Kolberg, Pomerania, March 1635
"Viktor not have all day"
Hans Johansson jumped and nearly dropped the musket he gingerly held in his soft, white hands when the gravelly voice broke the silence. He'd been so busy examining the musket that he'd momentarily forgotten Viktor, though, as he glanced at the big brute of a man with his barrel chest, gray hair, and badly pockmarked, battle-scarred face, he had to wonder just how he'd managed to forget the man was waiting for him to accept the consignment of weapons. Even when he was just standing still, there was a brooding intensity about Viktor that was more intimidating than his physical presence warranted.
"I'm sorry. Is… is something wrong, Herr Viktor? These are very fine guns. I'm most impressed that you've managed to acquire so many of the new Russian AK3s. They only went into production last summer." To his annoyance Hans realized that he was babbling.
He wondered if he needed to make eye contact, if it would make him seem more sincere and trustworthy. He had forced himself to do so when this deal was set up and it hadn't been something he had enjoyed. On the surface Victor looked like any other thug, but there was something about the fire in Viktor's eyes that was scary. Something not quite right. No, eye contact wasn't necessary. Hans was sure he had Viktor convinced that he was just another harmless clerk handling his master's dirty transactions, and it wouldn't be a bad idea to let Viktor think that Hans was somewhat scared of his violent reputation. That Hans had spend the last three years looking for revenge against the powerful Vasa family for the loss of his heritage, and was now one of the duke of Courland's most trusted agents, was not something Viktor needed to know. Especially since the duke's new mission might bring Hans into more contact with Viktor and his men.
"Viktor's weapons is good. Why you take so long?" The big man folded his arms over his large chest, and frowned. Hans was acutely aware that he had his back to Viktor's henchman standing by the pile of gun crates, and that the two guards at the cellar door were now looking in his direction.
With an effort Hans returned his attention to the musket in his hands. It was, as Viktor had promised it would be, a used weapon, but in very good condition. That was something Viktor's reputation had promised. When you bought from him, you bought weapons you could rely on. He didn't deal in rubbish, and he didn't try to palm off damaged weapons as useful ones. On the other hand, he was also rumored to be willing to go to any length to get revenge for a betrayal, real or imagined, and Hans had no intention of telling Viktor all there was to know about the mission. Still, there was no one else capable of carrying it off who might also be willing to do it, so Hans knew he just had to out-smart the big man.
"They are very good, Herr Viktor. In fact they are exactly what you promised." Hans plastered an ingratiating smile on his face, and managed to look somewhat like the apple-cheeked Swedish boy he had once been.
"Viktor keeps his word, and others better keep theirs to Viktor." The scarred face looked even more evil twisted by a dark frown, and the thick Russian accent grated on Hans' ears.
"Surely no one would try to cheat someone as noto… eh, noted for fair dealings as your honorable self, Herr Viktor." Hans gave a slight bow, and handed Viktor a purse containing the exact number of gold coins as they had agreed upon.
"Not twice. No, not twice." Viktor bounced the purse in his hand a few times, and stuck it into his belt without counting the money.
"Surely not even once, Herr Viktor. Why even my illustrious master knows of your reputation. He has, in fact, empowered me to approach you concerning another deal."
"For what?"
"As you know, there are many new weapons being developed more or less secretly in various places, and it has come to my master's attention that a weapon of significant military value will be traveling from Wismar to Stockholm within the next couple of weeks. My master wishes to acquire this new weapon, but speed is essential."
"Why you need Viktor?"
"I lack your organization's sources of information and connections. The Doppels have intense security surrounding the transportation of the new weapon and I am at a loss as to how to obtain it." Hans tried another smile and a bow.
"Johann and Georg Doppel from Gothmund, Luebeck?" Viktor's speech was suddenly faster and smoother, making Hans wonder if he'd been playing games with him.
"Why, yes. Do you know them?"
"Viktor knows of them. For the right price Viktor will do it. From Wismar to Stockholm, you say? First Viktor will need a good ship and crew."
"I already have a ship and crew ready and waiting to take the weapon back to my master."
Viktor shook his head. "Viktor wants his own ship and crew."
"The captain is my cousin, and my master has already agreed," Hans insisted.
"Viktor has your word your men are to be trusted?"
"Of course," Hans answered.
"Then we discuss Viktor's price to get your master his weapon system."
The Vulgar Unicorn, Stralsund, a couple of days later
Tat'yana's nose twitched at the strong smell of sex in the air of Victor's room. She paused to examine the child, for child was what she most definitely was, that Viktor had been amusing himself with. She was standing there in her threadbare clothes, staring nervously back at Tat'yana, twisting the drawstring purse Viktor had thrown her. Tat'yana called over her shoulder. "Boris, get this girl a coat from the bag and see she's given something to eat before she leaves."
"No, Boris, you stay." Viktor waved towards the second man who had entered the room behind Tat'yana. "Grigori, do what Tat'yana said."
Tat'yana waited until the door was shut behind Grigori and the girl. "She looked young even for you, Viktor."
"Yes, the sweet little flower has barely started to bud," Viktor answered, "but I wanted to celebrate with a virgin." He looked over to Boris. "We have been given Johann and Georg Doppel on a platter."
The grim smile on Boris' face had Tat'yana wondering. "Who are Johann and Georg Doppel?"
"It's a long story," Viktor began.
Tat'yana settled herself comfortably on the bedside chair. "I've got plenty of time."
"It was back when me and Viktor first started dealing in arms. We thought we had a deal with honorable men…" Boris said.
"But we were wrong," Viktor interrupted. "The written contract they produced did not say what they claimed it had said."
This was news to Tat'yana, and it explained why Viktor and Boris had so readily accepted her into their inner circle six years ago. Not only could she read and write, but she also owed Viktor for rescuing her from the back streets of Paris. She was his way of ensuring he wasn't cheated on a bad contract again, which brought up another question. Viktor wasn't the kind of man to let a wrong go unpunished so long. "And you haven't done anything about them yet?"
Viktor snorted. "Not yet. We couldn't do anything ten years ago. We were short of money and the Doppels had powerful friends. Until now our paths haven't crossed." Viktor glanced over to Boris. "But now I will have justice."
"Don't they still have powerful friends?" Tat'yana asked.
"Yes, but they will be on board a ship. It will be a simple matter for them to be lost at sea."
"Murder on the high seas?" Tat'yana asked.
"Not murder, Tat'yana. We are not pirates. Nobody wants to be a pirate in the Baltic. There is nowhere to hide. No, I only seek justice," Viktor answered. "Do you know where to find Lasse?"
Tat'yana nodded. "He's working the docks here in Stralsund."
"Good. Bring him to me. I have a special job for him."
Viktor turned to Boris. "Hans Johansson says he has a ship and crew. Its name is the Dunking Dolphin. Learn what you can about them while I find out what I can about the Doppels' ship."
The Harbor, Stralsund
"Hello, Cookie. Wanna turn a trick?" Lasse turned around at the rough voice, and saw his old friend Tat'yana standing with her hands on her hips, and her head slightly tilted in a come hither pose.
"Tat'yana, what can I do for you?" Lasse rose gracefully from the bollard he had been sitting on.
"Viktor has a job that needs your special abilities."
"Horizontal or vertical?" Lasse's sweet smile never reached his eyes.
"Getting to be quite a fancy speaker, eh?" Tat'yana normally preferred to speak and dress as a respectable middle class German, but that would have made her a target for every predator on the Stralsund docks. Today she was a full-blown dockyard-doxy and, despite her small stature, someone even the most drunken sailor wouldn't harass.
"I've been keeping company with a priest lately." Lasse shrugged. "In between bemoaning his sins, and praying for his soul, he tries to convince himself that he is actually trying to save me by preaching to me and teaching me. I've lost most of my Swedish peasant accent, and learned quite a bit of Latin. Not quite enough to pass as a priest, but…" Lasse shrugged again.
"It's good to be as many persons as possible." Tat'yana looked across the pier to the sea. "Then you can afford to stop being those you don't want to be."
Lasse didn't answer. He had been happy and proud to have reached a position as second cook in Princess Kristina's household at the royal court in Stockholm, but being accused of trying to poison the princess had broken his dreams, and what he'd had to do to escape had broken more than that. Someday Lasse intended to find out if Jan Potocki had been the reason the queen had been so unwilling to accept that Lasse simply hadn't noticed the cracks in the tinned beaker he had used to serve the tisane to the princess. The queen's new favorite had certainly been quick enough to offer to arrange Lasse's freedom from jail in return for Lasse's "services."
"Viktor wants us to leave for Wismar today. We must be onboard a certain ship when it leaves the harbor there. You as a cook, me as a passenger. Are you in?"
"Sure." Lasse smiled. "Viktor pays much better than the priest, and he doesn't expect freebies."
The Vulgar Unicorn, Stralsund
"I have accepted a job," Viktor growled at Lasse as he and Tat'yana entered the suite of rooms that was his permanent base. "Tat'yana and Hans Johansson, our employer's man, will sail as a married couple on the Martha of Wismar. You will take the place of the cook. One morning Tat'yana will tell you to poison the food. Then I will come with a ship and a crew, and we will take what is on board."
"Piracy?" Lasse sat down and stretched his elegant legs out in front of him. "But nobody wants to be a pirate in the Baltic. It's much too cold."
"Not piracy. This is justice. Two men who cheated me many years ago will be traveling on this ship. It is their cargo we will take."
"Ah, and will the crew be Fritz Felix and his men?"
"No." A frown twisted Viktor's scarred face. "The crew and ship belong to our employer. They are not my choice."
"Hm, pity. Working with unknown comrades is a dangerous undertaking." Lasse lifted a questioning eyebrow. "What arrangements have been made for getting me into place as cook?"
"Tat'yana and Hans Johansson will be visiting his brother in Wismar before going to Stockholm. You are the brother. You are a baker's apprentice who wants to run off from a bad master. When the cook goes missing, Hans Johansson will pay the captain of the ship to hire his brother."
"I don't like the idea of pretending to be somebody's wife," Tat'yana interrupted. "I can protect myself, but sticking a knife in our client might mean that we won't get paid."
"I'm not that concerned with payment, Tat'yana. What is more important is that the Doppel brothers feel my justice. Hans Johansson is a clerk and not brave. If he gives you problems, you nick him a little." Viktor smiled. "He is a man who would be hen-pecked if married."
"Well," said Tat'yana with a broad grin, "I can do that. Come, Cookie, my bags are packed and the tide waits for no man."
The Hairy Bird, Wismar
"The cook on the Martha of Wismar likes big-assed, blowsy barmaids," said Lasse as he closed the door to the private parlor behind him.
"Damn. That doesn't describe either you or me." Tat'yana rose from the window-seat, and walked to the solid oak table, choosing the chair as far as possible from the eating Hans Johansson. "On the other hand," she continued with a nasty smile, "Hansi here is a bit pudgy. Don't you think he would make a lovely barmaid with a wig, a padded corset and a dress?"
Hans looked alarmed and nearly choked trying to swallow and protest at the same time. "How… How dare you? I will not accept such insults from a sodomite and a whore!"
Lasse took out his knife and started cleaning the dough he had used in his disguise as a baker's apprentice from his finger nails. Tat'yana just looked at Hans until he started fidgeting.
"But, Hansi," said Lasse, keeping his voice especially sweet and mild, "we really need to get that cook separated from his friends, and the only other way would be to hire somebody with the right looks. Surely you would rather do a little play-acting, than have to pay a real barmaid for the job."
"Such creatures are cheap."
"Yes, but their silence is not." Lasse noted that Tat'yana relaxed when she realized what he was doing. Or rather, part of what he was doing. Lasse didn't share Viktor's confidence that Hans Johansson was just another harmless clerk. Of course, the knife hidden inside the man's doublet, which Lasse had seen when they shared a room last night, could just be a sensible safety precaution, but it had been a stiletto. And of course the man's preference for very bland food could just be a sign of stomach troubles, but it was the same food Lasse ate himself, since it was difficult to hide any kind of poison in such food. Lasse also didn't like the fact that Viktor wasn't in control of all the aspects of the job, but had to depend on an unknown crew of men supplied by Hans, so this mild attempt at extortion might reveal more about what they were dealing with.
"Ah, I suppose such money might be well spent." Hans visibly tried to gather his dignity and looked down his prominent nose as he handed Lasse ten silver thalers. "After all it is important that I-and my supposed wife-stay in our roles. People will be watching us." He directed a patronizing smile towards Tat'yana. "Which reminds me, the way you were giving orders-even to me-when we arrived was quite unacceptable from a respectable woman. A respectable woman is meek and obedient toward her lord and master."
"Well, you better learn to accept it, Hansi, 'cause you would surely be dumb enough to marry a shrew." Tat'yana narrowed her eyes and continued. "And if you had any ideas about matrimonial rights, you can just forget them. If you try anything I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you. Viktor might have accepted the job, but he knows who you're working for and could just deliver the weapons to your master himself if you should suddenly come down with a bad case of death. You need us to get your weapons, we don't need you."
"How dare you! You're nothing but a thug's doxy…"
"I'm Viktor's secretary, you moron, and he…"
When the conversation deteriorated into a shouting match Lasse slipped quietly out the door. Tat'yana was obviously quite able to handle Hans Johansson on her own. The business with the thalers had shown that the man was open to extortion, and inclined to pay his way out of anything unpleasant. So, not a professional-or at least not a very good one.
The torches outside the tavern were smoking in the damp wind when the barmaid led the cook from the Martha out the door. For three thalers she had agreed to take her customer into the alley beside the tavern, rather than upstairs to her room, so that the pretty, young baker's apprentice could get his revenge for the unspecified harm the cook had done him. She probably intended to get a bit extra afterwards by threatening to tell the baker Lasse had named as his master, but that wasn't going to be a problem.
As the entwined couple passed the shadow where he was hiding, Lasse stepped out, put one hand over the man's mouth to silence him and swiftly slit his throat.
"Hey, you gone done kill him! That wasn't it." The barmaid let go and backed away.
"Wait!" Lasse reached into his purse and held out the rest of Hans's coins, carefully polished to make them shiny. "Here. I'll pay you more."
"But they saw me leave with him." She stopped and looked at the coins shining brightly even in the dank alley. "Okay. Give them to me." With her mouth twisted into a smile, she grabbed the coins and tried to run, only to have Lasse grab her and slit her throat as well.
Lasse waited a few moments to be sure they were both death. Viktor wouldn't like that he had killed the woman, but it had been too dangerous to let her live. The town guard might not care about another dead sailor, but the Martha was based here in Wismar, and the Doppel family might demand inquiries when one of their employees was found murdered. Lasse squatted down to clean his knife on the woman's skirt before gathering the money and checking the bodies for any valuables. Viktor would probably insist that Lasse gave the loot to charity, but leaving it would tell even a half-wit that something more than an ordinary robbery had been going on, and there was no way Lasse would risk going to jail again.
"Did you have a good fight?" asked Lasse slipping silently into the parlor where Tat'yana waited.
"Only middling. But what's more important is the fat creep claims to have left a letter with a lawyer telling all that he knows of our plans, with orders to mail it to the Doppel family if he doesn't return for it within a month." Tat'yana spoke barely above a whisper and sat very still, though Lasse could see she longed to pace the floor.
Lasse sat calmly beside the agitated Tat'yana. "Do you think it's true or just a belated attempt to ensure his safety?"
"I don't know." Tat'yana shrugged. "But Viktor is going to be absolutely furious."
"Oh, I'm fairly furious myself." Lasse looked toward the bedroom, where he could hear Hans snoring, but then shook his head. "We can't contact Viktor before he leaves for Christianso, so we'd better continue as planned, and deal with Hansi later. See you in the morning."
On board the Martha of Wismar just east of the Ertholmene Islands
Hans watched Lasse carry the bread-covered mug of poisoned soup to the captain at the helm. Having that skinny little bitch Tat'yana refuse to show him any respect at all, and even threaten to harm him, was bad enough, but the knowledge that Lasse the sodomite was the more accomplished poisoner really grated on his pride. Hans had removed a few people over the years for the duke of Courland, but since his poisons never seemed to work very well he had often had to resort to the far more messy and dangerous method of a knife in the back to actually kill them.
He really should have insisted on knowing the details of the plan before leaving for Wismar, but Viktor had insisted that he didn't need to know, and Hans hadn't felt like arguing. After learning that Lasse was to poison the crew but only drug the Doppel brothers, Hans had unbent enough to ask what and how much Lasse was going to use, and why the Doppels weren't to be poisoned, only to be told by Tat'yana to mind his own business. Stupid bitch and stupid sodomite, didn't they realize that since Hans held the purse-strings it was he who gave the orders? Well, they'd regret it when Hans did write the letter. A pity he hadn't done so already, but who would have thought a thug could be so creative? A smash and grab attack at sea with guns blazing and a quick escape was more in keeping with the stories he had heard about the man. This time, instead of fighting his way aboard, Viktor intended to step aboard unopposed. By sinking the ship with all hands afterwards he also concealed all traces of the crime. The Martha would be recorded as just another sorry loss at sea with nobody suspecting foul play or searching for the perpetrators. The thug had planned the perfect act of piracy. After all, nobody wanted to be a pirate in the Baltic. The prizes usually weren't worth the effort.
At least cousin Erland would be on his side. For a moment Hans considered having Erland and his crew dispose of Viktor and his team, but regretfully decided against it. Cousin Erland might not be above a bit of piracy if the risks were sufficiently low and the prize sufficiently large, but taking on Viktor and his bodyguards would simply be too dangerous.
Lasse had come up again to empty a couple of slop-buckets over the side and Hans was watching the diving seagulls when the captain cried out. The man let go of the helm, took a few steps, and fell flat on the deck. Without a hand to hold it the wheel started spinning. Shit! They were close to those small rocky islands, and who would steer the ship? Had those incompetent morons even thought about that?
Hans ran towards Tat'yana as she came up from the cabin holding a hand mirror. "There's nobody to steer! We'll be smashed against the rocks and killed!"
"Stupid!" She pushed past Hans and signaled with the mirror in direction of the islands. Hans turned in time to see Lasse calmly grab the helm.
How mortifying. For a moment Hans felt the blood rush to his cheeks, only to go faint at the sound of a desperate scream from below.
"Damn it! There's always one who can't hold down his dinner," Tat'yana shouted over her shoulder. "Lasse!"
"Just need to secure the helm, Tat'yana." Lasse tied the helm with a rope and walked toward the wild-eyed sailor who had just stumbled up from the mess, screaming and covered with vomit. Lasse led him to the gunwale, and with one quick movement slit the sailor's throat before tipping him over the side.
Christianso, the Ertholmene islands, 12.5 miles northeast of Bornholm
Grigori kicked at the ashes of an old fire. "Probably from the Swedes when they based themselves here before trying to invade Bornholm last summer."
"And Viktor was most displeased at the Swedes for doing so. He'd been planning on selling the Bornholmers muskets so they could rise against their overlord. Instead the Swedes made a mess of their invasion and left a couple of thousand good muskets in the hands of the Bornholm militia. Bang goes that market," Boris said with a shrug. He was as dour as ever, but he seemed in a fairly talkative mood, so Grigori decided to see if he could get a bit more information about the man who had hired him.
"You and Viktor go back a long way, don't you?"
"Yes, more than ten years. We first met in Brazil when the Dutch West India Company took Bahia from the Portuguese. We were doing very well until Colonel Jan van Dorth died and the Schouten brothers took command. Then everything went to hell in a hand basket. When Bahia capitulated with barely a shot being fired, we were returned to the United Providences in prison ships with only that loot we could conceal within our bodies. Viktor decided that fighting was a mug's game and that the real money was in supplying the military. He asked me to join him as his bodyguard and I've been with him ever since."
"What about the clerk, Tat'yana? She doesn't seem Russian."
"She's not. Viktor discovered her on the back streets of Paris."
"The back streets of Paris? Then how did she learn to read and write?"
"I have my guesses on how she paid for lessons, but don't ask Tat'yana. Her past life in Paris is buried alongside Brigitte."
"Who's Brigitte?"
"That was Tat'yana's old name. If you want to die, just try calling her that."
"Die? But Tat'yana is such an inoffensive little thing."
"True, but Brigitte wasn't. She couldn't be and survive eighteen years on the streets of Paris."
Grigori swallowed and gazed off into the distance. He knew how his widowed mother had been forced to earn money to support him and his younger brothers and sisters before he was old enough to get this job with Viktor. That sort of thing changed a person. He could well imagine Tat'yana's desire to bury her past.
Out to the east he thought he could see something flashing. He pointed. "Boris, is that the signal?"
Boris looked. "It looks like it. Let's warn Viktor in case the lookout has missed it."
"He's over with the captain of the Dunking Dolphin," Grigori paused, "Boris, I don't trust Captain Erland and his crew."
"You're wise not to trust them. They are our employer's men, not some of Viktor's. Keep your gun ready at all times."
Grigori passed a hand under his jacket to fondle the butt of his automatic pistol. It was a beautiful weapon, inspired by the automatics from Grantville, and with its custom made brass cartridges and high-capacity magazines it offered considerably more firepower than any revolver. If Boris wanted him to be ready, he would be.
Off the coast of Christianso
Boris and Grigori boarded the Martha of Wismar before Viktor, and while they kept a lookout for possible threats Viktor walked over to Tat'yana. "Where is the clerk?"
"He's in the hold looking for his cargo. Captain Erland and his men have joined him to look for loot. Don't worry; Lasse is keeping an eye on the little creep."
Viktor sniggered at Tat'yana's description. "Did he try it on?"
"Yes, but I soon put him right."
"I'm sure you did, but I'm also surprised you let him live after so grievous an offence."
"I almost didn't, but he claims to have left a letter betraying your part in the theft of the Doppels' new weapon with his lawyer."
Viktor turned to stare at the cargo hatch. "Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. He might have. By the way, what is this weapon system that Hans Johansson's master wants?"
"I don't know. Whatever the cargo is, it isn't as important as getting the Doppels. By the way, what have you done with them?"
"Follow me. Lasse and I left them in their cabin."
Viktor and his bodyguards fell in behind Tat'yana as she guided them toward the Doppel brothers. "What condition are they in? I want them to know what is happening to them."
"They should be awake by now," Tat'yana reassured Viktor.
The sight of both Doppels lying hog-tied on the cabin floor pleased Viktor no end. "Johann and Georg Doppel, so we meet again."
"Who the hell are you, and why are we tied up? Untie us immediately. Do you have any idea who we are?" Johann demanded.
Viktor exchanged smiles with Boris and fell into his game of talking about himself in the third person whenever he wanted to intimidate someone. "They do not recognize Viktor."
"Maybe it's the bad light," Boris suggested taking the cabin lantern and holding it up close to Viktor's face.
Viktor waited hopefully, but neither brother recognized him. "You still don't recognize Viktor? You don't remember stealing from Viktor ten years ago?"
The brothers mutely shook their heads.
Boris held the lantern over them. "Maybe they make such a habit of changing contracts on people that they have forgotten something from so long ago."
"A pity. They will die not knowing why. But if they forget from who they steal, they are not owed that kindness."
"Look, if it's money you want we have plenty. In the strong box by the bed. Take what you want. Take it all, but don't kill us," Georg Doppel begged.
"Grigori, the strong box."
The looks of relief on the brothers' faces amused Viktor. They were such naive fools, worse even than he and Boris had been when they first did business with the Doppels. He used the key he found around Johann's neck to open the strong box. It held a number of heavy bags. He emptied one out on the lower bunk. "Boris, do you remember how much they owe Viktor?"
"Yes." Boris moved over to the bunk and rapidly counted out coins. "There, that covers what they stole."
Viktor scooped up the remaining coins and returned them to their sack before putting it back in the strong box. Then he picked up the strong box. "Tat'yana, see what is happening on deck."
Seconds later Tat'yana returned. "It's all clear. The creep and his followers are still in the hold."
"Very good. Grigori, Boris, if you'd be so good as to help our friends up on deck."
"Now just a minute! We gave you our money," Georg cried as he was carried out of the cabin and dumped on the deck.
"And Viktor is grateful for finally getting the money you owed him. But Viktor doesn't take more than he is owed." He opened the strong box and tossed money bags alternatively to Boris and Grigori until the box was empty. "Viktor is a man of honor. Viktor does not steal from the people he does business with. You value money above honor, so Viktor will let you keep your money." He turned to his men. "Tie the bags to their belts. We don't want them to lose any of their precious money."
The Doppels looked at each other in confusion as Boris and Grigori tied the drawstring purses to their belts. Georg was the first to realize what was coming. He started to struggle as Grigori picked him up and carried him towards the side.
Grigori paused at the gunwale, the struggling Georg held firmly in his arms, waiting for Viktor's instructions.
Viktor nodded and Grigori threw Georg over the side.
There was a high-pitched scream suddenly extinguished by the splash of Georg hitting the water.
Johann started to struggle in earnest. "No, please, I beg you. Don't kill me."
"Viktor is not going to kill you. He is leaving your life in God's hands. If you reach land Viktor will let you live in peace. Boris."
Johann screamed when he went over the side.
Viktor calmly watched the men struggling to keep their heads above the water. He didn't expect to have long to wait. The water was icy cold and, hog-tied as they were, the brothers would have difficulty saying afloat, while the copper, silver and gold coins tied to their belts would help counteract the buoyancy of their fat bodies.
It was barely five minutes before Georg sank for the last time. That brought out a renewed effort to stay afloat from Johann, but three minutes later he too succumbed to a combination of the cold water and fatigue.
Viktor pushed away from the gunwale and looked around the Martha of Wismar. "Where is Hans Johansson? It is time we discovered what this wondrous weapon is."
The four of them walked over to the hatch where Lasse was watching Hans and the crew of the Dunking Dolphin struggle to lift a crate from the cargo hold.
With Viktor, Boris and Grigori helping they soon had a number of crates and barrels stacked on the deck.
"What is it?" Viktor asked.
Hans, in the process of supervising the levering open of a crate looked up. "It should be a prototype of a new machine gun, a 'Gatling Gun.'"
When Captain Erland's crew opened the crate Hans dived on it, pulling away the straw packing to expose the multi-barreled machine gun. "Yes. Right, close this crate and check the others. There should be a second 'Gatling Gun' and several thousand rounds of ammunition."
Viktor crouched down and passed an expert eye over the Gatling gun. He'd heard about the up-time weapon and had Tat'yana read out several articles about it. "That looks like it's twelve bore," he observed.
"Yes," Hans agreed. "It fires the same rifled ammunition as the American 'shotguns.' The Doppels claimed it could fire as many as six thousand rounds per minute."
"Nobody can afford to pay for that rate of consumption," the bookkeeper in Tat'yana cried out. "Shotgun slugs were selling at almost four dollars apiece last time I was in Grantville."
Captain Erland Mansson exchanged looks with his crew. Four Grantville dollars a round-and Hans said there were more than twenty thousand rounds in the barrels-added up to a considerable sum. He looked down at the pile of loot he and his men had collected. It had looked impressive, but that was before he learned how much the weapon system his nephew wanted was worth. Behind him he could hear the murmurings of his crew as they did the arithmetic. His cheapskate cousin was shortchanging him. Erland reached for the butt of one of the wheel-lock pistols in his belt. Drawing it to provide some authority to his complaints, he turned on his cousin. "You didn't tell me how much the cargo would be worth when you hired me."
He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and turned in time to see one of Viktor's men pulling his pistol out from under his jacket. Erland fired before the man could raise his gun, hitting Grigori in the gut and dropping him to the ground.
Erland looked at the fallen man. He'd had no choice but to shoot, but this changed things. He had only wanted to force his cousin to pay a fair price, now he had to think about killing Viktor and his men. Edging on panic he struggled to prioritize. First he needed to gain control of Viktor and his men's guns. Pointing his second wheel-lock towards Viktor he called out, "You and your men, drop your weapons."
He watched the play of emotions between the men. The girl, Hans' doxy, seemed pale and shaken. She was no threat. Best to worry about Viktor and his men.
"Boris, Lasse, drop your weapons."
Lasse dropped a couple of knives while Boris dropped a large pistol just like the fallen man's. Erland looked pointedly at Viktor. "Your weapons."
"Viktor employs dogs and Viktor should bark?"
Erland was confused for a moment by Viktor's way of speaking, but he recognized the attitude. Which left the matter of gaining the guns without getting too close to Viktor and his men. He gestured toward the girl. "You, bring me the guns."
He was surprised when the girl turned to Viktor for permission. He'd thought she belonged to Hans. He took his attention from her to check what Viktor and his men were doing.
Tat'yana turned her head toward Viktor and silently asked for instructions.
"Do it, Brigitte."
For a moment the past threatened to flood the present. Then the iron gates of her will clamped down on her past life in Paris. Tat'yana knew what Viktor wanted her to do. Could she do it without calling upon Brigitte?
She walked over to the moaning Grigori and reached down for his pistol. She had to peel his fingers off the butt. Then she walked toward where Boris had dropped his pistol. She didn't know Grigori well enough to know if his pistol was ready to fire, but the slight nod from Boris was enough to let her know his was loaded and ready. She held the heavy steel pistols and walked toward Captain Erland. The man was looking beyond her, completely ignoring her. "Now," a voice in her head screamed. She dropped Grigori's pistol and grabbed the thick butt of Boris' pistol in both hands. Then she rushed the last couple of steps to Captain Erland, pushed the barrel into his gut, and squeezed the trigger as rapidly as she could.
After four shots the voice in her head ordered her to stop shooting and check what the rest of the crew were doing. She looked up to see the pale faces of the Dunking Dolphin 's crew staring at the mess that had been their captain. Her body was starting to shake as she aimed the pistol at the closest one. But she didn't have to fire. Boris had arrived. He took the pistol from her hands and dispatched the crew one by one.
Tat'yana slumped down against the foot of the mast, her shaking hands wrapped around her legs. She could see Boris picking up the spent brass cartridges while Viktor held Grigori in his arms. Lasse had retrieved Grigori's gun and was keeping an eye on Hans.
Viktor held Grigori in his arms, tears running down his face. "Grigori, silly boy, why did you have to go for your gun?"
Grigori struggled to talk. "My family. Who will look after my family?"
"I will care for family." Viktor stared into Grigori's pain filled eyes, then he slipped a fine stiletto from under his sleeve and thrust it deeply just behind Grigori's left ear. Grigori's body slumped in his arms. He lowered the body to the deck and slowly stood. He knew who was to blame for Grigori's death. He turned toward Hans, the stiletto still in his hand. "This is your fault."
Hans blanched.
Tat'yana hurried over to Viktor and placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Remember the letter, Viktor," she whispered.
Viktor paused. He wanted to kill Hans just like his man had killed Grigori, but it seemed he couldn't do it, not as long as that letter existed. He had to settle for wiping the blood from his stiletto on Hans' lace collar. He glared down at Hans before turning and walking away.
Aboard the Dunking Dolphin
Viktor was fuming. He'd finally gotten even with the Doppel brothers for fooling him with the written word only to be screwed over by that ass-kissing little creep Hans Johansson and his letter. He slammed his fist down on the gunwale. "I won't have it. Tat'yana, when we land you will follow Hans. See if he goes to a lawyer. If he does you will visit the lawyer and look for Hans' letter. Bring me that letter. Do anything you have to do. Even call upon Brigitte. But get me that letter."
Viktor knew he was asking a lot of Tat'yana's loyalty to him by suggesting she call on Brigitte if necessary, but he wanted to be sure she understood how important that letter was. He reached out his arms and gave her a comforting hug. "I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important, Tat'yana."
"I understand, Viktor."
Stralsund, two days later
Hans paid Viktor the full amount they had agreed on and got off the Dunking Dolphin as quickly as he could. He needed to secure passage to his master and the sooner the better. He was lucky to still be alive. Who'd have thought a man of Viktor's reputation would worry so much about a mere underling? But obviously he did, and he blamed Hans for the young man's death. He fingered the blood stain on his collar where Viktor had cleaned his stiletto. He'd been sure Viktor intended to kill him then and there, but he hadn't. Hans could only assume the girl had told Viktor about the letter he'd claimed to have lodged with a lawyer and that had stayed his hand.
Hans knew that lie wouldn't protect him for long. He had to do something about Viktor before Viktor did something about him. A grim smile brightened his face. A letter. Not a letter left with a lawyer to be forwarded in a month's time. That wouldn't do him much good; he could well be dead by then. No, he needed something much more immediate. Like a letter to the Doppels' family implicating Viktor in Johann and Georg's disappearance… one they would receive soon after he left Stralsund.
Tat'yana paid off the street kids she'd asked to follow Hans. Unfortunately the creep hadn't headed for a lawyer as soon as he'd arranged passage for himself and his cargo. That worried Tat'yana. Could he have really left a letter with his lawyer before going to Wismar? Such a letter could be anywhere.
She edged closer so she could see what Hans was doing. It looked like he was writing. Then he bought one of the new pre-paid postage stamps from the shopkeeper and stuck it onto the letter before handing it to the shopkeeper.
Tat'yana watched the woman toss the letter into a shallow basket on the counter. She had to get that letter, but she also had to keep an eye on Hans. Tat'yana looked around for someone to follow him. Then she smiled. The girl who had followed Hans before was still close by. A few hand signals and Tat'yana was ready.
When Hans left he had two shadows, a pair of girls walking along as if they didn't have a care in the world. With a tail on Hans' movements, Tat'yana could target the post basket. It wasn't very big. She doubted there would be more than a dozen letters a day posted at this dockside store, so Hans' letter should be easy to identify.
Tat'yana approached the counter. Yes, she could see the letter on top, and she recognized Hans' handwriting. She could just buy the letter, but that went against the grain. It would be much cheaper to lift it from the basket while the woman turned her back, and anyway, this shopped stocked some of the best lemon drops in the city. Tat'yana reached under her skirt for her purse and smiled at the shopkeeper. "Two dozen lemon drops, please."
The woman turned and reached for the jar of sweets from the shelf behind the counter and opened it in front of Tat'yana. With Tat'yana paying close attention she counted out the sweets into a paper cone before screwing it tight and exchanging it for the money in Tat'yana's hand. "Haven't seen you for a couple of weeks, Tat'yana."
Tat'yana popped a lemon drop into her mouth. "I've been out of town."
"Well, don't eat your lemon drops all at once. They'll rot your teeth."
Tat'yana smiled and waved as she left. The shopkeeper said something similar every time Tat'yana bought sweets.
Once out of the store Tat'yana examined the letter she'd stolen. She swore when she saw the address. Viktor had to know about this.
The Vulgar Unicorn
"Read it again," Viktor demanded.
For the fourth time Tat'yana read out the letter Hans Johansson had written to the Doppel family. It wasn't that Viktor was hard of hearing, or that she had any trouble reading the letter. Tat'yana was sure Viktor's problem was accepting the magnitude of Hans' betrayal.
"I will kill him."
That, from Viktor, was entirely predictable. "What about the letter he said he left with his lawyer?"
Viktor snorted. "I doubt there is any such letter."
"But can you risk that Hans was telling the truth?" Tat'yana didn't think there was any such letter either, not with Hans having written the letter she'd been reading as soon as he landed in Stralsund, but it was her job to protect Viktor from the written word.
"I will employ agents to trace Hans and identify his lawyer. There is plenty of time. But Hans will be leaving Stralsund soon. We must act quickly."
"What do you plan to do?" Tat'yana asked.
"I will talk to Lasse and then we will take passage on the same ship as Hans."
Somewhere in the Baltic
Hans awoke with a feeling that there was something wrong. His watch said early morning, and daylight was visible through the dull glass in the small bull's eye, but his head felt heavy and sore. Drinking a full bottle of wine the night before had perhaps been a mistake, but finally leaving Viktor behind in Stralsund had certainly been cause for celebration. That he was also bringing the duke the wanted weapons was good, but getting away from Viktor was better.
Hans reached for the bottle of cold tisane he always drank when traveling-rather than chancing the dubious quality of the ships beer-and took a deep drink. The seagulls. Their cries were filling the air, but that was all. He stopped drinking. There should have been sailors talking, people moving around, but all he could hear was the seagulls, the water, and the groaning of the ship's timbers.
Still in his nightshirt, Hans stumbled out of his cabin. A loud snoring sounded from the only other cabin, the captain's cabin, and after a pro forma knock Hans entered. The captain slept beyond waking. Now in full panic Hans rushed to the deck, and was greeted by the sight of Lasse feeding slop to the seagulls like he had onboard the Martha.
"Good morning, Hans Johansson." Hans swirled to see Viktor leaning against the gunwale behind him with Hans' crates and barrels by his side.
"What… What are you doing here?"
"Viktor has unfinished business," the big man growled, and showed Hans the letter in his hand.
"It… it's false. I know nothing about this." Hans recognized the letter and backed away, only to swirl again as Lasse came up behind him. "I didn't… It… It must be the woman. She claimed to be your secretary, but she got angry when I wouldn't screw her." Hans tried to force a smile. "You know how women are. Hell has no fury like a scorned woman, and all that."
Viktor growled again and walked towards Hans. "Nobody cheats Viktor twice." As Hans felt the big man's hands close around his neck he reached for the stiletto he normal carried hidden inside his doublet, only to realize too late that he was unarmed.
It could only have been minutes, but when Hans recovered consciousness he was tied up and had his feet secured to one of the gun crates. He watched in horror as Viktor and Lasse rolled the barrels of ammunition over the side and then they started to push over the crates.
He was screaming and thrashing about when they started to push his crate over the side. Then he was flying through the air. The crate slowly settled in the ice cold water as Hans looked up at Viktor for one last time. Silhouetted against the rising sun the bastard was waving goodbye.
"I still think we should have had Fritz Felix pick up both us and the guns. They were worth a small fortune." As the first sounds of stirring came from below, Lasse let go of the helm, and drank from the sleeping potion bottle before passing it to Viktor.
"No." Viktor drank and tossed the bottle over the side before settling down to sleep. "I won't steal a cargo I've been paid to acquire. That would be worse than piracy, and I am not a pirate. And certainly not a pirate in the Baltic."