Bounder Ch. 03

Until then... I was hooked and there was no sense struggling. I'd save my strength for handling my other problems and deal with the future tomorrow. Today, I wanted to catch a murderer!

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With the aid of some borrowed club stationary, I wrote out several quick messages but waited until I'd left the club to arrange for messengers to deliver them. I couldn't be sure that any of the regular club messengers would have delivered my notes without first breaking their seals and I didn't want to chance anything. I wasn't a member and they held no loyalty to me and undoubtedly would do anything Sir Adrian might request of them. Odds were that Sir Adrian's men would have also questioned the lads as to the names and the destinations of the recipients, and for the most part these three names had not appeared in any of my secret dossier records, except for Mumford, and he only appeared as a couple of footnotes that noted him as my household butler, which is just what he is... overtly anyway.

Mumford is an old retainer of mine from my years of living in the capitol. In his prime, he was the best second story cat burglar in the business, who could creep up a near sheer wall, ivy vines or a rusty drainpipe like a squirrel, and probably with less noise. He suffers from a bit too much rheumatism now for much of that sort of nocturnal fun these days, but his professional advice to me is always invaluable, and I've kept him on as sort of my gentleman's gentleman and major domo of the household. His young nephew Maitlan displays a lot of the family talents and most importantly is entirely loyal to our currently much smaller 'family business'. Probably because his cut of the profits is larger now than it used to be. I get my lion's share of course, but our young thief shows considerable promise and more than earns his share of the proceeds... and with little inclination to overly display his own growing wealth, except for spoiling young whores with his generosity. The kid is talented, but young and a bit overly reckless, but when his uncle keeps a tight rein over him, he's very useful as our 'hand's-on' thief.

Nominally, Maitlan works as the doorman for a brothel called the Green Curtain a few blocks away from my house in return for a bed (and a regular female occupant to warm it), and my second note for him should find him there. I own a significant but minority share in that whorehouse and it's a good place to disappear to when needed for private discussions of business away from curious eyes. It's our regular meeting place, and a secure as any location to privately conduct business.

My last note was for my final business partner and associate, Koch. He's a former leg-breaker by trade, none too bright but unusually loyal. Once paid, he stays paid and doesn't wrangle for extra bonuses or ask too many (if any) questions. He's quick with a pair of blades and large enough to attract attention, when necessary. He's also got more sense than most roaring boys and knows when to keep his head down when necessary and just blend in without making a fuss. He's our usual muscle and street security, and I use him for my main bodyguard and lurking shadow if I have to handle some late night business, or deal with anyone that I don't implicitly trust. He's also not particularly squeamish about other people's blood, or disposing of an inconvenient corpse upon occasion.

His sister Cicily is a guild prostitute working at one of their better more upscale knocking houses and they're very close, but she's too quick to bite on 'get rich' schemes and always seems to lose her significant earnings... and often his as well. Between the two of them they know anyone worth knowing in the city, including plenty of shady local characters and connections for hire (with a still tongue) when occasionally required. A local man born, Koch knows the streets and back alleys better than anyone else I've ever met and while he's not overly gifted with brains, he knows how to use what he was given to their fullest advantage. He also doesn't chatter like a bored fish monger, so he makes the perfect companion for me to bring along when doing business. His normal day job when he's not working for me is as the resident live-in bouncer for the Broken Hook, a workingman's tavern located directly next door to his sister's whorehouse, near the docks but in the central east side just off of Copper Avenue. Invariably he could be quickly found when needed at either establishment.

Just because I don't like people in general doesn't mean that one shouldn't reward the people who help to ensure your success. I have no reluctance at all against rewarding loyal service. Being too cheap and frugal while trying to make a fortune (especially often illegally) is invariably counter-productive. Usually you do need to spend money to make money and having an adequately paid and loyal collection of utterly trustworthy retainers is invaluable in times of trouble, like now. In Mirabelle, I'd made errors in pride and judgment and rather badly over expanded my interests, with a corresponding excess of employees and insufficient supervision over their activities. Now I've kept my group of business associates much smaller and our affairs considerably more private. We think and plan before we act (that's my job), they handle the technical details and the loot division is suitably divided. My share is bigger, but then again I am the boss giving out the orders, and they'd all be making far less working directly through the thieves' guild. Cautious restraints or not, business has been good.

Speaking of the local guild, I'm also paid up and in good standing with them, but this is more of a courtesy than a necessity, but it's also for our mutual convenience. We notify each other of dangers, or opportunities, providing mutual protection, and to some degree we regularly exchange favors. It's a good but extremely private working arrangement that seems to suit everyone, at least for now. I'm not the only young nobleman either in their ranks or paying for their protection to avoid any potential conflicts of business or misunderstandings that might involve the use of steel in a dark alleyway at night.

Our small but close knit gang tries to never meet directly in public, but we do have a usual covert place, the Green Curtain brothel, where Maitlan lives and works. It's always been a safe place to meet, mostly because it's very close to my house and I can take nothing but side streets and alleyways to secretly get there without being seen on the busy main streets, if necessary. I didn't name it explicitly in my notes, just saying 'meet now at the usual place'.

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I gathered up my messages and immediately hired a waiting carriage from the front door parkway of The Crown and bade the driver to take me to middle Silver Street after first giving him a cursory mental examination sufficient to ensure that he wasn't my would-be assassin either, and with very light street traffic on this early Saturday morning he took me back to the Silver Fox with good speed. No one seemed to be following me, and my tapster friend reported that no one, other than the usual assigned pair of night vigiles watchmen had enquired about me there last night. Again, this was no surprise that the watch was now keeping a very active eye on me and my activities, and the duo had likely also witnessed my near escape from the murderous black carriage driver just shortly before. The tapster earned his bonus fee and promised to keep his eyes and ear out for me.

Escaping back out into the rear alleyway, I took an oblique pathway down the two blocks to my office chambers, where I retrieved the pistol I had kept there. This was a significant risk, coming here. Almost certainly the Blackguards would have someone watching here for me, but the risk was worth it. Being armed improved my sense of security immeasurably! I had paid dearly for these weapons, which had been custom made by perhaps Mirabelle's finest and most exclusive gunsmith, Manuel si'Orly. No guns are 100% reliable or accurate, but his were by far the best that money could buy. I wish I had more of them, and also took even more time than I currently do to practice with them until my aim was as flawless as possible! Still, at dueling range or closer, a score of paces or less, the distance at which most combat occurs, I'd never failed to place my lead further astray than two inches away from my desired target. For their compact size, this was extraordinary accuracy and the pistols were precise enough for nearly any self-defense situation.

I'd chosen these office chambers for two distinct reasons, the first being simple commercial necessity. This area held the offices of the most desirable and important merchants, investment brokers, commodity traders and factors of the city. Here from my fellow tenants and neighbors I could gauge the financial pulse of the city. My chambers was a prestigious and prosperous one and the rent was high, but the prospective clientele was also the best. On the other hand, for my less than honorable business activities, it possessed both a suitable rear exit into a warren of nearby alleyways and also a rooftop door, allowing for an additional escape route over the nearby building roofs. At night, I'd practiced evasion paths into several different directions, enough to avoid with easy any obvious ground pursuit.

Risking a peak outside of my office window after grabbing my weapon, and the leather wallet that held most of my ready business monies, it wasn't too hard to pick out several people very actively not trying to look in my direction. One beefy fellow looked like he was probably was a lurking Blackguards trooper out of uniform, but it could have been just as easily an ex-Army veteran now in the vigiles. In any case, I didn't want to deal with either of them... and I definitely didn't want to go back out the front door again, where someone hidden with a musket could get a clear shot at me!

I probably should have taken the roof today, but the hour being not yet noon and with a clear bright sunlit sky I didn't want to attract any attention being up on the 'thieves' highway' there during the day. Instead I took the rear alley exit, and nearly at once realized that I was being followed, and my tail was either too talented or lucky to get shaken off by any of my usual tricks I know to avoid being followed. This was not unexpected, but it was rather inconvenient.

It didn't take me long to figure out that my tail was a youngster, and that he was pretty good at lurking in shadows and making hardly any more noise while following me than a sewer rat, but age and experience (and guile) usually trump youth and eagerness. I couldn't make out his face, it being covered by a dark grey robe with a hood, but the lad tended to shuffle his feet and hunch his shoulders, common practice for growing young people still awkward with their maturing bodies. My gut feeling was that this was not my murderous coachman, but perhaps someone in his hire. Or else this was a member of the vigiles, one of Sir Adrian's eyes watching me. The later prospect, I could deal with, but I needed to know who the kid was working for!

Turning a corner into an alleyway I knew rather well, I hid myself inside of an open doorway to an abandoned building, and closed the door to just a crack before my tail bounded around the corner into this alleyway after me. As this passageway made an abrupt turn to the left just up ahead, it was not unreasonable to assume that I had just passed through there and the lad (he was just a kid barely old enough to shave) shuffled hurriedly right past my lurking spot. As he passed I stepped out from behind him with my pistol raise to fire and commanded him to stop and slowly turn around to face me.

The lad didn't quite piss himself, but clearly I'd caught him flatfooted by surprise and he was fortunately willing to be very cooperative.

"Sir 'Bounderby? Your lordship? Uh... Sir? I'm Flerrie la'Clerkes, junior patroller with the Riverside Vigiles station, under Captain Collier. Do you know him Sir?"

"Sorry, no... I'm afraid not." I'd heard the name before though. Riverside was right next to my own neighborhood, Sunrise Hill, and just a bit more upwardly mobile. A nice place to live. Very middle-class, more staid and less artsy... and less tolerance for overt criminal activity. "But lad, if you can, I'd rather appreciate a glance at your writ-card instead... and also please take that hood off from over your head. That should resolve any potential unfortunate misunderstandings between us."

The youth did, and I quickly discovered that the lad was quite instead a lass! Flerrie isn't an uncommon name for either boys or girls, but for lads it's spelled Flerrey, but pronounced quite exactly the same. It's also not unheard of for a boy to receive the maternal family name, especially for lower classes where the father's name is entirely unknown. Also, women are not uncommon in the vigiles, but they were a distinct minority and tended to work administrative rather than patrol duties... unless they had some badass skills and could earn the respect of the streets they patrolled. It wasn't impossible, but young Flerrie didn't seem to be the sword-maiden type. Her hips looked good in leather breeches, as did the bust, but she appeared much more lithe than muscular, and rather not the martial sort, at least at first glance. Her eyes were dark and intense, but not with the crazed look that most battle-maidens tended to have.

"So your father was an imperial clerk?" I politely enquired while she slowly reached into her belt purse fastened around her short kirtle to obtain her official identification papers. At first I'd mistaken her brief skirt over her hose for a thin doublet, and I wasn't that far wrong. I could also see now that she wore a more traditional but short bodice-corset under her jacket and dark hooded cloak. In hose and common boots she could move about and even fight with ease and considerable quickness. In her belt was a slender stabbing dagger but she kept it in its sheath and her hands held away from the weapon. If someone intends to make trouble, you can always spot it in their eyes first... and hers displayed no hints towards duplicity. I was almost disappointed.

"He was and is sir. Works with the tax authority at the docks and should take his thirty year stipend and retire in but two more years. Here is my writ-card sir, all proper!"

It was indeed quite proper and very official. The vigiles did wear a distinctive tunic and short cloak when on official duty, but clearly the lass was acting under orders to try and remain unnoticed. Accordingly, when she produced her official Vigiles writ-card, that sufficed to show that the lass was indeed a lawful member... but conceivably not entirely uncorrupted, despite her tender young age. Her card marked her as barely eighteen, and also I would wager that she was absolutely still a virgin, unspoiled by men (or clumsy ham fingered boys too).

"The card appears to be yours, and not acquired from secondary sources," I admitted, comparing the listed physical description of the young guard with what the writ stated, "but I'd appreciate a quick explanation or two as to why we're even having this current conversation... and particularly what interest your captain has in my movements?"

"Sir? I believe the captain had orders from HQ, right from the hand of Sir Adrian's secretary himself, for the guard to keep a very watchful eye on you. 'Guarding your back', I believe was one of the captain's exact words. The Blackguards have suddenly shown an interest in finding you, and not for a pleasant conversation either, Sir. Captain Collier said that we were to find you first, but stay out of your way, but be helpful if we could. Rather contradictory orders we all thought, but that's the way most orders are anyway."

"So, the Blackguards are looking for me. Is this official or just some of the rank and file helping out a comrade or business partner? And Miss, you don't need to call me sir or lord. I'm from a good family, but I'm no one's master." But I wouldn't mind being hers, I thought to myself with rather erotic thoughts. No! I didn't have time or energy for that sort of diversion right now!

"They are sir... I mean Mr. d'Bounderby. Very unofficial, I'd guess. They had two men were out on the street in front of your office chambers building waiting for you to arrive and I think another one was on a building roof across the street, ready with a musket. One for sure was definitely a Blackguard, the sniper, but out of uniform, and the other two looked like local hires. A big man, probably a roaring boy and also a rather evil looking weasel of a fellow with a facial scar that neither Sergeant Hobart, my senior, or I had ever seen before. Hobart was watching from your roof and could watch both the front and the back alleyway, but we were sure that you'd not dare take the front street again, once we saw you alight from the carriage and go into your office, so I moved into position out here in back to wait for you."

"Clever thinking. I commend you! Now is anyone following you now?"

"I do not believe so, other than my sergeant. Hobart would have kept to the rooftops after us and should have been able to follow us discreetly up there. These alleyways are all narrow enough to jump across while up on the roof, so he should be just right behind us. He would have whistled if he had seen or heard any other approach danger."

That was a comforting thought... and also suddenly far too humorously amusing as just a moment later a loud bird's whistle sounded from nearly above our heads, which the lass recognized at once as coming from her watchful sergeant above.

"By Fulmera's tits... fuck!" the lass groaned, and I didn't disagree. The Goddess Fulmera is the patroness of health, home, happiness and especially order, and all things that are of the present. 'By Fulmera's tits' is a very common and popular oath, usually signifying that things are either fucked up, or about to be. The vigiles tend to be devout worshippers of her and her temple here in the city is perhaps the largest and most popular of the five divinities.

"Actually, it's better this way. Give your buddy upstairs a quick wave to get his attention and then get going skulking back down this alley, as if you were still after me and when you make that turn to the left just up ahead, don't be too quick about it. If it looks safe once you're around the corner, stay put there and keep quiet. If not... well, be creative. I'm going to lurk right here and see if I can pull off the same trick twice in a row. The odds are against it, but I'd like the idea of a running gun fight down these alleyways even less. At least I can get the jump and probably the first shot this way."

The young vigiles patroller didn't need to be instructed twice. She quietly gave her sergeant a slow flourish of a wave and pointed down the alleyway, and then she beat feet. I also thought it was rather tactically clever the way she stage acted that she was nervous about making the corner turn, allowing her tail behind us to catch a carefully staged flourish of her dark cape as she at length carefully crept around the corner and disappeared down this new alleyway.

She sold the deception so nicely that our stalker was quite indeed fully taken in and didn't spare hardly a glance side to side at my closed doorway as he crept down the alley after my stalking horse. My foes features were quite ill-favored, with a missing ear and a long facial scar that both strongly suggested that he had a long history of judicial punishment for prior violent crimes. I couldn't quite catch his eyes, but his face undoubtedly belonged to a cold hardened killer. He had a large matchlock pistol with a lit wick ready in his hand, and he showed every willingness to use it upon someone at the earliest opportunity, either the young patroller or preferably me.