A Message Delivered
The Evil Queen slit open the envelope and read the message from Sydney Reilly. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she read about the tapped phone and Tucker’s disloyalty. And then this…
“…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….”
Her eyes softened somewhat, wanting to feel the emotions, wanting to let herself believe that she was part of his life, the most enduring keystone of his happiness, as unchanging as the stars… but she was not quite able to let herself feel it. It had been a long time since she’d let herself go there.
As the courier waited, she quickly penned a note. The note read :
Ahhh, now you are dangerous, Mr. Reilly… but I think, perhaps, you underestimate me. I didn’t get where I am by believing every sweet word sent to me by a gentleman, you know. I do my own thinking, sweetheart, and it may surprise you to know… I have the equipment. - EQ
She smiled and sealed the envelope, then handed it to the courier. He gave her a respectful bow and left on his errand.
June 23rd, 2003 at 1:17 pm
WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM
To: Evil Queen, The City
From: Sydney Reilly, New York City, New York
ARRIVED NEW YORK STOP UNDERSTAND RELUCTANCE STOP MONKEY MACHINES OR ME STOP WILLING TO COLLABORATE BUT CAN DO THIS ALONE STOP BELIEVE YOU WILL MAKE RIGHT CHOICE IN END STOP REILLY
June 23rd, 2003 at 4:36 pm
She read the telegram, an amused expression on her face. Reilly was certainly confident, she’d give him that… but in the long run, would his sense of ethics conflict with hers? She wondered about that.
She looked out of her office windows at the storm raging through the City, a worried look crossed her face. The monkey machines did concern her, of course, they had already bought up every IPO’d stock on the market and what they’d sold wasn’t worth buying because of the inflated P/E ratios. New traders would find little to hold their interest in the Market, much less anything they could afford to buy, and unless other commodities and interests were introduced to the Market soon, it would stagnate even more.
A few loud-mouthed punks had also made things slightly complicated down at City Hall. They weren’t much of a concern… they weren’t big, just loud. The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter.
June 23rd, 2003 at 9:30 pm
WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM
To: Evil Queen, The City
From: Sasha Gramatikoff, Paris, France
READ NY TIMES (http://sydneyreilly.blogspot.com/) STOP REILLY MISSING PRESUMED DEAD NO BODY STOP HOTEL RANSACKED MONEY MISSING UNKNOWN ASSAILANT STOP FLYING IN TO BEGIN SEARCH STOP HAD HIGH REGARDS FOR YOU PLEASE ASSIST IF POSSIBLE STOP SASHA
June 23rd, 2003 at 9:59 pm
The Evil Queen picked up the phone and telephoned City Hall. Her call was put through immediately to the City Council. She urged them to investigate the matter thoroughly. Then she called Sloan. Sloan was an old family friend, but also worked for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency as an “operative” for the Cartel. Quickly she explained the situation to him.
“Sloan, this is a stupidity of such breadth and depth that it comes with an event horizon!” she said into the phone. “Yes… yes, that’s right… and check the train schedule and see if you can’t locate him somewhere along the route… yes, they’ve been notified and asked to investigate, as well… right… no, I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble, I can handle it… right… very good, I’ll be here.” She placed the phone back in it’s cradle.
She paced around the room talking to herself… “If they want trouble, I come from where they make it.” She lit another cigarette and gazed out at the City. It had a strange metaphysical elegance of death about it. She wasn’t frightened, no, far from it… it exhilarated her.
“Ha ha ha ha ha…”