The Librarian and the Assassin, a Sapphic Romance at the End of the World - 49. Chapter 49 - Organized Crime

With the death of Ithial, the Grondsen family had no living members remaining. Many of the joiners from the early days after the plague were still alive, but no one now dwelt in the manor, and the fortune was contested.

Duke Kentonworth was preparing his proposal. His accountant, Crontin, was with him. There was also a pair of advisors, and a secretary was taking notes.

“Duke, how did none of us know this?” one of the advisors asked, holding up the birth certificates and documentation that proved Duke Kentonworth and Ithial Grondsen were first cousins.

“My parents insisted that no one know. When we moved back to Stonespire, I was fifteen. Ithial was seventeen, and he had already gotten into serious trouble by that point.”

“But Duke,” the second advisor interjected, “will the Grondsens accept you? And if not, how do you propose to take their money?”

“There are no Grondsens. The closest thing to one, is me.”

Crontin’s lips were curled up in a wicked smile. He liked the prospect very much. He was already envisioning the Kentonworth coffers overflowing once more. “I’ll write up the necessary paperwork for the transfer of wealth.”

“Do it.”

Two hours later, Duke Kentonworth was in the middle of a pep talk for his guards. He had hired several more guards after Tawni killed his primary guardswoman and her three underlings.

“The people of Stonespire need to be reminded who this city belongs to. The Whites and Tenabors are systematically reestablishing previous money-making schemes they utilized before the plague, and the Kentonworths have joined with them. They’ve provided us with a list.” He handed his new head guardsman a slip of paper with four names and businesses written on it.

“Samantha Gotri,” the man read aloud to the others, “of Hotel Paradiso. George Dougal, of Dougal Construction. Cainwen Otto, of the Starlight Tavern and Inn. Benjin Goldthwait, of Stonespire Shipping.” He looked up from the paper. “Who are these people?”

Duke Kentonworth gave his guards a wicked smile. “They’re our targets. We’ll be accepting payment from each of these four people to protect their businesses.”

His accountant, Crontin, was seated in one corner with a stack of papers in his hands. He was smiling gleefully and looked half-mad. The idea of being part of the extortion excited the weaselly man to no end. It felt illegal, and those feelings only made it more enticing to him, even though concepts of legal and illegal had become meaningless after the plague.

“You two,” Duke Kentonworth said, pointing at a pair of guards, “you take Hotel Paradiso.” He indicated another two of his goons. “You take the Starlight Tavern. I want four of you to pay a little visit to the construction company, and the rest of you, go see the shipping agency.”

The four groups of thugs left the Kentonworth manor and made their way to their separate destinations as the morning sun was climbing the eastern sky. All of them had returned to the estate before the afternoon storm had begun.

They had mixed success, however Crontin was in rapture. Three piles of money were organized on his desk before him. Each was labeled. From Hotel Paradiso, the pair of ruffians had acquired nine dollars, which was more than the hotel brought in most days. From Dougal Construction, seventeen and a half dollars were obtained. The Starlight Tavern and Inn was taken for five and a quarter dollars. The total was equivalent to about two months’ worth of wages.

Only Stonespire Shipping had resisted the Kentonworth thugs. Benjin Goldthwait, the freight manager, had several guards in his employ, and the protectors of Stonespire Shipping managed to prevent their harassers from taking a single dollar.

Despite receiving nothing from the shipping company, Crontin was still delighted. He was alone with the money. Duke Kentonworth trusted the scrawny man implicitly, and Crontin was loyal to the family. He had counted and recounted the measly sum multiple times, and he stroked the three piles of money with trembling fingers. In truth, thirty-one dollars and seventy-five cents made barely a difference to the depleted Kentonworth coffers, but this was the first time in over a decade that there had been money coming in. Earlier in the day, Crontin had looked back through the financials to see when the most recent previous deposit occurred, and it had been more than ten years ago. He had lost track of how many times he did the simple equation of adding thirty-one dollars and seventy-five cents to what remained of the Kentonworth fortune.

Crontin was also feeling a subtle confidence in the upcoming transfer of the Grondsen estate and holdings, even though he was yet to receive a reply from their accountant.

The greasy little man was joyously recounting the thirty-one dollars and seventy-five cents for the umpteenth time, when the demand he dreaded came ringing out down the hall.

“Crontin,” Duke Kentonworth shouted from his study, “I need to make a withdrawal!” His voice had a harsher edge than usual.

A moment later, Crontin was standing in the doorway, and he staggered at the requirement Duke Kentonworth had just informed him of.

“Sir,” Crontin gasped, “you can’t! I mean, we can’t! Sir, do you even know how low the…”

Duke Kentonworth held up his hand and growled, “This is not up for debate.”

Crontin could tell that the man was seething with fury, which he was barely keeping contained.

“S-sir, are you alright?”

Duke Kentonworth let out the tiniest tut. “I received a message I was not expecting. Now, get me that money.”

“But sir,” Crontin replied weakly, “we don’t have…” he swallowed hard before he repeated the man’s demand, “eight thousand dollars. And I’m sorry sir, but I need to ask again, what have you been doing with all this money? And why does it keep doubling? First five-hundred, then a thousand, then two, four, and now eight? What is this, sir?”

Duke Kentonworth took a ragged breath. The rage that was bubbling in him threatened to explode. “Close the door.”

Crontin obliged, and he approached the desk.

“First, Crontin, the good news, the Grondsen fortune will be transferred to us by five P.M.”

Crontin’s face broke into a beaming grin, but the snarl on Duke Kentonworth’s lips made the accountant’s smile vanish.

“Second, the bad news, not only did we receive nothing from Stonespire Shipping, Didji White says they did not approve our involvement in their actions regarding local businesses, and we’ve been forbidden from participating again.”

Crontin was confused. “I know that Didji is the head of Family White sir, but weren’t the Whites the ones who gave you that list?”

“Apparently not,” Duke Kentonworth replied in a rumble, “it was delivered this morning by a Tenabor errand-runner. It seems that the alliance between Family White and Family Tenabor is not what it has been.”

“Do you think this has something to do with the death of Gria White, sir?” Crontin asked. “Or perhaps the Tenabors are making a move against the Whites, and they’re using the Kentonworth family to start the trouble, and to take the fall. What are we going to do, sir?”

Duke Kentonworth was gripping a pen between his hands and wrenching it in anger, when it suddenly snapped, squirting its ink onto his hands and desk. “Dammit! Crontin, get me a wet rag!”

The scrawny man rushed to the door and out into the hall as Duke Kentonworth wiped the excess ink from his fingers on a few pieces of paper. A moment later, Crontin was back with a damp rag and a dry one.

“Shut the door,” Duke Kentonworth ordered again, and he took the rags to clean his hands. “The money,” he said quietly, “was used to take out the three Grondsens and Gria.”

The information seemed to take a moment to sink in for Crontin. “You’ve been… wait, no… that can’t be… the assassinations? You’re not… are you, sir? You are the one who hired the Ghost?!”

“Keep your voice down, Crontin. And yes, I found the individual who took out those foreign pirates a few weeks ago, and she has become my weapon against the families.”

Crontin was surprised. “She? I’ve heard of female assassins before, but I’ve been assuming this whole time that the Ghost was a man.”

“I believe that’s the common presumption, but no, the Ghost is a woman, although really, she’s barely more than a girl.”

“A girl? You mean, she’s young?”

Duke Kentonworth nodded.

“That seems hard to believe, but I guess I’ll take your word for it, sir. And this young girl is making you pay double each time?”

Duke Kentonworth cringed. “Don’t say young girl like that. She’s the Ghost, and yes, I agreed to pay double for each job.”

“But why, sir? Why would you agree to that? It’s not a good deal for us at all.”

Duke Kentonworth was fuming behind his desk. He did not want to admit that Tawni had given him little option, and he scowled at his accountant. “Get me the damn money.”

Crontin’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you going to have the Ghost take out Didji White?”

Duke Kentonworth picked up his pair of scissors and cut another small piece of paper. “If the Whites don’t want us to have a take,” he said in a voice of forced calm, “then they won’t get one either,” and he wrote down his next target’s name.