Goblin Precinct (Dragon Precinct) (11 page)

If only his father could see him now.

Well, truth be told, his father would likely just complain that he wasn’t in the wonderful occupation of construction, that bastion of good living that was so good to them that it destroyed his father’s ability to walk, and led to his drinking himself to an early grave.

But still, he wished the old man had lived long enough to see Kempog walk into the house wearing a shirt made of silk instead of burlap, linen pants from Saptor rather than Barlin, and with more gold than silver in his pouch.

And he had the wizard to thank.

He generally didn’t even like wizards. They were annoying, arrogant shitbrains who thought they knew everything, but mostly knew nothing.

Kind of like his father.

But not
his
wizard. No,
his
wizard was different—special. Not like the others.

Kempog was eating lunch at the small table he kept near the kitchen in the small house he’d purchased on Old Port Way. The way the gold was pouring in from Bliss sales, he’d be able to get a place in Dragon soon enough—maybe even a nice mansion in Unicorn!

That would be something—him, the person his father deemed a failure, living in Unicorn with all the nobility.

If sales kept up the way they were going, that would be possible in a few more weeks.

Everybody loved Bliss. Between his street smarts and the wizard’s skill, they were all going to be very, very wealthy.

And by “all,” he meant himself and the wizard. Sure, some others would benefit, like Urgoth, for helping out. But the dragon’s share of the profits was being split between him and the wizard—right down the middle. That was their arrangement. After all, Bliss wouldn’t have been any kind of success without his ability to sell it.

But before he’d met the wizard, Kempog wasn’t much of anybody. Less of a nobody than he would have been if he’d taken his father’s advice to help idiots put up more buildings in Cliff’s End, but still not somebody people
talked
about. Or when they did, they talked about that low-life, that thug, that guy. When the Cloaks came ’round looking for info, they’d grab Kempog and find some excuse to hold him so he’d give up something on someone else. They used him, same as everyone else. When a guild needed muscle, or someone to find something a little less than legal, they paid him; when the Cloaks needed info, they “paid” him by not throwing him in the hole.

Now, though, he was paying himself. No more working for others. He was working
with
the wizard, and together, they were drowning in gold coins.

Just as he finished off the stew his cook had made for him—he had a cook now, which he really thought might have been the best part of being wealthier—one of his enforcers poked his head into the room. Kempog hadn’t wanted to have bodyguards, but after the third attempted break-in by someone sent to learn the formula for Bliss, he realized he had to take steps. Luckily, old Mags Barstow owed him several favors, and she had several muscular sons and grandsons.

Kempog had been unable to keep their names straight, so he stopped bothering, going instead with what few distinguishing features were to be had in a collection of half-a-dozen inbred behemoths. The one he saw now was Cheek Mole.

“Urgoth’s here.”

That prompted Kempog to roll his eyes. He’d told all six Barstow boys that Urgoth should
always
be let in, but the notion of exceptions never seemed to penetrate what passed for their brains, and they always checked. Kempog just thanked Xinf that the wizard stayed in the basement working all the time and didn’t go out hardly at all.

“Let him in.”

“’Kay.” Cheek Mole opened the door all the way and said, “Kempog says it’s okay.”

Urgoth came in, not even giving Cheek Mole a second glance. Urgoth and Kempog had grown up together, both sons of construction workers living on Kite Path. Urgoth was short even by dwarven standards, and the other kids always made fun of him, and beat him up. Kempog, though, always liked him because he was funny, and he would defend him against the bullies.

Unlike Kempog, Urgoth wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he was too small and frail to do the work. Kempog helped him out, throwing some work at him that he couldn’t do, for whatever reason. Eventually, they became—well, not partners, exactly, because Kempog was always the main guy, but at the very least a team. Urgoth was often his helper.

So naturally, when he got together with the wizard, the first person he enlisted to help him out was Urgoth.

Things had been going so very well that Kempog found the concerned expression on Urgoth’s face worrisome. “What’s wrong, Urgoth?” Suddenly, Kempog was overcome with panic. “The deal with Gavin fall through?”

Shaking his head, Urgoth said, “Nah, that’s all right. Gavin said he’ll have gathered the necessary coin tomorrow.”

“Good.” Kempog was relieved. Gavin was buying a huge supply of Bliss to put on a ship and distribute out onto the islands in the Garamin. The wizard needed that cash in order to get some of the supplies needed to refine the process so that folks wouldn’t be overdosing so much. Plus, they had advanced Gavin and his crew a portion of their load, and Kempog damn well wanted to be paid for that, at least. “So, what’s wrong?”

“I was chin-waggin’ with Nulti, right, an’ we got us a bit of a problem.”

Kempog nodded. Nulti was one of the guards they had on the payroll. Not the smartest guard ever, but he heard things that Kempog sometimes found useful.

“They got six more’a them ODs on Bliss.”

Holding up a hand, Kempog said, “Yeah, yeah, I know, look, the wizard an’ me, we’re workin’ on it, okay? That’s why we need Gavin’s coin. Once we figure it all out, nobody’ll OD on Bliss.” Of course, it was all the wizard, not Kempog, but he liked to create the illusion that he collaborated on that end of it as well.

And the deaths
were
a problem. Dead customers weren’t repeat customers.

“Yeah, but people, they’re talkin’, right?”

“Let them talk.” Kempog rose from his stool and started pacing the dining room. “Look, it’s tragic, but people die in Goblin all’a time. Nobody’s gonna give a shit about some people who die happy.”

“It’s ain’t just that,” Urgoth said urgently. “We got us a bigger issue, right. Elko? He’s dead.”

Kempog frowned. “Elko’s that guy on Orphan’s Way?”

Urgoth nodded. “See, I found out that he wasn’t buyin’ for his woman like he said he was. He was buyin’ for Brindy.”

“You told me you cut Brindy off.”

“
I
did; Elko, he didn’t. So I had to cut Elko off, right, and Brindy, he didn’t like that so much, and Brindy went an’ killed Elko.”

Kempog was all set to dismiss Urgoth’s concerns right up until he said the word
killed
. “You sure?”

“It’s all
anyone’s
talking about down Orphan’s. An’ they called the Swords in.”

“So?” Kempog shrugged. “S’what we pay Nulti for.”

Urgoth shook his head. “Swords called in the Cloaks.”

That got a wince out of Kempog. the Swords were no problem. Most of them were underpaid, underappreciated, and overly greedy. But the Cloaks were another story.

Then a thought occurred. “Which Cloaks got it?”

“The older one.”

“Iaian.” Kempog sighed with relief. “He’s bribeable.”

“Not for murder, he ain’t.” Urgoth shook his head. “Look, we got us folks who’re killin’ each other. That ain’t good. And somethin’ else.”

“Look, just slip a few gold to Iaian, make sure we stay out of it. Everything’ll be fine.”

“I toldja, there’s more. Nulti heard that there’s an elf followin’ the half-elf bitch and her red-bearded partner around, and that they’re lookin’ at one of our ODs.”

Kempog frowned. “An elf? Why does some elf give a shit about—?

“Dunno, but it ain’t good. They took the corpse outta the body shop, and down to the M.E.”

“So?”

Urgoth stared at Kempog as if he was insane. “If they look into it and find out about—”

“They’re not gonna find anythin’, all right? Besides, we ain’t doin’ nothin’ illegal.”

That didn’t seem to placate Urgoth. “I think we oughtta think about movin’ somewhere safer. Everybody knows you bought this place, an’ if the Cloaks come lookin’—”

Walking over to his childhood friend, Kempog put his hands on Urgoth’s tiny shoulders. “It’ll be fine, Urgoth. You’re worryin’ way too much. All we’re doin’ is makin’ people happy. Cloaks can’t do
nothin’
to us. Now c’mon, let’s go an’ count today’s haul.”

Urgoth nodded, but Kempog could tell he wasn’t happy. Usually, counting money put Urgoth into a good mood. Kempog was sure it would do the trick this time, too, especially since yesterday’s take was just sitting there waiting for him and Urgoth to take care of it.

He grinned as they went into the counting room.

“Why’re you smilin’ s’much?” Urgoth asked snappishly.

“’Cause I got me a house with a counting room, so I can count all my gold.” He sighed. “If only my father coulda lived to see this.”

ELEVEN

WHEN HAWK ARRIVED, ALONG WITH DRU AND GROVIS, AT THE AXE Lane branch of the Cliff’s End Bank, he was surprised to see Than Martel there waiting for them.

When he was at Frannik’s Lane earlier, Martel was tense; now, he was in full-blown panic. He’d loosened his necktie, and Hawk could see rivulets of sweat running down his long face.

As confused as Hawk was to see the bank manager here, that was as nothing compared to Grovis’s shock. Hawk had assumed that each bank had its own manager.

And indeed, Grovis put his hands on his hips as they arrived at the entrance to the bank. “Than? What are
you
doing here? You’re supposed to be at Frannik’s Lane.”

Dabbing sweat from his high forehead, Martel said, “I’m also manager of this bank.”

“I don’t understand,” Grovis said, “what happened to Yellin?”

“We had to let him go.” Martel hesitated. “And Catlan and Hilig as well. I’m now manager of all four banks.”

“Erm, well, congratulations, I suppose, but dash it, Than—Yellin, Catlan, and Hilig were good people! They—”

“I’m sorry, Amilar, but I really do not have time to bring you up to date on personnel changes at the bank. If you
really
care that much, please ask your father.”

Grovis looked down and shook his head, muttering, “You seem to speak to him more than I, lately.”

While Hawk was enjoying the banter as much as anyone, they had a case to solve. “’Scuse me, Mr. Martel, but could you please be tellin’ us what happened?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t actually on-site. I thought you lot would be here sooner, to be honest.”

Dru answered that. “We needed to make sure that nobody reported any coins covered in red.”

“Stopped by Unicorn and Dragon, and they ain’t heard a thing,” Hawk added. “You’d think we woulda been hearin’
something
, seein’ as that’s your security, and all.”

Martel winced. “Ah, yes, well, I’m afraid there’s a bit of an issue, there.”

“I should think,” Dru said. “You didn’t even
mention
that you had a security system in place. We only know about it thanks to ‘Amilar’ here.”

“You see,” Martel said, after wiping some more sweat off his forehead, “there’s a very good reason why I did not mention the security system we have in place.”

“And that’s bein’ what, exactly?” Hawk asked.

“It
isn’t
in place, and hasn’t been for over a month.” Martel sighed. “For Ghandurha’s sake, you
really
should talk to Mr. Grovis about this.”

“Daddy isn’t here,” Grovis said tartly. “You are. And since you’re the manager of this bank—indeed, of all four of them, apparently—then it behooves us to inquire of
you
as to why the security system that would have foiled these malefactors is no longer present!”

Hawk looked over at Grovis, impressed. The young lieutenant didn’t usually get
this
pissed off, and it was kind of fun to watch.

“The bank—” Martel sighed. “Oh, for Ghandurha’s sake, I really think—”

Dru stepped forward. “We can do this here or back at the castle, Mr. Martel.”

“Very well.” Martel held his hands together with fingers interlaced again. “You see, the bank has had some—some difficulties of late.”

“Daddy never mentioned anything to me.”

“I can’t speak to that, Amilar, but it’s true.” He sighed. “Some of the bank’s investments did not work out as planned. Some real estate loans on Oak Way were defaulted upon after the dragon attack at midsummer, some shipping concerns fell through, and so on. The wedding between your cousin and the Cynnis girl being called off, and the subsequent scandal with Sir Malik, was a terrible blow as well.”