SOIKOS: Castling

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

Garrison has a run in with the Red Rook of the London Hellfire Club.



“First time in Israel?” Kane looked up from his paperwork, slightly startled at the unexpected English accent. He was sitting at the hotel bar, drinking very good Turkish coffee and pouring over the notes which Yaakov had given him. The television over the bar had some kind of football match from Europe on it, and it was obviously not a popular one, as the place was largely deserted. Typical of the FBI, his hotel was not one of the newer ones; this one an older building near the coast.

“Uh, no. No… I’ve been here a few times on business.” Garrison said, sitting back on the stool and closing the cover of the file on the contents. The woman was a very attractive redhead, in an expensively tailored dark crimson suit. Her hair was tied back, and the gaze behind her glasses was blue and very confident.

“Really? You don’t look comfortable here. Do you mind if I sit?”

“No, be my guest.”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” She said with a winning smile, and Kane had to take a moment to shake himself mentally. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hit on, but she’d caught him off guard, and he found himself scrambling to find his balance. Also, this was one of those times when keeping a mental picture of one’s girlfriend firmly in the mind’s eye was by far the safest option.

“You here on business or pleasure?”

“Business. There’s some affairs which my associates want me to review, see if they represent an opportunity for us. And you? How are you finding the hospitality of the Yamam?”

“Well, I—wait, what?” Kane said, twisting in his seat. “You just said—“

“The Yamam, Mister Kane. Yes, I did.” She smiled again, her lips ruby red in the dim bar. “Jane Hampshire. This is easier than some kind of complicated doubletalk or seduction. Unless, of course, you’d be more interested in seduction? I have much nicer rooms at the Empire downtown. I think they’d admit a law enforcement officer if I asked.”

“I’m getting really tired of people dropping surprises on me. Who are you?”

“The Red Rook of the London Hellfire Club. You shouldn’t be so shocked. We do keep tabs on our New York brethren and your attendance at the Black Court’s New Years Party was noticed.” Jane accepted a martini from the bartender and bit the olive off of the toothpick. “You’re dating a Frost, Mister Kane. That means moving in an entirely different world. Pity too, since you would have certainly qualified for membership had your family remained in England. May I call you Garrison?”

“You can—“ Garrison pulled himself together. She was obviously trying to throw him off (and succeeding, he had to grudgingly admit) for some purpose. Although what value they could have in involving him, or even Adrienne seemed minimal. “Let’s start again. What do you want?”

“From you? Nothing. But there’s much you should want from me.” She nudged him with her foot. “Other than that. I know what you’re thinking.”

“There’s something very wrong with all of you Hellfire Club people. Like a tumour in the middle of the lust centre of the brain.” Kane replied, irritated. “What am I supposed to want from you?”

“A story, Garrison. An old and fabulous story which might have something to do with this kidnapping that the Israeli police are desperately trying to avoid getting caught up in.” Jane leaned an elbow on the bar, toying with the stem of her drink as she spoke. “What do you know about the Holy Grail?”

“It was lost when Harrison Ford let it go and helped Sean Connery pull him up out of the pit.”

“What a delightfully picante wit. But I’m afraid that’s not it.”

“Still in the hands of Ruiz' de lu la Ramper and his French knights?”

“I get the feeling you’re not taking me seriously, Garrison.”

“Well, let’s run down the last few minutes, shall we? You’re the ‘Red Rook’ of the London branch of the kink club my girlfriend belongs to. Between making vague hints that you know my father and doing everything but stripping topless and oiling yourself up to suggest a fuck, now you want to tell me a story about how a Biblical myth relates to the kidnapping of the youngest daughter of a powerful Indian political family by a fundamentalist Muslim group. Yeah, you caught me. I’m not taking this seriously. Good night.” Garrison said, grabbing his files and standing up.

“Yaakov wasn’t so quick to dismiss the Opus Dei, Garrison. Why are you?”

“Who are you? Not this Red Rook shit! Who are you and why are you here?” He said, slamming the bartop with the flat of his hand. Hampshire arched an eyebrow and nodded.

“Point made, Mister Kane. It is a lot easier when they’re distracted with thoughts of getting me into bed.” She smiled again. “You should know that much of what we consider myth has roots in truth. And in magic. The Grail is one of those things. Was it the cup of Christ or something although different incorporated into the myth? No one knows, which is what I hope to find out. But I am not a confident of the Yamam. You are, and can keep this in mind. These things are linked, Garrison. How and why, I don’t know, but you must keep an open mind. Be ready for the possibility. Help me with this, and I can help you stop what some want to happen from happening.”

She got up from the stool and adjusted her suit jacket. “Good luck, Garrison. I’m sure I will see you soon. If you need to reach me,” She put a card on the bar. “well, you know where I am. Sleep well.”

Garrison stared at her as she walked away, a scowl on his lips as an already confusing investigation was now knotted up even further. Finally the barman dared to approach, only to meet the very annoyed face of the Canadian.

“Scotch. Lots of it. And have I mentioned how much I hate women?”