What Happened in Vienna, Jack?

by Daniel Kemp

  As I left, following the map that Salvatore had drawn on a restaurant order slip depicting my new apartment in relation to both the bank and Leeba Stockford's boutique law firm, I mused over how to spend Stockford's largesse. Would it be on a car? I had never learned to drive in England and driving on the wrong side of the road here in America did not seem appealing enough to squander money on learning that craft. A bed might be needed, but perhaps new clothes? Now that was something worth considering as I had very few with me. All the eagerness of an extravagant lifestyle disappeared as I turned the corner into Baxter Street where an ugly, tall block of greying concrete apartments was staring straight at me as if in reprimand to my desires of pleasure. Eighteen storeys of grime with a minimum of windows and only a tiny number of apartments having a balcony. It was in this building that my life in New York was to be lived. My solitary remaining hope was that it overlooked the park in front of the block, and not the endless buildings behind.

  Jack had said that it was furnished, but his idea of furnishing was a long way from mine. I decided not to make my day any worse by looking inside and finding out. Saving any more disappointments for later, I made my way towards Leeba, silently praying that visit would go sufficiently well to lift my now downhearted mood.

  Her offices were opposite the US Centre of Citizenship and Immigration in a small intimate building resembling more of an English one than anything I'd seen since arriving in New York. It was brick-built with sash windows and what's more, consisted of a mere two floors with a basement area, all of which were part of the Stockford & Crawford, Attorneys at Law. Inside the ground floor glass door I was immediately greeted by two smiling, well-dressed women seated behind a rich, curving wheat coloured marble desk, bedecked with a battery of telephones and two bulky computer screens that almost filled the whole of the contemporary, stylish reception area.

  “Good afternoon, Mr Redden! We were told to expect you sometime today. Welcome on board the S & C. I'm Christa. Jennifer has the honour of accompanying you to Miss Leeba's office. It's very good to see you,” she added on answering a ringing telephone.

  “How did you know my name?” completely surprised, I asked of the standing attractive Jennifer who, although holding my fascination could not wholly divert it from the title of Miss attributed to Leeba.

  “By the description we were given, Mr Redden. Height, weight, looks and hair colouring. Plus there's nobody else expected today, sir. Monday is set aside for in-house case appraisals and reconciliation,” she explained.

  I was beginning to think that being blond along with everything else in my life was predetermined by Jack. For the first time since my remonstration at the hairdressers I wondered what Fianna would think of my new persona.

  The previous animosity I'd experience was replaced by Leeba's sincerity and consideration, balanced by a degree of understandable suspicion. After she greeted me with a warm and friendly handshake, I took my place in the chair in front of her desk, trying hard not to stare at the well-stocked drinks cabinet standing beside one of the four windows that looked out onto the street, but my diffidence brought no reward. My thirsty anticipation of alcohol went unanswered; instead I soberly drank the coffee I was offered.

  “Let's dispense with the formalities first. Richard has informed me that you are aware of our full family's history. My brother trusts the man who told you our story so it follows that I must trust you, Shaun. I find it odd that a complete stranger knows more about us than we know and even more strange that my brother accepts that situation. However, all that's out of my control. I'm left with nothing but to comply with the arrangements.” She glared at me, trying to search inside my soul for hidden secrets, but her glare was tinged with compassion not anger. The title of Miss was confirmed by the lack of a wedding ring on her finger, neither did she wear any other jewellery.

  “Richard has explained part of why you're here. He left most of that explanation shrouded in mystery. I assume your work will be more investigatory than simple everyday research. As I understand things your main interest, for the time being at least, will be the pending merger of my brother's company with KGA where Karl Weilham is an undisclosed, but legitimate stock holder. I'm guessing that your expertise will not necessarily be aimed at the legitimate side of business.” There was a hint of depravity in her voice and mirrored on her face.

  “I hope I haven't given you the impression that you're not wanted here, or unappreciated. That is not the case at all. And to show how much we welcome you I've had the office next to this one prepared for your sole use. There's an interconnecting door which will make things more convenient, as I assume that you and I will be meeting many times before you've finished whatever it is Richard wants from you. I've had a list prepared of the company's employees. There are not many, but too many to confine to one's memory in a short time. You may find it useful while you settle in. Is there anything my firm can do for you now to help smooth your way into the life here in New York City?”

  She was of medium height with a trim, well-proportioned figure. Shapely legs and a small behind. The conventional lemon yellow business suit of a lightweight material and low cut cream blouse hung snugly to her body, holding my gaze the longer I looked. A sharp featured rounded face with a sloping nose, bronzed complexion with deep, narrowly set brown eyes. She wore little makeup, just eye shadow and mascara; both of which were brown. Her long raven black hair swayed as she moved around the room and the scent of a crisp, sharp, exotic perfume served as the finishing touch to her appeal. She may have been at forty-eight more than twice my age, but time could not dull how seductive she was. By her confident bearing and perfunctory welcome speech I had no doubt that if this woman wanted privacy then the transgressor would be dismissed in a flash. Pushing those corporeal instincts I had just experienced to the back of my mind for another day, I tackled the austere possibility of living a restrained life in a bleak home.

  “There is one thing that's occurred me, Leeba. Your brother has rented an apartment for me, a few blocks away on Baxter Street. I haven't looked inside yet, but I doubt if there's much in the way of furniture. Could you point me in the right direction to buy some cheap stuff, such as a bed and a couple of chairs etc.”

  “There's no need for that, Shaun. That property is one of several that my sister Penina, owns. I know it looks a little rundown from the outside, but I can assure you that it would have been furnished to a very high specification. That whole area is on the up with a facial refurbishment due on the building in the not so far off future. We're Jewish, remember, Shaun. With that comes a reputation of wise and shrewd investments.” A heavenly smile accompanied that comment, which only served to arouse my interest to new heights.

  “I'm not sure what reputation the Irish have brought upon themselves in this city, but I'm becoming aware that it's not a good one judging by the hairdressers I've just come from. Are they all so obnoxious in this part of town?”

  “You must have picked the wrong one, but the change of hair colouring added to the mystique that surrounded you. Richard said that you would be having your red hair dyed blond. He didn't say why that was, but I presumed it was done with anonymity in mind.” I was right about Jack then.

  “Yes, it was suggested that it might be more prudent. Red does tend to stick out a bit,” I answered politely.

  “Also indicative of a temper, so I'm told.” I never answered that implied question and instead I asked my own.

  “I take it your sister Penina is a rich woman in her own right then?” I figured that although she was aware of my knowledge, discretion was more favourable than stark disclosure. That was not my only reason. I hoped that a principled approach would add to the mystique she attributed to me.

  With her cheeks puffed out in pride and pleasure she smilingly answered.

  “Very much so! She's a classical musician by training, on both the violin and the cello. Unfortunately she seldom plays nowadays, preferring to concentrate on musical scores for the movie
business. Penina is extremely successful in that regard. She's written for many of the top grossing modern-day movies that have originated in Hollywood. She does stage productions, as well as owning her own recording studio in Beverly Hills. I have a collection of some of the highest profile modern singing artists who have recorded there. It's a prized possession of mine. I'll show it to you one day. When your clandestine work for Richard allows for it.”

  “That would be extremely nice of you, Leeba. I'll look forward to the day, but my work is not that secretive. I think sensitive would be a more correct definition.”

  “Is there a difference?” she asked with that smiling laugh again lighting up her face. This time I too laughed, bowing my head towards her in recognition of her humour and her understated awareness of my role.

  “You take your time in moving into the office, Shaun. Everything Richard and I thought you might need is in there. I understand that you don't drive. Is that right?” she asked, to which I replied that I didn't.

  “In that case you will need our driver with one of the company's cars. Might I suggest that tomorrow you take a drive out to Hartford, Connecticut. It's a couple of hours through pleasant countryside. You'll enjoy the scenery!”

  Was that last remark made because she had noticed just how much I was enjoying it already? Was I being presumptuous to assume that she may have noticed, or cared? Her tone of voice had not changed nor had her expression. A misinterpretation perhaps? If it was, then I had relished the thought. She was still speaking.

  “Backing on to a golf club, just outside the town, you'll find a very grand house belonging to a man named Haynes Baxter-Clifford. The driver knows where it is. Haynes is a powerful man and one to watch out for. Now would be an opportune time to know who your enemies may be.” All remains of that smile had disappeared from her face, replaced by a solemn frown in my direction.

  “That sounds very intriguing and also a touch disconcerting. Has that name any relevance to the street where my apartment is, Leeba?”

  “Oh yes, a great deal of relevance. He owns the freehold of that whole street and almost all of the freeholds in half a mile radius of it, including this building. With that comes the franchise on construction work in this whole area. It's a very lucrative business, building in New York. He inherited his father's property portfolio when his older brother died in a car accident sixteen months ago. There was a degree of speculation at the time as to what could have caused that accident on a clear road that he knew so well. The FBI conducted the investigation as he was running for the Democratic nomination for congress. Stood a good chance of winning. Haynes knows Karl Weilham extremely well and through him a Marty Killick, the leader of the Nazi party here in America. You looked shocked, Mr Redden. We don't have the monopoly of fringe lunatics in this country, but we do have enough of them in New York. They met three months before Earl Baxter-Clifford died. But that's not the only thing that connects him to our family, Shaun. Haynes and Penina are friends in an intimate sense.”

  She stood to refill our coffee cups just I nearly ruined everything.

  “I thought Penina was a—” I caught myself just in time before repeating what Fianna had implied her sexuality to be.

  “A what, Shaun?” Leeba asked.

  “Oh, I'm sorry. I thought she was married.”

  “I don't know where you got that from, but would it matter? What monastery have you been hiding in?” The smile that replaced the frown now widened considerably. “I thought three Hail Marys was the going rate for infidelity in Catholic Ireland as it is over here. If she was married, which neither she nor I am, would it make her unredeemable if she had committed adulatory?” laughingly she asked, adding. “My brother Richard has been divorced twice for having affairs with married women. I believe he's involved with another now. Shall we construct some gallows for him?” Her eyes narrowed into an inquisitive stare, and her grin bordered on the promiscuous.

  “I noticed that you're not wearing a ring, Leeba. Are you divorced as well?”

  “That's beyond your remit, Shaun. Some things are best not looked at too closely. You're not wearing a ring either, does that mean you're gay?” That question caught me off guard and I had no way in which to adequately answer it. She eased my frustration by supplying an answer herself.

  “Don't worry, I'm only joking with you. I have no doubts on that issue.”

  Was my preoccupation with her getting the better of me or was the seductiveness in her voice and on her face sincere? I decided to bide my time before testing that sincerity just about the same time as she changed direction.

  “Haynes is twenty-three years older than Penina, but the reality of the situation has been clouded by what she calls love. He is an evil man who never would have come to prominence without his brother's death. Penina has a fixation that I've never seen in her before. I have substantive suspicions that link him to some of the radical far right parties that cloak themselves in respectability by making financial donations to the down trodden and under-privileged. Penina won't take my suspicions seriously. In fact, she won't listen to anything said about Baxter-Clifford that's not complimentary. She can be very stubborn in certain matters. Personally I suspect him to have been involved in his brother's death, but that's for another day. I have tried to protect her over the years, but now I'm worried. She has no first-hand knowledge of what the Nazis did to the Jews in the war.”

  For thirty-five years her true Jewish heritage had been denied from her. I wondered why the resurrected memories of such atrocities would be needed now.

  “I'm not at all qualified in these matters, Leeba, Surely you need a mediator of some description. Perhaps a therapist, or a historian if the Holocaust needs to be explained?”

  I had no idea how to respond and was wondering why I was being told of her sister's crush on an older man. Was agism her reason for scolding me before I developed a similar crush on her? A discrimination carved on Leeba's heart?

  There was an obvious connection in what she disclosed to Jack's main target Karl Weilham, but all the rest was superfluous and mere supposition, as had been Fianna's when she labelled Penina a lesbian. I thought that could have been because Fianna was aware of the unmarried status, perhaps due to being sexually unattractive to men, but I was soon to change that opinion.

  “This is my sister.” Leeba turned one of the three wooden-framed photographs that were placed on her desk around to face me. She was everyman's fantasy! I was stunned into almost complete silence. One word was sufficient to disclose my interest. “Wow,” I exclaimed.

  “Is that a 'wow' in recognition of Penina's beauty, Shaun, or in admiration of the plane she's standing next to? One of her many achievements is to hold a pilot's licence for both a fixed winged aeroplane and a helicopter. That photo was taken at Bradley airport, on one of her visits to Baxter-Clifford. It was her birthday and the plane a gift from Haynes. I think it was two years ago, but let me check that as it could have been three.” She reversed the photograph then spoke again.

  “Yes, I was right; two years ago. I want you to work for me as well as my brother but without Richard's direct involvement and knowledge. If he knew he would object. I want you to expand my knowledge on Haynes Baxter-Clifford and I want you to meet with Penina in order to do that. Then I want you to ease her away from that man.”

  “Wow again, Leeba! Ease her away. I'm no Casanova. That's some ask! Look at me, I'm not exactly dressed to meet a rich beautiful woman who's used to the better things in life like aeroplanes, now am I? And while we're at it, how do you suggest I get an invitation?”

  “All that's in hand, Shaun. You have the looks and ways of a man who could do the job. Just turn up at his home around lunchtime tomorrow suitably dressed in the very best attire this can buy you. Do you play golf, by the way?” she said, as she gave me an opened envelope stuff full of dollar bills.

  “I don't,” I answered, staring wildly at the contents whilst my head was somersaulting down a runway.

 
; “That's okay as Haynes does and will be playing when you arrive. You'll have Penina all to yourself for hours. It's the seventies, Shaun. Women no longer have to wait to be included in men's fantasies. They are free to play out their own when and how they wish.”

  “Do you include yourself in that freedom for fantasies, Leeba?”

  “Yes, Shaun! Very much I do. What's the point of being an advocate for sexual liberation if one can't enjoy all the freedom that's available?” She smiled lasciviously, and I wasn't imagining it.

  “There's a performance of Puccini's La Bohème at the Met next week. I have a box there. Get yourself a white tuxedo and who knows, I might just let you take me. Oh, and on the way out ask at the reception desk for the key to this building and the one to your office. They have them ready for you.”

  “I have no idea how long I'll be in this country, Leeba. I could be gone before that opera.”

  “No matter. It's only money, Shaun, it's not life or death.”

  I had found money, culture and a seductive woman. What more could America offer me? As far as I was concerned now was not the time to ask about 1937. Now was the time to have fun.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tuesday In New York

  A Rainbow

  I would never have considered myself as scruffy, but on the other hand, neither would I have considered myself to have been well-dressed. I was simply dressed in a manner appropriate to my situation in life. I was, however, a tailor's dummy, being able to wear anything and look good in it, but that wasn't something that was high on my list of waiting achievements—until this moment, that is.