The Heartless (The Sublime Electricity Book #2)

by Pavel Kornev

  There was a slight drizzle, but it wasn't very strong, so I went to the poet's on foot. In comparison with yesterday, there were many more people out; there were patrolmen hanging around on every corner, students rushing to class, and hawkers and street sellers taking advantage of the moment of calm.

  "Horrible catastrophe! Dirigible crash! Aircraft explodes!" one of the paperboys called out. "Buy an Atlantic Telegraph!"

  "Brazen robbery of Baron Dürer! Theft during dinner party! Inspector general's daughter disappears mysteriously!" his competitor echoed. "Only in the Capital Times!"

  No longer able to resist, I bought a fresh edition of the Capital Times and went into the Helen of Troy coffee shop to have breakfast and acquaint myself with the news. Tea was not served there, only coffee, but my heart was already pounding and my temples aching; I didn't order a coffee. Instead, I requested a bag of frosted profiteroles be brought out. And while they prepared my order, I quickly leafed through the paper.

  As it turned out, no one was connecting Elizabeth-Maria von Nalz with the theft. The only content in any of the articles about her disappearance was the fact that she could not be found, and no one knew where to look for her. The inspector general had used all his influence to make sure the truth wouldn't leak out, and now, every low-level constable in town, when looking at beautiful girls, was holding the portrait of the missing lady in mind. If she was still in the city, she would be found.

  The word "if" caused a sharp pain in my heart, and I forced myself to cast the thoughts about Elizabeth-Maria from my head.

  "Everything in its time. First, I should settle urgent matters, and what to do after that will become clear," I muttered, trying to convince myself as I walked over the drizzly streets.

  Anyway, I wasn't the only one in a horrible mood: Albert Brandt was cursing like a boot-maker, arguing with the owner of the cabaret over who should pay to fix the broken window and dry the rain-soaked furniture after his apartment was robbed.

  It even made me a bit ashamed.

  "Madame!" Albert said in his low voice, his patience gone. His eyes started lighting up in the semi-dark of the room like two transparent flames.

  But the voluptuous lady knew the poet better than that; she immediately came up to him, poked at his high chest and covered his mouth with her hand.

  "Albert!" the landlady purred. "Another word in that tone and I'll have to knee you between the legs. You'll go straight to falsetto!"

  The poet threw back his hand, but stopped using his illustrious talent.

  "Split the costs, then?" he suggested.

  "You're such a sweetheart, Albert!" the lady smiled, then went off to give orders.

  My friend, extremely vexed at the unexpected expense, threw up his hands and turned to me.

  "Where is this world headed, Leo, tell me. Trying to rob a poet, just think! Inconceivable."

  I nodded after the landlady and asked:

  "Did you and her ever get together?"

  The poet just laughed:

  "Leo, men and women cannot live together under one roof even one day without a certain kind of relationship taking shape, and I've been renting this apartment for three years running! Of course her and I have been together!"

  "Philanderer."

  "I'm a one-woman man!" Albert Brandt declared with honor. "At any given moment, I love only one woman. To be honest, I once lost my head over a pair of twins, but that's a different story. The thing is, Leo, my current beloved is supposed to be dropping by at any moment, but everything up in my apartment is topsy-turvy. There's just no time."

  "Did you not sleep here?" I smirked.

  "I'll sleep when I'm dead," the poet joked. "You’re not offended?"

  "No problem," I replied, slapping him across the shoulder. "I was just walking by and wanted to find out how you were doing."

  "I'm doing great, Leo! Everything is good! Try to come by some other time!" Albert shouted and ran upstairs.

  I didn't stop him. I didn't tell him a thing. I just shook my head and went out the door. And there, my eyes met with a female figure in a black cloak and hat with thick veil. Elizabeth-Maria looked like she was headed to a funeral.

  Shivering either from foreboding, or the chilly breeze, I walked over to the succubus and asked in a rude tone:

  "What the devil do you want here?"

  "That’s not for you to know," the girl called back just as ungraciously.

  "You're taking the risk of showing yourself to him like this?"

  Elizabeth-Maria just snorted.

  "Leo, I have an offer for you," she announced. "It benefits the both of us."

  "Hard to believe," I retorted, turning around and walking down the street.

  "The daughter of the inspector general has disappeared," she called out suddenly from behind me. "Don't you want to find her?"

  I felt as if struck by an epileptic seizure. I slowly turned and said ponderously:

  "You know nothing about that."

  "Leo, my sweet Leo!" Elizabeth-Maria laughed sonorously, just as before. "That illustrious string bean has disappeared, and the only question is how badly you want to find her."

  "You read about that in the newspaper!"

  "I did," the girl confirmed. "You did say I should try reading the papers, after all. They don't have such things in hell, remember, Leo? Those were your words."

  "Come off it!"

  Elizabeth-Maria walked up to me and whispered quietly:

  "I saw someone at the reception. I'm sure it could help you find your dummy."

  "What do you want in return?" ripped out of me against my own will.

  "I want my youth back!" the succubus demanded, as I expected. "Return my youth and give me your word that you'll never take it again!"

  I shook my head.

  "Not gonna happen."

  "May I ask why?"

  "You’ve got this all worked out. Do you think you can wrap me around your finger? It won't work."

  "I give you my word," Elizabeth-Maria said very seriously. "I give you my word, and you give me yours. If my information doesn't lead you to the girl within forty-eight hours, you can do as you please."

  "Forty-eight hours?"

  "Yes."

  "Curious..."

  I wanted to believe. Oh, how I wanted to believe the succubus' words, but I just couldn't trust her. That said, what did I stand to lose? If this was a deception, everything would be back to normal in two days. But, if Elizabeth-Maria really had seen something important, I might find the daughter of the inspector general. I do not know if I could earn Elizabeth-Maria von Nalz's favor in this case, but I could absolutely count on the thankfulness of her father. And that was what decided it.

  The succubus noticed my eyes starting to glow and licked her lips.

  "Well, Leo? Do you agree?"

  "You leave Albert," I said, adding a condition. "And it isn't up for discussion."

  "As you say, dear," Elizabeth-Maria agreed appeasingly, pining with impatience to return to her former girlish looks, and threw back the veil.

  We exchanged oaths, and before I even managed to do anything, the wrinkle-covered skin of the girl started smoothing out, regaining its freshness and spring before my very eyes.

  "Tell me!" I demanded, feeling like a right idiot. "Or our deal is finished!"

  Elizabeth-Maria sighed a few times with a full chest, then laughed again, but immediately faltered, having caught my gaze full of fierce rage.

  "Leo, calm down!" she asked. "I always keep my word!"

  "Tell me!"

  "At the reception, the inspector general's daughter didn't seem quite right to me," Elizabeth-Maria said, giving a broad statement. "When I saw her at the police ball, her gaze was completely different. At the Baron's, she seemed like she’d drunk laudanum."

  "Enough!"

  "It's not my fault if your delicate psyche is traumatized by these details! Even ladies of the highest nobility are sometimes known to be drug addicts!"

  "G
et to the point!"

  "Knowing your attachment to this girl, I tried not to let her out of sight," the girl continued. "The only person she was talking to at the reception other than her fiancé was Maestro Marlini, the magician."

  "The hypnotist."

  "The charlatan."

  "Where did you see them?"

  "I went into the ladies' room to powder my nose and I ran into them in the hallway."

  "That doesn't mean anything yet."

  "My instincts say otherwise," Elizabeth-Maria objected. "And now, leave me. I need to go break up with the poet."

  "Go easy on him!"

  "Forty-eight hours!" the succubus reminded me as she walked toward the cabaret.

  I cursed out loud. I first started following after her, then dismissed the idea and headed off to find a cab.

  Moon Circus was supposed to have left the city right after their final performance, but the bad weather had stopped them from starting off on their slow path to the continent. And that meant I had no time to lose. Every minute was valuable.

  I caught myself on that thought and shook my head. Elizabeth-Maria had manipulated me, and that was fraught with serious problems. What if she wanted revenge one day? Or just lied, trying to make time?

  Naturally, I could have asked Ramon for help, but decided not to. In this situation, I had to be sure to stay strictly within the bounds of the law; new problems were the last thing I needed.

  In the end, I caught a cab and told the driver to make for Newtonstraat. But I wasn’t going to the metropolitan police headquarters, not at all. I was interested in The Blue Ostrich restaurant.

  I gave a careless nod to the doorman, walked into the establishment, not at all embarrassed at my inappropriate appearance, and asked the maître 'd:

  "Has Senior Inspector Moran shown up yet?"

  "Yes, come in."

  Bastian Moran nearly choked when he saw me. He'd just started eating, savoring the subtle flavor of truffles in wine sauce, but he immediately set his knife and fork aside, wiped his lips with a napkin and announced:

  "Viscount, you're the last person I was expecting to see here." After a brief pause, he added: "And you're the also the last, no – the second to last person I'd like to see here."

  "Believe me, senior inspector," I smiled back, "seeing your face brings me no joy, either."

  "Then, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

  I took a seat opposite him and asked:

  "How is the search going for the robbers' mole in the Newton-Markt?"

  Bastian Moran glanced coldly at me, raised a high brow and retorted snappishly:

  "I am not prepared to speak on that topic now."

  "That means you've gotten nowhere."

  "Is that all you wanted to see me for?"

  "To be honest," I sighed, "I didn't want to see you at all, I just didn't have anyone else to take this to."

  "Is that so?" snorted the senior inspector.

  "I have a mutually beneficial proposition. I give you a clue that allows you to significantly shrink the circle of suspects, and you help me with a certain affair."

  Bastian Moran shook his head:

  "You know, Viscount, you are not only vain, but also excessively self-assured."

  "I repeat: my proposal will benefit the both of us."

  "Forgive me if I doubt your words."

  I sighed hopelessly and risked showing my cards:

  "It has to do with the daughter of the inspector general. Perhaps, I have a clue. Perhaps, I know where she is now."

  "I'm not sure I want to be the one to arrest the daughter of the inspector general," Bastian Moran shook his head. "You're a frightening man, Viscount! You want me to help you get rid of a person, who threatens your interests. And in a show of gratitude, you want to drag me into another problem that will destroy my career once and for all! You call that mutually beneficial?"

  "Yes, listen!" I said, raising my voice. I immediately caught myself though, then said, now calm: "Elizabeth-Maria is not guilty. She was not aware of her actions. She was just used."

  "If that line of defense makes it to court, the scandal will be enormous. I do not want anything to do with this. And also, you're gonna need a scapegoat to pin all her sins on. It's a dirty game you're playing, Viscount."

  "I'm not planning on falsely accusing anyone. I'm sure of what I said!"

  "Just yesterday, you claimed to know nothing about that unfortunate incident!"

  "That was yesterday! I haven't just spent all day wearing out my trouser seat in an office, you know. I was out, talking with people, and I uncovered some information."

  A flash of interest flickered by in the senior inspector's eyes.

  "Alright, tell me."

  "First, give me your word that you will tell the inspector general about my involvement. Unofficially, naturally. You can have the laurels."

  "You want to come back to work?" Bastian Moran squinted. "That's a new one!"

  "And what do you care?" I frowned.

  "Not one bit," the inventor shrugged his shoulders and promised: "If this endeavor is successful, I'll provide you an audience with the inspector general. Satisfied? And now, stop wasting my time or get out of here and go straight to hell!"

  I didn't go anywhere, though. I reclined in my chair and said:

  "The robbers' informant had access to the effects confiscated on my last arrest, and also to Count Kósice's documents found on the site of the dirigible crash. He definitely wasn't at the crash site, and didn't personally dig through my pockets, otherwise he'd just have confiscated the piece of paper, not made a photo-copy."

  "Photo-copies were made?" Bastian Moran perked up his ears. "Are you certain?"

  "I am."

  "And how did you become aware of that?"

  "A certain elderly gentleman shoved them in my face."

  "And you didn't apprehend him?"

  "He was so insistent that I lost consciousness."

  The senior inspector turned up a high brow:

  "And you weren’t hurt? Why?"

  "They were talking about some papers that had once belonged to my grandmother," I lied slightly. "Perhaps the robbers think they'll still turn up somewhere and I'll get access to them."

  "What papers precisely?"

  "That is of no importance."

  "I could now arrest you for withholding evidence, Viscount. Your uncle has been killed, and the Banking House – demolished. To my eye, there's already been more than enough casualties."

  "It's a family matter that I still have yet to figure out all the way," I stated matter-of-factly. "I suggest we move on to rescuing the daughter of the inspector general."

  "One more question, Viscount," Bastian Moran snubbed, getting out a notepad and pencil. "What did the elderly man look like?"

  "He was illustrious. Very old. Well dressed. Seemed to be an important personage. That was all I could make out. It was dark." I was purposely trying not to describe the appearance of the old man who'd died from a heart attack. Then I asked: "Have I satisfied your curiosity, senior inspector?"

  "Partially," he snorted, taking a few gulps of Pino noir and waving a hand without particular interest. "Recount what you have there!"

  Such treatment frankly grated on me, but I didn't say anything, just told him about Elizabeth-Maria's conversation with Maestro Marlini at Baron Dürer's reception.

  "And that's all?" Bastian Moran winced after hearing me out. "Viscount, you're surprising me! The suspect was speaking with a famous person, who gets approached for autographs on the order of ten times each day, and on that basis, you've made these far-reaching conclusions? Utter nonsense!"

  I was not going to give in so easily, though, and I reminded him:

  "That conversation fits perfectly into the overall scheme! The hypnotist forced her to commit the crime!"

  "He forced her to use her own talent?"

  "And why not?"

  "It's a stretch."

  "Senior inspector," I frowned, "I
'm getting the impression that you aren't interested in solving this robbery! Shall I tell as much to the inspector general?"

  "Viscount!" Bastian Moran smiled calmly in reply. "I'm not taking part in the investigation. And the identity of the suspect could not be of less importance to me. Above all else, I value rule of law. I repeat: your conclusions don't seem convincing to me."

  "You aren't even trying to figure it all out?"

  "You've got the wrong number. Department Three isn't taking part in this investigation, and I'm trying to stay as far away from it as possible. So, you go and tell the inspector general."

  "Are you sure he won't fall out of his chair?"

  "That is of no importance. Rule of law is above all else," Bastian Moran shrugged his shoulders and asked: "And now, if you'd be so kind, please leave me to my meal."

  I stayed sitting and said thoughtfully:

  "Duralumin is the latest word in dirigible manufacturing, isn’t that so? What if the manufacturing documentation ended up sold to the Egyptians or Persians? Isn't it obvious that they precisely must be behind this crime?"

  I remembered something the senior inspector had once said about the fervent activity of foreign spy agencies, so I was sure I'd hit my mark. And hit it I did. His eyelid started twitching blatantly.

  "That is an argument," he sighed, thoughtfully smoothing out his napkin, "but Maestro Marlini has many influential admirers. Accusing such a person without sufficient basis is fraught with serious problems. And what makes things worse is that it would be a public scandal. That is the exact thing the inspector general is trying so hard to avoid! I'm afraid, Viscount, that you are doing him a disservice."

  "What's the difference? Isn’t rule of law of utmost importance to you?"

  "There's no evidence. No basis for a search. Nothing at all to go on."

  "So, that means you shouldn't do anything?"

  "It seems to me that you have a personal stake in this matter," Bastian Moran sighed. "Here's what I have to say to you: any citizen in possession of information on a crime is legally obliged to take measures to apprehend the criminals. You don't need me at all. You’re perfectly free to ask any old patrolman for help. And I encourage you in that endeavor! Find clues, and I'll happily help you direct the investigation where it needs to go. Is that good enough for you?"