afterwards, or else I would have returned to retrieve it,' the Young Man said. 'You need not concern yourself, it is not important. The Watch will never be able to trace the medallion back to me.'
'Evidently, you are proving to be over confident,' the Hooded Man said. 'You would be foolhardy to underestimate the dogged nature of the Watch. They may not be the brightest, but they are persistent, and their Captain is determined. This is yet another demonstration of your incompetence.'
'Hang on a minute,' the Young Man said, 'that was uncalled for. Have I not been a faithful associate to you?'
'That may well be the case, but in my opinion this level of performance requires a penalty. Perhaps you should forfeit your bonus on this occasion. I was mistaken in the belief that I had paid for the services of someone competent. It seems that was not the case.'
'Events change course, on occasion, sometimes for reasons which we cannot control, as you well know. Nonetheless, I require the agreed payment.'
'Oh, indeed, and you shall receive what you have earned,' the Hooded Man said. 'Never let it be said that I fail to discharge my debts.'
He reached inside his cloak and untied the leather sack which hung from his belt. The coins inside clinked as he pulled the bag free and he held it out in his left hand for the Young Man to take.
The Young Man reached forward, but the Hooded Man snatched it way, grabbing the man's arm with his right hand and twisting it behind his back. The Young Man gasped in pain as his arm was forced upwards, towards his shoulders. The bag of coins fell to the floor, spilling the contents across the wooden planks of the walkway.
The Hooded Man pushed his face up close to the Young Man's ear. 'That was sloppy, my young friend,' he said, 'very sloppy'. He pushed the Young Man's arm higher up his back again, causing him to cry out in pain once more. 'That is precisely the kind of mistake to which I am referring. It is the kind of mistake that costs people more than just money.'
In a swift, silent movement the Hooded Man drew his blade from the sheath that was threaded on his belt and raised it to the man's throat, slicing deep. Blood gushed from the wound and the Young Man raised his hand to try to stem the flow, but the cut was clean, and only a second or two passed before he collapsed to the floor, the dark blood pooling quickly and running across the planks.
The Hooded Man watched as the Young Man twitched and fell silent, his body becoming still. He stooped and knelt beside the Young Man, wiping the blood from his blade on the dead man's cloak. Slipping the knife back into its home, he stood.
'So unprofessional,' he said. 'A fitting end for an amateur.' He stepped forward to where the Young Man's body lay, pushing it off the walkway with his foot. It splashed into the water, bobbing below the surface for a moment, before popping up again, its momentum causing it to float away from the side of the dock. 'Enjoy your bonus,' the Hooded Man said. 'Spend it wisely.'
He shrugged his shoulders, twisting his neck from side to side, before glancing left and right to make sure that he was still alone. It had been a long night, but as far as he was concerned it was a satisfactory outcome all around; a callous murderer had been dealt with, taken off the streets, and, his own problem had gone away. He smiled with satisfaction, then turned, walking towards the steps that would take him up to the level of the street, and back to the city.
22
Silas King pulled the door closed as quietly as he could as he tried not to wake his family. There would be the devil to pay if he woke the children this early. His wife would not forgive him and then she would have a scowl on when he returned home that evening. He pulled his coat around him but the early morning chill seemed to be especially fierce this morning and it seeped into his very core. Stars still twinkled overhead in the cloudless sky, but over to the east there was already the first sign of the dawn's light as the horizon brightened and the tiny points of light would soon be chased away. The clouds were few from that direction. Another fine day, he thought, and better still the chance of a good catch. It was never a bad day when you could put food in the bellies of your family as well as having some gold crowns left over for another day.
A few more hardy early risers were already out on the streets but it was often the case that he was one of the first to venture out into the new day. Life as a fisherman was a lonely business, and as he set off towards the boat that waited for him in the harbour, he found himself wishing that one day he would be able to employ someone to help out. But, it was hard enough to provide for his family let alone afford to pay someone else out of the meagre earnings that he scraped from his business. Right now, that felt like an impossible dream. He was not ungrateful for the bounty from the sea that came his way, but that was the point, it was his bounty.
It was not far from his home to the harbour and as he crossed the street he could already see the masts of the larger boats pointing up above the quayside. The early morning mist that lay on the surface of the water would clear quickly when the sun came up but in the meantime it drifted around the hulls of the ships that sat in dock making them look as if they floated on a sea of smoke. He headed for the stone steps which led down to his boat and skipped his way down. Soon, he was looking at the rope that he had tied to his allotted mooring pole when he had finished working the previous evening. He pursed his lips together as he began to whistle a favourite tune.
Silas's boot slipped on the walkway. That's strange, he thought. It wasn't slippery near the steps, and it had not rained during the night. Least not that he know of. He looked down and saw a pool of dark liquid on the planks near his mooring. A bag of coins lay nearby, and some of them had fallen out, scattered along the quayside. He bent down and picked up one of the coins, raising it to his mouth to bite on the edge. If he didn't know better, he might think that it was a gold crown.
'Finder's keepers,' he said, flipping it and slipping it into his pocket.
He knelt and touched the liquid, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The red tint and smell of iron confirmed his thoughts to him. Silas looked down at the dockside and traced the trail of blood as it worked its way towards the edge. The trail ended abruptly, at the side of the dock, and floating in the dark water, face down, was the body of a man. His arms floating outstretched in front of him.
Silas stood and stared at the corpse. It took a few seconds for him to realise what it was that he was seeing, and as his mind came to terms with the image, he realised what it was that he had to do.
He turned and ran along the dockside, up the steps, and along West Street towards the Watch House.
oOo
'Get him out of there,' Winterburne said, looking down at the corpse as it floated in the water.
He placed his fists on his hips and looked around him. A sizeable crowd had already begun to accumulate around the edge of the harbour and he could hear the mutterings amongst them. 'Yet again,' he said, 'if ever it was needed, there is further evidence to confirm that good news travels fast. Can someone get rid of these people, for me?'
Moore took the boat hook that Silas King held out for him and stabbed the point into the clothing of the body. He twisted it until it gripped and then pulled the corpse towards the quayside. When the body was close to the walkway, Moore and Cromwell reached down and took an arm each. As soon as they were satisfied that they had a firm hold, they looked at each other.
'After three,' Cromwell said. 'One...Two...Three,' and at the right moment they pulled together.
The body slipped easily enough onto the dockside, the water running around their feet and then tumbling back down into the harbour.
'Let's turn him over,' Cromwell said, once the largest part of the man was on land.
The corpse was heavy in its wet clothes but they managed to get the man on his back without too much effort. The man's mouth gaped open as if in an encore of his last, silent scream. A small red crab, rudely disturbed by the actions of the two men popped out from the orifice and scuttled down the dead man's chest. It dropped onto the wood of the walkway and
ran headlong to the side of the dock, diving into the water with a plop.
'Ugh!' Moore said, as he looked at the body. 'His throat's been cut.'
'Well that certainly explains the blood,' Winterburne said. 'How many coins were there in that bag, Lieutenant?'
'Nineteen golds, Sir,' Cromwell replied, standing back from the man as the water drained away. 'It looks like someone tried to rob him.'
'I hardly think so, Lieutenant,' Winterburne said, shaking his head. 'I don't know any footpad that leaves nineteen gold crowns behind, do you?' He took the bag of money from Cromwell and pulled the drawstring tight. 'Get him to the mortuary as soon as you can. And while your about it I want to know who he is. By the end of the day.'
'We'll get on it right away.'
Winterburne looked up at the people that lined the side of the upper level. 'You can go now!' he called. 'There's nothing more to see here!'
As the bystanders moved away from the quayside, he noticed a young man pull his hood up over his head as he turned and walked away. Winterburne ran towards the steps, charging to the top and pushing his way past a few of the people that were dawdling, but as they moved to one side there was no longer any sign of the man. He shook his head. This must be really getting to me, he thought. Now everyone looks like a criminal! His stomach rumbled as he continued to gaze in the direction in which he thought he had seen the man.
'I need my breakfast,' he said.
oOo
Winterburne took a large bite from the crisp green apple as he looked out of his office window. The latest turn of events made things more interesting, that was for sure. Perhaps it was a robbery gone wrong, but as the body count continued to increase he couldn't help thinking that something extraordinary was developing. It just seemed to him that it was too much of a coincidence that the Governors were in the city when all this was going on.
Two loud knocks sounded on his office door. Winterburne looked around, puzzled; as far as he was aware all the Watch were out on their duties, so it couldn't be one of his men and he hadn't noticed anyone stepping up onto the porch from his position near the window. He threw the apple in the bin and walked over to the door, pulling it open.
In the corridor stood a figure, a little shorter than himself, dressed in dark brown robes and with the hood pulled over his head. The figure reached up and lowered the hood, revealing himself to be a young man, perhaps in his late teens, with brown hair and brown eyes.
'I saw you at the docks,' Winterburne said, opening the door wide to allow the man to enter his office.
'Yes, Captain,' the man replied. 'You were not supposed to notice. It was remiss of me.'
'And you let me into the Guild Headquarters, too.'
The man nodded.
As he entered the room, Winterburne saw the blue-grey metallic medallion hanging around his neck and he could just make out the now familiar figure of the Angel embossed on its surface. He felt sure that the object would be made of iron, and, he was equally sure that despite this man being an acolyte he would be most dangerous in a fight.
'I have instructions from the Arch Chancellor,' the man said. 'He asks that you come back to the Guild with me, Captain.'
'You have instructions? Really? For what purpose?'
'He asks that he may speak with you.'
'Does he? And why would he want to speak with me?'
'The Arch Chancellor did not tell me the precise reason for the request, Captain, but I can only suspect that it may be advantageous to your enquiries if you did.'
'I don't suppose that it would be seemly for him to come to see me?'
The man smiled. 'The Arch Chancellor never leaves the security of the