The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [108]
When he opened them again, the beggar was no longer there, though his flask remained, somehow clasped, unstoppered and upturned, in Orphan's hands. The liquid seeped into his clothes. He felt a kick, not hard but prodding, and raised his eyes to the sight of two beefy policemen.
"Drunk as a dog!" one of them said. "help me up with 'im, Harry."
"I ain't touching him, Bert!" the other policeman said. "Last one I did emptied his guts all over me!"
Bert chuckled. "A bit of experience," he said, "is priceless in this job. Now let 'im up, and watch where he aims."
Orphan was lifted up. He swayed, but wasn't sick, for which the policemen were no doubt grateful.
"Don't worry, lad, we'll find you a nice dry cell to sleep it off," Bert said. "Don't want to be out on the street on a day like this. Lizard boys'd get you."
"Or the rebels," Harry said. Orphan was meanwhile being moved. He tried to speak, tell them he was fine and to leave him alone, but only managed to dribble, which made Harry swear and his partner chuckle.
"Things might be better when the King comes back," Harry said quietly.
"Shut it, Harry," Bert said. "You don't know who's listening."
The rest of the journey to the police station progressed in silence. The streets were still deserted. The same eerie silence greeted them at the police station. There were few policemen, and even fewer prisoners. Bert and Harry took Orphan down to the cells, which were empty but for one, where a dark figure lay unmoving. They released him into the nearest cell, and he collapsed down on the floor. He tried to speak again, but couldn't.
"Sleep it off, lad," Bert said. "Believe me, we're only doing you a favour."
"A day like this…" Harry said, and shook his head meaningfully.
"At least the Ripper is finally caught," Bert said. "You hear that, boy? They found his corpse last night. Somebody shot him."
"And good riddance," Harry said.
Orphan moved his mouth groggily. He couldn't stay here. How did he end up in this situation? He tried to speak again as Bert was locking the cell door.
"What did he say?" Harry said.
"Addled," Bert said.
"No, Bert, listen to him," Harry said. He watched Orphan through the bars. "He said 'saddler'."
Orphan tried again. The two policemen exchanged glances. Their faces were suddenly serious.
"He said 'Adler', Harry," Bert said.
There was a short, pregnant silence.
"As in Inspector Adler?" Harry said. His voice was very low. And then, "What do we do, Bert?"
There was another short silence.
"We keep him in there," Bert said. "For now. He's in no state to go anywhere. Safest place for him, probably."
"What about the inspector, Bert?" Harry said. "We could get into a lot of trouble."
"Keep your voice down, for starters," Bert said. "This needs some thinking, Harry."
"Would a cup of tea help, Bert?" Harry said, and the other policeman smiled and nodded, and some of the tension seemed to go from his face. "It certainly would," he said.
They left Orphan in the cell and, as they left, the door upstairs closed shut behind them.
THIRTY-THREE
Orphaned
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed.
– William Shakespeare, Richard II
Nothing had changed by the time Orphan had finally got back control of his limbs. He was locked up. The single figure in the cell next door had not stirred.
It was dark. He tried shouting, but nobody came, and he soon gave up. The fogginess gradually subsided, though his head still ached. He cursed the beggar, but it didn't make a difference. Who was he?
He looked at the flask that was still, somehow, with him. It was empty, but smelled foul. So, he had to admit, did he.
All he could hope for was that Inspector Adler might hear he was there and come to investigate. This, or that the policemen might get tired of him and release him.