Lair of Killers (7 page)

“Yes? And?”

The aide looked confused. “My lord, I-I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I’m wondering why this situation is being brought to my attention.” He glanced around the office. “Is this a police station? Am I the captain of some private security force I was not aware? Tell me what you expect me to do about this.”

“My lord, I thought you would… do something.”

“You thought what? You thought I would ride off on a horse like a valiant knight and save these people. Of course you did because you are stupid. This is a matter for the police or City Watch. Go bother them.” The man was about to speak again, but Cassius shooed him away. “Get! Off with you!”

It was so very difficult to find good help these days. Perhaps he should replace his entire staff, in every department. What a bother.

The rest of the day was spent doing much of the same, tossing off annoying summons from various persons coming and going to his office. He was forced to have a word with his top aide. Cassius called him inside and the man popped his head over the door.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If one more person interrupts my work with business outside the scope of this office, I shall have your neck strung up on the gallows. Is that understood?”

“Um, yes my lord. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. Now get out.”

The man ducked away as if demons chased him.

Cassius left late at night, tired and irritable, with a dozen guards riding towards his palatial mansion under a full moon and cool air. Several minutes later, a large group of torches came into their vision as they approached the gates to the wealthy quarter. Cassius’ lethargic mind was on pace with his tired body, and he didn’t quite understand what was happening. His guardsmen slowed and surrounded him, but this did nothing but obscure his view of the torches and men who held them.

“Move, you men, move!” he said and swatted them aside. He couldn’t remember the captain’s name. “Captain, uh, Dower, what is going on? I am tired and wish to go home.”

The barrel-chested man turned in the saddle. “It’s Gower, my lord. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Then why don’t you go and find out, Captain Gower? So I can perhaps go to bed sometime this week.”

Gower nodded and scampered off, taking two men with him. Cassius crossed his arms over his saddle’s pommel and tried not to fall asleep. A few minutes later the captain returned, looking afraid.

“My lord, troubling news.”

Cassius rubbed his face. “By the gods, what is it now? Are people conspiring to keep me from my bed?”

“The security men here,” the captain said and indicated the men with the torches. “They said some men have hostages. They’ve taken the quarter.”

Cassius snapped further awake. “What? Where are the police? You there!” he said and pointed at the closest security man by the gate.

The man trotted over. “Lord Cassius, the situation is being handled. And the police are—”

“The police should be here. This is ridiculous. Captain, send men to the precinct! And take one of these security men with you. Go now.”

The captain ordered two of his men to move, and the security man hopped up on one of the horses and off they went. While they waited, Cassius trotted over to the gate, his men following, and the lord governor waited in agitated solitude. After a few minutes of frustrated silence, he interviewed the men who knew what was happening, and bit by bit he got more of the story.

Several hours ago, The Prancing Pony was taken over by armed, hooded men. Everyone present at the tavern, most of whom were wealthy merchants, was taken hostage. Then something very strange happened, and the details of which became murky and vague.

“Tell me what you know, for pity’s sake!” Cassius said. “No more of this nonsense. I demand to know why I am forced to stand by and why I am refused access to my home.”

“My lord, we don’t yet know everything. Some of our security forces have been compromised.”

“How?”

“They were dressed like us,” another man said, sounding embarrassed. “I have no idea how they got our uniforms. They are unique. But they attacked us and took control of our routes, bit by bit and took over the homes.”

“What do you mean?”

The first man answered. “There are many of them, my lord, some dozens. They stormed in, men with hoods and overwhelmed us. You are looking at the survivors.”

Cassius frowned and did a quick head count. There were less than a dozen men, out of fifty or more. The result was unacceptable.

“They have barricaded themselves in tight, my lord. The two narrow sections of road that lead to the back of the quarter, where the larger compounds are, they have those sections blocked.”

Cassius sucked his breath through his teeth and attempted to calm his nerves. “Are you telling me I am unable to reach my home at this time? How did this happen? This is unacceptable, gentlemen! You will lose your jobs over this fiasco, every single one of you!”

The Lord Governor fumed, and they fidgeted. Blasted incompetents! Some looked nervous and scared, perhaps wondering how they would now feed their families, but others looked at him with anger and defiance in their eyes. Well, let them stew. There was nothing they could have done about it but whine.

Half an hour later the captain and the others returned. With them were a few police officers. Lord Cassius eyed them with disdain. Lieutenant Dillon was with them, and Cassius began his tirade before he was within ten paces.

“Lieutenant, what do you have to say for yourself? Why are members of your department not making arrests at this very moment? Where is the City Watch? Give me some answers, or I will have your job as well.”

Dillon looked straight into his eyes, a slight smirk tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Something Captain Cubbins told me, right before he left is that city council authority does not oversee the police department. Our charter is royal by nature, see. As far as the Watch goes, that’s Hark Williamson’s department. Maybe you should speak with him about it. Thing is though, this here neighborhood is not owned by the city, it’s all private contracts, so the city’s jurisdiction isn’t at play here”

The beefy man stood straighter and clicked his tongue. “But I’m sure you know all this, Lord Cassius, you being the lord governor of Sea Haven and all that. Plus, you got all these strapping lads here.” He indicated the other security men by the gate. “Also, maybe you could get Muldor and the guild to help you out, considering they helped us out with the new jail and all.”

The tall young man smiled, and the white of his teeth split his blond beard in the torchlight like an axe cutting wood.

Cassius sat up in his saddle. ‘Oh, isn’t that rich,’ he thought. This simpleton thought he was getting revenge for Cassius throwing him under the ox cart for Muldor. The idea that he should have backed Dillon instead of Muldor when confronted on defaulting on the jail and road crossed his mind but was replaced with anger.

“Lieutenant Dillon,” he said in his most haughty but irritated tone, “I will give you this one chance to make amends for this catastrophe, and that will only happen if you do as I command, right now, right here, and take back control of the wealthy quarter.”

Dillon looked somewhat intimidated for a moment but then steeled himself. “Like I said, you gotta talk to the king, royal charter and all that.”

He and the other officers began walking away and Cassius fumed, looking at his men, who did nothing to stop the police.

“You-you can’t speak to me that way! You men here, stop them! I am the Lord Governor of this city, and you must do as I command! You-you come back here this instant! I command it!’

They did not listen.

* * * * *

Becket flexed his stiff fingers, and pain lanced through the digits. Both hands, from the upper wrist all the way down to the tips of the digits, were growing throbbing harder by the second. Soon, if the bonds were not severed and the pressure relieved, there could’ve been permanent damage to his joints, and the same would happen to his legs, as they were tied tight at the ankles. All was darkness.

This might’ve been a blessing considering the noises coming from all around. Doubtless, other people were in the same predicament. People shuffled, pulled at their bonds along with him, bound and gagged. They struggled to free themselves, shitting and pissing their pants. If the smell was any indication, there was no telling how bad things looked, and Becket was glad to be spared the sight.

His eyes and mouth were covered, but it was obvious they were in a darkened room.

Lack of security was the reason, thievery was the cause. The thieves had gotten braver and banded together for some massive ransom scheme, and the wealthy of the city were the target. Fine then. It would be over soon.

‘Muldor was right,’ he thought and lowered his head back to the cool floor. The Guild Master had recommended personal guards for all the Dock Masters and higher ups within the Guild months ago, but the idea of spending the money touched Becket’s frugality in a harsh way. The Guild should have paid for it.

But then again, whatever was happening was far larger than what a couple of bodyguards could handle. There was nothing he could have done about it because they would have been killed defending him. Wasted money, wasted lives. But the thieves were not this ruthless, to take so many captives. A bigger operation was at play.

“Mmf!”

Becket flicked his head over towards the sound. It came again, louder and more insistent, and Becket realized someone was close by him on the floor.

“Mmba-mmf!”

Someone grabbed at his face and almost poked his eyes out. He pulled his head back and flipped over so his hands would be level with the other person’s with the clear intention that they attempt to free each other of their bonds. They worked together, and Becket felt thankful for small blessings. It was difficult work and Becket felt the other fingers twisting and snapping at his, but they found a rhythm and after some time, he got a solid hold of the rope holding the other person’s wrists together.

They had to get free! He breathed heavy and kept at it. Soon his wrists were loosened enough to twist his hands apart. Becket rolled to his knees and pulled the gag and blindfold off his face. He gasped, looking around. A tiny bit of light hovered to his right near the floor.

“Who are you?” someone said in the darkness, and Becket saw the outline of the person who helped him get free.

Instead of answering, he busied himself with loosening the bonds on his legs. The rope was heavy and difficult to loosen. His dagger was gone, and the opportunity to use it for the first time disappeared along with it.

“Hey! Who are you? What’s happening?” Becket pushed away a groping set of hands and tried to stand up, wincing at the pain lancing through his legs as the circulation began to return. “What’s going on? What is this?”

“Calm yourself,” Becket said. “I don’t know what is happening. Maybe we can figure it out.”

More grunts and attempts at speech sprung up around them. Becket frowned, wondering how many people had been taken.

“Let’s get these others freed first, yes? Maybe one of them has a better idea about what’s happened and where we are.”

His eyesight was improving. He could see shapes struggling on the ground, shifting and kicking in futile attempts to break free of the bonds. He and the other man got to work. Most people were tied together hand and foot, but there were some that were tied together in a straight lined rope that connected hands and feet in one tie. These were very difficult to undo.

Becket made the mistake of taking their gags off first, and one man would not shut up.

“Get me off the floor, for pity’s sake! Damn you, get my hands free, you bastards! I won’t stand for this, do you hear me? I—”

Becket put the gag back in. The muffled speech was full of the same vitriol, and soon the entire room was full of more. He recognized the voice of his closest neighbor, a fat man named Devin O’Grady. The asshole could wait, and perhaps suffering for a bit might put him in his place.

They got several of the people untied, and once free, they in turn worked to get more free. On and on it went, faster and faster, and soon Becket estimated there were perhaps thirty or more men and women standing in the darkness. Everyone began speaking at once.

“Where are we?”

“Where are my staff? What happened to Edgar… I need Edgar!”

“What on earth happened?”

“I don’t remember a thing. One moment I was….”

“You are stepping on my foot!”

“Watch it!”

“Hey now! Settle it down a mite, would you?”

Becket whistled and made it as loud and sharp as possible. It cut through the room, and he kept at it until most of the panicked and frightened people calmed enough for him to be heard.

“Where we are is not as important as who we are, I would argue. I am Dock Master Samuel Becket. I would assume I am present with either my neighbors or colleagues or even both. Am I correct?”

Some answering shouts drowned out any sense of calm, and bedlam ensued once more. Becket whistled again and raised his voice to be heard.