A Holmes for the Czar Read online

  A Holmes for the Czar

  From the Casebook of Miroslava Holmes

  Gorg Huff & Paula Goodlett

  A Holmes for the Czar Copyright © 2020 by Gorg Huff & Paula Goodlett. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  1632, Inc. & Eric Flint's Ring of Fire press handle Digital Rights Management simply we trust the Honor of our readers.

  Cover designed by Laura Givens

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Gorg Huff & Paula Goodlett

  Visit my website at WarSpell.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Feb 2020

  1632, Inc.

  ebook ISBN-13 978-1-948818-70-4

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13 978-1-948818-71-1

  CONTENTS

  Prolog—Karol & Marina

  Chapter 1—A Fight at the Happy Bottom

  Chapter 2—Murder in the Night

  Chapter 3—Who Cares?

  Chapter 4—Forensics Aren’t Perfect

  Chapter 5—Above my Pay Grade

  Chapter 6—Motive

  Chapter 7—Manhunt

  Chapter 8—Politics

  Epilog

  Author’s Notes

  Character List:

  In the years since the Ring of Fire, the influence of the up-timers was sometimes a mixed blessing. Depending on who you asked.

  Both Bernie Zeppi and Cass Lowry were men in their twenties. Both had occasionally frequented strip clubs up-time before the Ring of Fire. Bernie, at the Gorchakov Dacha, got sucked into the history of strip clubs and found himself reading and translating articles on burlesque, Sally Rand and Gypsy Rose Lee, fan dancers, pole dancers and taxi dancers, which, Bernie learned, was where the 10 cents a dance came from.

  Quick to see an opportunity, first bar owners and brothel keepers in Moscow, then in other cities in Russia, started incorporating this or that feature in their clubs.

  By the time Cass Lowry arrived in Moscow in November of 1633, there were already such clubs in Moscow and Cass frequented and critiqued them. By the time Czar Mikhail left for Ufa, such clubs were common in many towns and cities in Russia.

  Prolog—Karol & Marina

  Location: Moscow, Chernoff Estate

  Date: June, 1636

  Karol Karolivich Chernoff was hungover again. He rolled over in bed and groaned. Someone was ringing some god-awful bell somewhere.

  “Master Karol, you have to get up. Your father wants to see you.” The voice was his manservant’s. The tone, as usual, wasn’t as respectful as it ought to be, but still managed to sound nervous and fidgety.

  Karol groaned again.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “It took you long enough.” His father’s voice also lacked anything like respect, but it at least lacked the nervous fidgety tones of the servants.

  “Sorry, Father.” Karol tried—and probably failed—to put respect into his voice. It was hard. He didn’t feel any respect for his father. But the truth was Karol didn’t respect much, not even himself.

  “I have to go into the Kremlin. Mikhail has gone crazy.”

  “The czar?”

  “Yes, the czar. Do you think I would care if one of your friends went crazy?”

  Karol took a breath and didn’t rise to the bait. “How has Czar Mikhail gone crazy, Father?”

  “He’s run off from the Dacha where Sheremetev was keeping him and freed all the serfs in Russia. He’s trying to put us back into the Time of Troubles.”

  It took Karol most of the rest of the day to find out what was going on. His father was a supporter of the Sheremetev faction, and the corruption of his family disgusted Karol. That attitude was exacerbated by the Ring of Fire and the Gorchakov Dacha, not that he thought all that much of Bernie Zeppi or Cass Lowry.

  Karol wasn’t a great reader but he did read the pamphlets of the Flying Squirrel with interest and enjoyment. A true Russian philosopher. Not like the German want-to-bes at the Gorchakov Dacha.

  Two days later, after seeing his father order one of the house slaves whipped half to death, Karol had had enough. He packed his bags, took his prize stallion and a spare horse, and left to follow Czar Mikhail to Ufa.

  He caught a steamboat three days into his trip, and arrived in Ufa a week later.

  Location: Ufa Docks

  Date: July 15, 1636

  Miroslava sat still on the deck of the river boat. The smells were wrong, the light was wrong, the sounds were wrong . . . everything was wrong, and she didn’t want to be here.

  “All right, girls, get a wiggle on,” Madam Drozdov said loudly. Madam Drozdov did not shout. It was a matter of pride with her. Proper ladies didn’t shout, therefore Madam Drozdov didn’t shout. But sometimes she spoke quite loudly. Miroslava and the other girls who were owned in Nizhny Novgorod, but were contract employees here in Ufa, perforce “got a wiggle on.”

  It was one of Madam Drozdov’s favorite phrases, one she’d learned from Cass Lowry. She liked it because it applied to the girls in her employ in two ways, aside from meaning get to work as it did in the up-time. It also referred to the fact that the girls major employment was to wiggle. Wiggle bottoms, wiggle breasts, wiggle in general.

  Miroslava thought it was over-used from the second time she’d heard it. But Miroslava, by now, knew to keep her opinion of such things to herself.

  She got in line behind Marina, another of the girls. Like Miroslava, Marina was now a contract employee rather than a slave.

  But Marina was normal. Not crazy like Miroslava.

  Miroslava’s eyes flicked along the dock, seeing the wood planks and the tree posts driven into the river bed to support the planks. She saw the ripples of the river as the water circled around the posts. Miroslava saw everything. She always had. And she remembered everything she saw, heard, smelled, tasted, or felt.

  And the smells, sights, sounds here were not the smells, sights, and sounds of Nizhny Novgorod.

  They were wrong.

  “How much bribe?” Marina asked Miroslava. She indicated the approaching city guard, or maybe port official, with her chin.

  Miroslava tried to calculate. Number of girls, amount of goods, condition of the port . . . she didn’t have enough information. There were too many holes in the thing in her head that figured out such things. She could see the numbers and made up symbols before her eyes, but too many spots were too blank for her to solve.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Marina grinned. Marina got a kick out of stumping Miroslava.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  As it happened, the bribe was lower than either girl would have guessed. It was also more complicated. Ufa had been a fort and a fur trapper’s outpost before the czar arrived, so the city government was familiar with bars and brothels. And what Madam Drozdov wanted to set up was close enough to those two things that it was well within Olga Petrovichna’s scope. Olga was the wife of the official outpost commander of Ufa before the czar arrived a few days ago. But she’d been running things for years, and, with the support of Anya, she still was.

  The largest issue was the status of the girls, considering Czar Mikhail’s proclamation of emancipation, but Madam Drozdov was prepared for that. She had signed contracts of debt and employment for each girl. Those contracts certified they weren’t slaves or serfs. They were contracted employees. Which was enough to keep the czar off her back, which was all Olga really cared about.

  So, in exchange for a reasonable bribe, Madam Drozdov got permission to put up her club. She still had to buy the land.

  She rented, and had refurbished, a building already built. The contracts also gave Madam Drozdov control over—but not ownership—of the “land” the czar promised escaping serfs. The land wasn’t necessarily in the form of actual territory. It could be converted, sold to the Bank of Russia in Ufa, for cash. So Madam Drozdov had a healthy bank account to have the repairs made, and the girls got a couple of weeks off as the building was being refurbished.

  Location: Ufa Docks

  Date: July 18, 1636

  Karol watched as his horses were led off the steam-powered river boat. The steamboat wasn’t one of the ones made by the Gorchakov Dacha or the Gorchakov factory in Murom. It was one of the ones converted by the boat’s owner from the instructional broadsheets, and Karol was mostly just happy to have survived the trip. He looked around. There was a hill and on top of it was a curtain wall made of trimmed tree trunks. Karol grabbed a dock worker by the arm. “Is that the Kremlin?”

  “Yeah, sure,” the man said, and pointed. “Just follow that street around.”

  Karol tied the lead of his spare horse to Socks’ saddle and mounted for a short ride.

  As he rode, he looked around. Ufa was a city of tents. The Kremlin was there and built, but outside it, what had been only weeks ago a small fur trapping outpost was now filled with tents set in orderly rows. The river boats that ran with the czar weren’t the only ones, and even they were traveling back and forth, picking up people and goods to bring here.

 
✽ ✽ ✽

  Two hours later, Karol found himself in a medium sized room with a window that was just a hole in the wall with shutters. The czar and czarina were seated in wooden chairs on a little platform and Bernie Zeppi was standing in a corner along with some guards.

  Karol bowed, wondering why he was here. It wasn’t like he was a regular at court back in Moscow.

  Czar Mikhail waved him to stand. “We’re glad to see you, Karol.”

  “Your Majesty?”

  The czar smiled. No, he was grinning. “You are the highest ranking Chernoff to come to our colors so far. Congratulations. You are now the owner of all the Chernoff lands in Holy Mother Russia. That may change if another of your relatives decides to join us, but at this point it seems unlikely.”

  “I don’t want it!” Karol blurted. Then, feeling the need to explain, he said, “Your Majesty, I came here to serve you. To serve Russia. Not for personal gain.”

  The czar was looking at him like he was a . . . a . . . something. Possibly a saint. More likely a madman. Then his expression calmed as though he’d decided which. “I understand and appreciate the nobility of your motives, but it will actually help us if you accept your family’s lands. It’s one of those up-timer things. We’re limited in the amount of money we can use by the property we have to back it. But we can use your property back home, though, according to my chief banker, at a considerable discount. Never mind. Even if you don’t use it, if you accept it, it will be in the bank and the bank can make loans based on it.”

  “Then of course I accept it, Your Majesty. But I won’t touch it.”

  “That’s entirely up to you,” the czar said. “And since you’re not going to use it, what are you planning on doing?”

  “Whatever Your Majesty commands.”

  That led to about fifteen minutes of questioning. The truth was Karol wasn’t qualified to do much. He’d spent his life hunting and gambling, and avoiding work of any sort. He could ride a horse, shoot a bow or a rifle, play cards and dice, he was competent—but not really good—with a sword, and he was literate. But that was about all.

  Because of his rank—and the fact that he was one of the very first high ranking nobles to arrive here—he was put in charge of the city garrison, and instructed to listen to his sergeant.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The Ufa city garrison wasn’t a full time military unit. It was made up of craftsmen, mostly streltzi, who spent most of their time in other jobs. Many of them, especially those like him who arrived by river boat, brought their shops with them. Not the building, but all the equipment. Butchers brought their cutting tools, shoe makers their lasts, tailors their sewing machines, and so on. Some also brought their bows or guns, but priority was given to the stuff they would need to practice their craft.

  Location: Garrison Room, Kremlin

  Date: July 19, 1636

  Yuriy Kotermak looked up as the young man came into his cubbyhole. Yuriy could read and write, but not very well, so he did all he could by memory. But some reading and writing was unavoidable. He stood. “Good morning, sir,” he said to the teenaged boy who was his new commander.

  “Sit, sit, Sergeant,” Karol Chernoff said, “and tell me what I’m supposed to do. I want to get to know the men.”

  Yuriy didn’t roll his eyes. Apparently, his new captain was a liberal. There were worse things, Yuriy supposed, but he couldn’t think of any right now. The function of officers was to stay out of the way while the sergeants ran the companies, and the last thing he needed was this boy trying to chat up his men while drill was going on. He had few enough men, and most of what he did have were odds and sods from all over. Anyone who was able to get a seat on a river boat.

  Then Yuriy had a thought. There was a new club setting up only a couple of blocks from the Kremlin, and a lot of the younger men would be going to the opening. “Well, sir, chatting with the men during drill is not a good idea. But off duty, you could go to the opening of the Happy Bottom Club. A lot of the younger lads will be there.”

  Location: The Happy Bottom, Ufa

  Date: July 28, 1636

  Opening day at The Happy Bottom was boisterous, exciting, and so far mostly disappointing. Madam Drozdov, the owner of the new club, came from Nizhny Novgorod, brought her cadre of bar girls with her, and hired a river boat for the trip. The building was still very much in the process of refurbishment.

  Karol was here because his streltzi were here. Not that Karol was new to such places, but the ones he frequented generally charged more and were fancier.

  Then he saw her.

  Marina was a vision. Strawberry blond hair and green eyes, with a bright friendly smile that seemed to be just for him.

  He bought her drinks. He bought her meals. And he bought private dances.

  He bought so much over the next couple of days that his absolute refusal to touch his drawing account that represented his family’s ill-gotten gains crumbled in the face of his need for cash.

  Having broken into the funds, he used them. He rented a suite in the nicest hotel in Ufa, still under construction. And then went to see about getting Marina free of her contract.

  Location: The Happy Bottom, Ufa

  Date: August 2, 1636

  “I want to buy Marina’s contract.”

  Madam Drozdov nodded sagely, and named a figure that was only mildly outlandish.

  For a moment Karol was ready to argue.

  Then he thought about his father’s face when he got the bill, and he paid with a smile.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Marina liked Karol well enough. He was a cute boy. He had long brown hair and a blonde beard, recently trimmed to copy the style adopted by Czar Mikhail. Mostly, though, he was young and strong, with fairly even features.

  She pulled his head down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t bad, but he could use a bit of instruction. So she showed him some things by example, and he caught on fairly quickly.

  It was hours later that they blew out the lamps and went to sleep.

  Location: Karol’s Rooms

  Date: August 3, 1636

  Marina woke to the sunlight shining into her room. Karol was still snoring gently beside her. She pushed his shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead. Don’t you have drill today?”

  He pulled the pillow over his head and mumbled, “They don’t need me. The sergeants can handle it.”

  “Of course they need you. You’re a very important man, and it’s an honor for them to have you in command.”

  She could tell that he didn’t believe her, but that he wanted to. So she laid it on thick. Eventually, she got him ready and off to the day’s practice.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Karol’s command wasn’t made up of full-time soldiers. His command was streltzi who had other jobs five days a week. On one day a week, a squad at a time, they drilled under the sergeant while Karol stood around and watched. It was marching in a row, and using pikes, because most of them didn’t have guns. Not even matchlocks, much less the new chamber-loading flintlocks, or the even newer chamber-loading cap locks.

  He spent the day watching them march, and went home to find a bored and quite put-out Marina. Her day was spent in the rooms without any money to buy breakfast or lunch. Karol had eaten with the squad that practiced today.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  At dinner, in an inn a block away from the rooms, Marina listened to his discussion of the lack of proper equipment that his squad possessed. “Well, you’re their commander. You buy them boots and guns. And while you’re at it, you can buy me some things too.”

  The truth was that Marina was more interested in the things that he could buy her, but she was smart enough to know that it would go over better if she also encouraged him to buy gear for his soldiers, whether he did or not.

  Karol was entranced by the notion. Here, finally, was something noble he could do with his family’s money. Something that would help the troops under his command.

  Location: Drill Field

  Date: August 4, 1636

  “Sergeant.” Karol waved and Yuriy, grimacing slightly, came over. “I have some banking matters to take care of. I’m minded to buy boots and rifles for the men, but to do that I am going to need to arrange for the funds.”