“You wouldn't,” Buchanan said under his breath, turning bright red and breaking out in a sweat.
“What goes around, comes around,” Colt growled, playing along. “You should be thankful we haven't turned your fat arse in to the authorities already.” Buchanan glanced over at his assistant, whose had buried his head in a pile of papers on the desk, working feverishly so he didn't have to face his boss.
“As it happens, I would be more than willing to aid your efforts in assisting our extremely competent woman - I mean sergeant of the guard,” Buchanan relented. “Here, take this key,” he added, fishing a small silver chain out of his waistcoat and handing it to Aiden. “That will allow you access to the club. I expect it returned promptly, sir.”
“Your dedication to the safety of this town has been noted, mayor,” Aiden replied dryly, taking the key and placing it in his pocket. “Good day to you sir.”
Buchanan nodded and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, as Aiden led the others back out through the hallway again, ignoring the black looks from the waiting people.
“I don't recall seeing Buchanan's name on that document we took from Merin,” Aiden asked Pacian when they were safely outside of the echoing hallway. “How did you know the mayor was in on it?”
“I didn't,” Pacian shrugged, trying to keep his face free of a smug smile that threatened to take it over. “It was a gamble, but it paid off better than I could have hoped. I didn't even have to work for that result, the man just burst out in a nervous sweat straight away. If you ask me, I reckon their whole shady deal has gone belly-up, and that's what has him so worried.”
“You just got lucky,” Colt grunted.
“What was the worst thing that could happen?” Pacian asked the big ranger. “He'd kick us out of his office maybe?”
“It might have been grounds to have us locked up,” Aiden mused. “Making an accusation like that, straight to the face of a powerful man like Buchanan rarely ends well. Colt's right, you just got lucky.”
“Told ya,” Colt growled. Pacian merely shrugged.
“I don't understand any of this,” Sayana muttered, sounding lost.
“Don't worry, sweetness,” Pacian consoled her. “The men have things under control, you just stand there and look pretty.” Sayana gave him a solid punch to his left arm without even turning to look. Aiden grinned, seeing yet again a demonstration of how dangerous speaking before one thinks can be.
Chapter Eight
The Gentlemen's Club was located in the north-east of the town, above the North Shore Trading Company's offices in one of the larger houses. Ronald Bartlett was apparently the wealthiest man in town, and it wasn't much of a stretch to assume he’d set up the club for his rich friends to compliment each other on being rich.
It was a brief stroll to the very elegant manor house with a well-tended garden and an imposing metal fence. The gates were open, and a sign declared this the offices of the North Shore Trading Company, open for business. Three expensively dressed men were leaving the house, talking amongst themselves as they walked.
“Well, let's head inside and see what we can learn shall we?” Aiden said, looking up at the building before them.
“I'm wondering how you're going to go about this,” Pacian asked hesitantly.
“I was going to head in and ask Mister Bartlett a few questions about any deals he's done with mercenary companies lately,” Aiden explained slowly.
“You mean... be honest?”
“Mostly, yes,” Aiden replied dubiously. “I have a little diversion in mind though. What are you getting at?”
“If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion?” Pacian asked delicately. “Lie. A lot. If this bloke is indeed involved somehow, then he's not going to be straight with you. Confronting him directly isn't going to get us the answers we need, so yeah. Lie.”
“I wasn't exactly planning to stride in there and point my finger at the man, accusing him of treason,” Aiden replied with a raised eyebrow. “But I'll take your advice into consideration.”
Aiden walked along the short path that ran through the front gate, and past a water fountain with a fish carved from stone on top of a small column. The fresh water gave Aiden an idea. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a piece of cloth, then leaned over and dipped it into the water.
Then he reached over and started dabbing the wet cloth on Sayana's face, attempting to remove the smudges of dirt that seemed to be ever-present on the wild girl's features. She pulled back against him reflexively, not sure what he was doing.
“Hold still,” Aiden muttered, “I'm just going to make you a little more presentable.”
“Why?”
“Women of society don’t walk around with smudges of dirt on their…” He was caught off guard by something odd. While wiping her right cheek he'd brushed her hair back past her ear and discovered the top if it was pointed. Her eyes met his and he could practically see that she was begging him to keep quiet about this discovery.
“There, much better,” Aiden murmured, putting away the cloth and nodding approvingly while trying to ignore what he'd just seen.
“I still don't understand why you need her in there,” Pacian drawled. “Unless you want to irritate them of course, then it makes perfect sense.”
“Hey, you wanted me to lie,” Aiden winked back at him. Behind his calm features, his mind whirled around at the implications of Sayana's ears. Pointed ears were a hallmark of the elven people, rare in Aielund, as their homeland was a long way to the west and they weren't known for travelling.
Although her green eyes were large and slightly almond-shaped, she didn't have the sharp, angular features or the height attributed to elves, which led Aiden to believe she was half-elf, born from a parent of each race, which was even rarer. He wanted to spend some time speaking with her about this, but like every other mystery about the young woman, it would have to wait until later.
They walked the short pathway to the large oaken door. Aiden turned the handle and stepped into a magnificent entryway surpassing even the mayor's opulent office. Paintings of stuffy-looking gentlemen hung on every wall, as well as a few smaller pictures of sailing vessels.
An elaborate chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast subtle light around the room. A roaring fireplace kept the chill winter air at bay, warmth that was more than welcome to the travellers. At a small desk near the front of the room sat a slim, well-dressed young woman, scribbling on a piece of paper.
“Good afternoon,” she called to them, smiling. “Can I help you?”
“No, we’re fine thanks,” Aiden replied, returning the smile as he strode past the desk.
“I'm sorry, but that area is for members only,” she called in mild alarm.
“Members have keys, yes?” Aiden inquired as he took the silver keychain out of his pocket.
“I… yes, of course,” the woman conceded, appearing to be at a loss for words after the appearance of the key. Aiden gave her a reassuring wink, then stepped through the arch with the others in tow. An ornate door loomed before them with a silver lock on it. Aiden unlocked it and upon opening, he could see a narrow staircase winding upwards to the first floor.
“Alright,” Aiden said quietly, “Sayana, try not to look too dangerous. I'll handle the talking, the rest of you keep an eye out for anything strange.” They nodded in reply, and then followed Aiden as he made his way up the staircase.
The sounds of hushed voices grew in volume as they ascended, along with the distinct aroma of pipe smoke. By the time they had reached the next floor, the air was noticeably warmer and heavily laden with a smoky haze. The room they entered was dimly lit by a few small windows and some carefully placed lamps.
There were eight middle-aged men were in the room, most of them sitting in plush, oversized chairs, puffing pipes and reading books. An older man in expensive clothes and sporting a well-groomed grey beard noticed the newcomers and made his way over to greet them. His features were lined with age
, but still fair. Aiden could tell a working man by the rough texture of his skin, and this individual’s smooth hands indicated he was clearly used to having others do his work.
“This area is restricted to members only,” he said in cultured voice. “You will have to leave at once, or I shall have you removed.”
“Well, as it happens, I am a member,” Aiden responded. He produced the silver key and quietly enjoyed the look of confusion on the man's face.
“Oh, I see. Strange, I do not recall admitting any new members lately.” He gave Aiden an appraising look and did not appear impressed by what he saw.
“I didn't join through you, sir,” Aiden attempted to explain, making it up as he went along. “The mayor is an old family friend of mine and thought I might like to rest my heels in a more appropriate setting on my time away from Fairloch, instead of the local ale house.”
“Is that so? Then you are welcome, sir, to our little home away from home, such as it is. I am Ronald Bartlett, owner of the North Shore Trading Company. May I know your names?”
“Certainly sir,” Aiden replied with a slight bow, secretly pleased they had found their man. “Aiden Wainwright, at your service. These are my local contacts, and I hope I was not out of line bringing them along.” He gestured at Pacian and the others.
“Ah, local members of the Royal Rangers I see,” Bartlett observed, the faintest hint of a disapproving frown evident on his brow. “Not the sort of people we usually have as guests here at the Club. And what's this, a woman? Aiden, you should know we do not permit women in here.” He had raised his voice while speaking, silencing the rest of the conversation in the room and drawing the attention of everyone to them. A few murmurs of disapproval could be heard from the stuffy old men peering at Sayana in shock.
“Come along now, don't be rude,” Aiden admonished them. “I had thought that a gentleman's club would be a club of gentlemen, not a bunch of prudish louts. This lady is my cousin, newly arrived to this part of the world and I wanted to introduce her to some of the local gentlemen of influence. Had I known you would be so unabashedly rude in her presence, I would have taken her to the local tavern rather than subject her to this uncouth display. I had thought the men of this town to be better than the dregs who populate that degenerate hovel, though perhaps I was mistaken?”
The effect of Aiden's speech was immediate – the men in the club appeared to be suitably chastened, lowering their eyes and returning to their quiet conversations. Bartlett had turned a bright red colour, and he cleared his throat several times before speaking.
“My apologies, madam,” he finally managed to say. “Although it is our custom to forbid women in this austere room, the rule was never intended to impugn upstanding members of society such as yourself. Generally, we use this place to get away from our wives and the stresses of our work for a time, and so I once more offer my sincere apologies for lumping you in with them in our exclusionary policy.”
“I understand, and it's quite alright,” Sayana said, surprising Aiden, who was about to speak for her. “I'll just hang here at the back to avoid disturbing you all further during our visit.”
“We won't stay long, Mister Bartlett,” Aiden assured him. “I have other matters that need attending. But just before we relax and enjoy some liquid refreshment, might I enquire about something?”
“By all means,” Bartlett replied, evidently eager to make amends for his treatment of a noble lady. Aiden fetched the note from his left coat pocket.
“An acquaintance of mine found this note recently, and she was puzzled as to whom this was written by. Perhaps you can make something of it?” He handed the note to Bartlett, who accepted it and quickly read its message. “Rather mysterious, don't you agree?” Aiden added, keenly observing his face for any sign of a reaction. “There, at the bottom, you can see the initials 'R.B.'” Bartlett's eyes narrowed slightly as he finished the note.
“A mystery indeed, Mister Wainwright. Tell me, why did you wish me to see this?”
“You're a man of great renown,” Aiden offered respectfully. “If anyone could shed some light on this problem, it's you.” Bartlett didn't react to the obvious compliment for a few moments as he looked at Aiden with what could only be described as suspicion.
“Let me make one thing clear, Aiden,” he said crisply. “I can't abide toadies, or 'yes-men'. Can't stand them.”
“Of course, sir,” Aiden apologised, knowing he'd pushed his lie a little too far.
“I'm sorry I can't help you with the origins of this note, but why don't you speak with my head of security? He may be able to offer some suggestions.” Bartlett pointed to a man standing on the other side of the room, near the fireplace who was stoically observing the conversation from a distance.
“Excellent, I'll see what he can make of it,” Aiden said, offering his hand. “Thank you for your time, Mister Bartlett. It's been an honour meeting you, despite our rocky start.”
“The honour is mine sir, and again, my apologies,” Bartlett replied, shaking the proffered hand firmly. Aiden stepped past and gestured for the others to follow him, hiding his disappointment that Bartlett didn't seem to know anything about the note.
The gentlemen of the club seemed to have found other, more important things to be looking at as Aiden and the others walked past them, smoking their pipes furiously or engaged in deep conversations with their contemporaries. However, the man they were walking towards didn't seem at all embarrassed.
He casually leaned against the mantelpiece, watching their approach with an intensity that belied his relaxed demeanour. He was smoking a cigar, not a pipe, and his build suggested that unlike the rest of the men present, he was used to physical labour.
“Watch out for this one,” Colt whispered to Aiden as they moved closer. “He's trouble.” Aiden didn't have time to reply before he stood in front of the man, but he understood what Colt was trying to say.
“Hell of an entrance you made there, friend,” the head of Bartlett's security said in a voice made husky from smoking, his sharp blue eyes evaluating the small group. “And a clever way to distract them from asking how you really ended up with that key.” Aiden smiled vapidly at him and hesitated. Colt was right to counsel caution. This one was sharp.
“I don't know what you mean, it's all quite legitimate,” he replied lightly, trying not to show his worry that this man seemed to have him all figured out.
“Sure it is,” the man replied, “and if that girl is from a noble house, then I'm the King of Aielund. Relax, I'm not going to say anything,” he added with a puff of his cigar. “If I thought you were any kind of danger I'd have thrown you out of here the minute you came in. Frankly I think these gentlemen needed a little nudge to remind them that not all women are like their horrible wives, especially you, madam,” he said, giving Sayana a knowing smile. To Aiden's surprise, she blushed bright red and retreated behind Colt, who crossed his arms and did his best to loom as large as possible.
“You seem to know what's going on around here,” Aiden said cautiously, dropping any pretence of being a visitor from Fairloch. “Name’s Aiden, and yours is?”
“Robert Black,” he replied, “and yes, I do. Now, Ronald asked you to speak with me. What is it?” Aiden was almost caught off guard by the sudden realisation that Robert's initials were 'R.B.' as well. He handed the note over and watched Robert's face for any hint of recognition. His facial expression didn't change at all as he read the message.
“Where did you get this?” he asked bluntly a few moments later.
“From a group of men digging their way under the crypt outside of the church,” Aiden supplied, seeing no reason to withhold the information. “They met an unfortunate end, undoubtedly due to their incompetent excavation techniques,” he added, and saw with satisfaction that Robert flinched slightly at the news. He had found out who 'R.B.' was.
“Looks like you've stumbled onto a grave security situation here,” Robert advised, without a hint as to his true feel
ings on the matter. “This might have ramifications to my duties, so I’d better go speak with my people.”
“That might be a good idea,” Aiden agreed cautiously. Aside from that flinch, he had nothing else to go on and began to second-guess himself. Robert stubbed out his cigar on an ashtray, and then extended his right hand, which Aiden took.
“You've done well, bringing this information to me,” Robert said. “I'm going to look into it, and then I'll make sure you get what you deserve.” Without further word, he stepped forward briskly and moved past them towards the door. Colt gave him a shove with his shoulder as Robert went past, drawing a dispassionate glare from the man as he continued on.
“That's got to be our man,” Aiden muttered. “Did you see the way he reacted?
“That was the look of someone who just had his plans ruined,” Pacian agreed. “Do you think it was his men down in that tunnel?”
“No doubt,” Colt grunted. “But here's an important question - Bartlett just followed him down the stairs. Are we going to grab him or what?”
“Bartlett left too?” Aiden asked nobody in particular, peering over to see that the man had indeed vacated the room. “He might be in on it after all. We’d better take them to Sergeant Ariel.”
Without discussing it further, they quickly moved through the smoky room and hurried down the stairs. But by the time they had reached the ground floor, there was no sign of either of them. The front door was slightly ajar, however, and the secretary had an astonished look on her face.
“Goodness me, that was strange,” she exclaimed before noticing Aiden and the others peering around the corner. “What on earth did you say to them?”
Nature Abhors a Vacuum (The Aielund Saga Book 1) Page 12