will take me some time to gather that much coin without arousing suspicions,” the boss said. “Two, maybe three days. I will look for you here when I have it, and we can make the exchange elsewhere.”
“Agreed.” Ciclope nodded to the boss.
After the boss left, Pietro looked over to Ciclope. “He will try to cheat us, you know.”
“I know,” Ciclope said. “That is why you will leave in a moment and follow him. I want to know where he goes, and I especially want to know who he is. Be discreet.” He gripped Pietro’s forearm hard. “Do not let him see you, and do not attract attention. Right?”
“Si.”
Pietro left the table and drifted out the tavern door. Ciclope frowned, which scared away a couple of burly types who were looking for a table to sit at. What could they do next to disrupt the building project? They needed something big; something flashy…Hmm…
* * *
The watcher had observed the whole exchange from where he sat in the corner, collar pulled up and hat pulled down.
Interesting, he thought. Unfortunate that he couldn’t have heard the conversation, but now that he had seen the connection, perhaps he could dig the rest of it up.
* * *
Gotthilf was already at the Polizei shooting range when Byron finally showed up. When his partner walked in he had the cylinder of his new model seven-shot H&K .44 revolver swung out so he could check the loads and the percussion caps.
“Ready, partner?”
Byron appeared to be in a brisk mood this morning, wasting even fewer words than usual. Gotthilf responded with a nod.
Byron stripped the magazine out of his up-time Colt .45, and laid both on the counter beside Gotthilf’s. He then dug his ear protectors out of his coat pocket and laid them on the counter as well.
The up-timer touched Gotthilf’s revolver with a fingertip. “Didn’t you say something about Herr Farkas telling you about a fast loading technique for this thing?”
Gotthilf just smiled, and pulled two extra revolver cylinders out of his pocket, lining them up on the counter in front of him.
“What the…?”
Byron picked a cylinder up and examined it closely, using a finger to feel inside one of the chambers, then to touch the caps on the back of the chambers.
“Is that wax?”
“Yes,” Gotthilf said as he pulled his earplugs out of his own pockets. “Herr Farkas gave me the idea when I picked up the pistol at his shop: a very thin layer of wax poured into the chamber after the load is finished, and over the cap after it is installed. It is waterproof, so it helps keep the loads dry, and it will help keep things in place unless the cylinder is dropped or thrown at someone. Of course, it may take a bit more work to get the gun clean after shooting it.”
“And can you change cylinders quickly?”
Gotthilf shrugged. “Watch and see.” He nodded to the range officer, who blew his whistle and yelled, “Guns down.” The other shooters immediately laid their guns on the counters and raised their hands for a few seconds. After looking around, the officer pronounced, “Range is cold.”