Midnight Flit

by Elin Gregory

  Miles heard him mutter some orders to Briers that boiled down to keeping to their rooms and not emerging until time to leave for the station. "Tell them Mrs S is ill or something."

  "As if they'll believe that," Briers scoffed. And Miles had to agree that his mother had never looked better. "It would attract more attention if we refuse. If you can't bear it Diana, Millie and I will go and with Nik and Ari as well - "

  "I'm not passing up a chance like this," Diana said.

  “And I need to replace my dressing case,” Miles said. “It will make life more convenient for Pritchard.”

  "Then I wash my hands of the lot of you," Smethwick snarled.

  "Ah well, you see, you can't actually do that, can you?" Briers grinned at him. "Not if you want to keep your job at the embassy."

  Miles bit back a comment to the effect that Smethwick, even as head of embassy security, was outranked by Briers's impeccable field agent status, but felt that wouldn't help with the mood of the discussion, and was relieved when Smethwick took himself off.

  Ruby, however, had no discernable inhibitions. As they all left the hotel she said, "Diana, what's put that bee in your brother's bonnet? He's been a complete bear since we first set eyes on him?"

  "I'm sorry," Diana said, slipping her arm through Miles's mother's. "I have to apologise for him. I don't think he means to be so abrupt. He just has no time for feminine frivolity."

  "Oh, one of that type of queer is he?"

  Miles, arm-in-arm with Briers, saw both Diana and Ma start.

  "Er - no, that wasn't quite - "

  Ruby laughed. "I know some perfectly lovely men who are great company, very easy to love, and would make wonderful husbands except for they don't want to... you know, and they tend to have perfectly lovely 'husbands' of their own, but there are always a few who behave as though women are devils intent on sucking their souls dry. Give me the other type any day." She cast an arch glance back at Briers. "Sorry if I'm shocking you, Mr Carstairs, Mrs Carstairs, but I prefer to be honest."

  "Oh, don't mind us," Briers replied.

  Miles gave him a gentle jab in the ribs because he could feel the little quiver that meant Briers was desperate to laugh.

  "I do not believe so." Nik Utkin spoke up, his brow creased in thought. "Because he keeps looking at your legs, Ruby."

  "Well, though I say it myself," Ruby said, "I do have a fair pair of gams."

  "Gams," Ma said. "I must remember to use that."

  Over the next two hours they learned that Mr Smethwick was a 'Mrs Grundy', but that the rest of their party were 'darb', also 'the berries', also 'the cat's pyjamas' and Ruby wanted them all to dine with her once she reached London. Ma also bought several small items of personal adornment, and Miles bought a birthday gift for his father plus the new dressing case to replace the one abandoned in Bucharest.

  As a pastime it was quite satisfactory. They attracted less attention that they might have feared, mostly because everyone was watching Ruby who flirted shamelessly with everyone, and to rather more purpose with Utkin.

  "Awww, Nik," Lacroix sighed when his arrival at Miles's other elbow coincided with a burst of laughter from Nik and Ruby.

  "What's the matter, Mr Lacroix?" Miles asked.

  "Nik's smitten," Lacroix murmured. "I hope she doesn't break his heart."

  It went without saying that Ruby was capable of it, but Miles felt it would be without malice aforethought. At the moment all Miles could see were two incredibly attractive young people doing what attractive young people did. They made a stunning couple.

  "Is Nik in the habit of falling in love?" he asked.

  "Horrifically," Lacroix sighed. "At least once a week. And then they leave and he says 'my life is over, ve vill drink wodka, and contemplate the arid vastelands of our souls until dawn'." the impression was uncanny. "Then we all have desperate hangovers next day. A week later he does it all over again. We're going to need a lot of 'wodka' when Ruby leaves us."

  'Us' was an interesting word to have used.

  "Have you been friends for long?" Miles asked.

  Lacroix looked away for a moment then shrugged. "About a year. I was working at that hotel playing piano and Nik - well he came as a guest, but ended up staying as a dance pro."

  They both watched as Nik turned around and almost demolished a stand of umbrellas.

  Lacroix's smile was very fond. "Not that you'd think it to look at him, but Nik's a really fine dancer. He just needs more space than most people."

  "I thought someone mentioned the ballet," Miles said.

  "That's true. He was doing really well, front row chorus, being trained up as an understudy, then he had a growing spurt and grew four inches and added 40lbs, mostly of muscle." Lacroix grimaced. "They let him go."

  "That's so unfair. With a little patience he'd have got used to himself and been just as good."

  "Yes, well we both figured a change of scene would be good"

  "Why London and not New Orleans? Surely you'd have more connections there?" Miles asked.

  "Big difference between Bourbon Street and Tottenham Street. It's a long time since I've been home," Lacroix said, but his attention was on Nik and he excused himself and went to help pick up the umbrellas.

  "Interesting." Briers had been eavesdropping shamelessly and Miles took his arm again.

  "Not least because, all the Americans I've ever met," Miles said, "say 'Tot-ten-ham'."

  "Rather than 'tottnum'." Briers hummed the M as he stooped to nuzzle Miles's ear. "How much longer do you think they are going to be? Any chance we could slip away?"

  Miles nodded towards Ma, who was being urged to try on a frock. "She's having so much fun," he said. "And if we did and anything happened, never mind that we'd never forgive ourselves, we'd have to endure Smethwick saying 'I told you so'."

  Briers groaned. "That's something I want to avoid. Come on, Millie, let's find something utterly ridiculous and insist that your mother tries it on."

  "Hats," Miles insisted, "then there's less chance they'll try to make me do it too."

  "Oh Lor', yes." Briers gave Miles a little squeeze. "Sometimes I forget."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Briers

  "Well, that was exhausting," Emily said, as they closed the suite door.

  Briers had once spent months hiking across Macedonia, poorly-equipped and under great stress. He felt that had been barely adequate preparation for going shopping with Ruby Aston. By the time she showed signs of flagging, Miles was looking pale and moving with care. Emily was in very good spirits, but he had caught her glancing at Miles with increasing frequency as the afternoon wore on, and eventually Briers had decided enough was enough and had broken up the party.

  Emily unpinned her new hat, tossed it onto the table then grabbed Miles's hand. "How are you?" she demanded. "Yes, fine, I know. But you don't look fine and you're walking like an old lady. I think you ought to see a doctor."

  "What? No." Miles looked to Briers for support. "I can't do that. Imagine the scandal."

  "Honestly, my dear, if it's a doctor who is on retainer at this hotel you won't be the strangest thing he's seen."

  Miles flushed and turned away. "I'm not seeing a doctor, but I will have another bath. The warmth is helpful."

  He took himself off, shoulders stiff as much with offence as pain, and Emily sighed.

  "Men," she said and grinned at Briers. "How is he really? I imagine that you've had all the medical training possible?"

  "Only the basics," Briers accompanied her to the sofa and seated himself beside her, "but loads of experience in the field. He's black and blue and took a hell of a jolt, but I don't think any ribs are cracked and - er - no signs of other internal damage." Because Briers had been checking for that with careful, gentle pressure to test for swelling and heat and to pinpoint where it hurt most. He had even insisted on checking Miles's urine for blood, much to Miles's embarrassment. "If I thought there was anything serious going on in there, I'd have him
to the nearest hospital no matter what he says about it. But honestly, Emily, I think he's just sore. As soon as he's home we can get him to his doctor, whether he likes it or not, but right now let's concentrate on the journey."

  "That's a good plan," Emily folded her hands in her lap. "You've been remarkably understanding about all this."

  "We're taught to think on our feet," Briers said. "And, of course, it's Miles."

  "Of course." Emily tilted her head and Briers braced himself for further interrogation. "You haven't asked what it was Von Stroebel told me."

  "No need for me to know," Briers said. "You're on your way to tell Charles Naylor and Sir James Lorimer. That has to come first. Then, if it's information you're allowed to pass on, you can tell Miles and me. I have to admit that I'm curious, but I know the drill."

  "How very sensible." Emily smiled. "Well I think it's probably time I saw to my packing and got ready. What time will we be dining?"

  "Nine o'clock," Briers said. "The cars will take us to the station at a quarter past eleven."

  "It'll be like a party," Emily said. "Best bibs and tuckers then. I'll see you later, Briers."

  As Emily opened her bedroom door, Briers heard her greet Pritchard, so he thought he probably had a few minutes to check on Miles.

  When Briers got into their room he wasn't surprised to see Miles's trunk, strapped and set on end beside the door, ready for transport. Alongside it stood Briers's suitcase.

  "It's already done," Miles, still in his frock, was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at his toes. He swivelled his feet on his heels then brought his toes back together with a snap of polished leather. "And Pritchard laid out our clothes out for this evening. Evening suit for you, something slinky in red for me with my grandmother's garnets."

  "I love you in that dress," Briers said. "It reminds me of that time in Paris."

  Miles smiled. "I like it too, but I'm going to clash horribly with Ruby's hair!"

  "I don't think she'll mind." Briers leaned on the end of the bed. "We're going to look like a proper circus, all heading off to the station in our finery."

  "Seeing the well-off but shallow flaunting their wealth when others are starving on the streets is what put paid to the Bright Young Things." Miles grimaced. "There's an element of 'I'm all right, Jack' about it that one can't like - and when a supper costs as much as a month's wages for a working man... - "

  "You can see how revolutions get started." Briers nodded. "But it's our job to stop that happening, so the sooner we get home and get you well and back to work, the better. Emily is with Pritchard. Do you want me to run you a bath?"

  "I'm not an invalid," Miles snapped and stood.

  "Never said you were," Briers replied. "Just remember all those months when I had a broken wrist and you performed all kinds of helpful services for me. I'm just trying to get my own back."

  Miles's peeved expression eased into a lopsided and rueful smile and he sat down again. "I'm sorry. It's just been a really long day."

  "And we've a way to go yet. You know, I reckon you're clean enough. Why not have a nap? There's no need to go down for cocktails if you don't want to; in fact, no need to go down at all before nine."

  "I could do with a Bloody Mary," Miles said. "But if I start on them now I'll be three sheets to the wind by dinner time. Having a nap sounds like a good idea."

  Briers tried not to raise his eyebrows. Miles snapping and indignant was nothing new, but Miles meek and subdued was a cause for concern. Briers fetched Miles's book from his bedside and helped Miles to take off his frock and pack it in the new case for tomorrow. Once Miles was under the covers he began to potter around, sorting out his own equipment.

  His evening suit was more tailored than his everyday suits, but his tailor had made unobtrusive allowances. Briers could carry a gun without it being obvious, and there were more than the usual number of pockets into which a few essential items could be stowed. Deciding what could be safety hidden in his suitcase and what should remain on his person took some careful thought.

  Once everything had been organised to his satisfaction, Briers went in search of Pritchard.

  "Good afternoon, sir." Pritchard was overseeing two porters' removal of Lady Siward's trunk, plus a modest but good quality suitcase labelled up with Pritchard's own mews address. "Is it all right to collect sir's baggage now?"

  "Er - Mrs Carstairs is asleep," Briers warned. "I'll slip in and fetch it myself, if you can ask the men to wait?"

  "I will, sir. I wouldn't want to disturb her."

  Briers crept back into the bedroom and dragged the trunk and his case to the door, then handed it over to the two porters. As soon as they had gone he turned to Pritchard and said, "I have no idea how long I'll be allowed to stay once we get to London, so I'd like you to promise me to make sure Miles goes to see his doctor. I'm getting concerned."

  "I promise, sir. Is he getting stroppy?"

  "No. If he was stroppy that would just be Miles trying to rise above it all. He's quiet. I just patronised him and after an initial snap and bristle he just ..." Briers collapsed on the sofa like a marchioness with the vapours.

  "I rather doubt that, sir. Dear me, you do have a flair for the dramatic!"

  Briers snorted. "All right, it wasn't at all like that. But I am worried."

  "You have every right to be. Ribs are chancy things. I got blown off my feet by a shell in August '18 and was still feeling it on Armistice Day." Pritchard nodded. "I think you would benefit from a change of scene. Why don't you go down and see if you can find someone to fleece at billiards? There are a number of very good tables in a room near the bar."

  "Really?" Briers got up again. "Then I'll be back to dress in an hour."

  "Very good, sir," Pritchard said.

  Briers hurried down the stairs. Not that he was exactly a shark at the tables, but he was rather better than anyone else he had met - and sometimes it was really therapeutic to show off. Also, the distraction plus a whisky and soda would do very well to stave off his worries about Miles.

  He gave his room number to the barman and told him where to deliver the glass and soda syphon, then set up a snooker table at the far end of the room and began to experiment. It wasn't long before the sharp crack of ball on ball attracted attention. Sadly, the player concerned was Jonah Rudd.

  "Hello," he said. "Have you worn the little missis out?"

  "Do you play?" Briers felt that beating him at snooker would be almost as satisfying as beating him with the thick end of the cue.

  "Not as well as you do," Rudd said with a knowing grin. "So there's no point asking me to put a few dollars on the game to - er - make it more interesting."

  "Pity," Briers said and began to set up on another table. "I'd been looking at the hotel wine list and the prices are shameful."

  Rudd chuckled. "I know what you mean - it tastes so much sweeter if someone else pays for it. Oh, and that being the case, I wonder if I should introduce you to someone I just met. Swiss, I think, and dressed up to the nines. He can probably afford a bottle or two of Bollinger."

  "If he's that well-heeled you should ask him to invest in your next cinematic extravaganza," Briers suggested. He potted a red with a vicious smack. "William Tell. Ruby could play Mrs Tell."

  "I'll look into that. Ah, here's the guy now."

  Briers spared a glance before taking his next shot. Impeccable evening suit, Martini, cigarette in an amber holder, monocle - looking, as Jonah would probably put it, a million dollars. Briers sent balls careening around the table to thud into the holes one after another.

  Falk - because of course it was - raised his glass. "Oh, very well done," he said, and went to get himself a cue.

  Briers leaned on the edge of the table and grinned. Falk was nearly as good as he was, but not quite. "I don't think I've seen you before," he said and offered his hand. "Brian Carstairs."

  "Just arrived. Shall we put a few fillér on the game to make it more interesting?"

 
They shook hands and set up the table again, with Jonah circling them and making helpful comments. It was second nature to fill each other in on necessary information as quickly and concisely as possible, and Brian committed Falk's legend to memory - Jan Favre, Swiss, businessman, travelling to London for a meeting to do with transfer of assets and the Gold Standard. Rudd pricked up his ears at that, and Briers anticipated that Falk would have a new best friend.

  "Just so you know," Briers said, once they had started playing, "I've had this brilliant idea about a film. Mr Rudd there could let you in on it as an investor if you played your cards right."

  "But we are playing snooker," Falk pointed out. "And I know I will lose because I overheard Mr Rudd trying to set me up to pay your drinks bill tonight. Which is why I suggested only a twenty fillér stake."

  Briers chuckled and played one of his favourite trick shots - Falk had gone to some trouble to set it up for him. "You're a good sport," he said. "Many men would have taken offence."

  "I'm used to it," Falk said. "But Mr Rudd - ah, he's gone. What is the term? Good riddance?"

  "That about sums it up," Briers agreed. "Good to see you looking so prosperous. And at least thirty years younger. But honestly Falk - Jan Favre."

  Falk grinned, eyes bright. "A little joke just between the two of us. Also Jan was the persona most readily accessible and least like Father Falcone."

  "Ah! I wondered why you'd dropped off the map. Smethwick's met the good Father?"

  "Under trying circumstances, yes. He probably hadn't heard the name, but I preferred not to take the chance. Jan is more fun, anyway. I can drink a little, perhaps flirt a little - and carting that book around was annoying."

  Falk's evening jacket was cut along the same lines as Briers's.

  "Speaking of annoying," Briers said, "have you been in touch with your office? Anything going on that I should know about?"

  "More than I am at liberty to say," Falk said with a smile. "But what I heard led me to buy a ticket for tonight's Paris train. Even if you and your dear ladies had not been on it, I would be planning to ship out."