A Cure for the Blind

Chapter 44 - The Men Behind the Curtain

Chapter Forty-Four

The Men Behind the Curtain

"First things first, Victor," Jonathan began, circling Victor in a slow pace, like a vulture studying a feast. "Where is Julius Grunt?"

Victor grinned. "Is he that important to you?"

"I need him." Jonathan shrugged, before repeating the question, the hint of amusement fading from his eyes for a few seconds. "Where is Julius Grunt?"

Victor's grin widened. The ground wasn't so uneven anymore. Victor knew what Jonathan wanted and Jonathan knew that Victor had the information he needed. Now, all he had to do was play with it.

"He is closer than you think," he replied, enjoying the sudden expression of confusion and frustration that crossed Hazenberg's features.

Silence took over the room for a few moments, until Victor decided to break it by asking a question that had been eating at him ever since he first walked into his living room.

"How did you know?"

Jonathan chuckled. "You can't fool me."

Victor ignored his answer. "For how long?"

"I found out rather recently, actually. But ever since you first set foot on this city, I've known there was more to you."

"How?"

"It kills you not to know, doesn't it?" the detective asked with a smirk. "I'm not the Chief Detective by accident, you know? I have my ways, my sources, many eyes and ears scattered throughout the city. You see, it's the only way a place like St. Agnes can function: under close vigilance and tight control." His smile widened with pride. "I have St. Agnes controlling itself. I know everything, Victor. After gathering all the information I needed, it was only a matter of deduction. I have to admit though, it wasn't easy. You covered your tracks quite well... But it's no wonder. You did learn from the best, after all."

Victor frowned, his expression growing darker. "What do you know of Silas?"

"More than you do, I assure you."

This time, it was Victor's turn to chuckle. "So you claim to know everything-"

"I don't claim, Victor. I do know everything. I know who you are, where you came from and what you've done. I know you are a murderer, von Mallesch. And I'm not going to lie, I like your style. A few more years and you could have everything. You're a threat, a force to be reckoned with... but still not as strong as I am." Jonathan frowned, even though there was still a hint of amusement on his features and tone. "I can't let you reach your prime. I have to stop you. I win, Victor. I always do." He eyed the gun in his hand for a second, as if to remind Victor why he was losing.

Victor grinned. His blood was racing in his veins, though not out of fear. He was actually taking a kind of twisted excitement out of the situation.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Oh, no." Jonathan chuckled again. "Not unless you force me to. You know Victor, I should kill you. In fact, if you were anyone else, I probably would." The detective stopped pacing and smiled with what appeared to be genuine delight. "But I like you. You and I... we are very much alike. We are both ambitious, both hungry for success, both willing to do anything to achieve our goals and greatness. We are cunning, manipulative, smarter than most." His smile widened and he spoke with pride, "We are the men behind the curtain."

Victor's grin turned to an expression of slight disgust. "I am not like you." Oddly enough, Jonathan's smile widened at that. "I seek justice," he proceeded. "I don't punish the innocent. Well, not on purpose, anyway." The disgust was now blatant on his features, mixed with a healthy dosage of hatred. "You framed my father," he said, more as an affirmation than an accusation.

Hazenberg didn't even try to deny it. "Nothing personal." He shrugged. "I had nothing against William, other than the fact that he was in the way of someone else. He defied the wrong people." He smirked. "Much like you."

Victor ignored the hidden threat. "Why would you do it?"

The detective spread his arms as if to embrace an obvious reason. "Why does anyone do anything? Money, of course."

It impressed Victor how nonchalant Jonathan was about the whole situation and about his own confessions. He didn't make excuses, he didn't try to make Victor understand, he didn't want or care about his approval. It was clear that he knew what he had done; he simply didn't care about it. In a way, it was almost admirable. Maybe Jonathan was right. Maybe they were more alike than different.

It didn't make Victor hate him any less, though.

"I was offered a small fortune to do it," Jonathan continued, apparently oblivious to Victor's inner turmoil and feelings. "It was an opportunity I simply couldn't ignore. I'm still profiting from it to this day. I would've regretted not doing it."

Victor looked to the ground and smiled with bitterness. "So you are mad because I am endangering your source of highest income?"

"Precisely," the detective answered, as if congratulating his apprentice on a well-drawn conclusion to a difficult case.

Victor shook his head, disappointment tainting his eyes. "So simple. So mundane. So... primitive."

"Do not judge my motives, Victor. As I said, we are not that different. Revenge is just another kind of self-gratification. You are no nobler than me."

"I would never accept corruption."

"Oh, but you have. Just of a different kind."

The young man took a deep breath and walked closer to his enemy. He met Jonathan's gaze with strength and determination, his expression showing a hint of mockery and disgust.

"I will die before I tell you what's killing Amos Skeffington or how to stop it."

To his surprise, Jonathan didn't frown. He didn't even seem worried. Jonathan laughed. He laughed with honest amusement and pleasure, loud and carefree as one would be if told a clever joke on the nearest bar. Victor's fists clenched and he felt nothing but raw anger.

"Amos Skeffinton?" Jonathan asked while struggling to speak and control his breath. "I don't care about him."

It was difficult for Victor to hide his surprise and confusion. His eyes widened, before he quickly returned them to an expression of fury.

What did he mean? Wasn't Amos his source of income? Wasn't Amos the man who had concocted the whole thing?

It had to be.

And if not... then who?

But it had to be. Or it would all have been in vain.

Completely aware of Victor's inner struggle, Jonathan grinned in absolute glee. He seemed to enjoy Victor's turmoil and confusion.

"My ally, my source of money, the real master of strings is not Amos. Never has been."

Victor's heart sunk. The world was upside down. Surely Jonathan was lying, torturing him. It was Amos Skeffington. Always had been. It had to be him.

The detective's smile grew darker, filled with evil pleasure.

"The real orchestrator of your father's imprisonment, your father's murderer is, and has always been, Sir Julius Holman Grunt."