Read Online HS01 - Critique of Criminal Reason by Michael Gregorio - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Gregorio
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at all,’ he answered.
‘Is that so?’ I queried. ‘That is strange. All the town must know.’
Koch took a deep breath before he answered. ‘As I told you, sir, the details have been kept a very close secret. I knew, of course, that the man had been killed somewhere near the sea, but not in this very inn.’
‘ Outside the inn,’ I corrected him mechanically. ‘You may not know it, but whoever decided to lodge me here most certainly did, Sergeant.’
We stood there for a few moments, face to face in silence, while I felt the cold frost of misunderstanding fall between us once again. I held up the envelope I had been holding. ‘This is the letter I mentioned before,’ I said. ‘It is meant for a gentleman in town. His name is Reinhold Jachmann.’
If Koch had ever heard the name, he gave no sign of it.
‘I’ll deliver it after we’ve been to the Fortress, sir,’ he said with a dutiful nod. ‘I’ll take it there on my way home.’
This generous proposal cast a new light on Koch. I had done little all day, I suddenly realised, but blame him for mounting a conspiracy that I was quite unable to explain to myself. What I had taken to be interference and heavy-handed manipulation on his part might prove to be nothing more than excessive zeal in the execution of a tiresome duty.
‘First thing tomorrow morning will do, Koch,’ I said, relenting a trifle. ‘Herr Jachmann’s house is in Klopstrasse.’
‘Do you require anything else, sir?’ he asked.
‘Transport, Koch. The moon should be in its mansion by now, don’t you think?’ I added in an attempt to be more jovial.
A barely perceptible shadow of a smile traced itself out on the sergeant’s lips as we walked towards the door. ‘Indeed, sir. I think it should.’
Outside on the quay, snow lay on the rough cobblestones in swirling piles and massive drifts, though it fell no longer. The wind gusted more fiercely than ever, a biting, hissing whistle of a gale whipping off the sea, which made the teeth chatter and the spirit rebel.
‘God preserve us!’ Koch muttered as he followed me into the coach.
As he shouted to the driver to pull away, I remembered the hot rum toddies we had left untouched on the table in the inn. That night we would both regret the omission.
Chapter 5
Darkness had fallen in Ostmarktplatz. There was not a living soul abroad. Even the sentry-boxes outside the Fortress and the Court House stood empty, the gendarmes having been recalled inside for the night. On either side of the main entrance, flickering firebrands cast weak pools of light and etched deep shadows into the sombre stone facade. As Koch and I stepped down from the coach and approached the gate, the massive building loomed high above us. In the pale light of the rising moon, its towering pinnacles, central keep and watchtowers cast an ominous gloom over the glistening carpet of snow.
Sergeant Koch raised a large iron ring and let it drop against a small lych-gate set into the gigantic defensive wooden door. A heavy bolt was drawn noisily, a Judas-window slid back, and a pair of needle-point eyes scrutinised us from within.
‘Procurator Stiffeniis to see Doctor Vigilantius,’ Koch announced.
The peephole closed with a metal clang, the door was thrown open, and we stepped into a small inner courtyard.
‘Wait here,’ the guard announced, and we were left to dally in the cold for some minutes. In the centre of the courtyard, two tall soldiers in shirtsleeves were labouring with spades beside a long wooden box. With such an abundance of fresh snow covering the city, I asked myself, what was the point of storing it in boxes?
‘General Katowice!’ Koch hissed suddenly, and I turned to see a cluster of officers in blue serge striding purposefully in our direction. ‘He’s the commander of the garrison,’ Koch added in a whisper.
With some trepidation I braced myself to meet the general, and found myself confronted by a person of less than average height
‘Is that so?’ I queried. ‘That is strange. All the town must know.’
Koch took a deep breath before he answered. ‘As I told you, sir, the details have been kept a very close secret. I knew, of course, that the man had been killed somewhere near the sea, but not in this very inn.’
‘ Outside the inn,’ I corrected him mechanically. ‘You may not know it, but whoever decided to lodge me here most certainly did, Sergeant.’
We stood there for a few moments, face to face in silence, while I felt the cold frost of misunderstanding fall between us once again. I held up the envelope I had been holding. ‘This is the letter I mentioned before,’ I said. ‘It is meant for a gentleman in town. His name is Reinhold Jachmann.’
If Koch had ever heard the name, he gave no sign of it.
‘I’ll deliver it after we’ve been to the Fortress, sir,’ he said with a dutiful nod. ‘I’ll take it there on my way home.’
This generous proposal cast a new light on Koch. I had done little all day, I suddenly realised, but blame him for mounting a conspiracy that I was quite unable to explain to myself. What I had taken to be interference and heavy-handed manipulation on his part might prove to be nothing more than excessive zeal in the execution of a tiresome duty.
‘First thing tomorrow morning will do, Koch,’ I said, relenting a trifle. ‘Herr Jachmann’s house is in Klopstrasse.’
‘Do you require anything else, sir?’ he asked.
‘Transport, Koch. The moon should be in its mansion by now, don’t you think?’ I added in an attempt to be more jovial.
A barely perceptible shadow of a smile traced itself out on the sergeant’s lips as we walked towards the door. ‘Indeed, sir. I think it should.’
Outside on the quay, snow lay on the rough cobblestones in swirling piles and massive drifts, though it fell no longer. The wind gusted more fiercely than ever, a biting, hissing whistle of a gale whipping off the sea, which made the teeth chatter and the spirit rebel.
‘God preserve us!’ Koch muttered as he followed me into the coach.
As he shouted to the driver to pull away, I remembered the hot rum toddies we had left untouched on the table in the inn. That night we would both regret the omission.
Chapter 5
Darkness had fallen in Ostmarktplatz. There was not a living soul abroad. Even the sentry-boxes outside the Fortress and the Court House stood empty, the gendarmes having been recalled inside for the night. On either side of the main entrance, flickering firebrands cast weak pools of light and etched deep shadows into the sombre stone facade. As Koch and I stepped down from the coach and approached the gate, the massive building loomed high above us. In the pale light of the rising moon, its towering pinnacles, central keep and watchtowers cast an ominous gloom over the glistening carpet of snow.
Sergeant Koch raised a large iron ring and let it drop against a small lych-gate set into the gigantic defensive wooden door. A heavy bolt was drawn noisily, a Judas-window slid back, and a pair of needle-point eyes scrutinised us from within.
‘Procurator Stiffeniis to see Doctor Vigilantius,’ Koch announced.
The peephole closed with a metal clang, the door was thrown open, and we stepped into a small inner courtyard.
‘Wait here,’ the guard announced, and we were left to dally in the cold for some minutes. In the centre of the courtyard, two tall soldiers in shirtsleeves were labouring with spades beside a long wooden box. With such an abundance of fresh snow covering the city, I asked myself, what was the point of storing it in boxes?
‘General Katowice!’ Koch hissed suddenly, and I turned to see a cluster of officers in blue serge striding purposefully in our direction. ‘He’s the commander of the garrison,’ Koch added in a whisper.
With some trepidation I braced myself to meet the general, and found myself confronted by a person of less than average height
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