Chapter Forty-Five

Puppet Master

The world had stopped still. There was no sound, no scent, no feeling, no taste. Everything had changed, turned into nothing. Everything was upside down, nothing made sense anymore.

Victor felt himself falling into nothingness. His whole sense of right and wrong, past and present were ruined. His sense of self had vanished.

He was falling and there was no salvation. No light, no redemption. Just like he had chosen.

Had he been blind all along?

He felt frail and sick. Everything he fought for and most of what he believed in was ruined.

Was Amos Skeffington an innocent man?

Had he been poisoning and destroying a friend?

Was he really that kind of monster?

He slowly walked towards the couch and sat there, before he would lose what little strength remained in his legs. His head hurt, filled with too many memories, denial and questions, and so he rested it on his pale hands, trying to find some sense of vain relief. He almost forgot Jonathan's presence, but it didn't matter. Not much did.

He had been so sure. So certain.

How could this happen?

"Julius... My father... No," he managed to say. It couldn't be that easy to take all his certainties away from him. There had to be a ray of hope somewhere and he had to cling to it with all his remaining conviction. "It can't be. Amos Skeffington..." He lifted his head to stare at the man watching his decay. "You're lying."

Jonathan smirked. Not one ounce of pity crossed his features. "Why would I?"

"To protect Amos."

"Victor..." Jonathan replied as if he was patiently scolding a child. "Wait for me to start caring about Amos's condition and see how long it takes for him to die. But you probably already know that. I don't care for the Skeffingtons, only for their fortune. And money is, thankfully, immortal."

"It... it can't be," he whispered, still too shaken to face Jonathan like he deserved.

"Oh, but it is," the older man smiled, amused. "I don't blame you for not knowing, though... I was very surprised as well when Sir Julius first came to me. Although, I suspect my surprise was much more pleasant than yours."

"Julius..." Victor desperately repeated the name, as if it somehow would help him accept. "Why?"

"He was guilty of what your father was accused of," Jonathan explained, as Victor's eyes met him with a shocking speed. "I don't expect you to find that quite as amusing as I do." He took a deep breath, smiled again and paced the room. "Julius was, and has been to this day, carefully and expertly stealing and embezzling Skeffington's money. Your father's money. William found out and confronted him. He asked Julius to come clean in the name of their old friendship." The detective chuckled, like he was remembering an old joke. "Such a fool."

Victor frowned, though he didn't say a word. It was like he was immersed in the story. Besides, he couldn't help but agree. His father had been a fool.

"He told Julius he was going to let Amos know and, together, they could help him. Such a noble heart. Such a naïve, foolish mind."

"My father was honorable and loyal," Victor couldn't help but defend his father. Though he couldn't say he agreed or understood most of his actions, of one thing he was sure - he was proud of them. "He prized family and friendship above everything. His only flaw was believing that other men could be like him."

"And look where that got him," Jonathan mocked. "Julius thanked him for his kindness and asked him for some time before telling Amos, for Amos would not be so understanding. Your foolish father granted him the time he asked. He basically granted Julius the time to plan his death." His smile widened, reveling on twisted entertainment. "Julius came to me and offered a small fortune for my help. He was a great judge of character, which made him a great manipulator. He knew Samuel Black, my mentor, would sooner put him in jail than accept his bribery. He knew I was much different." The detective stood tall, proud of his guilt and flaws.

Victor returned his head to his hands. Every word Jonathan spoke made him bleed. It was torture and the Chief knew it. It amused him. He barely ever took his eyes off of Victor.

"I accepted and, together, we found all the evidence William had found against Julius and twisted them to fit your father. I planted false evidence and tied them to the case. I knew Black was too much disturbed, consumed and distracted by his own personal problems and addictions to notice. He was battling heavy demons and he trusted me, his loyal and talented apprentice, so I convinced him to leave the case to me, promising to never let it be known that Samuel Black was too submersed in dark issues to even do his job."

The detective kept talking, pleased with the sound of his own voice, speaking with something close to nostalgia. Victor couldn't react, he couldn't think. All he could do was listen, absorb and try to understand. He was too tired to do anything else.

"I collected false testaments and I threatened Musgrave, knowing, through Black, his gambling problems and his affairs with loose women. There was no way Musgrave would let it come to public. He would've sent his own innocent mother to jail before he would let me tell the city about his illegal and morally questionable addictions - it would end his career and his chances of ever becoming a part of the National Council later.

"The others were even easier. I told Julius that Graham would be the Lawyer for the Defense - Julius offered him money, Graham, a scumbag, never even thought twice. I told Julius the Head of Jury had a sick child - Julius took advantage of it."

Victor grabbed his hair as if he was afraid his head would explode. It was too much. It was physically painful, nauseating, sickening, to hear about his father's demise in such excruciating detail, told by one of the men who planned it as calmly and remorselessly as if it was a simple and friendly story.

It was humiliating and destructive to hear about his grave mistake.

"I spread rumors and the city, true to itself, was quick to lay judgment. I demanded Musgrave hold the trial in private and he had no choice but to comply. Couldn't very well let St. Agnes watch as your father screamed Julius's guilt, could I?"

If Victor wasn't feeling so miserable and ill, he would probably be seething with hatred and anger. He even wondered why he just stood there listening as Hazenberg's words slowly destroyed him. He wanted to react, to feel loathing and rage. He wanted to kill Jonathan Hazenberg with his own hands. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to move or to feel much more than an overwhelming will to sleep and never wake up.

"In the end, your father was jailed and I let Julius know that I would jail him myself unless he paid me a generous amount every month of my life. The others? Too scared, ashamed and guilty to talk. And now, thanks to you, too dead to do it also. Case closed."

In the midst of all the turmoil slowly eating at him, Victor, feeling more exhausted and defeated than ever before in his life, actually managed to find and hold a last glimmer of hope.

"That is a wonderful story," he told Hazenberg. "And, like most, a flawed one." He returned his cold glare and cynical smile to the detective and enjoyed the small air of confusion that now lingered in him. "You want me to believe that Julius has been stealing large amounts of money for years and Amos never noticed? I don't believe it, for two reasons: Amos Skeffington is a very bright man. He would've known, trust me. And I saw the empire's papers myself. I saw the accounts, the money being spent, the money invested, the money that keeps coming in. I'm a clever man, as well. Trust me, I would've noticed." Victor's smile grew darker, though he kept feeling weaker. "Julius didn't steal, not those amounts, not anything."

"Ah, but that would be true had Julius been working alone."

Victor frowned. "What?" His voice had been so sinister and raw, he barely recognized it as his.

"I always thought Julius was working with someone. Someone with access to the von Mallesch/Skeffington fortune, someone who could move all that money without being noticed. Otherwise, he would have to be an exceptional thief - and who knows? Perhaps he is." Jonathan paused, his hands holding each other and the gun behind his back, starring at the ceiling. At last, he released a sigh. "I never knew where or how he got all that money and, frankly, I never cared enough." He smirked. "So long as it keeps coming. But I always suspected there was someone else involved - someone who kept hidden behind Julius. In fact, dear Victor, I will even ease your conscience - I have even suspected it to be Amos himself, hiding behind his loyal friend, taking no risk of being exposed. That should make you feel better, does it not?"

He smiled with irritating condescension. Victor was finally regaining some sense of feeling. He could feel his stare darkening and his fists closing.

"But alas, who knows?" Jonathan continued, looking oblivious and pleasant. "We'll just have to ask the man himself, once you tell me where he is."

Victor smiled, feeling a twisted sense of victory, at last.

"Before I tell you, there is something I need to ask."

"Yes?"

The young man's grin vanished. He decided to ask a question that he already knew the answer to. "Did you kill Patrick Peterson?"

Jonathan's amusement followed Victor's smile, the air of pleasantness and fake good nature disappearing as well. "I wasn't happy to do it." And Victor was surprised to note that he seemed honest about it. "But he gave me no choice. I tried to take away his interest in your father's trial, but he insisted. He was too smart and determined for his own good. I warned him more than once. He didn't listen and so he suffered the proper consequences. When I found out he had gone to Black, I knew I would have to kill him. Black would tell him he trusted me with that case and he would understand everything - which he did." Hazenberg shrugged. "It pained me to do it, I quite liked the boy. He was a competent apprentice and a promising young detective. Ultimately, his talent was his downfall."

He paced some more, apparently lost in thought, before suddenly turning to Victor with a wide smile back on his face.

"That reminds me, I should thank you, young lad."

Victor scorned. "Whatever it is you are grateful for, know that it was never my intention to help you in any way."

Jonathan laughed but otherwise ignored Victor's malcontent and decided to explain.

"Patrick mentioned a journalist a couple of times, someone who was helping him investigate, someone who was as determined and clever, someone who would, sooner or later, find out what really happened to your father. I now suppose it was Lewis Jackson, though I could never find out his name before his death. No matter how much I tortured him, young Patrick wouldn't give out the name. He died before I could get it out of him. I was relieved to see the journalist's broken skull. I suppose he was becoming too much of a threat to you too?"

Victor snorted. "I still don't know what you are thanking me for."

"Didn't you kill him?"

"No," Victor replied, somewhat disappointed to discover that Jonathan hadn't been guilty of that. That meant there was still someone else out there. "And I can tell you didn't either."

"Really?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows with genuine surprise. "Huh. I guess that's another mystery that shall remain. I will have to get to it later. Who else had reasons to murder Lewis Jackson?"

Victor shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care enough to find out," he replied with honesty.

"A common friend," Jonathan concluded. "Helped us both. But you are right, it doesn't matter now. What matters is: where is Julius Grunt?"

"Why would I tell you?" Victor asked, enjoying the fact that he could withhold something from Jonathan.

"Because I am holding the gun," the detective replied, aiming the weapon at Victor, as if reminding him of the fact.

This time, it was Victor's turn to laugh. "I'm not afraid to die."

"You are afraid of dying without completing your revenge. Will you die satisfied, knowing that I, an accomplice to your father's demise, am alive and well, without even the faintest hint of remorse?"

"You will be alive, but certainly not well," Victor answered, finally feeling strong enough to stand up. "Not according to your standards. You will be poor without Julius. If he indeed has an ally, you don't know who it is. You will be miserable, won't you?" He grinned. "I suppose, for someone like you, there are things far worse than death. And I will die satisfied knowing that."

Jonathan frowned, all pretense of joy and pleasantness cast aside. "There are things worse than death for someone like you as well. I will let you live, Victor, but I will give you the same sad fate your father suffered through. I will throw you in jail to rot."

"So be it."

"I will kill your sisters, though," Jonathan added, as a happy afterthought. Victor stiffened. Finally, he could feel the familiar strength of anger running through his veins, like his heart suddenly remembered how to beat. "Tell me, young lad, are you as careless about their lives as you are with yours?"

"You wouldn't dare-"

"I thought so." Hazenberg smiled with triumph. "I will give you one more chance to save their lives. Where is Julius Grunt?"

Victor was silent for a lengthy moment. He didn't want to give Jonathan the satisfaction of knowing, but if there was something he would never play with, it would be his sister's lives. He had no doubt that Jonathan was the kind of man to go through with his word. His threats were more warning and informing than anything else.

Finally, he decided to confess, finding solace in the knowledge that, at least, the corrupt and cruel man would never get his funding back.

He smiled devilishly, enjoying the fact that he was about to confirm Jonathan's biggest fear.

"Julius Grunt is in my back garden."

As Victor foretold, Jonathan's eyebrows shot upwards for a quick second, before quickly framing his eyes in the perfect expression of fury.

"What?"

"You know what I mean."

"You killed him?!" he yelled. It was the first time Victor witnessed the man demonstrate real anger and it almost didn't suit him. It was like it made him a different, though more genuine, man.

Jonathan mumbled and cursed, walking quickly in long and uncontrolled strides, speaking profanities and breathing quickly. After a few moments of rage, he finally stopped in place, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I should've known. I didn't want to believe it, but-" He sighed, before looking at Victor again and sharing an evil, but honest, smile. "It doesn't matter, doesn't matter." He laughed, looking more and more like the man he always portrayed himself to be. "I can do better than him. After all, I have a von Mallesch." He eyed Victor as if he was seeing a most magnificent prey. "I have you now."

Victor remained stoic and with his head held high. He was not afraid. He allowed Jonathan to take a few more thoughtful steps. It was obvious he was making a change of plans. It didn't make him happy or gave him relief, but it certainly didn't frighten him either.

He knew what Jonathan Hazenberg wanted.

"I will let you and your sisters live and run away from St. Agnes," the detective announced. "I don't care about your crimes and murders." He spread his arms, illustrating how benevolent he was being, almost as if he was expecting Victor to be grateful.

Victor wasn't. He was disgusted.

"I will let all three of you live and I will let you go free. Admit it Victor, it's more than you deserve."

"And in exchange?" he asked, impatiently.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Simple, mundane, primitive."

"You want money."

"Not just any money. Not just a monthly allowance either. I know it wouldn't work with you," Jonathan clarified. "No, I want it all, Victor."

"All?"

"I told you, I know everything. I know you have kept Amos alive long enough so you can use him. I know you have passed all his empire to your name. I know you own much, if not everything, of what he once had. In a way, you killing Julius was actually a favor." He aimed his gun at Victor, even if they had already established that it was useless. "So, we will go to your dear father's office and you will write me an official document where you will transfer not only Amos's fortune, but also your very own, the one you inherited from Silas, to my honorable name. I will own everything you have. We will both sign it, you will stamp it and, in exchange, I will let your sisters live. Fair trade for such lovely ladies, don't you think?"

Victor didn't answer. He just stared at Jonathan, his thoughts running wild, his fists curling into balls of anger.

How dared he try to steal everything he worked for?

"Come, Victor," Jonathan smiled. "Family above everything else, is it not?"

He nodded and started walking towards his father's office, Jonathan trailing close behind with a newfound joy.

"By the way," the detective added. "I know Gabriel McGrath doesn't exist. I know someone like you would be proud enough to make sure Skeffington was conquered under your father's name. You will sign as Victor von Mallesch."

Victor grinned, darkness and a disturbing sense of excitement consuming him.

"As you wish."