The Autumn Republic

Chapter 40

Adamat’s questioning of the kitchen staff revealed two important things:

The first was that Ricard’s security was not nearly as good as he claimed it was. The second was that a man named Denni of Rhodigas had left the blasting oil behind the silver over two weeks ago. He told one of the scullery maids that they were bottles of imported vodka specifically for Ricard’s next birthday and gave her a fifty-krana note to keep quiet about the “surprise.”

The poor girl had broken down weeping when Fell told her what, exactly, the bottles were. It was enough to convince Adamat that she wasn’t in on the plot, though he still told Fell to have her watched for a few days.

Adamat knew Denni, but only by reputation. He was a jack-of-all-trades – a con man, muscle-for-hire, thief, and smuggler. He lacked both ambition and vision, and while he had helped Ricard set up the first union, he had not wanted the responsibility of actually running anything.

“He’s really not a bad guy,” Ricard repeated for the third time in as many hours.

Adamat leaned against the cold brick wall of the basement Underhill Society secret room, clutching his cane in one hand, the head already twisted so he could withdraw his sword swiftly. The candelabras were lit, a deck of cards laid on the table, and cold drinks set out. Everything was prepared as it should be for the society, in addition to hiding two of Ricard’s enforcers in the basement niches and placing SouSmith innocuously near the front door of the hotel.

“He tried to kill you,” Adamat replied.

Ricard sat behind the card table, fiddling with a corkscrew. “He might not have known.”

“Oh?” Adamat rolled his eyes. “That you, the head of the union, would have been at a union function in your own headquarters when he threw a bomb into your office? Or maybe he threw the second bomb, the one that landed beside your wine collection, where you spend plenty of time.”

“He might not have thrown the bombs at all,” Ricard said. “He might have bought them for someone else.”

Fell sat beside Ricard, chewing thoughtfully on a handful of cashews. “That’s what we mean to find out.”

Adamat felt for Ricard. He really did. The members of the Underhill Society had been his closest friends and allies for over twenty years and secrecy was part of the mystique of their business cabal. Betraying something like that was very difficult.

But it had to be done.

“He’s late,” Adamat said, checking his pocket watch.

“He’s always late,” Ricard responded.

“You’ve delayed the others?” The only way to get Denni to come in was to hold Ricard’s regular weekly meeting. Everything had to seem completely normal. That required invitations to everyone else in the society.

“Yes,” Fell said. “They’ll all be at least a half hour late. Denni isn’t usually more than ten minutes behind schedule.”

“And you’re sure he’ll come?”

“I’m sure,” Ricard said. “He doesn’t get a lot of work these days. Lots of time on his hands.”

“Unless he suspects something,” Adamat muttered.

“He was here last week,” Fell said.

Ricard asked, rubbing at his bald spot, “Is this really necessary? I could just talk to him.”

“You’re being naïve, Ricard,” Adamat said.

Ricard picked beneath his fingernails with the corkscrew and gave an exasperated sigh. “All right, all right. Maybe I am. Get on with it, damn it. Look at me, bullied around by my own hirelings.”

“If I was just another hireling, I would have turned down the job,” Adamat said sharply. “I am here as your friend. Understand?” He opened his mouth to continue, his ire raised by Ricard’s unwillingness to do what was necessary, but the sound of footsteps on the basement stairs caught his attention. It was a heavy tread and it came down the hallway without hesitation. He tightened his hand on his cane.

Denni of Rhodigas was a little shorter than Adamat but built like a strongbox with broad shoulders, thick arms, and very little body fat. He wore a brown tailored suit and held a top hat in one hand and a cane in the other. His curly black hair was cropped above his ears. His eyes went to Fell, sitting beside Ricard, and he frowned. Then he saw Adamat waiting over by the wall.

“Denni,” Adamat said. “We have some questions for you.”

Adamat threw himself out of the way as Denni leapt forward, swinging his cane like a truncheon. He raised his own cane, ready to deflect another attack, but it had only been a feint. Denni was already gone, sprinting back up the hallway.

“Now!” Adamat cried. He set upon Denni’s heels, with Fell right behind him. By the dim light of the basement hall he caught a glimpse of a struggle. “Careful!” he said. “He might have–” There was a spark, and he was deafened by the sudden blast of a pistol going off in the confined space.

One of Ricard’s enforcers collapsed. By the time Adamat reached the scuffle, the second enforcer was reeling beneath the butt of Denni’s pistol. He stumbled backward and tripped, falling into the hotel’s wine collection. The roar of a hundred glass bottles smashing to the floor at once seemed distant in Adamat’s deafened ears.

Adamat swung his cane, but only managed to strike air, as Denni was already on his way up the stairs. Adamat was pushed aside by Fell, who he scrambled to follow.

Adamat rushed through the halls of the hotel, then the kitchen and the pantry, and then out a back door into the alley behind the building, barely catching glimpses of Fell’s back as she chased Denni. He passed another of Ricard’s enforcers lying in the alley behind the hotel, clutching at a fresh knife wound. Adamat was already breathing hard, his heart pounding, when he reached the main road.

The avenue was not crowded at this time of the evening, but there was enough traffic to worry Adamat that Denni might have the extra bottle of blasting oil on his person. He tried to search his memory as he ran, picturing Denni as he came into the Society room. Had there been a bulge in his jacket pocket? One at his belt as well? That explained the pistol, but the other one could be anything – his knife, another pistol, or the bottle of blasting oil.

He caught sight of Denni sprinting down the thoroughfare, cane in hand, his hat dropped somewhere along the way. Fell was close behind him, but not gaining quickly enough.

Adamat cut across the street as Denni ducked into an alleyway, running parallel to Denni’s escape route until he reached the next street. He rounded the corner a moment later, his lungs burning, and ran toward the next alleyway.

Denni appeared from that alley a moment later. He swung around, heading straight toward Adamat.

“Stop!” Adamat shouted. He drew his cane sword and planted himself in Denni’s path.

Denni didn’t even slow down. He raised his cane and swung with his powerful shoulders, forcing Adamat to parry the blow or risk being brained about the head. Adamat felt the cane sword wrenched from his fingers and saw it clatter off down the cobbles. Denni planted a shoulder in his chest, and Adamat felt like he’d been hit by a charging horse. He was flung to the ground with enough force to rattle his bones.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, spitting blood and cursing. He looked up, expecting to see Denni disappearing down the street.

But Denni had stopped and turned toward Adamat, just twenty paces away. Adamat’s heart leapt into his throat as Denni pulled a stoppered glass vial from his pocket. He didn’t have time to think as Denni flung the vial at him and turned to sprint away.

Adamat threw his arms up over his face. The whole world seemed to slow to a crawl, every regret and mistake flashing before his eyes as the blasting oil arched toward him. He’d seen the power of the stuff. There wouldn’t be enough left of him to scrape off the cobbles, and he found himself grimly hoping that Denni had misjudged the distance and was still within the blast radius.

There was a flash of movement as Fell sped past him. She reached out one hand and snatched the blasting oil out of the air. She pivoted on one leg, spinning, and went to her knee, setting the blasting oil carefully on the cobbles before Adamat’s eyes. A moment later she was off again, chasing after Denni.

Adamat’s hands trembled, but he snatched up the blasting oil lest a passerby accidentally kick it. He wondered how the pit the stuff hadn’t gone off during the scuffle and chase, and chastised himself for ever doubting Fell.

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be armed!” Adamat said as Ricard rounded the corner behind him, huffing and puffing.

Ricard gasped out, “He wasn’t supposed to be.”

“He either got tipped off or he was planning on finishing the job tonight. Hold this.” Adamat put the vial in Ricard’s outstretched hand. “Don’t drop it!” He grabbed his cane sword and set off in pursuit of Fell, hoping that Denni didn’t have the other missing bottle on his person.

He sprinted down the road, listening for sounds of the chase over his own labored breathing. He caught sight of Fell as she raced across a side street. Adamat followed, then crossed another road and ran into a shoe shop. Shoes lay on the floor, shelves tipped over by Denni in his rush to get away. An old cordwainer crouched behind his workbench and let out a startled moan as Adamat tore through the front room, down the hall, and out into the alley.

He entered the dimly lit alleyway just in time to see Fell corner Denni at a dead end. Denni whirled toward her, his spent pistol held by the barrel. When he saw Adamat, he lunged at Fell, likely hoping to take her down before Adamat could help.

The first swing went wide. Fell leapt, catlike, to one side and jabbed Denni in the throat with one hand. The blow would have sent any other man to the ground, windpipe collapsed, but Denni seemed to shrug it off and swung his pistol again.

“We need him to talk!” Adamat shouted, his voice echoing down the alley.

Fell caught the falling pistol butt with one hand, dropping to one knee beneath the force of the blow. Her fist shot out once again, slamming Denni hard in the balls before she got to her feet and closed the gap between them, her hand clawlike on his throat. She ducked, slipping beneath one arm, and came up behind Denni, stiletto in her hand, pressed against his cheek just below the eye.

Denni froze.

The whole fight occurred in the time it took Adamat to reach them. He slowed to a walk, and his heart felt near to bursting. He had to put a hand against the alley wall to support himself.

When he’d finally recovered, he stood up and straightened his jacket, stepping up to Denni with his cane sword in hand. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Where is the last vial of blasting oil?” Adamat asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t have it.”

“Who has it? Who hired you to bomb the union headquarters?”

Denni sniffed, putting up a tough façade.

“The easy way gets your ass thrown in a cell. The hard way, and she carves out one of your eyes, and then we break your kneecaps.”

Denni choked, then inhaled slightly as Fell pressed the stiletto harder against his cheek. “It was Cheris!”

“Excuse me?” Adamat lowered the tip of his cane sword.

“Cheris, the head of the bankers’ union! She sent me to buy the blasting oil. She had me hire men to throw those bombs into Ricard’s office, and she told me to kill him tonight at the Society meeting.”

“That was easy,” Fell said. The tip of her knife didn’t leave Denni’s cheek.

“Bloody pit! Bring him with! Ricard,” Adamat said as the union boss entered the alley from the cordwainer’s back door. “Get the police. We have to move quickly.”