Mr. Ira felt himself flush slightly at this “I’ve mentioned
the matter of the lamp posts to you?” he asked attempting casual disinterest
and missing the mark. “I confess I do not recall the conversation.”
“I overheard” she replied then titled her head to one side “I
overheard at great and ponderous length.”
“Ah” he had replied making a slight open handed gesture of
contrition as though offering up a small apology like an invisible gift in the
open palm of his hand. The movement was quick and a moment later the hand began
busying itself with that unfastening the buttons of his coat, as though that
had been the intention behind its movement all along and it had simply chosen
to go about it in a particularly indirect manner. If Mr. Ira was in agreement
with his hands admission of blame neither his face nor his voice chose follow
suit in expressing it.
Instead he reached inside his expansive coat and produced a
small hip flask popping the stopper from its neck with a flick of his thumb. Generally
speaking Ira adhered to a simple rule he had learned at his mother’s knee. The
being to never earn the anger the person who prepared your food or drink, such
things had a way of coming back to haunt you. But in later life he had learned
an important proviso from his frequently lean father. When it’s utterly
unavoidable to do so take steps to provide for yourself.
On his first impromptu visit to Francis’s establishment two
week ago Ira had taken one look into his hosts piggy little eyes and felt the
weight of petty malevolence there. He had immediately resolved that he would not
be eating or drinking anything provided on the premises for the duration. A decision
only reinforced further when he had glanced down and taken in the state of the man’s
hands.
He held the flask aloft and tilted it back and forth
slightly in mocking salute to the now distant but still glowering Francis
before taking a sip, smacking his lips as loudly as humanly possible and
drawing his breath in sharply through his teeth in an appreciative hiss.
Around the room more eyes turned to watch him with varying levels
of hostility and smiled toothily setting the flask down on the table between
himself and his companion. She sniffed once, then again before leaned forward
slightly and squinted down the narrow neck trying to make out just what
alchemical horror lay within.
“So” Ira said quickly restarting conversation in a bid to
side step the lecture he felt brewing on the other side of the booth “You
called for a meeting. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company Ms. Acedia?”
She shifted uncomfortably fidgeting and twisting a lock of
her short dark hair between thumb and forefinger. Perhaps uncomfortable beneath
the weight of the attention Ira was garnering from the bars patrons. Perhaps
simply uncomfortable on the thread bare couch with its padding rendered so
wafer thin by long years of hard use Ira felt he could count the nails in the
wood work beneath with his buttocks.
“Superbia requires an update on your progress” she said her
whispering voice giving the name a gravitas Ira felt it did not warrant.
“Ah” he said again. Though this time it carried with it a
tone of exasperation “It’s to be one of those talks then.” his hand snaked out
over the table and retrieved the flask apparently of its own volition at the
mention of the name.
Acedia turned a withering glare on the offending appendage
and began to puff up her chest in indignation and Ira’s hand whipped back to
the relative safety of his side of the table with undignified speed but still
with its precious cargo in tow. Ira set the flask on his belly absently
stroking the battered metal finish as though he were comforting a scared animal
and gave Acedia a reproachful look as though she had just attempted to kick at
a beloved family pet. She considered for a moment then leaned back, deflating
slightly, apparently deciding to fight one battle at a time.
“It’s been two full weeks since the matter was brought to
your attention Mr Ira.” She said
“Indeed. It has.” Ira conceded reluctantly with a small nod
thrown in for good measure.
“You are aware that this is a time sensitive issue. The
longer we wait to take action the more likely we are to draw undesirable
attention.”
“Oh? Do tell? And here I thought this case was different
from all the others and I was to be permitted all the time in the world.” He
fluttered his fingers before settling them over his heart to still its shock “How
frightfully embarrassing. I must have read the wrong case file.”
She pulled herself half upright. Her delicate hands slapping
onto the table fingers splayed. A second later the slick sticky texture reached
her brain and she grimaced but pressed on before the implications could fully
register “Mr. Ira this neither the time nor the place for your flippant…”
“Ms. Acedia” he cut her off his voice calm but firm “you may
tell Superbia that I am proceeding at my own discretion with this matter. That
I have been diligently investigating these past two weeks and that I will
continue to do so, tirelessly, until the matter is resolved to my complete
satisfaction.”
“What?!” she let slip a tiny bark of derisive laughter
before she could stop herself causing Ira to from ever so slightly “Are you
completely without shame? Ira you have done nothing but spend your days
drifting aimlessly from one den of iniquity to another. Gambling parlours, opium
dens and drinking halls have been the sole focus of your tireless efforts.”
Ira’s frown deepened again just ever so slightly and the
playful tone leaves his voice “They’ve been having you keep an eye on me then I
take it?” he phrased it as a question but there was no doubt in their of their
minds it was a statement of fact “strange the brothels don’t feature on your
list. Perhaps Superbia should consider someone a little less prim for your
position. Or failing that at least a little more voyeuristic. Be sure to get
all the really juicy details for them.”
Acedia said nothing at first rather she met his level gaze
with one of her own and did not give one inch. “I do my job. Now convince me
your doing the same.”
They stayed like that for a long moment Ira deathly still
and Acedia almost vibrating on the spot, finger tips white as she pushed them
into the table top. Their eyes locked. Finally Ira was the first to look away.
He did so abruptly, like a cat that has grown bored with the subject of its
attention. The moment of tension between them seemingly forgotten completely in
an instant. Only the grunt of displeasure he gave let her know that while this
betrayal was tabled for now she was not yet forgiven for it. Still he had
conceded the point. Acedia retook her seat and watched as he took another sip
from his flask partly for something to do and partly as a tiny act of spiteful
rebellion.
She waited as patiently as she could rocking back and
forward almost imperceptibly on the edge of her seat. Finally at length he
spoke without facing her.
“How much do you know about hunting?” he asked
“Very little” she said “I was rarely out past the walls when
I was younger.”
“True of most of Lethe I would imagine. Wouldn’t know what
do make a world without cobble stone under foot and walls all around. Still you
don’t have to go out into the hinterlands to learn about hunting.” He wiggled
his shoulder blades digging back into the scant padding of the couch. Getting
comfortable as warmed to a subject “There are, in my experience at least, two
main approaches in such affairs. The first is the traditional hunt. The way the
gentry hunt on their estates. The heroic pursuit of the noble and elusive prey.
Thundering through across the carefully manicured meadows with a pack of hounds
to lead you and a host of brightly clad allies at your side. Running down your
prey and delivering the killing blow once the hounds have done the dirty work. That’s
how the high born think of hunting loyal dogs in pursuit of quarry. If they’re
not running till their hearts burst then they’re not really trying.”
“You know you put too much thought into these analogies.”
She says with a note of exasperation in her voice. But only a note.
If he heard her he did not acknowledge it. His feelings are
still a little bruised. But speaking makes it better. Let’s her know where the
real source of his ire lies without saying it outright and more importantly
without blundering through the awkward matter of an actual apology neither one
of them could muster.
“The problem is” he continued holding forth as though she
had not interrupted “that kind of hunting only works if you hopelessly outclass
your quarry. If their faster you have no hope of catching them. If their
smarter then they go to ground. And if their stronger, well then they just turn
around and tear your bloody throat out.”
Across the room the door opened and blast of cold air swept
into the room and close of its heels came a tight knot of men pressing down the
stair together in their rush to leave the elements behind. The others patrons
looked up at their approach and then quickly back down. A few seemed choose
that moment, quite coincidentally, to be elsewhere gathering up their over
coats and muttering loudly about it getting close to curfew. If Acedia noticed
this she made nothing of it but Ira, still slumped facing the door, took note
and grinned his toothy grin before continuing.
“Now there is another approach of course. One favoured by
those who hunt for more practical reason. It’s not as exciting of course and it
demands an unreasonable measure of patience but it works. In this method you
don’t bother haring off after your quarry. Instead you ask around about them.
Find out what you can. What do they like to eat? To drink? Where do they go and
what do they do? It’s an oddly intimate sort of thing getting to know what you’re
hunting for. Then when you’re good and ready you find somewhere you know they’ll
go eventually and you settle down and wait for them to put in an appearance.”
Across the room the men had settle against the bar. One of
them deep in hissing conversation with Francis. One pudgy finger was raised and
jabbed in Ira’s direction. As one the quartet turned to regard him with open
hostility. Ira took one last nip from his flask and tucked it back into his
coat pocket.
“If you’re particularly devious about it you might even set
some kind of bait for them. Make coming to pay you a visit simply irresistible.
So it doesn’t matter how fast or how smart they are. In the end they come right
to you.”
They four men spread out slightly and began to advance
across the room. Those patrons who had not already vacated remembered prior and
pressing engagements and headed for the door on mass.
Ms. Acedia was watching the approaching thugs warily and
cast a side long glance at Ira and he drew himself up to meet them “And what pray
tell do you do if the quarry still proves to be stronger when the meeting
comes?”
The men reached beneath heavy winter coat and drew forth
heavy cudgels of wood and brass hefting them in calloused hands in a manner
that spoke of great familiarity. The last slipped something that looked
worryingly like a pistol into his palm. Ira looked from one man to the next as
though weighing his options.
“Ah” he said and meant it “I must confess to a mortifying
lack of humility on that count. That idea had genuinely not occurred to me. It
seems I must apologise Ms. Acedia not only was I late to our meeting but it seems
I have a prior appointment. Perhaps it would be best if we resumed this conversation
a little later this evening?” he risked taking his eyes off the advancing men
to glance to his right only to find the seat opposite him now quite empty.
The nearest thug came to a cautious stop a little more than
an arm’s length away and stared at him with a perplexed expression of his
weather beaten face. “Oui nutter. Who you talking to?”
Ira cast one last lingering look at the empty seat before
straightening up and meeting his gaze
“Well… no one apparently.”
Mr. Ira raised his sizeable hands to chest height and curled
thick fingers into loose fists. He could feel the violent intent of his
attackers bearing down on him like a physical thing and his pulse quickened in
response. He felt the giddy rush of adrenaline flooding his body and his
muscles quivered in anticipation of what was to come. Down beneath the beating
of his frantic heart he felt something baser stir in anticipation.
“Well then gentlemen.” He said, eyes wide and shining, lips
drawn back in something that could only broadly be called a smile “Shall we be
about our business?”
No comments:
Post a Comment