The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) (47 page)

Abelard Contanto would be first. Despite Dornish’s assurances and what the General had said to him about short memories, Soren had killed Contanto’s nephew, and he could not dismiss the potential threat to him that existed so long as Contanto lived. With Contanto dead, this threat would be gone, and he would be able to move about without having to look over his shoulder ever again. He would need to move more quickly with this kill, as he didn’t want to spend too much time hanging around places that he might be recognised. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but even still he was not willing to take the risk.

His overriding concern was not to cause too much of a mess. He was confident that he could deal with any number of guards, but slaughtering dozens of men to get to one target was far from ideal. The quieter the better, as it would allow him to get away cleanly to prepare for the next kill. Having to lie low for several weeks, or even worse, having to leave the city because the Watch were looking for him would be a disaster. There would have to be no witnesses.

As he expected Contanto was not difficult to locate. Soren spotted him for the first time walking down a street in Docks. He was chatting in friendly terms with some of the business owners as he passed. Most, if not all of them were paying as much protection as they could afford without it shutting down their business, yet they greeted him with a smile and a handshake. He had four men with him, all large and rough looking. They were something of a cliché, but Soren supposed that the mean look was as much of a deterrent as actual violence.

He followed them for an hour or so as Contanto continued his route before returning to a building beside a warehouse in Docks. He remained there for the rest of the day, which Soren spent on the rooftop of a small merchant’s offices on the other side of the street. Boredom was his worst enemy as absolutely nothing of any interest happened. A few men came and went, most of them tough looking individuals, a few less so, some well dressed, others not so. He found himself trying to work out what each of them was in relation to Contanto’s crime empire, but realised it was a distraction that might cause him to miss something of importance and tried to stop.

It was well after dark when Contanto left, escorted by a different group of goons. He lived in an older part of the city, that had once been the exclusive suburb of Oldtown, but now was on the fringes of Highgarden and would certainly not be considered to be part of it by the more elitist of citizens, but then again, neither would Contanto. It was a fine and solidly built house though with a pleasant garden and a very visible security presence. Soren didn’t know if Contanto’s family lived here with him, but if they did, it could create an unpleasant complication.

That night, Soren slipped into the building in Docks that Contanto had spent the day in. A roof window posed little challenge to his pry bar. Slowly and methodically, he worked his way around each floor, inspecting every room, corridor and closet as he built a map of the entire building in his head. The most obvious room to be Contanto’s office was on the second floor. There was nothing else of any significance on that floor, just the office that occupied over half of its space and two small guardrooms, along with a corridor that ran along the front of the building, allowing access to those rooms and overlooking the street. There was a stairwell at either end of the corridor.

The office contained a large dark wooden desk and several comfortable leather chairs. The walls were lined with filing cabinets, filled with thousands of pages of numbers. There wasn’t any ideal hiding place, but there were windows at the back through which he could effect his escape if necessary. He examined the desk more closely. There was generous space underneath it; just enough to hide in, but it still wasn’t ideal. He did discover a small loaded crossbow tucked away there and a red pull cord. It disappeared down underneath the lush carpet, and Soren could barely contain the urge to pull on it to see what would happen. He expected that it was an alarm of some description. He had not encountered anyone in the building thus far, but he would have been surprised if there were no night watchmen lurking around somewhere. Probably asleep on the lower floor, although with Contanto’s reputation, Soren didn’t like their chances if they were caught sleeping on the job.

He continued his stalking of Contanto for several days until he was sure of the crime boss’s routine. He was quickly learning that there was something about all men that when identified, made them easy to kill. Despite living a life under the constant threat of a violent death, even Contanto left gaps in his security. He was always heavily guarded, but he was a thug of the old school. He liked to be present when his rivals, or someone who had betrayed him was being beaten or killed. He liked to randomly inspect his gambling dens and brothels and even from time to time the legal businesses that his organisation extorted.

There would be many opportunities to get to him, but there was a balance to be found between ease of access and discretion. Contanto would be harder to get to quietly, but Soren found he was relishing the challenge. It might also mean a slightly higher death toll, but all of those men knew the job they were doing and whom they were working for; there would be no innocent blood spilled. So long as the numbers did not get out of control, too much attention should not be an issue. The death toll around Contanto would be less of a concern to the Watch due to the nature of the men he was killing. A crime den full of corpses would be less of a problem than a similarly filled mansion in Highgarden.

And so it was that Soren decided to kill Abelard Contanto in his office, his own sanctuary, his own fortress. It was as much a statement of his belief in his own ability as it was the most logical choice. Then he would slip into the warren of streets in Docks, hopefully to disappear.

C h a p t e r   4 7

THE DANGEROUS AND THE POWERFUL

O
ne of his brothels and two of his drug dens were reporting reduced takings. His first thought was always that someone was trying to take advantage of their position of trust. It was costly to replace the operator of one of his businesses, so he liked to be sure. Swift action was needed though, or it would send the wrong message to the other businesses. There was no such thing as a quiet life, he thought. They would have to be visited regularly to let them know that he was watching. If his suspicions were confirmed, the culprit would be dealt with harshly and held up as an example to dissuade others from similar behaviour.

He was always glad to get back to his office after his morning inspections. It was a cool sanctuary, sheltered from the heat and noise of the city, where he could be alone with his thoughts and make the decisions that would keep his empire running, and more importantly, him at its head. He closed the door with a click behind him and walked to the comfortable leather chair behind his desk. He sat and allowed his body to sink into the plush leather padding. He would never cease to appreciate the simple pleasures that life offered. As he sat looking idly out of the window with his back to the door, it clicked again. He swivelled his chair around to look at the door and instinctively slipped his hand beneath the desk and tugged on the alarm cord that was hidden there. There was a tall man standing where a moment before there had been nothing. He was draped in a dark hooded cloak that partially obscured his face. The hilts of the pair of blades at his waist were not obscured.

He surreptitiously tugged the cord one last time before moving his hand to the crossbow. ‘I think it safe to assume you’ve killed my guards, so all that remains is to discuss what you want,’ he said. His voice was sharp and assertive. Contanto had faced death many times before, but come out on top and he refused to be afraid of it.

The cloaked man remained silent.

‘It’s like that then.’ He paused a moment and sighed. ‘What did I do? Kill someone close to you? Put your family out of business?’ He had tilted the gimballed crossbow and pointed it at the intruder. He intended to kill the man regardless, but he would like to know what had brought him here, and if there were more people that would need killing, to ensure that this irritating interruption was not repeated.

The front of his desk was false wood, being little more than a paper screen. He had spent hours firing bolts at targets all around his office, at first entirely in preparation for a situation such as this, then because he found it diverting and enjoyable. In a moment the bolt’s deadly toxin would be coursing its way through the intruder’s veins, but first he wanted to know why he was here. Still the man said nothing. It was disappointing, but that was often the way of things. The man reached to the hilt of his sword and began to draw it, the hood falling back from his face a little. He was young, younger than Contanto would have expected, but his eyes were old, old and hard. He had seen eyes like that before. The man meant to kill him and he would do it without hesitation or mercy.

They had toyed with one another for long enough. He clicked the hair trigger on the crossbow and was comforted by the thrum of the bowstring and the release of tension in the small weapon that accompanied it. His expectation was such that it took a split second to realise that there had not been any sound of the paper being punctured, nor of the man reacting to being hit. That split second was all it took for the man to move across the room. He was freakishly fast.

Contanto looked around for something, anything that might influence what was to come. Had he been over confident? He let out a slight gasp as the intruder’s blade pierced his chest. He couldn’t quite believe that anyone would have the audacity or ability to actually manage to kill him. It wasn’t quite as painful as he was expecting either, but perhaps that was just the shock. Then it was done.

Soren left by the front door as innocuously as anyone could. He walked briskly away discarding his dark cloak and quickly blending into the crowd. His heart was racing with excitement. It was a perfectly executed kill. He wondered briefly if he should try to send word to the General, but decided it was unnecessary. Word would spread quickly that Contanto was dead but what would follow that, he could only guess. With the head of the city’s underworld dead, there would be chaos and internecine warfare amongst the criminal gangs.

He spent two hours on a circuit around the city, looping around and backtracking several times until he was certain that no one could be following him. Then, and only then did he return to his apartment.