Over lunch, Eamon perfects his image of the bon vivant by ordering wines to compliment the different courses. He presses ever on. He pries into her world at LSE. In a foolish effort to impress Eamon, Lady Banks gossips about the dons in her department. He now has Lady Banks estranged from her home base. After a full day of touring, he invites her to stay over another night. Lady Banks has completely lost her perspective.”
Anna asks, “How so?
Harriet answers competently, “Eamon, through the shrewd use of setting and heady conversation, seduces Lady Banks into seeing herself as the lady of mystery. Lady Banks begins to think and behave as the lady of intrigue in a dime store mystery. Lady Banks has become a character in Eamon’s fiction. It’s a total eclipse of the moon. Lady Banks is so in character that she fails to see that she is out of character.”
Anna lets out a long sign, “Oy vey!”
Harriet remains focused on Lady Banks. “Eamon by turning Lady Banks’ head turns her world inside out, upside down. In just forty-eight hours, he manipulates her into quitting her post at the British Pavilion. He gives her the keys to his west side studio. He tells her that he has another place up by the college. She can continue with her research now uninterrupted.”
Anna uneasy and anxious interrupts Harriet and asks, “Lady Banks buys that?”
Harriet tries to explain, “Remember Lady Banks is all of twenty. She’s bewitched. You remember bewitched? And Eamon has a proper hook.”
The question falls upon Anna’s lips, “Hook? Proper?”
Harriet answers, “Indeed, he provides her with the benefit of his years of study in her research field. He reorders a detailed outline for her thesis. But the rub is this. Lady Banks is made to feel that she is the usurper. She’s invaded his space. She picks his brain. She never suspects that Eamon is on the make.”
Anna brushes the snow off her nose and speaks with some embarrassment, “You mean seduction?”
Harriet grins, “Yes, seduction is Eamon’s only game. Sex is the corner stone of this relationship. It is crucial that Lady Banks transcend her inhibitions. It is well integrated into this web of intellectual exploration. First, Eamon convinces Lady Banks that her sexual concepts are petite bourgeois.
In his sexual pursuit, Eamon assumes the role of high priest. Every attention is paid to atmosphere. He lights holy candles and incense. On the hi-fi, he plays the soft jazz of the thirties. He prepares the ritual bath. He talks to her about the ancient Eastern rites of lovemaking. Nothing is left to chance.
His goal is to break down Lady Banks’ inhibitions. Under the mantle of intellectual discourse, he harkens back to ancient sacred rites. He expounds on classical antiquity’s adoration of nudity. He describes in great detail the infinite variations on the sex act. He strokes her ego with compliment after compliment about her classic beauty. He invites her to learn the many ways of making love. And the rub again, while he promises to liberate her, he cunningly infers her inferiority. He promises that he will make a real woman of her. Thus Eamon establishes himself not only as her intellectual guru but also her teacher in the way of love.”
Harriet pauses. Anna sees that they are out of the woods now. With the new fallen snow on the house, Anna appreciates the full wonder of its architectural design. The snow on the roofline makes the house truly a part of the landscape. Its sharp lines soften and disappear altogether. The understated warm glow from the copper brushed chandeliers and the glimmer from the fireplace suggest home, hearth and hospitality within.
Inside the mudroom, Anna asks, “So Eamon’s man of letters pose is real but it is also a legend. He is really the initiator. His object is to seduce and secure Lady Banks for his side.”
Harriet answers succinctly, “Score!”
A chill stings Anna’s spine. She can’t shake the fear that this is a scene out of the Christmas Carol. And Harriet is the ghost of Christmas past. Silently, she chides her conspiratorial mind for scaring her at such heights. Yet she is frozen in time and space. Sherlock rushes in with warmed blankets and towels. He can’t help but laugh.
“Anna, your nose, you could apply for the job of top reindeer in Santa’s Revue! Get out of those wet things. Wrap your head in this warm towel. I have one for you too Harriet.”
Anna just taps her left foot and then her right foot.
Situated comfortably and snugly in front of the fire, the two women retreat into their own thoughts. Sherlock is busy in the galley. Anna conscious of the quiet turns to Harriet and whispers, “Is it okay to go on with the story?”
Harriet smiles softly, “Would you prefer Sherlock to make himself scarce?”
Sherlock returns with two short whiskey glasses. He hands one to each. “A sip of mulled wine to warm you…? So what have you two been up too?”
Anna answers, “I am my usual pesky self when it comes to Lady Banks. Harriet is filling in the shadows of the tale of Lady Banks. In her detailing, I see that I underestimate the swift and deep currents of deception. ”
Harriet stares intently at the flames as they lick over and under the logs. To no one she mutters, “This river runs deep.”
Anna feeling slightly more human asks, “Shall we go on?”
The warmth of the fire thaws Harriet also. She pulls her stocking feet under her. She rests her back deep into the pillows of the settee. She updates Sherlock, “We were about Lady Banks’ seduction or induction, if you will, when she went abroad for the first time.”
Sherlock nods silently to acknowledge their progress. Harriet turns quiet. She bites her lower lip. She runs her fine bone hands through her hair. Anna thinks ‘just as Sherlock would do if he had hair.’ Anna doesn’t know what to make of the silence. She can’t abide the silence. It encourages her internal demons to squawk.
She jumps into the void, “I was surprised when you said that Eamon was but the initiator. I thought for sure that he was her Lord Banks.”
Harriet rests her head on her upright knees and says, “Exactly and so does Lady Banks.”
With eyes affixed on the burning embers that glow red hot at the base of the fire, Harry explains,
“In the world of matinee love affairs, Eamon might be a Lord Banks to our Lady Banks. But in the game of spook seduction, he is ‘the initiator.’ His only interest is to seduce and secure Lady Banks. And as in most matters of espionage, time is of the essence. The seduction of Lady Banks is quick. There is no pause to consider and reflect. In two short weeks, Lady Banks’ life is forever changed, compromised. Her life will never be her own.
Lady Banks returns to London as planned. She resumes her lowly position as student. But she is terribly sick, the worst kind of sick, love sick.”
Harriet pauses and looks over at Sherlock. He winks at her. She smiles softly and adds, “They have yet to find a cure for love sickness.”
She resumes her tale, “Lady Banks refuses to see her family and friends. She tells no one about her torrid love affair with the head of the American Lit department at Hunter College. She promised to keep their affair sweet and secret. It’s not long before Lady Banks grows restless. Her London ties and responsibilities shackle her self-expression. No one can measure up to the erudite and sophisticated Eamon. ”
Anna feels an urgent need to find a way out for Lady Banks. “I don’t understand why she can’t resume her family ties.”
Harriet jerks involuntarily in Sherlock’s direction causing him a twinge of anxiety. In a nano second he composes himself and attempts to enlighten Anna. “The fact is Anna, she can’t go back home. That is she is lead to believe that she can’t go home. The agency through a series of well orchestrated maneuvers causes an impassable rift between Lady Banks and her family.”
He peers over his gold-rimmed pearl speckled glasses looking for a sign from Anna. She is not about to allow this matter to slide again. She asks, “How are they able to do this?”
Sherlock takes a moment to compose his next remark. He carries on,
“Commonly the rift occurs thr
ough miscommunications. For example, phone messages go astray. Neither party hears from the other which leads to ill feelings. Appointments are missed because of agency interferences.”
Harriet interrupts here, “Say Lady Banks manages to arrange a family meeting any number of obstacles can and will occur. It may be a matter of car trouble that maroons her. When she tries to alert the family, she can’t find a working phone. Or she is detained purposely at a meeting causing her to be late. Eventually the family becomes miffed by Lady Banks’ standoffishness and visa versa.
The agency arranges to distract Lady Banks, to keep her from attending any of the family events. The family grows to accept her absence. The obstacles will be minor irritations at first. Over time they wear away at the ties that bind them. Lady Banks appears to be inconsiderate and indifferent. True to her profile, Lady Banks assumes that she is to blame. It all plays upon deeply embedded feelings from early childhood of guilt and shame. She resigns herself to the fact that her family has dispossessed her.”
Sherlock adds a footnote, “And you will recall that we did speak about more permanent severances, as in the case…”
Anna recalls only too well. She raises her hand to stop him there. She takes a breath and then says, “I remember. They might arrange for a remote move or a convenient ‘accident.’ I’m beginning to see the nuances here. Thank you for making this so transparent. Please go on.”
Harriet nods and says, “Before the flames of passion cool to dying embers, Lady Banks gets a letter from Eamon. His sensuous prose rekindles the heat. He bewails that the Frick Museum will forever seem empty without her. He promises to keep her seat warm at the library till she returns. She smiles when he writes that the stone lions, Patience and Fortitude that guard the Fifth Avenue entrance to the library, call her name everyday. As a necessary aside, he must ask after her work. Lady Banks’ love letter is in fact a critical test to assess her state of mind. Is she receptive? Is she loyal? Is she coping? Will she come over?”
Harriet tries to pick up the story but her throat is parched. She squeaks. Sherlock gets up to remedy the situation. He bends over Harriet and says, “I’ll put the kettle on.”
As he moves off, he pats Harriet’s head to mark his support.
Harriet brushes him away. “Off old man, tea sounds good. Better yet, why not wine? It is my cup of tea these long winter nights. What about you Anna?”
Anna answers without hesitation, “Perrier, no I mean mineral water, if you have it? Thank you.”
On his way to the galley, Sherlock passes Anna echoing softly the familiar refrain from an old Eagles tune,
“‘Take It Easy. Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.’”
Harriet picks up the refrain, “’Looking for a lover who won’t blow my cover… is so very hard to find. Take it easy.’”
She pats the seat next to her on the settee. She implores Anna to sit. Anna takes up the seat vacated by Holmes. His residual body heat comforts her.
Harriet resumes, “As we say, Lady Banks is over the moon. Eamon’s love letters propel her imagination into overdrive. Infatuation blinds Lady Banks. She in turn answers his lurid love letters in kind. Although, the only address she has is a PO Box.
Three months go by and then without the slightest consideration of consequences, Lady Banks makes a rash move. Swept away in the spontaneity of the moment, with no warning, she takes the red eye out of London nonstop to New York. From the lobby of the TWA terminal at LaGuardia she calls Eamon. He was expecting her call any day now. However, he didn’t foresee her on his doorstep. He directs her to check into the Howard Johnson motel at the airport. He will get back to her as soon as he can get away.
The romance, the mystery, the glitz and glam of the art and letters world of the erudite Eamon are sadly absent in the seedy motel room. Alone for hours in the dingy, dank room, jet lagged, hungry and isolated, Lady Banks feels foolish beyond measure. In the dark of night, Eamon finally calls back. Of course, prior commitments prevent him from seeing her. He directs her to return to London on the next plane. When the term is over, he will find a way to meet her in London.”
Anna interrupts Harriet, “Whoa! Am I on the same page here? The game plan is to set Lady Banks up for the big brush off?”
Anna shudders as Sherlock calls out “Of course, Watson!”
He doesn’t see that he has spooked her. His attention is on the tray that he carries bearing libations. He sets down three tall midnight blue tumblers, three hand blown crystal wine glasses, a small bottle of Henniez, Swiss mineral water and a bottle of Moliere, Swiss white wine. He eyes Harriet as he adeptly uncorks the cold bubbly. She grins at his antics and nods silently her approval of his selection. He pours the sweet grape allowing a bountiful layer of foam at the top. Harriet takes his offering. She waits till all have a glass of something. For Anna, he pours half a tumbler of the cool mineral water. As he hands her the water he adds,
“I give you a taste of antiquity. It is tapped locally. The Romans coveted it when they were on their march.”
She accepts and nods in turn her silent thanks. For himself, he studies the two choices. He looks to the clock and then to the wine and decides that wine will be fine. He raises his glass and bows deeply to Anna and Harriet. The trio toasts in silence. Sherlock gets comfortable by the fireplace where he can observe Anna’s and Harriet’s every action. He sees that Anna is waiting on him.
“I see that lost look in your eye. Where were we? Oh yes! Indeed, the big brush off is part of Eamon’s job as the initiator.”
He pauses to see if Anna has turned the page with him. She merely bites her lower lip a nervous tick that signals to him that this is all too painful.
Sherlock goes on, “Keep in mind that you are now in the Morals Free Zone. Back at the HQ, Eamon’s colleagues are busy drawing lots as to the day that Lady Banks will come over.”
Anna’s head jerks quickly from Sherlock to Harriet. The latter not wanting to lose the momentum, explains “As rebbe implies, Eamon’s powers of persuasion precede him. There is never a doubt that he will get his man or woman in this case. The question is when.”
Words failing her, Anna asks, “Really?”
Sherlock reaffirms, “Spooks are highly competitive, territorial and crude. They have their little inside games and pranks that they find entertaining. Eamon and his colleagues are no exception. His department routinely runs a book on Eamon as he sets up his mark. ”
Sherlock shakes his head yes to prompt an acknowledgement from Anna. Harriet looks over to Anna to see if she is satisfied on this point. Anna nods tentatively signaling a reserved okay. Harriet is about to go on with her revelations of Lady Banks when Anna raises her hand. She needs more information before going forward,
“What is Eamon’s connection? Is he working for the English publisher?”
Sherlock underlines the question with a question, “Does it matter? They all work off the same handbook.”
Anna bows her head and mumbles a low and long, “A spook is a spook is a spook!”
Harriet in a calm voice tries to get back to the main story, “Indeed it’s a muck up, a well orchestrated muck up.
Instead of turning her anger onto Eamon, Lady Banks chides herself for ever thinking that she had a future with Eamon. She follows his order. She is on the next flight back to London. She takes small comfort in the fact that she didn’t tell anyone about her midnight escapade to meet her secret lover. Only she will know the shame.”
Again Anna feels the need to save the young Lady Banks, “Surely Lady Banks realizes now that she’s been duped? Surely, she will get on with her life and bury so slight an indiscretion?”
Harriet shakes her head acknowledging Anna’s hopes. “Ah ‘surely' but the fact is that she teeters on the edge of a Black Hole. Remember nothing is left to chance in these seductions.”
The bleak and stark reality of this game of subversion causes Anna to twinge. Her stomach free falls. The ghost of Christmas past p
resses in on her. Sherlock now familiar with the whiter shade of pale that shrouds her face comes to her rescue. “Harry, I say, you’ve cornered the bloody bottle. I believe a touch of the grape for Anna will do nicely.”
Harriet understands. She obliges Sherlock. He goes on to say, “It is like this, Anna. The ad that Lady Banks answered was the first in a series of traps or tests if you will. The publishing company was a front, the World’s Fair, the battle ground.
By way of general info, every convention has a hidden agenda. These fairs, expos and conventions are recruiting events for intelligence agencies around the world. Spy Scouts rival the number of visitors. I don’t exaggerate.
And I might as well add that, at any one time, in the major libraries across the globe, at least a quarter of the patrons are spooks on the make for new recruits.
In our story, the publisher who posted the vacancy is legitimate and, at the same time, a front. Like their counterparts in organized crime, intelligence operations use well established businesses as fronts. The publishing company does publish. The actual agenda is to gather information, identify recruits and maybe even a bit of laundering, money laundering, of course.”
An eerie silence hovers. Sherlock sees that Anna is not happy. But Anna knows that their every word, their every implication is true. No word of objection or judgment comes from Anna. Sherlock takes this as a sign to get on with it.
“You have the floor, Harry.”
Harriet resumes, “There is a subtly here that I want to underscore before we leave Eamon’s mission is not only to seduce Lady Banks but also to destabilize her. You see, Eamon never once asks Lady Banks to join him. He manipulates maneuvers and plays Lady Banks so that she makes the move believing that she originated the action. Lady Banks flies out in the dark of night for a surprise tryst with her lover. Her expectations are running high. This makes the inevitable, her let down, ever so devastating. This rebuff belittles her. She flounders. She suffers the blame alone.”
The Christmas Pudding Lie Page 25