hwango

This is my entry for the writing activity on the brigits_flame community. The topic for week #2 of July is "It hurts when I do this," for which I have written the following:

Note: My plan was too keep expanding on the same characters and overall story each week as long as I’m in the activity, taking the challenge of incorporating whatever new topic comes along into an existing narrative. To that end, this piece follows my piece from last week, though it should make sense on its own.

Butler paused when he reached the middle of the bridge so Carver could tie a piece of rope securely around the corpse’s neck. Butler then used the rope to carefully and quietly lower the body into the river. He waited until the corpse was completely submerged before he released his hold on the rope and let it slip almost soundlessly into the water after the dead weight of Mr. Baker. Their business at the river done, the pair reversed their course and headed back out of the River Quarter.

“Anything else for tonight, Carver?” Butler asked once they were well away from the water.

“As a matter of fact, there is one other task we have left to complete on this fine night. A Mr. Greenway has done something to upset our esteemed employer, and we are to arrange for him to join Mr. Baker,” Carver said. Butler made no reply, but simply dropped back a step to indicate that he would follow Carver’s lead.

Several minutes later, they reached the home of Mr. Greenway. From the size of his residence, Greenway appeared to a man of reasonable wealth. Most of the individuals Carver and his associate dealt with on their employer’s behalf tended to be of a lower social class than this Greenway appeared to be.

There was light coming from a window on the first floor, which was unusual for the hour. Carver wondered if it might be a servant tending to some unpleasant or tedious task that had to be performed when the gentleman of the house was not present to have his refined senses disturbed. That could be troublesome. After all, Carver made it a point not to kill anyone outside the original terms of his assignment. This was for practical reasons and not an issue of morality. It seemed to Carver to set a bad precedent to do for free what he otherwise did only when paid.

The pair approached the servants’ entrance, where Butler waited in silence while Carver picked the rather poor lock on the sturdy wooden door. As per their usual practices, Carver went in first while Butler followed several steps behind. Carver would deal quietly with any obstacles that presented themselves, but Butler stayed close in the event that something went awry and a less subtle approach to a problem was required.

Carver crept along the hall until he reached the room that was lit. He peered inside and confirmed his earlier suspicion that it was not Greenway who was awake, but a servant. A thin, harried-looking man sat at a small, functional desk piled high with papers and ledgers. Opposite this was a much larger desk, the only purpose of which appeared to be to indicate that the person who sat behind it was a man of tremendous importance. He certainly wouldn’t be a man performing so menial a task as writing, since nowhere on its surface could be found anything resembling a pen or ink.

Carver carefully drew back from the doorway. The man inside looked as if he was much too busy to notice anything that might go on elsewhere in the house, and Carver decided that he and Butler might well be able to deal with and extract Greenway without the clerk even noticing anything was amiss. Carver motioned to Butler and then proceeded to the stairs.

Alas, Carver was disappointed by what he found upstairs, or in fact by what he failed to find, which was Greenway. The master bedroom was empty, and the gentleman did not appear to be anywhere else in the house. Carver sighed quietly. He did not relish the idea of going back to his employer to report his failure to deal with Greenway. That meant he was going to have to do something else he didn’t relish, which was question the clerk downstairs as to the whereabouts of his master.

Carver’s assessment of the clerk’s alertness proved to be well-founded. Carver had his knife against the man’s throat for several seconds before the clerk noticed him. Carver had been on the verge of coughing politely to get the man’s attention.

“Please, I implore you not to complicate this situation by crying out or making any sudden movements. There are some questions I would like to ask you, and it would be quite impossible for you to adequately answer them for me if I’ve found it necessary to slice open your neck.”

Butler moved into the room at this point and positioned himself in front of the clerk. The clerk’s situation had seemed dire when he realized someone had a knife to his neck, but having his field of vision filled by the imposing figure of Butler made things seem much, much worse.

“My inspection of the building has led me to conclude that the master of the house is not present. It was my understanding that he was in town and would be at this address. Could you be so kind as to tell me where he is?”

“I…,” the clerk began, stumbling over even that one small syllable when he found that speaking it made the blade press closer against his skin. “I don’t know.” Carver frowned. This was a truly loyal employee. Greenway must pay him quite astonishing amounts of money.

There are only so many ways you can threaten a man with a knife once you already have it in such close proximity to his person. Mostly they involve making small cuts, which Carver found messy and could leave alarming amounts of evidence, and which on rare occasions caused the subject to faint and make it impossible to continue questioning them. Instead, Carver tossed an apple to Butler.

From the sound it made when Butler caught it, the clerk could tell it was hard and fresh. His eyes bulged in horror as he watched Butler gradually tighten his grip on the apple until it exploded. Then Butler stepped forward and gently folded his sticky fingers over the clerk’s right hand.

“I imagine that a man in your profession finds his hands to be among his most valuable resources. Certainly it would be tiresome to write all of these long lines of numbers with your left hand. Or your toes.”

Butler’s grip tightened, ever so slightly. The clerk whimpered.

“I understand that broken bones can be remarkably painful. Do you know how many bones there are in the human hand?”

The clerk whimpered some more.

“I’m sure an educated man such as yourself can imagine how difficult your job would be if something were to happen to your hands. Think what an inconvenience it would be while you waited all that time for all of those little bones to heal. That’s a scenario I think we’d all like to avoid. Why don’t you think a little harder about where Greenway might be, and we -”

“He has a mistress at 32 Spring Street,” the clerk interrupted. Carver frowned in disappointment. He did so hate being interrupted when he was speaking, but it would be a petty man indeed who would punish a man just for being eager to impart the information he was seeking. Carver nodded to Butler, who released his grip on the clerk’s hand. Carver removed the blade of the knife from the clerks’ neck and then deftly used the handle to knock the man unconscious.

“It would appear, Butler, that we have business in Spring Street.”