Ax & Spade: A Thriller (Raven Trilogy Book 1)

by Kurt B. Dowdle

  “That’s on the Judge.”

  “My sense is that you’re not interested in keeping your job any longer than I want to keep mine. What was the deal the Judge gave you? One year?”

  Kamp rubbed his left temple and gazed absently out the window.

  Crow said, “Yes, he told me about that. But why, why would he tell me?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “So, you’re just going to hang on until when? August? September? And then you think the Judge is just going to hand you what you’ve always wanted and will never be able to afford?”

  “A deal’s a deal.”

  “Your injury must have made you naïve, detective.”

  Kamp turned his attention back to the district attorney.

  Crow said, “You know, once the brain is injured, it never works the same way again, I’m told. Oftentimes a man can’t think straight. Sad.”

  “Tread carefully, Mr. Crow.”

  “Is that why you won’t carry a gun, detective? Afraid you might harm yourself? Someone else?”

  The fire at the base of Kamp’s skull erupted before he had time to check it. He slammed his fist on Crow’s desk so hard that the floor shook and the windows rattled. Philander Crow’s expression remained constant. He did not stand up, did not assume an aggressive posture.

  Crow said, “Consider your next move very carefully, if you can. If you fail to control your words and actions, especially right now, you will be removed from your position. The Judge will not have the authority to prevent it.”

  Kamp clenched both fists and held on as the fire raged in his mind. He pictured Shaw. He pictured their home. Slowly, the fire began to recede.

  “Stop goading me, Mr. Crow.”

  “Not goading you, detective. Just making a point. You have no comprehension of the power and scope of the forces arrayed against you, and even if you did, you are ill-prepared and ill-equipped to confront them.”

  Kamp stood up to leave.

  Crow continued, “And you must have realized by now that the machine is in motion, and you are simply a part of it. If you simply let the machine run, it will grind you to nothing, certainly in less time than a year. And if you fight against it, they will kill you.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “You don’t want to know. Not really. I suggest you resign immediately before you cause any real trouble and before you give them a reason to want to hurt you and your family. When they decide you’re a threat or even that you have the potential to become one, they will remove you. Or, you can perform your duties in such a way that you’re certain to accomplish nothing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’re too foolish to follow my advice, naturally. You believe you’ll last a year and that the Judge will make good on his deal. If that’s so, I suggest you start putting your affairs in order now. Your time is short.”

  EIGHT

  JONAS BAUER PULLED A SPADE from the shed behind the house and handed it to Daniel Knecht, then grabbed another one for himself. The men walked side by side toward the edge of the property, by the road.

  Bauer said, “I had a dream last night, Danny. A kind of a vision.”

  “A vision?”

  Knecht leaned on his shovel and peered at Bauer. In the days after he’d moved in, they’d felled a large chestnut tree in the forest behind the house. With a variety of saws Bauer borrowed from a neighbor, they sliced the trunk in half, then quarters, then the eighths they used for the rails of the fence. They took turns chopping the leftover wood with Bauer’s own ax, more than enough to last the winter and repay the neighbor. Bauer and Knecht performed the work, usually together and sometimes individually during the fall, digging the post holes and dragging the rails from the woods. For his effort Jonas Bauer reduced his rent by one dollar a month, though truth be told, Knecht benefitted a great deal more.

  From the day of his arrival, he was invited to join the family each night at supper, and Knecht ate ravenously. Rachel cooked meals the likes of which Knecht had never tasted before. But more than all else, Knecht treasured the feeling of being there among the members of a real family each night, hearing about their trials and victories during the day, absorbing a kind of warmth he had also never known.

  They reached the border between the road and the property, and the two men stopped at a point Bauer had marked with a stone the day before, the spot where they’d dig the last two post holes for the fence.

  Bauer said, “Now, listen here once. It got me thinking, this vision, of something they taught us from the Bible, something I heard many times when I was a junge. I put it in my memory.”

  “What was the vision?”

  “The verse is from the Gospel According to Luke. Something Jesus said.”

  Knecht made a wry face. “Is that right? Jesus?”

  “Do you want to hear the verse?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Bauer chuckled. “Well, I suppose that’s understandable.”

  Knecht tilted his head sideways. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Bauer?”

  “Well, the idea behind what Jesus said is that if you find a home where there’s peace, you should stay there. What you do to earn your keep is worthwhile, and you deserve to be there.”

  Knecht’s expression darkened. “Ain’t that what I’m doing already?”

  “Yes, it’s exactly what you’re doing.” Bauer tried not to sound defensive.

  “Well, then why push the religion on me unless I done something wrong?”

  Bauer said, “No, no. I meant you’re doing exactly the right thing. That’s what reminded me of it in the first place.”

  “No, you said what reminded you was a dream, a vision. What was it?”

  Bauer proceeded as if he hadn’t heard the question. He motioned for Knecht to begin digging the final hole, while he cut the earth with the shovel and settled into a working rhythm. In doing so, Bauer wanted to end the conversation and to dispel, if he could, the dread he felt from what in actuality was a nightmare he’d had. In the middle of the night, he’d seen what he took to be a fragment of a premonition, a glimpse of destruction and violence, a calamitous fire and its charred aftermath. And while Daniel Knecht himself didn’t appear in the nightmare, Bauer felt he was in some way at the heart of it. He’d conjured the Bible verse to try to convince himself that Knecht did in fact belong in his home, that he hadn’t made a disastrous decision in taking him in. And he’d mentioned it to Knecht in the hopes that Knecht would reassure him somehow. As such, Knecht’s reaction rattled Bauer even further, as it revealed some kind of discontent on Knecht’s part.

  The only sounds were the scrapes of the shovel and the hard breathing of the men as they dug the holes to their requisite depths. With the comfort that exertion brings and with the passage of a few minutes, Bauer calmed his nerves and slotted the nightmare in its proper place in the background. He began to count his blessings. Bauer considered the choices he had made and the paths he had taken and concluded that, in spite of what seemed endless toil, the Lord had blessed him with hope and a future. For the first time, he could envision a future rolling out before him and flowing down through generations. His body was strong enough to bear every burden, his mind able to craft and follow a plan.

  The fence meant something to him. His landlord, the Judge, hadn’t asked him to build one, but Bauer took it upon himself to put it up once he realized Knecht could help him construct it during their time off from the coal mine. The fence would make the property and the house seem more like a homestead, at least to Bauer. Now that he was so close to finishing, he allowed himself to feel satisfied, and gracious. Bauer stood up and paused to let his breath slow and to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  Bauer said, “I suppose what I was trying to say is that I appreciate the way you’ve done what you said you would. You come in and didn’t cause no trouble. You’re kind to my family, and you’re a hard worker.”

  Head down, continuing to dig, Knecht said, “Ain’t that what you
thought I’d do?”

  “Well, you done such a good job, consider next month’s rent free.”

  “Don’t want no charity.”

  Bauer knew he should stop talking, that he’d irritated Knecht, though he did not know how. But he wanted to reassure himself, and based on Knecht’s reaction, he’d begun to wonder whether there wasn’t something about Knecht that he’d missed, something he should worry about after all.

  He said, “Danny, I just want you to know that you’ve been an excellent boarder.”

  “Thanks.” Knecht said it with sarcasm.

  Bauer said, “You’re welcome.”

  “An excellent boarder.” Knecht began digging with even greater intensity. He lifted the shovel in front of him as high as he could and brought it down powerfully, sinking the blade as deep as possible.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “A boarder but never part of the family, right?”

  “Well, you’re—”

  Knecht stopped digging, stood up straight and faced Bauer.

  “Not really, not ever. You have a wife and beautiful children, a home, things to look forward to. Me? I’m a visitor. Five extra bucks a month. And a pair of hands.”

  A cold fear hit Bauer in the chest. It occurred to him that Knecht may have just had his own dark vision and even disagreeable intentions. He’d allowed Knecht to get far too close to his family. Reestablishing a boundary now would prove very difficult.

  “Ach, Danny, I mean to–“

  “The hell with all of you.” Daniel Knecht threw down the spade and ran down the road.

  THE DECEMBER CHILL had breached the barrier between Kamp’s skin and the world. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his thin work jacket and walked the road toward his house. He picked up the pace and found that the extra exertion did not warm him. He'd used the walk from Bethlehem thus far not to ruminate on Crow’s warning hours earlier. To distract himself from feeling cold, Kamp had fixated on something the Judge had said during their conversation months before, namely when he asked whether he'd studied Heraclitus. The Judge mentioned that two of the philosopher’s guiding questions were, what is the world like, and can it be understood? Kamp asked himself those questions now. He was nearing a conclusion about what the world Crow had described is like. It is like, he thought, the world described by another man, Darwin. It was exactly at the moment that he was about to answer for himself whether the world can be understood that the shriek of the Black Diamond Unlimited pierced his thoughts.

  He looked up to see Daniel Knecht heading toward him at a dead run and was surprised to see that no one was chasing him.

  As Knecht blew past him, Kamp said, “How goes it, Danny?”

  Knecht grunted, “Not now, Kamp,” and he kept running as the train glided past, oblivious to Kamp’s philosophical meanderings and Knecht’s personal distress. In the distance, Kamp saw a man standing next to a fence and holding a shovel.

  He walked toward the man and said, “You must be Mr. Bauer.”

  “That’s right, Jonas Bauer. And you must be Mr. Kamp.”

  “Kamp. I wanted to say thank you for getting the message to town when my wife was ill.”

  “Ach, don’t mention it. How is she now?”

  “Oh, good, good. Say, I noticed your man there, Knecht, hustling past me.”

  “Yah, yah.”

  Something wrong?”

  Bauer raised his eyebrows, looked at the ground and shook his head. “He’s been as good a boarder as you could ask for.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nix. Got himself worked up, I guess. Ferhoodled, you know.” A long silence followed, and neither man filled it. A raven called in the distance and got no response. Kamp knew he’d crossed a line with such a direct question and didn’t expect an answer beyond Bauer’s few words.

  Bauer said, “The Judge tells me you know Danny.”

  “Not very well.”

  “I suppose he’s a different sort. Well, good to meet you. Machs gute.”

  “You as well, Mr. Bauer. I’ll see you again.”

  He continued down the road, and Bauer picked up his shovel. He watched Kamp until he disappeared around the bend. He’d begun to rethink his decision to take in a boarder in the first place and decided that Knecht would have to go. Bauer finished digging his post hole, then finished Knecht’s. He planted the last two poles in the ground, fitted the remaining rails in their slots. And the fence was complete.

  Earlier that morning, Bauer had pictured completing the fence with Knecht and imagined how they’d feel. Relieved and happy. He’d imagined that Knecht would be grateful for having been forgiven the next month’s rent and that they’d both be ready for a large supper. Instead, the dread surged back into him. Another saying of Jesus flitted through his mind, one where Jesus commented upon what’s required to extract oneself from a difficult situation.

  Bauer heaved a sigh, collected his shovel and Knecht’s. The smell of pot roast filled his nostrils as soon as he turned to walk back to the house. It lifted his spirits, though not much, and Rachel recognized the trouble when he walked into the kitchen through the back door.

  “Where’s Danny?”

  He heard the laughter of the girls coming from the front room.

  “Not now.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “He’s going to have to move out. I’m going to tell him when he comes back.” Just as he said it, Nyx strolled into the kitchen.

  Nyx said, “What do you mean he’s moving out? What did he do?”

  “Nothing. He didn’t do nothing, not that I know.”

  “Then why should he move out?”

  Bauer pinched his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Something ain’t right with him. I see it now. Ach, he might be planning to move out on his own. Save me the hassle.” He looked at Nyx. “Anyway, don’t say nothing to him. You understand? Nothing.”

  “All right!”

  Rachel said, “Oh, Jonas, you can’t put him out before Christmas.”

  “Daddy, you can’t!”

  Bauer’s day had gone from bad to god awful, a spreading tangle of dreams and nightmares, words and misunderstandings with nothing to separate him from any of it.

  He said, “Well, I’ll ask for the Lord’s guidance.”

  Bauer had forgotten the approaching holiday and hadn’t factored it into his reasoning. He also hadn’t taken into account the upset it would cause his family when he told Knecht to leave, though Nyx’s reaction to the situation told him more than he wanted to know. Her feelings for Knecht might run deep, he worried. In terms of doing the right thing, he’d given Knecht the benefit of the doubt, but he no longer trusted the man. It seemed as if Knecht wanted more than any of them could give and much more than Bauer would allow. He didn’t know where Knecht had gone for the time being or when he’d be back, but as far as Jonas Bauer was concerned, Knecht had no hope and no future. He’d already exiled himself.

  That night, after everyone else had gone to sleep and silence had settled back on the house, Bauer went to the shed and retrieved a cigar box. Upon returning to the house, he locked all the doors and windows, and by the light of the lantern in the kitchen, he opened the box. Bauer removed a gun, a four-barrel pistol, and hefted it in his right hand. The barrels, fashioned from Damascus steel, glowed in the dim light. He placed it back in the cigar box and carried it with him upstairs. He set the box gently on the windowsill in the bedroom. Bauer thought, this will have to do.

  IN HIS WOODEN CHAIR next to the bed and by the moon’s light, Kamp watched the steady, even rise and fall of Shaw’s chest. He imagined the baby curled inside her, asleep and floating. A memory from deep in his consciousness bubbled to the surface. He recalled himself standing, propped against a tree, Sharps rifle raised, focused on his target, a man in grey kneeling behind a low, stone wall. The enemy, some two hundred yards away, had his weapon raised as well and pointed back at him. Kamp sighted the man square down to a tiny point
an inch above the man’s eyes and dead center. In that instant of pure and primal focus, he perceived the silence before creation. He curled his first finger around the trigger.

  Kamp squeezed off the round and saw the flash from the muzzle of the other man’s rifle. He watched long enough to witness the halo of blood spray from the back of the man’s head. He felt a bullet pass his left cheek before it whanged off the tree, scattering splinters. It was at that moment he felt a burning at his left temple then a thunderbolt of pain as the ricocheting Minie ball entered his skull. He fell toward the ground on his right side. In that moment, the instant before hitting the earth, he felt weightless and free of trouble, a complete absence of pain.

  When he emerged from the memory, the moon was there, still shining slant through the windowpane. Shaw was there, chest rising and falling, breathing. He climbed into bed and lay down behind her. He put his arm around her and laid his fingers gently on her belly. He felt the baby move beneath his hand, knowing that he was there. The baby pressed part of its body, what part, an elbow or a foot, perhaps a hand, against Kamp’s fingers.

  JONAS BAUER AWOKE BEFORE DAWN from a dream in which he’d heard a far-off gunshot to the first frigid morning of winter. The wind sang in the trees, and the birds could only hunker down and listen. He threw a few logs on the embers of last night’s fire, working the bellows until it blazed anew, and the nightmarish gloom from the previous day burned up in it. Bauer saw that Rachel had been making preparations for Christmas, extra eggs, butter and a sack of flour on the kitchen counter. He knew by the time he returned home from work, the house would be filled with the scent of the holiday, the stench of yesterday gone. Through the kitchen window, Bauer saw the first sliver of purple morning light. Normally, Knecht would be up and about by now, eating his simple breakfast, joking with Bauer and prodding him to hurry up and go. For the past six months, they’d gone to the mine together and returned home each day, their simple routine ironclad. As Bauer pulled on his heavy boots and wool coat, he felt a pang of sadness.

  Having readied himself, Bauer swung open the back door to the cold, pale dawn, and there stood Daniel Knecht, smiling.