Tinker Chapter 3
Surprise buttercups! A little something for the longest night/day or the shortest night/day - depending on hemisphere! I really need some kind of image for this thing...
As a piece of adornment, the device was exquisite. It looked like a fingerless glove made of silver mesh with a massive, faceted smoky quartz as the center stone on the back of the hand. Rings held it in place on the first and third fingers, as well as another large piece of quartz further up the forearm as the clasp. That’s what it looked like. What it was, was a vacuum-fed injection system with the poison reservoir in plain sight as the ‘smoke’ of the quartz. Lady P thought his miniaturization work was genius. The Mechanic’s skill was so far beyond Virgil’s that it was nearly magic.
He eyed the center stone with trepidation. It was a distillation of beta-pyridyl-a-methyl pyrrolidine, which amped the already lethal liquid to even more terrifying levels. A fast death, but ugly and painful, if the pig Lady R had tested it on at the estate was any sign. It would also be nearly untraceable since it was one of the most common toxins on the planet. Everyone would just assume a massive heart attack, maybe coupled with a stroke, and that would be that. Not that Virgil would be around to see it. In less than a fortnight, he was heading to Scotland for a month. The Dowager had been pleased that he was taking time for himself. She pointed out that since H had retired, Virgil had, at most, taken four days in a row off. “Such dedication is to be treasured, but not at the cost of your wellbeing, V. We’ll make sure you have a more regular schedule of downtime. Similar to the one the Ladies enjoy. Yes, I think that will work best.”
He boxed the device up in a jewel case for returning to Lady R. He’d made the case to drain the poison out after it was put back into the box with the press of a switch. It would lessen the chance of discovery and be one more layer of protection for Lady R. He wanted it no longer in his possession than was necessary.
--Brzzt-Brzzt--
Virgil nearly dropped the case as the intercom went off. He took a second to get his racing heart under control.
“Workshop.” “Ah, good, V, you are still here. Do you have a suit on the premises?”
Virgil just stared at the intercom. The Dowager never called him. She always sent one of the staff to get him. And she never asked questions like that. “Uh - yes my lady, I do.”
“Excellent, please don it and meet me in the Blue Salon as soon as possible.”
Again, he just stared at the intercom. “Yes, my lady.” There was a soft click as the intercom closed. He carefully set the case down on the workbench. Then he hurried over to the small bedroom that was attached to the workshop for the times he needed to work around the clock on something. After a shower so fast his clothes stuck to his still-wet skin, Virgil knocked on the door of the Blue salon. “Enter.”
The Blue salon was just that, blue. On the walls, in the enormous Persian rug, the drapes over the windows, and in the artwork. Gilt frames, rich wood, and cream fabric accented all that blue. There were times his fingers itched to paint all that, something impressionistic. Now was not one of those times. The Dowager was on the settee. Her pantsuit was a teal so deep in color it made the room fade around her. What made Virgil’s steps slightly hesitant was the tea trolly next to her. She couldn’t be expecting him to take tea with her, could she?
“My Lady.”
“V, perfect timing, as usual. Please be seated. Our guest should be here in a moment.”
“Yes, my lady.” Guest? There was no way he was going to sit next to the Dowager on the settee. That inferred a measure of intimacy that Virgil in no way aspired to. So, he gingerly sat on the chair facing the door.
He’d just settled when there was a knock on the door, which promptly opened to reveal Davis in all his butler's glory. “My Lady, Count Anton Dragomiloff to see you.” A tall man, in his middle to later years, clad in an impeccable suit, with an olive complexion, black hair, and darker eyes prowled into the salon. Virgil forgot how to breathe. The chairman of the Firm, in the same room with the Dowager, and they weren’t pointing guns at each other. Oh, God, this had gone from confusing to terrifying in a single heartbeat.
Dragomiloff came over and took the Dowager’s hand and kissed it. “My dearest Silly, the years have been gentle with you.” He looked at the chair with its back to the door and sat down with the careless grace of a leopard.
Virgil had to work to keep his jaw up. He had no clue what the Dowager’s true name was, but even if he did, he wouldn’t be so brash as to call her by a nickname. Dragomiloff was either very brave or had a massive death wish.
“Anton Ivanovich.”
“Oh, Silly, so very formal. I thought we were beyond that.”
A silvered eyebrow flicked upwards. “Antosha, then. What can the Ladies Aid Society do for the Firm?” She turned toward the tea trolly and started to pour.
Virgil just held still. This was like being a mouse trapped in a box with a pair of tigers. He had no clue why he was there, but if he was lucky, they would continue to ignore his presence.
“Actually, it’s what I can do for you.” He leaned forward and took the cup she handed him. “Silly, you remember!”
“Two sugars and a splash of milk isn’t that hard, Antosha.”
“No, but it’s been what… three decades since we last had tea?”
There was a small sniff of laughter. “I believe you tried to poison mine.”
He waved a hand. “The merest bagatelle.” He sipped from the cup. “Mao Fung. Now I know you remembered. I’m honored.” He sipped again.
“V?”
Virgil blinked and took the cup and saucer that was handed to him. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Ah, yes, the reason for my visit.” Dark eyes seemed to bore into Virgil’s head and shuffle through his brain. The gaze flicked away, and Virgil found he could breathe again. He tried to calm himself with a swallow of tea. “An impeccable source has told me that there is a bounty out on your weapon master. I believe the current amount is 5 million pounds.”
Virgil choked on his tea.
The Dowager set her cup and saucer down with the smallest of clicks. “What are the conditions?”
“I was told the preference is for ‘alive’. The same source told me that there is a similar bounty on my weapons master.” He sipped the tea again. “I have taken precautions, but I could not, in good conscience, let you operate in the dark. Going after our agents is one thing. Going after our support people is utterly unforgivable.”
The Dowager selected a biscuit and nibbled at it delicately. Once it was finished and the tea picked once again, “What is your opinion on the reason? Or perhaps your ‘impeccable’ source told you?”
“Sadly, they did not know.” He chose a petit four and demolished it in two bites. “I suspect, however, that someone is looking to start a new group, and has decided the best way to get a running start is to poach.” His lips twisted on the last word.
“Humph,” the Dowager refilled Dragomiloff’s cup, then her own. “That is unacceptable.” She sipped. “I am sure you did not come here just to tell me that.”
A silky smile was sent her way. “Perceptive as always, my dear Silly. I would like to propose a temporary truce. A cessation of hostilities until this newcomer is dealt with.” He sipped at his tea again. “I would also like to propose that for this interim we work together. This upstart won’t expect that.”
Virgil could see the thoughts racing in the Dowager’s eyes. He took another swallow of his tea and desperately wished it was whisky.
“I would like the terms in writing, if you do not mind, Antosha.”
“Silly, you wound me!” He pressed a hand over his heart. “You think I would try to get the better of you?”
The Dowager gave a peal of laughter, “My dear Antosha, I expect you to try to get the better of me.”
“Well, as long as we are on the same page.” That dark gaze turned back to Virgil. “You aren’t quite what I was expecting.” The attention returned to the Dowager. “I thought your weapon master was older.”
The Dowager’s lips tightened into a thin line. “He was.” She turned and pressed a discreet button on the tea trolly.
Davis opened the doors mere seconds later. “My lady?”
“Ladies M and J are currently in residence, I believe?’
“They are, my lady.”
“Please ask them to go collect H and take him to Hay-On-Wye. The bookshops should keep him happy for a while. They are to guard him until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, my lady.” Davis bowed and closed the doors as he did so.
Dragomiloff was watching the Dowager with a glint in his eyes. “Removing a pawn from the board, my dear?”
The eyebrow flicked up again. “Protecting my bishop, as you very well know.”
He toasted her with his teacup, a slow grin curving his mouth. She sniffed at him and turned back to Virgil. “Now I need to see what to do about my knight.”
Dragomiloff examined the tea in his cup. “Well, the knight sacrifice is always an unexpected opening. It would be an excellent way to see how good this upstart is.”
“Quite.” She chose a petit four this time. “Only if V wishes to, however.”
What V wished was to run to Scotland and never come back. What came out was: “Of course, my lady.”
