'you'll get no coin from me, today.'
He took his eyes of the boy and carried on looking around him, searching the crowd for the familiar shape of his patron but a moment later he felt the tugging on his arm again. The boy was still there. The Young Man felt the urge to cuff him, and raised his hand ready to send him on his way, but he stayed it as he noticed that the boy was pointing across the street. He followed the direction indicated by the child and standing in the shadow, cast by the corner of two houses, stood the robed and hooded figure that was now so familiar to him. The Hooded Man nodded in his direction as their eyes met.
The thoroughfare had some width, and the number of people fighting their way up and down the street would mean that he would have to work hard to cross to where the Hooded Man waited. He took a deep breath and set off.
Several times he had to stop his progress and dodge people as they walked through his path. It took but a minute for him to reach his destination, although it felt much longer, and he could already sense the stress increasing in him as he reached the other side. Damn him! he thought. The man was still trying to control the situation, even when he was the one calling the shots.
'You came,' the Young Man said, as he reached the other side of the street.
'Evidently,' the Hooded Man replied. 'I told you never to contact me, if you remember.' His voice sounded irritated and terse. 'It is I that contacts you.'
'I just thought you might be pleased to see me again,' the Young Man said. 'We've spent so much time together recently that I assumed you thought of me as part of the family.'
'It's dangerous for me to be here and I have better things I could be doing with my time.'
'Of course,’ the Young Man replied. 'I understand. It wouldn't be good for you to be discovered, would it?'
'Implying what?'
'Well, I suppose I might have the ammunition to cause you many problems, if it took my fancy to do so.' The Young Man smirked as he looked over at the Hooded Man. The man's face was in shadow but he could still make out the steely grey eyes staring back at him from within his hood. 'And I’m sure that you wouldn’t want that.'
'I do hope that is not a threat,' the Hooded Man said, chuckling. 'You should remember that it would not be in your interest to start making enemies out of your friends.'
'No, of course not, and that would never be my intention. I’m just pointing out that I seem to have somewhat,' he paused, 'grown in importance to you, these days.'
'Oh, really?' The Hooded Man, smiled.
'I would say so, yes.' The Young Man did not relish the mocking tone that the Hooded Man had offered.
The Hooded Man shook his head. 'So tell me, my friend, in precisely what way do you consider that you have any importance to me?'
The Young Man looked around him to check that they were still effectively alone. No one approached. 'The profile of this job has increased somewhat since we agreed a fee,' he said. He saw no reaction from the Hooded Man. He was not sure how his proposal would be received, but he guessed that it would not be warmly. 'It might, therefore, benefit the interests of all concerned if the fee increased a little.' He smiled. 'To compensate for the additional risk, you understand.'
'We agreed a price before you agreed to take this work.' The Hooded Man’s tone was calm and precise, and he still stared at the Young Man. There was no hint of emotion on his shadowy face. 'That, in anyone’s understanding, is a contract, my friend, and contracts are not made to be broken.'
'Not broken,' the Young Man said. 'Revised.'
'Revised?' the Hooded Man replied. 'So, tell me. Who’s interests at this particular point in time do you consider would benefit from a contract revision?'
'Well, the benefit to you is that you guarantee my silence. And, the benefit to me is that I add a little bit more to my rainy day fund.'
The Hooded Man chuckled. 'Ah, I see,' he said. 'So now we reach the nub. As well as being a murderer, you would add blackmail to the list of crimes that you are prepared to entertain.'
'Oh, come on,' the Young Man replied, 'blackmail is such a negative word. I much prefer the term renegotiation.'
The Hooded Man laughed. 'I imagine you do,' he said.
The Young Man could tell that the Hooded Man was not taking him seriously, and he disliked that. It had been the same since early in their relationship, and he was not going to stand for it any more. 'It is no joking matter,' he clenched his teeth as he spat out the words, 'and you would do well to remember that you should not push me too far.'
'Or else what?'
'Or else I would look forward to the day that I see you dragged through the streets of Highport, hung, drawn and quartered in a manner befitting the traitor that you are.'
The Hooded Man continued to chuckle as the Young Man finished his words. 'You take everything so seriously, my friend.' He put his arm around the Young Man’s shoulders. 'You need to learnt to relax a little.'
The Hooded Man's tone had lightened, and the Young Man, was struck by the change in his colleague in a matter of moments.
'We have become friends, after a fashion, have we not?' the Hooded Man said, patting the man's shoulder with his hand. 'But, it is good that we have eventually come to a deeper understanding of each other at long last. I welcome your honesty.'
The Young Man felt uncomfortable. He had drawn his line in the sand, and if it didn’t hold then it wouldn’t take much more for the Hooded Man to call his bluff. If that happened, then all would be lost, and he would most likely be forever at the man's behest.
'I think we can come to some sort of arrangement,' the Hooded Man said. 'I imagine that you had entered into this meeting having set a level of compensation that you considered acceptable?'
'That's correct.' Perhaps, the young man thought, this conversation could yet turn his way. He might still have the opportunity to push his luck a little further than he had at first planned. 'I had thought that maybe a small increase in the weekly retainer would be sufficient.' His mind raced as he tried to pick a new level that he would be happy to negotiate downwards from. 'Nothing too extravagant. Perhaps we could, say, increase it to twenty crowns per week?'
The Hooded Man still had his arm around the Young Man's shoulder and he squeezed him close. 'Oh, my friend, you drive a hard bargain,' he said. 'Twenty crowns per week it is, then.' He paused for a moment, and laughed. 'I’ll tell you what,' he continued, 'why don’t I throw in an extra week's pay for your trouble. Consider it a loyalty bonus.'
'That would be most generous,' The Young Man replied. This was turning out to be a good day indeed, and he had never expected that his demands were going to be received in such a rewarding way.
The Hooded Man released the Young Man and twisted his head from side to side to encourage his cloak to sit more comfortably on his shoulders. 'Clearly,' he said, 'I do not carry such amounts around with me, at least not on the streets of Highport.' He leaned in towards the Young Man. 'I wouldn’t want to be robbed,' he said, laughing.
'I'll tell you what,' he added, 'meet me in two nights, at the usual place and time, and I will ensure that you get your payment.' He reached out and offered his hand for the Young Man to take. 'Do we have a deal?'
'In two nights time it shall be,' the Younger Man said. He took the Hooded Man’s hand, shaking it firmly.
The Hooded Man smiled back from the darkness of his hood. 'I am so glad that we could come to an agreement,' he said.
20
Even by his own low standards Moore considered that the woman standing before him carried a significant amount of extra weight. The drab woollen dress that she wore strained at the seams, threatening to burst out the contents at any time. It was also short, ending just above the knees, and on her feet she wore flat brown leather boots. He thought they looked like they should really have belonged on a man and it was a peculiar combination, but what made it look more odd to him was that her hair was worn in bun, sitting proudly on the top of her head.
'What did you say your name was?' he
asked.
'Agnes Fulwell.'
'And you want to report a missing person, you say?'
'Tha's right. He's not been home for a few nights and he's usually reg'lar as a clock.'
Moore flipped open the cover of his note pad, licking the tip of his pencil before noting down the women's name. 'And what it is that you do?'
'I run the boardin' house that he stays in. 'S'up near the North Wall.'
Moore scribbled more notes in his book. 'His name is Appleby, you say?'
'Guy Appleby. Brown hair, wears it in a tail, behind his head.' The woman gestured with her hands to illustrate the way that the man's hair hung down.
'In a tail, you say?'
'Yes.'
'Can you wait here for me please, Mistress Fulwell,' Moore said, closing his notepad with an emphatic slap. 'I'd like you to speak with the Lieutenant.'
Moore stepped across to where Cromwell stood. The Lieutenant was watching the people pass up and down the main road and it looked like he was in a world of his own.
'Sir,' Moore said.
'What is it, Sergeant?'
'Sir, I think you should come and talk to this woman. I think she can identify the dead man.'
Cromwell turned his head to look at him and then over at the woman. 'Good work, Sergeant,' he said.
oOo
Winterburne reached into the larder and pulled out the joint of ham that was sitting on a plate on the lower shelf. He held the meat beneath his nose and took a deep breath, allowing the aroma to fill his nostrils. It smelled fresh enough. A half loaf of bread had been placed there too, next to the ham and he picked it up to check for any spots of mildew. There were none that he could see, but he tapped it on the edge of the plate. He frowned as it made a sound that suggested it was well past its best, and at the very least could certainly be a threat to his teeth.
'Oh well,' he said, 'I suppose it’s better than nothing.'
A yellowing butter jar had been placed next to some apples and pears piled into a wooden bowl and he lifted the lid, resting it down on the shelf next to the fruit. He pushed his finger into the butter and removed it, sucking his finger dry. 'Not bad,' he said, as the oily texture and salty taste spread across his tongue.
Winterburne carried the food across the room and placed the items on the table, sitting down on the bench which ran along its length. He sawed a piece of the meat from the joint and tasted it. The ham was dry, but at least the butter would make the whole a little more palatable.
As he thought back over the last few days he had to admit that they had been a particularly difficult time for the Watch. The girl's killing alone would be hot news on the streets, but adding to that the murder of the man and this would probably turn out to be the most important challenge of his career to date. Murders were almost unheard in Highport but as the Emperor had decreed that all deaths were to be fully investigated, irrespective of their assumed cause, the Watch had to get used to the processes Winterburne had put in place.
At this point in time there seemed to be no connection between the two killings and yet he couldn't help thinking that there was more to this than they could currently fathom.
Winterburne heard the sound of heavy footsteps outside, coming down the hallway from the front entrance. Across the hallway his office door opened for a moment and then closed again. He took a bite of the meat and chewed. A few seconds later the common room door opened and Cromwell’s head appeared, his face brightening as he saw him sitting there.
'Glad you’re still here, Sir,' he said, as he entered the kitchen. 'Just wanted to let you know a couple of things that we found out earlier today.'
He pulled out the bench on the other side of the table and sat, reaching across to take a piece of meat from Winterburne's plate.
'Do you mind?' Winterburne said.
'I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm
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