Gilbert Bada entered with two men, and as they sat, he came down the table to where Thorne, Andrea, and Gweneth were sitting. Thorne stood as he approached, and shook Bada’s hand.
“Well, David,” said Bada, “it appears you’ve been captured by two of the more attractive members of our dinner party. My loss. Freddie tells me you and I are set to meet in the Library after dinner.” He bent and kissed Andrea and Gweneth respectively on their foreheads, and he returned to the other end of the table where he engaged in conversation with the two men he had come with.
During the dinner of French onion soup, roast Grouse and Chateaubriand, Bada introduced Thorne and the two men who had arrived with him, who turned out to be wine collectors.
Andrea whispered to Thorne, “Now, this is exciting. Gilbert tells me he’s bought two bottles of the 1868 Chateau Latour.“ She laughed and said, “I don’t know if it’s any good or not. All I know is it costs about five-thousand pounds a bottle. She nudged Gweneth and said, “I’m going to have to watch your brother. He’s going to send us to the poorhouse with his wine collecting. Me? I’d just as soon stay with my Dom Pérignon Rosé. It’s only a dinky little nine hundred pounds a bottle. Cheap.” Both tried but couldn’t suppress a laugh.
Throughout dinner, when Andrea and Gweneth weren’t peppering Thorne with questions about architecture, American cinema and customs, they were gossiping and laughing about people they had known during their days as students at boarding school. They even made jokes about Moldar and the supposedly haunted castle.
Gweneth said, “Andrea was always around, so naturally she and Gilbert got married. What else was he going to do, call a constable and have her removed?” She snickered and Andrea joined her. Thorne had the impression he was listening to two young schoolgirls being silly.
He noticed Gwen laughed a lot, a natural, tinkling laugh that seemed to be an integral part of her personality. One would not have expected such an attitude from one cut down in the prime of her young life, and possibly handicapped for the remainder of it.
When a glass of Bada’s vintage champagne was poured for him, Thorne took a perfunctory sip and set the glass down. He didn’t like champagne or wine no matter how special it was. It reminded him too much of the times back in Chicago when his former wife had tried to get him to conform to her weekend lifestyle of cheese and wine tasting.
But as the evening passed, his attention was riveted on Andrea and Gweneth. He hadn’t spent much time with women for a long while and their laughter, friendly repartee and reminisces—as silly as they were— made for a pleasant evening. He couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed himself, and the company, so much.
Chapter 19
After dinner, Bada took Thorne down a broad hallway lined with antique chairs and dark paintings of still lifes and landscapes set in ornate gilded frames. At the end of the hallway they entered through a large pair of wood paneled doors into a large two-story room half the size of a basketball court. A spiral staircase led up to a narrow balcony and bookshelves filled with old, leather-bound books, and secured behind glass-fronted doors. The shelves on the main floor were open, and included a trove of leather-bound books devoted to Shakespeare and de Vere, Bacon, Marlowe, Spenser, Milton, Descartes, Spinoza, Locke and other major and minor philosophers. A small section was reserved for contemporary books in colorful dust jackets.
Thorne had seen libraries of this size and opulence, but most had been in museums in major cities. His mind drifted, thinking how many people it would require to keep it clean and in order.
In an opposite corner of the room Bada’s high-backed, tufted black leather executive chair was ensconced behind an antique carved walnut desk. Behind the desk was a credenza of contemporary design with three monitors, a computer keyboard, papers, journals, and books in orderly stacks.
Bada went to a sideboard and poured a snifter of brandy. Thorne declined the brandy, and Bada motioned for Thorne to take one of the leather chairs fronting the desk. “You would have seen the castle and adjacent buildings when you drove in today. I’m sure you noticed the new fifteen hundred square meter building south of the castle. During the demolition and construction stages the building will be used for storage.”
Bada took a sip of brandy and studied Thorne. “I think I need to let you know the real purpose of this particular building. I am so confident we will find the documents I have built it as a temporary, but secure research facility to store and study in minute detail every one of the documents. I have accumulated and vetted a list of almost one hundred Shakespearean scholars and British and European historians who I will invite to attend events and study the documents over the next three years. After we have accomplished the initial studies and cataloging we will move them into Freddie’s permanent research facility in the castle. If we find the documents soon, I will temporarily display them in the Great Hall of the castle before moving them into this storage building, and eventually into the castle. I have not revealed this information to anyone else—not even Freddie—and I know I can depend on you to keep it confidential until I tell you different.”
Thorne nodded his agreement and said, “Absolutely, and I appreciate your confidence.”
Bada said, “We’ll have a morning meeting tomorrow with Jacques Rainier, our architect on the renovations of the castle, and our engineers, consultants, vendors and contractors will also be there. You should also know, we have not revealed to Rainier or anyone else outside our immediate group, about our search during the demolition. The fewer people that know, the better.” He produced a folder. “I also have general information about the upcoming final meeting in the town hall on the second of December you might find of interest.
Thorne shifted his weight in his chair. “Again, I thought my role was limited to—”
Bada said, “Of course—of course. But I think it’s helpful for you to be familiar with
our supporters—and possible opponents— on the council. We have been told privately of the Council’s approval.”
He leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. “This brings us to our most virulent opponent, Roger Linsdame.”
Chapter 20
Bada swirled the brandy in the snifter. “Roger Linsdame is an important man in Stratford, and considers himself to be the most important. He owns a number of tourist related businesses in town, including the largest department store, near the Shakespeare Centre in Henley Street. He also owns a local motorcar dealership, restaurants and other miscellaneous businesses in and around Stratford, and wants to keep the focus there—that is, on his side of the river. I don’t remember if I mentioned previously, Linsdame is responsible for the rumor the castle is haunted by the ghost of Richard Moldar. I realize it’s strange he would do that, as it only enhances tourist interest in the castle. He’s known to be rash and impulsive.
“We have tried to make a strong argument that the renewed activity at the castle on our side of the river will not impede his business in the center of town. Unfortunately, Linsdame is stubborn and won’t hear of it.
“As has been mentioned previously, Neville Forestal is another strong opponent He’s not on the Council, but as town architect, he wields a lot of influence. As I’ve said, we still consider him our friend even though we disagree on development of the castle and the property.
Bada retrieved a file folder and handed it to Thorne. “You may have also seen the name Jacques Rainier shown on plans and other information provided you. Rainier is our architect from Brussels. His father is Belgium and mother is English, and he speaks English fluently. Because he is not English, he is assumed to be lacking in English interests— and more specifically, Stratford interests—so his relationship with Neville is tenuous at best. You’ll have the opportunity to meet Rainier when he conducts the meeting tomorrow. He can answer questions—”
Thorne said, “Again, I want to emphasize—”
Bada held up his hand. “You’re not to be involved in anything dealing with the technical or po
litical aspects of the project. I just want you to be aware of the relationships of the characters involved.”
Thorne asked, “What is Forestal’s background? Is he also a registered architect?”
“Yes, he studied architecture at the University of Cambridge—quite possibly the best school for architecture in all of England. He’s from a family of modest means, and he’s exceptionally bright and talented. After graduation, he traveled abroad in Europe, and claims to be knowledgeable about castles and medieval fortresses. One of his duties is to also inspect various historic buildings and make recommendations to the Town Council that will preserve the character of Stratford. As I have said, his recommendations carry a lot of weight. But I want to add, we also bring influence to the Council for our position. We donate money to the election campaigns of various council members and funds for capital improvements to town projects, including road and infrastructure repairs. Obviously, the Bada family—as well as Bada, Limited—is considered an important member of the community—financially as well as socially.”
Thorne asked, “Will he be inspecting the demolition on a regular schedule?”
Bada shrugged, “It’s assumed he will.”
He sat motionless, staring at a file before him for a long period as if he were gathering his thoughts. “David, aside from all the machinations involved in the political aspects of this project, I want you to know something that is very important to me—and to Freddie. We are interested in finding the documents—if they exist—for scholarly purposes, but I’m also interested in the legacy of the Bada family. The castle addition, renovation and refurbishing is a large part of that legacy. I know the other members of our group; Chet Raskin, Simon Blackstone, and Lionel Kirk-Halstrom are primarily interested in finding the document for their own purposes. My interests, as well as Freddie’s, go much further.
“Freddie sees this as an opportunity to have more than a bookstore in Stratford. I’ve indicated he will have a bookstore in the castle. But, we will eventually look to him to be the director of the research center and activities in the castle. Our family has always been good friends of Freddie—and his wife, Helena—and we want to help him as much as we can in his research—and financially.”
The room was quiet before he continued, “I suppose I should also acquaint you with basic details about the Bada Family—and Gwen.”
Chapter 21
During conversations, Bada paused frequently, peering thoughtfully over his folded hands. After one of these pauses he said, “I’m sure Freddie has given you background about us, as well as much of the history of the Moldar family who built this house, and also how the Bada family came to prominence. As you know, Bada, Limited has its headquarters in Birmingham, and I’m up there one or two days a week. My wife, Andrea, our children, and my sister Gwen live here, and we have a few of our elderly relations, who also occupy parts of the manor house. Our total staff varies from time. Fifteen to twenty, depending on the season.”
Another long pause. “I suppose you’re curious about Gwen’s condition. She’s confined to the wheelchair most of the time—except for periodic therapy—and there’s always hope.”
Thorne said, “She’s a very pleasant, friendly and attractive young woman. I enjoyed talking to her and Andrea at dinner.”
Bada said, “She and a young friend had been romantically involved for over a year after boarding school, and were driving down to the Cotswolds. The young man was driving and they had a horrible accident. He was killed instantly. Gweneth received injuries causing paralysis in her right leg, blindness in her right eye and eventually total blindness. She was only eighteen at the time. She is now twenty-two, and requires a constant companion and nurse. I believe you’ve already met Charles, our chauffeur. There have been threats to Gwen for unknown reasons, so Charles also serves as her bodyguard. His wife Mairead serves as Gwen’s full time nurse and companion.
“Since the accident, Gwen hasn’t had any other romantic involvements except Neville Forestal. They’ve known each other since childhood—and even with Neville’s strong opposition to our plans, they are seriously talking about getting married. I know—it seems to be a very strange situation, but I think—I hope—he’ll make her happy.”
The meeting with Gilbert broke up around midnight, and Thorne went outside and sat on the edge of the fountain. The castle, a large black mass, loomed in the distance. He wondered what he would find hidden there. As he started to turn away and return to his room, he thought he saw a light flicker in the upper reaches of the castle. He looked back quickly, but if there had been a light there, it was gone.
The job had taken on many added dimensions and he wondered if he’d made the right decision to take it. Then he remembered why he’d taken it. It was primarily for the money.
Back in his room, he pulled up Jacques Rainier on his laptop to gain more knowledge on the man. He read numerous profiles of the man and found him to be quite interesting. Bada had said Rainier had not been informed they were looking for de Vere’s documents during demolition. But did the architect know? The documents would be extremely valuable when revealed to the literary world. How valuable? It was impossible to tell.
As he continued the search on Rainier, he found even more interesting information. He wondered if Bada had found the same information. Rainier was being sued by a large European conglomerate for ten million Euros and the threat of bankruptcy was imminent.
Chapter 22
Early the next morning, Thorne arrived at the castle grounds with Bada and Freddie for the meeting with Jacques Rainier. Blackstone was present, but Raskin and Kirk-Halstrom were missing. When Thorne saw Rainier, he would have never suspected the man was in dire financial trouble. He was a short cheerful man in his early sixties, barely over five feet tall, but with an ego closer to six feet.
Thorne’s previous review of the life and practice of Rainier revealed that as an architect, Jacques Rene’ Rainier was an anomaly to the profession. What made him different wasn’t only ego and eccentricity—not an unusual characteristic in architects—but his flexibility. Almost all architects seek to develop a style. He often bragged he had none. “Style is for small architects. I’m a big architect.”
Given a new museum or concert hall, he could provide as inventive or outrageous contemporary design as any of the other famous architects in the world. But, when working on an existing historic building, he changed his approach completely and adhered to the original design and construction so faithfully it was indistinguishable from the original architect’s design.
He completely subjugated his own role in the project. He became an extension of the original architect’s personality.
So it was with Kilshire Castle.
Upon taking the commission for the castle—a thirty thousand square foot addition to a two hundred thousand square foot historic structure—he undertook a two-week immersion into the career of Richard Llewellyn the original Welsh Master Builder of the castle. He studied other castles and manor houses built at the time in Western England and Wales, and spent hours researching the history of the Tudors from Henry VII to Henry VIII to Queen Elizabeth I.
He often said his fee—usually twice that of other architects—was justified because of his efficiency and approach to additions or renovations to historic buildings. It was no secret he was often sued for deviating from the wishes of his clients in the final development—he never used the term design when renovating or remodeling a building. Design to him was what the original architect had done to achieve the desired result for the specific structure, and though they may have been separated by centuries, Rainier considered his role to be that of a colleague—an associate—a workman—not a competitor. A mystic would say he was attempting to channel the original architect. A few of the workman whispered they had heard him talking to someone in the Keep when he was supposedly alone there.
He was a puzzlement to other architects. They all knew he was as adept as anyone in the manipulation of space, struct
ure, materials and methods of contemporary construction as anyone in the world. He’d proven it over and over in winning competitions for major world-class projects.
Why then, they complained, why this groveling about, serving as a “workman”—a “lackey”—yes, a lackey for long dead architects on buildings mediocre to start with?
Rainier responded with his well-known cryptic dictum. ”You forget, I’m a big architect—I’m timeless.”
Rainier had studios in South Africa, the United States, South America and the Far East. He traveled extensively with a retinue of staff and sycophants, and his office had as many as fifty large-scale projects at any one time. He had taken a personal interest in the Kilshire Castle renovations and additions project, and had brought in three assistant architects, assorted consultants, on-site draftsmen, and construction administrators. An unusual practice for Rainier. It was as if he expected Kilshire would be something special.
The meeting was held in the Great Hall of the castle. The main conference table was set in the middle of the eighty-foot long room, with Rainier’s team clustered at an adjacent table, furiously pecking away at the keyboards of their laptops. Other smaller tables with teams of various engineers and consultants were also set perpendicular to the main conference. The walls were covered with drawings and blueprints, and Rainier presided before a large whiteboard at the head of the table.
The first thing one noticed about Rainier was his head. It was massive and was accentuated by a bloom of white hair that flowed over his ears. It gave the appearance of a blinding, giant white chrysanthemum mounted on his head. His wide-set eyes were quick, dark and bright, and while the face wasn’t that of a handsome man, it was of a man of will and determination.
The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) Page 8