Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher (36 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher
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“Don’t care much for tea,” said Fisher. “We stay.”
“You’ll do as you’re damned well told!” snapped Sykes. “Now, get out, and don’t come back till we call you. Adamant, tell them.”
Hawk smiled slowly, and Sykes paled suddenly as his breath caught in his throat. Without moving a muscle, a change had come over Hawk. He suddenly looked ... dangerous. The scarred face was cold and impassive, and Sykes couldn’t help noticing how Hawk’s hand rested on the axe at his side. The room suddenly seemed very small, with nowhere to turn.
“We’re bodyguards,” said Hawk softly. “We stay.”
“Gentlemen, please!” said Adamant quickly. “There’s no need for any unpleasantness. We’re all friends here. Hawk, Fisher, these gentlemen are my guests. I would be obliged if you would show them every courtesy while they’re in my house.”
“Of course,” said Hawk. His tone was impeccably polite, but the gaze from his single dark eye was still disturbingly cold. Sykes looked at Fisher, but if anything her smile was even more disturbing.
“There’s no cause for alarm, my friends,” said Adamant. “My bodyguards fully understand our need for confidentiality. You have my word that nothing discussed here will go beyond the walls of this room.”
Walpole looked at Sykes, who nodded grudgingly. Hawk smiled. Fisher leaned against the mantelpiece and folded her arms.
“But your wife will still have to leave,” said Sykes stubbornly. “This is not women’s business.”
Dannielle flushed angrily, and looked to Adamant for support, but he was already nodding slowly. “Very well, Lucien, if you insist. Danny, if you wouldn’t mind ...”
Dannielle shot him a quick look of betrayal, and then gathered her composure sufficiently to smile graciously round the room before leaving. She didn’t slam the door behind her, but it felt as though she had. Adamant gestured for Walpole and Sykes to be seated, and waited patiently for them to settle themselves comfortably before pouring them wine from the most delicately fashioned decanter. Hawk and Fisher held out their glasses for a refill. Adamant handed them the decanter, and pulled up a chair opposite his visitors. The two Guards remained standing. Hawk studied the two businessmen surreptitiously over his wineglass. He didn’t move in their circle, but he knew them both by reputation. Guards made it their business to know the movers and shakers of Haven’s community by sight. You could avoid a lot of embarrassment that way.
Garrett Walpole was a bluff military type in his late fifties. He’d spent twenty years in the Low Kingdoms army before retiring to take over the family business, and it showed. He still wore his hair in a regulation military cut, and his back was straight as a sword blade. He wore sober clothes of a conservative cut, and sat back in his chair as though he owned the place.
Lucien Sykes was an overweight, ruddy-faced man in his late forties. He wore the latest fashion with more determination than style, and looked more than a little uneasy in present company. Sykes was big in the import-export business, which was why he’d come to Adamant. The Dock-workers Guild was in the second week of its strike, and nothing was moving in or out of the docks. The Conservative-backed DeWitt brothers were trying to break the strike with blackleg zombie workers, but so far that hadn’t worked out too well. Zombies needed a lot of supervision, and weren’t what you’d call efficient workers. As it was, the Dock-workers Guild had more reason than usual to be mad at the Conservatives, and had lined up firmly behind the Reformers. So if Sykes wanted to get his ships in or out of the docks any time soon, he was going to need help from the right people. Reform people.
Hawk grinned. He might be new to politics, but he knew a few things.
“Well,” said Adamant finally, after everyone had sipped their drinks and the silence had dragged on uncomfortably long, “what exactly can I do for you, my friends? Normally I’d be only too happy to sit and chat for a while, but I have an election to fight, and very little time to do it in. If you’ll just tell me what you want, I’ll be happy to tell you what it will cost you.”
Walpole raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Plain speaking may be a virtue, James, but if I were you I’d keep it to myself. There’s no room for it in politics or business.”
“You should know,” said Medley, and Walpole laughed briefly.
“James, I can’t say I’m hopeful of your chances, because I’m not. High Steppes has been a safe Conservative Seat for more than thirty years. All right, Hardcastle is a bit of a rotter, but people will vote for the devil they’re familiar with rather than a Cause they don’t know.”
“Even though the devil has bled them dry for years, and the Cause will fight on their behalf?” Adamant smiled. “Or perhaps you don’t believe in Reform?”
“My dear chap, it hasn’t a hope.” Walpole took a cigar out of his pocket, looked at it wistfully, and put it away again. “Only allowed one a day,” he explained. “Doctor’s orders. I’d get another doctor, but he’s the wife’s brother. James, Reform is a nice idea, but that’s all. These fashions come and go, but they never last long. Too many vested interests concerned for it to get anywhere.”
“Is that why you came here?” said Medley. “To tell us we can’t win?”
Walpole laughed briefly. “Not at all. You asked me for money, James, and I’m here to give it to you. Who knows? you might win after all, and it wouldn’t do me any harm to have you owe me a favour. Besides, I’ve been a friend of your family most of my life. Fought beside your father in the Broken Ridges campaign. He was a good sort. I’m more than comfortably well-off these days, and I can afford to throw away a few thousand ducats.” He took a banker’s draft from his pocket and handed it to Medley. “Put it to good use, James, and let me know if you need some more. And after this nonsense is over, do come and see me. I’m sure I can put some business your way. Now I really must be going. Things to do, you know. Good luck in the election.”
He didn’t say
You’re going to need it.
His tone said it for him.
He rose unhurriedly to his feet, and stretched unobtrusively as Adamant got up and rang for the butler. Medley tucked the banker’s’ draft safely away in his wallet before rising to his feet. The butler came in, Walpole shook hands all around, and then the butler escorted him out. The room was suddenly very quiet. Adamant and Medley sat down again and turned their attention to Lucien Sykes. He glanced quickly at the two Guards, scowled unhappily, and then leant forward to face Adamant, his tone hushed and conspiratorial.
“You know my position. I have to get my ships in and out of the docks soon, or I stand to lose every penny I’ve got. You know I’ve donated money to the Cause in the past. I’ve been one of your main backers. Now I need your help. I need your word that the first thing you’ll do as a Councillor is to put pressure on those bastards in the Dock-workers Guild to call off their strike. For a while, at least.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Adamant. “But I could put some pressure on the DeWitt brothers to be more reasonable. After all, they caused the strike, by refusing to spend the money needed to make the docks safe to work in.”
Sykes’s scowl deepened. “That won’t do any good. I’ve already talked to Marcus and David DeWitt. They don’t give a damn for anyone but themselves. It’s become a matter of principle to them, not to give in to their workers. If they want to dig their own financial grave, that’s up to them, but I’m damned if I’m going to let them drag me down with them.”
“You could always go to Hardcastle,” said Medley.
“I tried,” said Sykes. “He wouldn’t see me. Three thousand ducats, Adamant. That’s my offer. I’ve got the bank draft right here.”
“I’ll talk to the Guild and put what pressure I can on the DeWitts,” said Adamant. “That’s all I can promise you. If that’s not good enough, then we’ll have to do without your money.”
Sykes took a folded bank draft out of his coat pocket, hefted it in his hand, and then tossed it onto the desk. “I’ll see you again, Adamant—if you win the election.”
He pulled his coat around him, glared briefly at Hawk and Fisher, and left the study. The door swung shut behind him. Hawk turned slightly to look at Adamant.
“Is it normally this blatant? I mean, when you get right down to it, those two were giving you bribes in return for future favours. Reform’s always campaigned against that kind of corruption in the past.”
“Fighting an election costs money,” said Medley. “Lots of it. James couldn’t hope to pay all the bills on his own, and the Cause can’t do much to help. What money they have has to be spread around among the poorer candidates. All they could give us was this house. So, we take funds where we can find them. You can bet Hardcastle isn’t bothered by any such niceties. If his supporters don’t make big enough donations, all he has to do is threaten to raise property taxes. And it’s not as if we promised to do anything against our principles. In the end, all politics is based on people doing favours for each other. That’s what keeps the system going. It may not be a very pretty system, but then, that’s one of the things we’re fighting to change.”
The door flew open, and Dannielle swept in. She glared at them all impartially, and then sank into her favourite chair. “I feel like I ought to open all the windows and set up incense sticks, just to get the smell of politics out of this room.”
“Sorry, Danny,” said Adamant. “But they really wouldn’t have talked freely with you there, and we needed the money they were offering.”
Dannielle sniffed. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Let’s,” said Medley. “Is there anything more you need to know before we start campaigning, Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher?”
“Yes,” said Hawk. “I need more information on the other candidates. Hardcastle, for example. I gather he’s unpopular, even among his own people.”
“The man’s a brute,” said Adamant. “He runs the High Steppes like his own private Barony. Even levies his own separate tax, though it’s not called that, of course. It’s an insurance policy. And people who don’t or can’t keep up their payments find their luck’s suddenly changed for the worse. It starts with beatings, moves on to fires, and ends with murder. And no one says anything. Even the Guard looks the other way.”
Hawk smiled coldly. “We’re the Guard here now. Tell me about Hardcastle himself.”
“He’s a thug and a bully, and his word is worthless,” said Medley unemotionally. “He takes bribes from everyone, and then welshes on the deal, as often as not. He’s been very successful in business, and it’s rumoured he knows where some very important bodies are buried. He has his own little army of men-at-arms and hired bullies. Anyone who tries to speak out against him gets their legs broken as a warning. I don’t think he has any friends, but he has acquaintances in high places.”
“Anything else?” said Fisher.
“He’s married,” said Dannielle. “But I’ve never met her.”
“Not many have,” said Medley. “She doesn’t go out much. From what I hear, it was an arranged marriage, for business reasons. They’ve been married seven years now. No children.”
“An army of men-at-arms,” said Hawk thoughtfully. “You mean mercenaries?”
“That’s right,” said Medley. “It’s hard to get an accurate figure, but he’s got at least three hundred armed men under his personal command. Probably more.”
“And this is the man you’re standing against?” said Fisher. “You must be crazy. You’re going to need your own private army just to walk the streets in safety.”
“What do I need an army for?” said Adamant. “I’ve got you and Captain Hawk, haven’t I? Relax, Captain Fisher. We have our own mercenaries. Not as many as Hardcastle, but enough. They’ll keep the worst elements off our backs. We’ll just have to play the rest by ear.”
“Terrific,” said Fisher.
“Tell me about the other candidates,” said Hawk.
Adamant looked at Medley, who frowned thoughtfully before speaking. “Well, first, there’s Lord Arthur Sinclair. Youngish chap, inherited the title a few years back under rather dubious circumstances, but that’s nothing new in Haven. Plays politics for the fun of it as much as anything. Likes all the attention, and the chance to stand up in public and make a fool of himself. He’s standing as an independent, because nobody else would have him, and he wants to see an end to all forms of tax on alcohol. He has some backing, mostly from the beer, wine, and spirits industry, and he’s wealthy enough to buy himself a few votes, but the only way he’ll get elected is if all the other candidates drop dead. And even then there’d have to be a recount.”
“He means well,” said Adamant, “but he’s no danger to anyone except himself. He drinks like a fish, from what I’ve heard.”
“Then there’s Megan O‘Brien,” said Medley, having waited patiently for Adamant to finish. “He’s a spice merchant, also independent, standing for Free Trade. Given that a great deal of Haven’s income comes from the very taxes O’Brien wants stopped, I don’t think much of his chances. He’ll be lucky to get through the election without being assassinated.
“And, of course, there’s General Longarm. Once a part of the Low Kingdoms army, now part of a militant movement within the Brotherhood of Steel. He’s been officially disowned by the Brotherhood, though whether that means anything is open to question. The Brotherhood’s always been devious. He’s campaigning as an independent, on the Law and Order ticket. Believes every lawbreaker should be beheaded, on the spot, and wants compulsory military service introduced for every male over fourteen. He’s crazier than a brewery-yard rat, and about as charismatic. His Brotherhood connections might get him a few votes, but otherwise he’s harmless.”

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