The Santayana Effect: Scene 2- Egypt, 1926

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

The sound was the first thing Adrienne registered; a woman's exhuberant: "Karanis, Charles! Doesn't the sound of it just personify Egypt for you?"

She raked her memory for some reference to Karanis, and Egypt, and something about the 1920s seemed familiar, but Adrienne couldn't be exactly sure. And then she saw Remy LeBeau, and stopped trying to puzzle out the time she was in. "According to father's notes, it was largely a Greco-Roman site, so I think the locals might agree."

"Beast. Come, kiss me and I'll be off." Charles Hunt leaned in to kiss his new wife as she bent from the carriage. The trip had been going extraordinarily well, especially considering the conditions his father had passed away in. Still, he would have been happy to see his old friend Kelsey busily translating the find of papyrus they had located and considered his adventure well worthy. Charles had his own opinion that a man of his father's years should have remained in the temperate environment of their Detroit home, or even his Manhattan townhouse, but Arthur A. Hunt demanded to see with his own eyes what his philanthropy was going to leave for the world, and he did. There were worse times to die. He waved twice at Olivia, where she was being taken to the docks. A steam launch would return her and several of his men to Cairo, and then to Alexandria where they owned docks. His own interest in Egypt had more to do with the Suez, recently re-dredged to allow for Hunt Shipping's massive freighters to pass through. His father had left him a thriving business, and he intended to make it even greater.

Now, if only he could figure out what to do with his brothers. Unlike them, he was slim and slight, although very strong after a self-chosen apprenticeship of several years aboard his family's own ships, learning every inch of the trade. He had served in the Great War, although the closest action he saw involved rough stops in the Philippines and Hong Kong, where he'd earned a few scars and even more stories. No one commented on his strange red on black eyes any longer, although they were less distinct behind his glasses. He stepped through the door of the massive multiroomed tent that served as his office, sleeping quarters and guest facilities, and passed his hat to his servant.

"See to the sidebar, Abdullah, and when my brothers arrive from the site, show them in."

Unfolding himself from the chair in a shadowy corner of the room was Jean-Paul, to Adrienne's immense surprise. William Hunt raised his brows at his elder brother and said, "When we arrive? I, for one, am already here. And you, Charlie, are late." There was a glint of something almost vicious in his cold, blue eyes, but he hid it well as he moved to shake Charles' hand. Truthfully, he hadn't even bothered to go by the dig site, more interested in riffling through his older brother's things to see if there was anything of interest. He wasn't sure where his younger brother had hied off to, but he also didn't particularly care. "How's Olivia?"

"Back at the ship. Her constitution is too delicate to stand this kind of environment for too long." Both brothers shared the slightly Gallic features of their mother, but William was dark next to Charles auburn. "You're looking well, Will. I see London has been agreeing with you."

He poured two generous measures of whiskey into cut crystal tumblers and handed one over before taking a swallow himself. "How do the negotiations with Armadale and Sons go? Are they ready to agree to the financing structure?"

"Bah," William said, waving a hand to ward the topic off. "Armadale refuses to see reason, but I've little doubt that he'll come around eventually. His son, Stewart, is more open to discussion, deliberation. But he's well and truly stuck beneath his mother's thumb." He showed his brother his own thumb, wiggling it a bit before snorting. "For a man who matriculated from Oxford, he's got little to no backbone." And William enjoyed pitting father against son, as much as he was able. If he could manipulate the Armadale family, maneuver them just where he needed them, he might be able to see his scheming come to fruition.

Taking a sip of the whiskey, he shrugged, eyes trailing over the room. "Too bad Livvie's constitution prevents her from enjoying your company while here." He didn't doubt his younger brother would be positively heartbroken over that fact. The thought made a slight smile curl the corners of his lips upward.

Charles raised an eyebrow but said nothing. William had always been the odd one in the family; quiet, studious, but also never quite a part of things. He took a seat in the leather chair, mulling over the situation.

"Without Armadale's financing structure in Asia, we're badly over-extended through Africa and the Middle East. One bad storm or another blasted patch of unrest could hurt us badly, Will. You need to get that deal through, including the charters and co-employment of their docks in Kowloon Bay. I should-"

Abdullah abruptly came walking backwards into the tent, arguing in Arabic at the young blonde man that strode ahead, ignoring the servant. It was Warren Worthington, whom Adrienne knew only by sight, but that didn't diminish the confusion she felt at seeing him here.

"I will see --" Richard's arguing was quickly cut off when he saw that it was, in fact, just his brothers sitting in the tent, and not the person he'd barged in to see. He wasn't as drunk as he could have been, two glasses of scotch barely going to his head after years of hard drinking. But he was definitely not sober, and now glaring daggers at his eldest brother, doing a very bad job of keeping his loathing off his face.

"You!" He yelled, turning his fury from the servant to the man who had inspired it. "You rat. It's not enough that you steal Olivia from me, but now you're going to cut me off? You're not Father, you don't get to make that decision!" For the first time in his life, he'd actually applied himself to work rather than drinking or gambling or women, and he'd be damned if he'd see his brother take that achievement from him, even if he had taken everything else.

"Father is dead, Rick." Charles shook his head. "The best thing he could have done would have been to cut you off years ago, you know. How many gin halls and taverns have we had to pull you from, drunk and covered in your own vomit? How many gambling debts got covered thanks to creative bookkeeping by the company? Maybe if you'd been held responsible when you were younger, you might have learned a thing or two. Instead of pulling the same act over here."

Charles noticed that Rick's driver had come up behind them, and passed a pair of champagne bottles to Abdullah. He had been in Paris last, but the oddity of him bringing a gift along with his tirade struck him. "I am not going to just give you the means to destroy yourself and watch it happen. I can't do that, Rick. Neither could Olivia. You think I stole her? You poor fool. You pushed her away with as much dedication as you applied to your vices."

William watched the volleys soar back and forth, back and forth, eyes catching on the champagne bottles for a moment before he downed the rest of his whiskey and sat the tumbler aside. Biding his time was something he'd become very, very good at through the years. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he wondered if they were going to come to blows - his vestige of neutrality might not hold so well if they did.

"I could have changed! I would have! I haven't been gambling for weeks, something you'd know if you stopped and paid attention to anything other than yourself for a few seconds. We would have been happy together if you hadn't interfered!" Rick hadn't intended on confronting his brother about this right away, but then he'd discovered his brother's plans to cut him off, and he'd just lost it.

"But congratulations! You won!" He waved a hand, Abdullah uncorking the bottles to start pouring glasses. Ostensibly, he'd brought it to congratulate his brother, and to celebrate the dig. "Let's make a toast, shall we? One last drink between brothers before you toss me out." He snatched one of the glasses from Abdullah, raising it high, his glare daring Charles not to do the same.

"Rick-" Charles shook his head sadly. "One day, you're going to thank me for this, you know. Mother won't let you starve, and if you really have changed, and I hope that's true, things will be different." He drained the glass, taking no comfort in the wine.

One brother down, one to go. William contemplated the tableau laid out before him, moving to take the unopened bottle of champagne from Abdullah - ostensibly to read the label. Really, it just gave him an excuse not to take the glass the servant offered him. The gift he'd given his younger brother earlier that day should be taking affect any time now. "Come now, Charlie," he said, his tone bored. "I think that's a bit sanctimonious, even for you. Do we really need to listen to another 'it's for your own good' speech?" Glancing up, eyes cold, he raised a brow. "Poor Ricky here's really got nothing left to live for, now that you've decided he's not good enough to continue gambling away the family's wealth. You even stole his woman - dastardly, that. I'd be impressed, honestly, if I didn't find you so incredibly annoying."

Almost absentmindedly, he broke the seal on the bottle he held, then took the opener from Abdullah and uncorked it.

"Apparently I'm the only one responsibility didn't pass by in this family." Charles shook his head and retook his seat. He reached up for a moment to rub his temple, trying to will away the sudden unstable feeling. "Father's company isn't just a piggy bank for you to endulge yourself with, Rick. Or you to buy your way into New York society, Will. Paul Wilson from Myers, Biggs and Wilson called me last week about your proposed 'partnership' with the Buckman Group. When the board meets next month, I'm putting an end to that. I made father a promise to keep Hunt Shipping a viable concern, for the family, our employees and our community. That means not leaving Michigan or--"

Charles paused, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment and then opening them. "-or, or merging it with some East Coast firm who- who-, I-" Charles' head started to loll as he tried to force the words out of his suddenly uncooperative mouth. His mind felt fogged, swirling and he clutched the arm of his chair to stay upright.

Richard hadn't been listening to what his eldest brother had been saying, instead focused in closely to see how the poison affected him. A smile started to cross his face as the symptoms began to appear, and he was positively grinning by the time Charles was struggling to speak.

"I'm sorry, what was that Charles?" He was taunting his brother now, his triumph making him giddy. "I didn't quite catch that last part." He laughed, looking over to his second brother and raising his yet untouched glass.

"To a truly excellent vintage."

"Indeed, little brother," William said, tipping the bottle of champagne he'd taken from Abdullah in Richard's direction. The revolver he'd tucked into the waistband of his trousers was more than adequately hidden by his overcoat and he was sweating profusely because of that. The damned thing was heavy enough that, in this heat, it was nearly suffocating.

Reaching for the weapon, he reminded himself that he had six shots to get this right. If he missed the first couple of times, it just meant Richard would bleed a little more on the carpet. And probably whine, as well. That, more than anything else, kept his arm steady as he drew the Colt out and leveled it at his younger brother. Two shots rang out in quick succession, the first hitting close enough to the mark to be satisfactory while then second went much too high. He'd not accounted for the kickback. "But two's a bit crowded for this particular party, Ricky-boy. Give dear old dad my felicitations."

William propped his hip against the table and took a good, long pull from the bottle of champagne as he watched his brothers die. His hand was tingling, which was most unpleasant, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out the seal. It seemed so innocuous, laying on his palm as it was. "With Bogan's seal, I don't need any of you." The words were soft, the satisfaction evident on his face as he turned his eyes back toward his brothers and took another sip of champagne.

In retrospect, Richard should have expected to be double-crossed by his brother. It was William, after all, who had suggested the murder of their elder brother. But as he crumpled to the floor, knowing he only had a few moments left to live, and all he could do was laugh.

"I'll see you in hell, Billy," Richard rasped, his vision starting to blur as he watched his brother drink from the second champagne bottle. William hadn't been the only one with secret plans for their other brother once Charles was out of the way.

The satisfaction melted off of William's face as a painful spasm wracked his middle. Borgan's seal fell from his hand, hitting the carpeted floor with barely a sound as the bottle of champagne hit the table and tipped over. He could feel his knees going weak and he sank to the carpet himself, fingers scrabbling for the seal. "No, I - " He hadn't had as much champagne as Charles. He hadn't taken in as much of the poison.

But he had been very, very thorough when he'd picked that poison for his eldest brother. Very thorough indeed. So having had less meant only that he died more slowly.

If Adrienne could have gasped, she would have. She watched the manservant depart, heading towards a plane whose pilot looked like Logan although Adrienne couldn't get close enough to really tell, and convinced herself it could be any hairy man. The seal was left at the camp, which was eventually destroyed by weather, years passing before another Nico lookalike arrived to find it.

She backtracked some more, absentmindedly, focusing on what she'd just seen rather than where she was heading. She didn't take in the sight of a man in a British Army uniform, presumably the father of the three men she'd seen die, pick the seal up from an abandoned battlefield.