Page 33 of Crooked Kingdom (Dregs 2)
“He’ll have strengthened his security.” The rest went unspoken. There was no one better equipped to slip past Van Eck’s defenses than the Wraith.
He should tell her to rest, tell her he would handle the surveillance on his own. Instead, he nodded and set out for one of the gondels hidden in the willows, ignoring the relief he felt when she followed.
After the raucous din of the afternoon, the canals seemed more silent than usual, the water unnaturally still.
“Do you think West Stave will be back to itself tonight?” Inej asked, voice low. She’d learned a canal rat’s caution when it came to traveling the waterways of Ketterdam.
“I doubt it. The stadwatch will be investigating, and tourists don’t come to Ketterdam for the thrill of being blown to bits.” A lot of businesses were going to lose money. Come tomorrow morning, Kaz suspected the front steps of the Stadhall would be crowded with the owners of pleasure houses and hotels demanding answers. Could be quite a scene. Good. Let the members of the Merchant Council concern themselves with problems other than Jan Van Eck and his missing son. “Van Eck will have changed things up since we lifted the DeKappel.”
“And now that he knows Wylan is with us,” agreed Inej. “Where are we going to meet the old man?”
“The Knuckle.”
They couldn’t intercept Haskell at the Slat. Van Eck would have been keeping the Dregs’ headquarters under surveillance, and now there were probably stadwatch swarming over it too. The thought of stadwatch grunts searching his rooms, digging through his few belongings, sent fury prickling over Kaz’s skin. The Slat wasn’t much, but Kaz had converted it from a leaky squat to a place you could sleep off a bender or lie low from the law without freezing your ass off in the winter or being bled by fleas in the summer. The Slat was his, no matter what Per Haskell thought.
Kaz steered the gondel into Zovercanal at the eastern edge of the Barrel. Per Haskell liked to hold court at the Fair Weather Inn on the same night every week, meeting up with his cronies to play cards and gossip. There was no way he’d miss it tonight, not when his favored lieutenant—his missing favored lieutenant—had fallen out with a member of the Merchant Council and brought so much trouble to the Dregs, not when he’d be the center of attention.
No windows faced onto the Knuckle, a crooked passage that bent between a tenement and a factory that manufactured cut-rate souvenirs. It was quiet, dimly lit, and so narrow it could barely call itself an alley—the perfect place for a jump. Though it wasn’t the safest route from the Slat to the Fair Weather, it was the most direct, and Per Haskell never could resist a shortcut.
Kaz moored the boat near a small footbridge and he and Inej took up their places in the shadows to wait, the need for silence understood. Less than twenty minutes later, a man’s silhouette appeared in the lamplight at the mouth of the alley, an absurd feather jutting from the crown of his hat.
Kaz waited until the figure was almost level with him before he stepped forward. “Haskell.”
Per Haskell whirled, pulling a pistol from his coat. He moved quickly despite his age, but Kaz had known he would be packing iron and was ready. He gave Haskell’s shoulder a quick jab with the tip of his cane, just enough to send a jolt of numbness to his hand.
Haskell grunted and the gun slipped from his grasp. Inej caught it before it could hit the ground and tossed it to Kaz.
“Brekker,” Haskell said angrily, trying to wiggle his numb arm. “Where the hell have you been? And what kind of skiv rolls his own boss in an alley?”
“I’m not robbing you. I just didn’t want you to shoot anyone before we had a chance to talk.” Kaz handed the gun back to Haskell by its grip. The old man snatched it from his palm, grizzled chin jutting out stubbornly.
“Always overstepping,” he grumbled, tucking the weapon into a pocket of his nubbly plaid jacket, unable to reach his holster with his incapacitated arm. “You know what trouble you brought down on me today, boy?”
“I do. That’s why I’m here.”
“There were stadwatch crawling all over the Slat and the Crow Club. We had to shut the whole place down, and who knows when we’ll be able to start up again. What were you thinking, kidnapping a mercher’s son? This was the big job you left town for? The one supposed to make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams?”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone.” Not strictly true, but Kaz figured the subtleties would be lost on Per Haskell.
“Then what in Ghezen’s name is going on?” Haskell whispered furiously, spittle flying. “You’ve got my best spider,” he said, gesturing to Inej. “My best shooter, my Heartrender, my biggest bruiser—”
“Muzzen is dead.”
“Son of a bitch,” Haskell swore. “First Big Bolliger, now Muzzen. You trying to gut my whole gang?”
“No, sir.”
“Sir. What are you about, boy?”
“Van Eck is playing a fast game, but I’m still a step ahead of him.”
“Don’t look like it from here.”
“Good,” said Kaz. “Better no one sees us coming. Muzzen was a loss I didn’t anticipate, but give me a few more days and not only will the law be off your back, your coffers will be so heavy you’ll be able to fill your bathtub with gold and take a swim in it.”
Haskell’s eyes narrowed. “How much money are we talking?”
That’s the way, Kaz thought, watching greed light Haskell’s gaze, the lever at work.
“Four million kruge.”
Haskell’s eyes widened. A life of drink and hard living in the Barrel had turned the whites yellowy. “You trying to cozy me?”
“I told you this was a big haul.”
“Don’t matter how high the pile of scrub is if I’m in prison. I don’t like the law in my business.”
“I don’t either, sir.” Haskell might mock Kaz’s manners, but he knew the old man lapped up every gesture of respect, and Kaz’s pride could take it. Once he had his own share of Van Eck’s money, he wouldn’t have to obey another order or soothe Per Haskell’s vanity ever again. “I wouldn’t have gotten us into this if I didn’t know we’d come out of it clean as choirboys and rich as Saints. All I need is a little more time.”
Kaz couldn’t help but be reminded of Jesper bargaining with his father, and the thought didn’t sit well with him. Per Haskell had never cared for anyone other than himself and the next glass of lager, but he liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a big, criminally inclined family. Kaz could admit he had a fondness for the old man. He’d given Kaz a place to begin and a roof over his head—even if Kaz had been the one to make sure it didn’t leak.
The old man hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat, making a great show of considering Kaz’s offer, but Haskell’s greed was more reliable than a faithfully wound clock. Kaz knew he’d already started thinking of ways to spend the kruge.
“All right, boy,” said Haskell. “I can portion you a little more rope to hang yourself. But I find out you’re running game on me and you’ll regret it.”
Kaz schooled his features to seriousness. Haskell’s threats were almost as emp
ty as his boasts.
“Of course, sir.”
Haskell snorted. “The deal is the deal,” he said. “And the Wraith stays with me.”
Kaz felt Inej stiffen by his side. “I need her for the job.”
“Use Roeder. He’s spry enough.”
“Not for this.”
Now Haskell bristled, puffing his chest out, the false sapphire of his tie pin glinting in the dim light. “You see what Pekka Rollins is up to? He just opened a new gambling hall right across from the Crow Club.” Kaz had seen it. The Kaelish Prince. Another jewel in Rollins’ empire, a massive betting palace decked out in garish green and gold as some ridiculous homage to Pekka Rollins’ homeland. “He’s muscling in on our holdings,” said Haskell. “I need a spider, and she’s the best.”
“It can wait.”
“I say it can’t. Head on down to the Gemensbank. You’ll see my name at the top of her contract, and that means I say where she goes.”
“Understood, sir,” said Kaz. “And as soon as I find her, I’ll let her know.”
“She’s right—” Haskell broke off, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “She was right here!”
Kaz forced himself not to smile. While Per Haskell had been blustering, Inej had simply melted into the shadows and silently scaled the wall. Haskell searched the length of the alley and peered up at the rooftops, but Inej was long gone.
“You bring her back here,” Haskell said furiously, “right now.”
Kaz shrugged. “You think I can climb these walls?”
“This is my gang, Brekker. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” Kaz said, feeling the singe of that angry white flame. “But we’ll all be back at the Slat soon enough.” Actually, Jesper would be headed out of the city with his father, Nina would be off to Ravka, Inej would be on a ship under her own command, and Kaz would be getting ready to split from Haskell forever. But the old man would have his kruge to comfort him.
“Cocky little bastard,” growled Haskell.
“Cocky little bastard who’s about to make you one of the richest bosses in the Barrel.”
