Late One Night
The rain was coming down in great wild torrents in the darkness outside. A chill wind howled across the desolate cityscape, whipped the dark surface of the river, and shrieked across the lonely strip of highway that snaked along the shoreline. A single set of headlights appeared from around a bend and slowly made their way along the road as if they were fighting the wind and the rain for every inch of forward progress. The headlights were those of a 1933 Pierce Silver Arrow sedan, one of only three surviving… the personal car of the Evil Queen.
The car pulled up in front of a high-rise in the heart of the city, the offices of The Cartel were located here on the thirteenth floor of this building. Her driver stepped out and opened her door. A doorman with an umbrella rushed up to the car and escorted her inside. “Thank you, Carl,” she said, handing him a handsome tip, “I’ll be working quite late this evening. No visitors, please.” The doorman nodded and smiled, pocketing the cash.
On the elevator ride to her office, she removed her long black coat and the fedora she always wore. Tucker, her assistant, met her at the office door. She’d telephoned him earlier, and he’d stayed on after hours finishing up the daily correspondence. An ambitious young man, Tucker worked very hard at handling the small details around the office. Condensing the day’s Market data into a useful form was one of his specialities, and he knew how to prioritize things and present them in order of importance to his boss. When she arrived, all the reports were on her desk waiting for her, and a fresh pot of coffee had just finished brewing.
A thoughtful look on her face, the Evil Queen leaned back in her leather executive chair after reading the messages taken by Tucker. “A spy in our midst? Hmmm… Sydney seemed like such an attractive fellow too… generous and mannerly, at any rate.” She fitted a cigarette into the long cigarette holder and Tucker lit it for her. She exhaled a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, then arched a brow at Tucker. “What’s your assessment of the situation with Reilly?”
Tucker hesitated a moment.
“Well, out with it! I don’t have all night!” She seemed irritated. Tucker squirmed… he hated it when she got irritated, but at the same time, he was sure she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“Sorry… Sydney Reilly appears to be a… what’s the word?… a counter-spy? He’s working for some sort of secret organization… we’re not sure who just yet… and then there’s this Felix character, a punk, really, but supposed to have some sort of connections… I have, of course, sent word out. We’ll know more in a few days’ time, I’m sure.”
“Days? You think I have days to sit around in this office and wait for your clowns to report back? Ha! Tucker, you haven’t learned a thing, have you?” the Evil Queen gave him a disgusted sneer. “Go! Get out of the office and talk to your street hoodlums, I need information and I need it NOW!” she screamed at him, backing him out of her office just as she slammed the door, nearly hitting him in the face with it. Tucker scrambled to get his jacket on and ran for the elevators. She smirked, and then sat back down behind her desk. She picked up the pile of correspondence and began going through the papers.
It appeared that two of her colleagues had flown out of the country on urgent business, leaving herself and Ashes to handle the Cartel’s Market affairs. A number of ambitious Players had suddenly decided that they were either a part of The Cartel or some rival faction called The Syndicate, but neither of those rumors concerned her for the moment. The evil villain, MonkeyX, had also retreated into parts unknown for the time being. The City Council seemed to be bogged down in some sort of bureaucratic mire, but that was to be expected, she supposed. The City newspaper seemed to be in some sort of a holding pattern, she hadn’t seen a new edition in well over a month… it wouldn’t surprise her if the workers decided to strike.
She puffed on her cigarette… her thoughts returned to Sydney Reilly. What Tucker didn’t know is that her colleagues had made an “arrangement” earlier in the week. She didn’t think Reilly would be a problem… at least, she hoped not. Men like Reilly were rare, like a fine wine with a delicate bouquet… yes, there were things she needed to discover about Sydney Reilly and whatever business he was involved in.
“Time will tell…” she whispered.
June 22nd, 2003 at 2:58 am
I am having this note couriered to you. Don’t bother tailing the messenger, he’s just some stret urchin hired for the purpose. He knows nothing, and you have better things to spend your manpower chasing.
Most entertaining, and from a most formidable opponent, and may I say, a charming one? I have not faced such a beautiful adversary since Mata Hari… of course that did not end well, for her, at any rate.
However things between us are quite different. Though you may not know it yet. Advice: fire Tucker. How do you think I tapped your phone lines?
Yes yes, if that’s true… why tell you to fire him? One, you will find out anyway, since he is so poor at hiding his true intentions. And two, I am concerned that the Cartel maintain security. I can always obtain finer spies in your organization, if I were so inclined, but Tucker was too easy. It only took a promise of a new automobile! Imagine what the Syndicate could get out of him, with a little combination of bribery and violence!
For Tucker’s safety, as well as the Cartel’s integrity, fire him. Let him go work for some boring company like Proctor and Gamble, where the biggest secret is what dye combination they use on their paper towels.
Meanwhile… may I say that the stars in the mid-Atlantic are mesmerizing? If only you were here, we could share a glass of Domaine St. Michelle under this canopy of night, on the teak decks of the S.S. Dresden, while music plays softly from a phonograph somewhere below….