A Game of Chess, Ch. 9 (PG-13)
Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 3:27 am
Disclaimer: Yeah, pretty much still don’t own Josef. No infringement intended.
A Game of Chess
Chapter 9
Settling further back into the dark brown leather-upholstered chair, Josef let a stream of smoke trickle out through pursed lips, and regarded the cigar in his hand with approval. “Damn fine tobacco, Sky,” he said. “Cuban?”
“Naturally.”
“Rolled on the pale, silken thigh of a virgin, no doubt,” Cam put in, taking a puff.
“I’ve always wondered about that,” Schuyler said with lazy good humor. “I mean, why should a virgin’s thigh be better? And how do they verify that? Without disqualifying the girl, that is.”
“I assume there’s a good bit of employee turnover,” Josef said. He remembered a sojourn in Havana, a few decades before. He’d turned over a few of those cigar girls, himself, to their great mutual pleasure.
Cam snorted, taking a generous sip of his brandy from the balloon snifter in his hand. “Once you turn her over, she has to find a new job.”
“Crude, Cam, very crude,” Sky admonished.
Josef smiled at the dark oak paneling lining the walls of the club room. “There’s nothing like the confines of a genteel club to bring out the male animal instinct.” He thought back over his experiences over two continents and many decades. It was a fairly accurate statement.
“What, in this mausoleum?” Cam said. “The Cabot Club could use a little livening up, surely.”
“We have always been told that certain standards of decorum are to be maintained here,” Sky intoned, although he was smiling to himself in his own brandy. What Cam Marshall didn’t know about very private parties in the quiet back rooms of the club would fill a rather surprising book. He wasn’t about to enlighten his friend, though. That wouldn’t do. Not at all. Time, he thought, for a change of subject. “So, Fitz, I hear interesting stories about Night Wind.”
Josef smiled. Trust Sky to come in on cue as requested. He reached out to tap some excess ash from his cigar into a conveniently placed urn. “Well, now is not the time for business, but it’s true I had been planning to consult with Cam here about a few legal actions.”
Cam came to attention at that. Josef was obscurely pleased to see the boy hadn’t lost all interest in business. Maybe the infatuation with the dangerous Mlle. Duvall had not progressed too far, yet. “Oh?”
“It seems advisable, in this case, to fight fire with paper.” Josef availed himself of his brandy snifter, reveling for a moment in the complex aromas of the liquor. It was nothing, compared to blood, really, but surprisingly satisfying nonetheless.
“Sounds like you need to come by my office,” Cam said earnestly. “I’ll need to know the particulars, of course.”
Josef nodded and set the hook a little deeper. “I’m not sure it’s something you’ll want to tackle. It could involve tangling with some of the boys down at Tammany.”
As he suspected, that lit Cam’s eyes with eager fire. “Tammany,” he said in tones of disgust. “That bunch of low-life, jumped-up—“
Sky tut-tutted. “Don’t think these walls don’t have ears, Cam.”
“The Cabot Club? Oh, pshaw.” He waved a hand. “These walls have heard more secrets than any of us could apprehend.”
“And not all secrets get kept,” Sky said.
“You’re too much of an old fuddy-duddy.” Cam puffed on his cigar again.
Josef was ready to move on. “I’ll be coming to your office tomorrow, if that’s agreeable.”
Cam focused into the distance, thinking over his schedule. “Sure, sure. That’ll be fine. Any time.”
They smoked awhile in companionable silence after that, until Sky asked, “So, Cam, how are you getting on with the fascinating Frenchwoman?”
“Offhand, I’d say that was none of your business,” Cam snapped.
“Not well then. Or is it…very well, indeed?”
“I don’t care to have her name bandied about.” Cam glanced at Josef.
“What?” Sky responded. “No one mentioned a name. And Fitz isn’t a gossip.”
“No, but you are.” Cam paused. “Let me guess. Mother put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“I’m your friend, not hers.” Sky managed to look both sulky and insulted.
Cam stabbed out his cigar, and Josef winced at the mistreatment of the tobacco. “Yes, but I know how she loves to pull strings.”
Josef spoke up. “A formidable woman, your mother. Still, I can see how she’d be concerned about your friendship with Mlle. Duvall.”
“I hold Mlle. Duvall in the highest regard,” Cam responded stiffly. “She is a lady of the old school.”
Josef couldn’t argue that. “How did you come to make her acquaintance?”
Cam smiled, as though seeing the scene again in his mind. “She came to our offices. Of course we don’t usually deal with women—dubious legal status and all that—but she had letters of introduction. Referrals from firms we’ve dealt with in London and Paris.”
“And a healthy letter of credit, I’ll wager,” Sky put in.
“Shut up, Sky.” Cam was momentarily irritated, and took another sip of brandy, before continuing. “She was so confused, poor thing—she needed advice on establishing a residence, really on getting set up properly. As would be suitable for her social position.”
“And of course it was your duty to assist her.” Josef’s sardonic edge was lost on Cam.
He shrugged. “Of course,” he agreed. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“And squiring her around town?” Sky asked. “To the opera and everything?”
“In the company of my wife and my mother. There’s no impropriety in that, surely.”
“And how many times have you visited that flat she bought?” Sky pressed.
“There were papers that needed signing,” Cam said evasively. “Look, I won’t deny that I enjoy her company. She’s beautiful and charming. And she has a way of looking at me…it’s pleasant. Very pleasant.”
“All well and good,” Sky grumbled, “but what do you really know about her?”
Josef snorted. “This is New York, Sky. She has money and charm. What else does she need?”
As he’d suspected, Cam bristled at that. “She’s from a very old, very aristocratic blood line.”
“Blood line? Is that how she put it? Sounds like a race horse, to me,” Sky said.
“Duvall is not an aristocrat’s cognomen,” Josef observed. “Perhaps her mother married beneath her?”
Cam frowned. “Hardly. She said that when her grandfather was forced to flee to England during the Terror, he found it expedient to adopt a less exalted name. And when the family returned to France, the political climate dictated they continue under the changed name.”
Josef thought to himself that he’d rarely heard such a load of horseshit. The idea of a French nobleman taking a lower-class name for anything other than the most temporary of disguises, was laughable. He’d been in London around that time—a change of scenery being indicated for his health—and he’d met a number of French émigrés, Every one of them had played their bloodline to the hilt. And then some. Of course, he knew full well there was no “grandfather” in the mix, either. She was of an age, she would have been fleeing to save her own pretty neck from Madam Guillotine. Still, that was nothing worth sharing with these humans. “A very romantic tale, to be sure.”
“Yes, it is,” Cam replied still on the defensive. “She says the family still feel like perpetual exiles. They can never trust their own countrymen again.”
Josef took a long draw on his cigar, enjoying the feel and taste of the smoke in his mouth. “A lesson we should all heed,” he said. “Sky, old man, are you keeping that decanter for yourself? My glass is empty.”
“I indulge myself, Fitz, what can I say?” His attempt at an elegant shrug came off as clumsy and affected, and he cursed inwardly, vowing to watch Fitz’s graceful moves and practice in his looking-glass. Still, it didn’t do to be too refined in his gestures. No matter how hard he tried to keep his secrets, certain propensities were hard to hide, and beginning to draw more whispers than he could afford socially.
“Well, kindly indulge your friends,” Josef replied.
Cam pulled out a pocketwatch and frowned at it. “Damn,” he said. “Gentlemen, pleasant as your company is, I have an engagement. Elsewhere.”
“At this hour?” Sky asked. “Has your engagement a charming French accent?”
Snapping his pocketwatch closed, Cam stood. “I don’t believe,” he said frostily, “that it’s any of your affair.”
“Have we not been down this lane already?” Josef said, deliberately slurring his words a touch.
“Oo-la-la,” Sky mocked, the slur in his own voice unfeigned.
“Schuyler, do try not to be such an unmitigated ass.”
The smile fell off Sky’s face, and he put his cigar and crystal snifter aside to rise and face his friend. “Not unmitigated, Cam,” he said. “I’m honestly worried about you, and if that makes me an ass, well, I’m sorry for it.”
Cam shook his head with a rueful smile. “I do understand, Sky. God knows I’m hearing it enough from my mother. Not sure why everyone’s convinced I’m too stupid to handle my own affairs. I know what I’m doing.”
Josef cleared his throat. “Older and wiser heads than yours have fallen prey to the wiles of a pretty, clever woman.”
“Wiles,” Cam scoffed. “Cora—Mlle. Duvall—is the sweetest, simplest creature I’ve ever met. There’s no harm in her.”
“Well,” Josef said, “you’ve known her longer than we have.” But I think I might know her better than you do, he added silently.
“Yes,” Cam replied. “I have. And now, I’ll bid you both good evening, and be on my way. I’ll see you tomorrow in my offices, Fitz.” He bowed slightly to them, and left, brushing by the servant bringing in a fresh decanter of brandy.
Schuyler dropped back into his seat, the leather upholstery creaking as it caught his weight. Frowning , he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair.
Josef waited, continuing to enjoy his smoke. He knew the other man would have opinions to offer, soon enough. No sense hurrying a fine cigar over it.
Sky retrieved his own cigar, and took a savage drag on it. “That went poorly. Damn, she’s got her claws in deep.”
“I knew she thought she did. And she’s right.”
“What’s it going to take to get her to let go?”
Josef laughed. “That one? From what I’ve seen, I’m afraid it’s bad. She’s not one that can be bought off.” He paused to tap the ash from his cigar. “She’ll get what she wants from him, one way or another.”
“But if not money, what does she want?”
Josef inhaled, blew a cloud of grayish white smoke out, and watched it dissipate against the dark paneling of the room. “What does she want?” he repeated. “What that kind always wants. Coraline Duvall wants his soul.”
A Game of Chess
Chapter 9
Settling further back into the dark brown leather-upholstered chair, Josef let a stream of smoke trickle out through pursed lips, and regarded the cigar in his hand with approval. “Damn fine tobacco, Sky,” he said. “Cuban?”
“Naturally.”
“Rolled on the pale, silken thigh of a virgin, no doubt,” Cam put in, taking a puff.
“I’ve always wondered about that,” Schuyler said with lazy good humor. “I mean, why should a virgin’s thigh be better? And how do they verify that? Without disqualifying the girl, that is.”
“I assume there’s a good bit of employee turnover,” Josef said. He remembered a sojourn in Havana, a few decades before. He’d turned over a few of those cigar girls, himself, to their great mutual pleasure.
Cam snorted, taking a generous sip of his brandy from the balloon snifter in his hand. “Once you turn her over, she has to find a new job.”
“Crude, Cam, very crude,” Sky admonished.
Josef smiled at the dark oak paneling lining the walls of the club room. “There’s nothing like the confines of a genteel club to bring out the male animal instinct.” He thought back over his experiences over two continents and many decades. It was a fairly accurate statement.
“What, in this mausoleum?” Cam said. “The Cabot Club could use a little livening up, surely.”
“We have always been told that certain standards of decorum are to be maintained here,” Sky intoned, although he was smiling to himself in his own brandy. What Cam Marshall didn’t know about very private parties in the quiet back rooms of the club would fill a rather surprising book. He wasn’t about to enlighten his friend, though. That wouldn’t do. Not at all. Time, he thought, for a change of subject. “So, Fitz, I hear interesting stories about Night Wind.”
Josef smiled. Trust Sky to come in on cue as requested. He reached out to tap some excess ash from his cigar into a conveniently placed urn. “Well, now is not the time for business, but it’s true I had been planning to consult with Cam here about a few legal actions.”
Cam came to attention at that. Josef was obscurely pleased to see the boy hadn’t lost all interest in business. Maybe the infatuation with the dangerous Mlle. Duvall had not progressed too far, yet. “Oh?”
“It seems advisable, in this case, to fight fire with paper.” Josef availed himself of his brandy snifter, reveling for a moment in the complex aromas of the liquor. It was nothing, compared to blood, really, but surprisingly satisfying nonetheless.
“Sounds like you need to come by my office,” Cam said earnestly. “I’ll need to know the particulars, of course.”
Josef nodded and set the hook a little deeper. “I’m not sure it’s something you’ll want to tackle. It could involve tangling with some of the boys down at Tammany.”
As he suspected, that lit Cam’s eyes with eager fire. “Tammany,” he said in tones of disgust. “That bunch of low-life, jumped-up—“
Sky tut-tutted. “Don’t think these walls don’t have ears, Cam.”
“The Cabot Club? Oh, pshaw.” He waved a hand. “These walls have heard more secrets than any of us could apprehend.”
“And not all secrets get kept,” Sky said.
“You’re too much of an old fuddy-duddy.” Cam puffed on his cigar again.
Josef was ready to move on. “I’ll be coming to your office tomorrow, if that’s agreeable.”
Cam focused into the distance, thinking over his schedule. “Sure, sure. That’ll be fine. Any time.”
They smoked awhile in companionable silence after that, until Sky asked, “So, Cam, how are you getting on with the fascinating Frenchwoman?”
“Offhand, I’d say that was none of your business,” Cam snapped.
“Not well then. Or is it…very well, indeed?”
“I don’t care to have her name bandied about.” Cam glanced at Josef.
“What?” Sky responded. “No one mentioned a name. And Fitz isn’t a gossip.”
“No, but you are.” Cam paused. “Let me guess. Mother put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“I’m your friend, not hers.” Sky managed to look both sulky and insulted.
Cam stabbed out his cigar, and Josef winced at the mistreatment of the tobacco. “Yes, but I know how she loves to pull strings.”
Josef spoke up. “A formidable woman, your mother. Still, I can see how she’d be concerned about your friendship with Mlle. Duvall.”
“I hold Mlle. Duvall in the highest regard,” Cam responded stiffly. “She is a lady of the old school.”
Josef couldn’t argue that. “How did you come to make her acquaintance?”
Cam smiled, as though seeing the scene again in his mind. “She came to our offices. Of course we don’t usually deal with women—dubious legal status and all that—but she had letters of introduction. Referrals from firms we’ve dealt with in London and Paris.”
“And a healthy letter of credit, I’ll wager,” Sky put in.
“Shut up, Sky.” Cam was momentarily irritated, and took another sip of brandy, before continuing. “She was so confused, poor thing—she needed advice on establishing a residence, really on getting set up properly. As would be suitable for her social position.”
“And of course it was your duty to assist her.” Josef’s sardonic edge was lost on Cam.
He shrugged. “Of course,” he agreed. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“And squiring her around town?” Sky asked. “To the opera and everything?”
“In the company of my wife and my mother. There’s no impropriety in that, surely.”
“And how many times have you visited that flat she bought?” Sky pressed.
“There were papers that needed signing,” Cam said evasively. “Look, I won’t deny that I enjoy her company. She’s beautiful and charming. And she has a way of looking at me…it’s pleasant. Very pleasant.”
“All well and good,” Sky grumbled, “but what do you really know about her?”
Josef snorted. “This is New York, Sky. She has money and charm. What else does she need?”
As he’d suspected, Cam bristled at that. “She’s from a very old, very aristocratic blood line.”
“Blood line? Is that how she put it? Sounds like a race horse, to me,” Sky said.
“Duvall is not an aristocrat’s cognomen,” Josef observed. “Perhaps her mother married beneath her?”
Cam frowned. “Hardly. She said that when her grandfather was forced to flee to England during the Terror, he found it expedient to adopt a less exalted name. And when the family returned to France, the political climate dictated they continue under the changed name.”
Josef thought to himself that he’d rarely heard such a load of horseshit. The idea of a French nobleman taking a lower-class name for anything other than the most temporary of disguises, was laughable. He’d been in London around that time—a change of scenery being indicated for his health—and he’d met a number of French émigrés, Every one of them had played their bloodline to the hilt. And then some. Of course, he knew full well there was no “grandfather” in the mix, either. She was of an age, she would have been fleeing to save her own pretty neck from Madam Guillotine. Still, that was nothing worth sharing with these humans. “A very romantic tale, to be sure.”
“Yes, it is,” Cam replied still on the defensive. “She says the family still feel like perpetual exiles. They can never trust their own countrymen again.”
Josef took a long draw on his cigar, enjoying the feel and taste of the smoke in his mouth. “A lesson we should all heed,” he said. “Sky, old man, are you keeping that decanter for yourself? My glass is empty.”
“I indulge myself, Fitz, what can I say?” His attempt at an elegant shrug came off as clumsy and affected, and he cursed inwardly, vowing to watch Fitz’s graceful moves and practice in his looking-glass. Still, it didn’t do to be too refined in his gestures. No matter how hard he tried to keep his secrets, certain propensities were hard to hide, and beginning to draw more whispers than he could afford socially.
“Well, kindly indulge your friends,” Josef replied.
Cam pulled out a pocketwatch and frowned at it. “Damn,” he said. “Gentlemen, pleasant as your company is, I have an engagement. Elsewhere.”
“At this hour?” Sky asked. “Has your engagement a charming French accent?”
Snapping his pocketwatch closed, Cam stood. “I don’t believe,” he said frostily, “that it’s any of your affair.”
“Have we not been down this lane already?” Josef said, deliberately slurring his words a touch.
“Oo-la-la,” Sky mocked, the slur in his own voice unfeigned.
“Schuyler, do try not to be such an unmitigated ass.”
The smile fell off Sky’s face, and he put his cigar and crystal snifter aside to rise and face his friend. “Not unmitigated, Cam,” he said. “I’m honestly worried about you, and if that makes me an ass, well, I’m sorry for it.”
Cam shook his head with a rueful smile. “I do understand, Sky. God knows I’m hearing it enough from my mother. Not sure why everyone’s convinced I’m too stupid to handle my own affairs. I know what I’m doing.”
Josef cleared his throat. “Older and wiser heads than yours have fallen prey to the wiles of a pretty, clever woman.”
“Wiles,” Cam scoffed. “Cora—Mlle. Duvall—is the sweetest, simplest creature I’ve ever met. There’s no harm in her.”
“Well,” Josef said, “you’ve known her longer than we have.” But I think I might know her better than you do, he added silently.
“Yes,” Cam replied. “I have. And now, I’ll bid you both good evening, and be on my way. I’ll see you tomorrow in my offices, Fitz.” He bowed slightly to them, and left, brushing by the servant bringing in a fresh decanter of brandy.
Schuyler dropped back into his seat, the leather upholstery creaking as it caught his weight. Frowning , he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair.
Josef waited, continuing to enjoy his smoke. He knew the other man would have opinions to offer, soon enough. No sense hurrying a fine cigar over it.
Sky retrieved his own cigar, and took a savage drag on it. “That went poorly. Damn, she’s got her claws in deep.”
“I knew she thought she did. And she’s right.”
“What’s it going to take to get her to let go?”
Josef laughed. “That one? From what I’ve seen, I’m afraid it’s bad. She’s not one that can be bought off.” He paused to tap the ash from his cigar. “She’ll get what she wants from him, one way or another.”
“But if not money, what does she want?”
Josef inhaled, blew a cloud of grayish white smoke out, and watched it dissipate against the dark paneling of the room. “What does she want?” he repeated. “What that kind always wants. Coraline Duvall wants his soul.”
I could picture the room in my mind and smell the cigars...
