Chapter 126

“Scolding me the moment you see my face, are you my wife or something?”

Eugène removed the hat he had been wearing and set it upon the table, letting out a quiet, derisive laugh.

“What sort of business have you been up to lately?”

“What is that supposed to mean, coming out of nowhere? Speak so that a man can understand.”

“For what reason would a mere book peddler be coming and going from a fence’s office in broad daylight? And what is this?”

Noticing a strange smell, Eugène lowered his gaze and frowned as he spotted something protruding from the gap between the desk and the floor. In the unventilated room, the sharp tang of glue mingled with the heavy odor of rawhide.

It was the unmistakable scent of freshly bound books. Eugène bent down and tugged at the corner of one that jutted out, glimpsing several more identical spines wedged within.

The Letters of Chief Inspector Bellague

The title looked respectable enough, but there was no telling whether the contents were so. Few things Hunter had handled in person had ever been within the bounds of the law.

As Eugène picked the book up without much thought, Hunter suddenly leapt forward in a panic, snatching at it. Eugène instinctively raised the book above his head, out of reach. In an instant, the two were locked in a light standoff.

Between them stood the broad mahogany desk. No matter how quick Hunter’s body might be, there was no way he could bridge that distance in one move. Eugène watched him with a suspicious gaze while Hunter, half-bent forward, broke into a nervous sweat and a strained grin; his composure from just moments ago utterly vanished.

“And what exactly is this?”

“It is nothing. Put it down. My merchandise.”

“Merchandise? Since when have you taken an interest in lawful goods like books?”

“Lately, I have been considering diversifying my business. Now that I have managed to establish a place for myself in this district, I have felt the need to set foot in more legitimate trade as well. Strange as it may sound, even a man like me finds himself in need of appearances.”

He insisted that, for the sake of such a public façade, he had recently purchased a small printing press and that this was nothing more than a freshly printed new title from there.

“I was only reviewing whether my investment might prove worthwhile. So return it to me at once!”

Eugène paid no heed to his excuses. If that were truly all, there would have been no need for such a desperate protest. Without hesitation, he opened the book and, with practiced fingers, sought out the bibliographic information.

“It says here, third edition.”

“Damn it! Have you truly the eyes of a hawk?”

“Let us see… just as I thought, not a trace of the Censorship Bureau’s seal. And the publisher’s address…‘Beneath the Fearsome Maple Tree’? Am I supposed to take that for a jest? The author is named as none other thanMonsieur Passereau?”

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‘Oh, my dearest Arentino. I know not how I should recount to you the scene I beheld.’

The page he had opened by chance contained a passage where the narrator, Inspector Bellague of the Public Safety Bureau, happened upon another’s sexual engagement in the midst of his investigation. In Eugène’s view, it was a needlessly long-winded description, but when all was said and done, such passages were surely the true purpose for which obscene novels existed.

‘Through the narrow slit of the keyhole, I watched the scene unfold. It was debased, yet all the more lewd for that very reason. The man I had long suspected of murder—surely the very one who had slain the poor woman for her infidelity and hidden her corpse—her husband, who by all rights should still have been aflame with vengeful wrath, now revealed the ungovernable lust upon his comely face as he spread his legs. From the thicket of hair rose a rigid length of flesh, from whose tip a viscous milky fluid dripped drop by drop, thick and gleaming. And beneath it, into that organ which ignorant men oft forget, yet which our beloved gods ever employ for sacred use, another man’s member was thrust. It seemed impossibly great and grand, a size worthy of divine blessing itself. Had I not seen the hands pinioning the widower’s arms, I might well have mistaken it for yet another arm.’

Eugène, skimming through it carelessly, realized what incident had been taken as the novel’s inspiration, and his brow knit with displeasure.

Disgust rising all the way to his head, Eugène snapped the book shut with a sharp clap and pressed his thumb against his throbbing temple. Even that much was more than enough to be horrifying.

It was beyond absurd. To be reduced to the subject of a vulgar third-rate play was bad enough, but now he was degraded to the point of being the protagonist of an obscene novel! Eugène stifled a groan as he realized that the empire’s long and inglorious tradition had at last reached even him.

“If this continues, you will soon find yourself in Antinoch.”

“Why? For harassing His Majesty’s paramour?”

“No. For this vile business you are engaged in now.”

Eugène hurled the book onto the desk in disgust.

“My merchandise!”

Hunter, who had been watching in nervous dread, darted forward and snatched up his precious source of revenue. He had lied in calling it a new release; in truth, it was a bestseller, so scarce that each batch vanished from the presses the instant it appeared. To see it treated so roughly was an outrage. He swiftly thrust it under the desk, out of Eugène’s reach.

The thought crossed Eugène’s mind, almost wearily, of how many more of those cursed volumes might be piled beneath that heavy desk.

“You might at least have sent word before coming. Then I could have shifted the date of the transaction, and you could have gone on happily ignorant of truths that need never have concerned you. That is why men have the courtesy to make appointments.”

Hunter, out of habit, kept his tongue moving while casting furtive glances at Eugène. Yet Eugène responded in no way as he expected. He pressed his fingers to his temple as though plagued by a headache, and then, as if speech itself had grown wearisome, fell into a cold silence.

…Well, now, that is unusual.In the many years they had dealt with one another, Hunter had, willingly or not, come to understand a fair portion of Eugène’s temperament. That was why he now felt a trace of unease. The reaction he had received was far milder than he had anticipated. Thinking back to the storm of emotion Eugène had displayed after the play they had attended, it seemed almost inexplicable that this should end with so little.

“By the way, what brings you here again? Do you not think we have been seeing each other far too often of late?”

There is always a reason when a man acts in ways uncharacteristic of him. Shrewd as he was, Hunter perceived as much, and so he no longer jested. Instead, he quietly shifted the subject, seeking to disperse the heavy air. A man seasoned in every sort of trial, he knew well that a silence charged with unpredictability was far more dangerous than an outburst of rage. Eugène, who until then had remained silent under the weight of his troubled thoughts, glared sharply at him.

It was not as though his heart was at ease while he sat in silence. But Hunter was not one to be cowed by mere words of threat, and his usefulness had not diminished. Indeed, were Hunter not so capable a criminal, there would have been no need for Eugène to maintain their acquaintance at all.

“I received word from Lieutenant-Colonel Morlière. I hear the matter concerning the House of Count Baltenor has been resolved.”

“Oh? Has that report already reached you? Well, yes. It was settled cleanly, without the slightest hitch.”

For personal reasons, Eugène could not return to active duty for the time being, and it was precisely for that reason that he took greater care to maintain his influence within the Navy. The very report he had just mentioned had been relayed directly to him only a few days ago through his own channels within the Navy.

It was unusual for Eugène to be the one to bring up a transaction already concluded, and so Hunter’s expression grew subtly more complex. But he betrayed nothing outwardly as he answered Eugène’s words.

“As you must already know, luck was on my side. The departure date was suddenly delayed, and for a moment it seemed as though all the careful arrangements I had made would come to nothing. I feared for an instant that suspicion had been aroused, but fortunately that was not the case. It turned out the delay was only to load still more contraband. The greedy fool had pinned such hopes upon this voyage that he crammed the ship with luxury goods imported from the Eastern Continent.”

Hunter allowed himself a crooked smile, like a cat that had swallowed a canary, mocking Count Baltenor’s blunder to the fullest.

“Thanks to him, I ate exceedingly well.”

Upon his grinning face lingered the contented air of a man so replete he might belch at any moment. Eugène, struck by the impression that he could almost see yellow feathers stuck between the man’s teeth, shook his head in exasperation.

Through Lieutenant-Colonel Morlière’s report, Eugène had already heard that Hunter had come into possession of the seized cargo from the captured merchant vessel. He did not know what trickery Hunter had employed in the middle, but in the end, the man had contrived to eat the pheasant and the egg besides.

“House Baltenor deployed two merchant ships for this voyage, did they not? Then there must still be one remaining.”

“That is so. Regrettably, I have no pretext to lay hands on that vessel.”

“Do you know where that ship will dock?”

“Rosson Port. If it entered after repairing the damage sustained in the battle, it will take at least two or three more days. …What exactly are you trying to say?”

“What would you say if that ship were prevented from ever setting foot on Imperial soil at all?”

“What?”

“Most of the customs inspectors are hereditary tax collectors attached to the port offices. Yet the power to grant and to sell those commissions has traditionally belonged to the Navy. If you so desire, I can exert pressure upon them and have an order of port denial issued against the Baltenor ships.”

“Heh.”

It was a proposal so audacious that Hunter’s gaze wavered, scarcely able to believe it had come from Eugène’s lips. But he was a far more cautious man than he looked. Instead of snapping up the succulent bait dangled before him, he narrowed his eyes, glinting with the wariness of a feline predator, and asked dubiously.

“And that is possible?”

“It is no great difficulty. There is no pretext for confiscation, of course, but short of that…”

“Now I begin to grow afraid. What on earth are you planning to demand that you come forth with such grandeur?”

At Eugène’s ready acquiescence, Hunter’s own heart began to stir. Indeed, since it was something he could manage from his side, he would not have made the offer otherwise. Unlike the countless swindlers that prowled these streets, Eugène was at least a man who knew the fundamentals of business. While there was not even the slightest camaraderie between them, there was a stronger sense of business ethics.

“There is an investigation I would have you conduct in absolute secrecy.”

“In secrecy… The investigation itself? Or the findings?”

“Both.”

Hunter rolled his eyes openly and sank into silence. Judging from Eugène’s uncharacteristically cautious demeanor, this commission would prove no small matter. However, by the same measure, the reward promised was inexpressibly sweet.

Hunter decided he could not let such an opportunity pass him by. In his view, Count Baltenor, a man hardened by long years in the commercial world, must have had his reasons for taking such a reckless gamble.

He must have needed funds.

Hunter, who through painstaking effort had come to command his own private network within the Confederation of Five Nations, thought with cold cynicism. The current state of the Confederation was nothing short of chaotic. As the debate over federation rose to the surface, the gatherings of the mercantile nobility were growing ever more brazen by the day, and now even ordinary citizens were splitting into factions, throwing themselves heatedly into arguments for and against.

Though the royal houses of each nation, save for Rodom, were desperately trying to suppress public discussion, everyone could surmise that before long the federal proposal would be brought forth at the council of allied nobles. Politics, after all, always demanded money. Especially now, in a time when strengthening one’s faction was of paramount importance, the need for funds was greater than ever.

“The wind that tears the sail is the fair wind, as they say. One cannot let such an opportunity slip by.”

It took a long time to think about this and that, but the decision came down to one thing. Quoting a proverb unfamiliar to Eugène, Hunter accepted his commission. It must have been, no doubt, a saying in circulation within the Confederation of Five Nations.