1636 The Devil's Opera (Ring of Fire) (54 page)

“And last night he decided to talk to you?” The captain sounded skeptical.

“Yah,” Gotthilf said. “Metzger had one of his fights out at the new arena last night, and something happened there that caused him to break with Schardius.”

“We might be able to get more details about that from Todd Pierpoint, or this kid Simon that hangs around Metzger a lot,” Byron interjected.

The captain nodded, and looked back at Gotthilf, making a “get on with it” motion with his hand.

“Metzger asked us for protection for his sister and the boy Simon, told us enough that we can justify questioning Schardius and his associates, then disappeared.”

“Disappeared.” Captain Reilly sat up straight at that word. “He’s not going to show up in the river, is he?” The captain’s frown made an appearance.

Byron shrugged. “Maybe. Schardius might want that to happen, but Metzger is one tough dude. Of all these ‘hard men’ in Magdeburg, he is without a doubt the hardest. They might take him down, but I promise you there will be more bodies in the street than his if they do.”

“For all that he’s apparently the best around at professional fighting, Metzger seems to be a relatively nice guy,” Gotthilf offered. “But the one thing we hear from all our sources is that he’s fanatical about protecting and providing for his sister, Fraulein Ursula Metzgerinin. Our guess is that he’s gone out to try and draw the attentions of those men who might otherwise be asking her where the money is.”

“Fifty thousand dollars, you said?” the captain asked.

“That’s what we were told,” Gotthilf replied.

“That’s a lot of money.”

“And that’s why we think Schardius is sending guys after it. That’s enough even for him to notice the loss.”

“That, and the loss of face,” Byron added. “Sounds like some of those stories out of Pittsburgh, boss.”

Captain Reilly nodded slowly, tapping his fingertips on the table while he thought. The fingers stilled, and he looked directly at them.

“Right. Don’t go after Schardius yet. You’re going to have to brief Mayor Gericke about this. We’ll need his approval as mayor and magistrate before you go after one of the leading lights of the city.”

The captain stood. “Leave word of your whereabouts at the central desk at all times. I’ll call you in as soon as I have confirmed an appointment with the mayor.”

* * *

Frau Fickler finished adding the numbers up, and looked at the stacks of coins and bills on the table in front of them.

“That makes sixty-three thousand nine hundred fifty dollars, plus another forty-nine
Groschen
and one hundred ninety-seven pfennigs.”

The three women, older and younger alike, sat and stared at what amounted to a small fortune. Frau Fickler had teased the story out of Ursula about Hans’ pugilistic career, so there was no question about where it came from or who it belonged to. What to do with it, however, placed them in a definite quandary.

“Does Gotthilf know about this?” Frau Fickler asked.

“I do not think so,” Ursula replied in a low voice. “Or at least, not how much is there.”

Frau Fickler pondered for a moment. She was beginning to like the soft-spoken Metzger girl. She had a pleasant manner about her. The older woman had also wormed out of the girl the fact that she did fine embroidery, which meant that the girl wasn’t afraid to work. That also spoke well of her.

The fact that the Fraulein had such wealth also elevated her in Frau Fickler’s eyes. She pondered that wealth for a moment, then stirred.

“Margarethe, go bring your father here.”

* * *

Simon was starting to get worried. He’d been almost every place he could think of looking for Hans, and there was no sign of him.

He had to be here somewhere.

Had to be.

* * *

Gotthilf turned around when he heard the report. “Two more?” he asked.

“Yep,” Byron replied as he scanned the patrolman’s notes.

“Metzger?”

“Definitely,” Byron said. “According to Veit, the owner and barman of the Chain, that is.”

“Let me guess: self-defense.”

Byron pointed a finger at him. “You got it. According to Veit, they attacked Metzger first without a warning or an argument or anything.”

Gotthilf nodded. “So if he’s chosen to be bait, it sounds like he’s doing a good job of it.”

“Yep. Score: Bait, five; Hunters, zero.”

“Of course,” Gotthilf finished, “the Hunters only need to score once to win.”

“Point,” Byron said with a wry twist to his mouth. “So let’s go see if we can find the bait ourselves before that happens.”

“And we’d best send word to Schardius and his men that it might be prudent to stay out of sight,” Gotthilf observed.

“Point,” Byron said after a moment. “Send Peltzer to pass them the word.”

Chapter 61

Demetrious the seeker, as he thought of himself, faded back against the city wall buttress. From there he could see the front of the new opera hall. He could also see where the one-eyed man was standing near the front of the Royal Academy of Music.

The one-eyed man was watching the opera hall, which meant he had to be watching someone in the opera hall. That was something Lieutenant Chieske would like to know. But the lieutenant would be even more pleased to know just who it was that the one-eyed man was watching.

Demetrious settled in for a wait.

* * *

Margarethe returned to the eating room in just a few moments, followed by her father.

Herr Hoch was a solid bulk of a man. He gave an impression of being almost square from shoulders to waist. That, combined with dark hair containing only wings of silver at the temple and a dark spade-shaped beard, made him a man that everyone took seriously, even at first acquaintance.

Ursula sat up straight, pressing herself against the back of her chair. Herr Hoch smiled at her, but spoke to his wife.

“Yes, my dear?”

Frau Fickler waved her hand at the contents of the table top. “Johann, before you is the wealth of our young guest, Fraulein Metzger.”

His eyes passed over the stacks of bills and coins. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes did widen just a bit. After a moment of consideration, he gave a nod—almost a bow—of respect to Ursula, who found herself nodding back.

Herr Hoch returned his gaze to his wife.

“I am certain you would not call me from my own accounts just to impress me with Fraulein Metzger’s worth. Is there some other reason I am here?”

His smile lightened what could otherwise have been a very snide remark.

Frau Fickler returned his smile, and said, “Our young guest cannot carry all this around with her all the time. Nor would it be safe for her to just leave it in the room we have given to her. Would you be willing to stand as fiduciary to her and take her wealth into your custody? At least, until she understands better what choices she can make?”

“Ah.”

Herr Hoch’s eyes now turned to Ursula again.

“Is that agreeable with you, Fraulein Metzger?”

“Please, what is fid…fidu…”

“Fiduciary?”

“Yes. What does that mean?” Ursula asked, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous and panic-stricken as she felt.

“It means that I would take your money into my charge with the responsibility of preserving and protecting it for you. I would not invest it or spend it without your approval.”

Ursula considered that. It would be a comfort to her to know that all that money was being properly taken care of. On the other hand, could she trust Herr Hoch? All she really knew about him was that he was Sergeant Hoch’s father.

As if he could read her mind, Herr Hoch smiled. “We will write up a simple contract where I shall be fiduciary for, let us say, three months. I shall do nothing to or with your money without your approval. And at the end of three months, I will return the money to you, or you can decide to have me continue as fiduciary, or have someone else assume that role.”

Ursula considered some more. She could see Margarethe nodding vigorously from where she stood behind her parents. That affirmation, and what she knew about Sergeant Hoch, finally convinced her.

“I…I think I would like that, please.”

Herr Hoch smiled again. “Good. I will bring you a contract in less than an hour. After you sign it, then I will remove the money for safekeeping. Meanwhile, you should take a little of that to keep with you for immediate needs.”

“I will see to that, dear,” Frau Fickler said.

“Very good,” Herr Hoch said, standing. “I will bring the contract back shortly.”

The older woman began gathering the money and placing it back in the bag. She set a very small stack of USE bills, some pfennigs, and an empty purse in front of Ursula.

“This will be your daily money, my dear.”

Ursula spent some few moments tucking the money into the purse. Finally she looked up, to see the other two women looking at her with smiles.

“Thank you for your help, Frau Fickler.” Ursula looked down at the purse clutched in her two hands, and fought back tears.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Frau Marie’s face now showed concern. Margarethe came and sat on the other side of Ursula.

“My brother fought to get that money, to provide for me. But I would give it all just to know he is safe.”

A single tear trickled down Ursula’s cheek as her two new friends moved in to comfort her.

* * *

The final climactic chords crashed to an end. Franz brought his baton down in the final cutoff, and the music stopped. The dress rehearsal performance of
Arthur Rex
was completed.

There was a moment of silence, Amber stood up and walked up the aisle, clapping as she did so.

“Bravo!” Amber called out. “Bravo!”

The chorus on stage began to clap and stomp and whistle. Amber let them blow off some steam, but after a minute or so, she stuck her fingers between her teeth and blew a sharp shrill whistle of her own. In a few seconds, there was perfect quiet.

“Great job today, kids. Absolutely great. You, too, gentlemen,” she said, looking over at Franz and the orchestra. Franz nodded in return.

Amber turned back to the stage.

“Okay, one last reminder. Here’s tomorrow’s drill: backstage and technical team here at 3:00 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Soloists here at 3:30 for makeup. Chorus here at 4:30 for makeup. Musicians here at 5:00. Everyone in costume by 5:30, everyone in place by 5:45, overture starts at 6:00. That right, Frau Ballauf?”

“Yes, Frau Higham,” the stage manager responded from the side. “And use the back door, everyone.”

“Got that?” Amber looked at the assemblage.

“Yes, Frau Amber,” came the chorused response.

“Great. Now go hang the costumes up, and show up tomorrow sober and not hung-over.”

The performers began to disperse, chattering loudly.

Amber wrapped her arms around herself and watched them go. This was really going to happen, she thought to herself. They had pulled it off.

Now, if only Herr Schardius would go away. She could feel his eyes on her back, and it made her itch.

* * *

It had been a long day for Simon Bayer. He had trudged over all of the Altstadt and most of the Neustadt and a lot of the exurb looking for Hans, with no luck in finding him.

Simon’s feet hurt; he was tired, thirsty, and hungry. He was also sick at heart. He didn’t know what Hans was up to, but ever since the fight last night he was worried for his friend.

As the sun started to approach the western horizon, Simon went to Frau Zenzi’s to sweep, as he did every day. The good frau tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he didn’t say much in response. She finally gave up and gave him a roll and a hug around the shoulders when he finished.

Simon sat down on the building steps and nibbled on his roll. Even though his stomach was empty, the bread tasted like ashes to him. When Schatzi made an appearance, he gave her the whole roll.

He smiled briefly as she gulped the bread down, then looked at him with her head tilted and her tail wagging a little.

“Sorry, girl,” he said, showing an open hand, “no more.”

Tonight, very unusually, the dog didn’t trot off, but continued to stare at him. Simon looked at her, and whispered, “Where is Hans, Schatzi? Do you know?”

At that exact moment, Schatzi shook all over, sneezed, and moved on down the street.

“I guess that means ‘No.’”

Simon stood, dusted off the seat of his pants with his left hand, made sure his right was firmly in its pocket, and started walking down the street.

“Hey, Simon!”

His head whipped around at the shout in momentary expectation of Hans. The next moment those expectations crashed, as he saw it was Lieutenant Chieske and Sergeant Hoch in a police cart.

“C’mon, kid, climb aboard.”

Lieutenant Chieske held down a hand. Simon grabbed it and was pulled up into the cart.

“Did you find Hans?” Simon asked.

Sergeant Hoch shook his head.

Simon looked out at the passing buildings.

“Where are you, Hans?”

* * *

Hans looked out from the alleyway as Simon passed by in the cart. It was good to know that the boy was still safe and in good health. If Simon was, then Uschi was as well.

He had been watching for some time; watching, but not moving into view, not speaking. It wasn’t safe to do so; not for the boy, and not for himself.

“God go with you, Simon,” a rare prayer passed through his lips.

He remembered almost the last thing Simon had said to him.

Consequences.

* * *

“We have been looking for your brother,” Gotthilf said with patience for the third time. “But it is hard to find someone who doesn’t want to be found in less than a day.”

“But what is he doing?” Ursula demanded. “Do you know?”

Ursula stood as straight as she could, rigid with fear and anger, facing him and demanding answers. Margarethe and Frau Marie stood behind her, saying nothing. It amused Gotthilf in one corner of his mind to see that his sister had the same identical frown as his mother.

“No, we do not know what Hans is doing,” he replied.