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11. They followed the servant down a metal corridor. He felt like a beetle crawling through a copper tube. The footsteps echoed. When they were 50 steps from the bend in the corridor a man came around the bend and stood waiting for them, hands behind his back. He seemed to be a year or two older than Ruskin. He wore a morning coat with an elegant cut and a coloured cravat. His hair was shortcropped but he had a beard that was tamed without giving the feeling of prissiness. His eyes were blue. He stood still and expressionless until they were some yards away then his features broke out in an attractive smile and he walked up to met them. “My name’s Henley.” “Ruskin.” They shook hands. “This is Miss Caselli.” Henley turned to Caselli who held out his hand. He took it and bowed down till heis lips almost touched her skin. “Enchanted.” “Welcome to Brook House.” “The Norse god of metal. A fitting name.” “Isn’t it? Please step this way.” They followed him down another metal corridor and entered a circular room. “Please take a seat.” They each sat in a chair mad of iron, but with at least polstret. Henley pulled a lever. The room moved upward. Hee pulled another lever and on half of the room the metal moved down and revealed glass panels. At first the view was blocked by a metal wall, then the room rose above the buildings roof and as it kept rising the surroduing hills came into view. “When I realized I needed a lift up to Hermes, my yeacht, I thought, ‘why not make it something special? Why not a room with a view?’ He added, “and privacy.” “But first, what may I offer you? Hot tea? Cold lemonade?” “Nothing thank you.” “A glass of lemonade sounds wonderful.” Caselli sent Henley a warm smile. From a round kommode in the middle of the room Henley took a crystal glass and carafee and poured a glass and gave to Caselli. “You’re quite sure?” “Quite.” “Good. Well then I heard you have some disturbing news for me. But first let me ask who toy represent.” “Our governments.” “Governments. More than one?” “Yes. I work for the British government. Miss Casselli for a government we corporate with on this instance. We are working together to investigate an international criminal organization.” “And you believe they are a threat to my property?” “We have reason to believe that they are targeting you, more—” “What reasons?” “You will appreciate that we can not talk openly about our investigations.” “I might. Or I might not.” “More specifically, the organization is hunting for a specific object. One that you recently acquired. You bought it through a middleman, Elisabeth Sadler.” Henley seemed taken aback. “Oh, that one. It’s just a piece of jewellery. Granted, very valuable. But not a fraction of the real values I possess. Ideas. You see, I am an inventor.” “Inventor of what, if you don’t mind me asking.” “I do mind. There’s a reason why I’ve made my quarters far from the prying eyes of my English and German competitors. And their spies. But it is fairly well known that I have several patents that make fluid coal more effective.” “Really. I would have thought you were into metal.” “Think about it. What makes fluid coal effective? Pressure. The higher the pressure the more concentrated the flammable substance that we call the phlogiston. But then you need something that can apply that pressure, and that is made of …” “Metal?” Henley nodded. “So did you receive a valuable object from Miss Saddler?” Henley rose and walked around the room. He stopped in front of the lever and pulled the one below the hand pointing down. The room descended. “Before we continue, I want to establish your identities. Give me an official address in London that will vouch for you.” “The Ministry of the Interior. Department NS700.” “I’ve never heard of that department.” “Very few have.” “In the meantime, I insist you stay here as my guests. You won’t be bored, we have a party tonight. You are of course invited.” A waiter stood waiting for them when they exited the room. Henley nodded curtly. “See you tonight.” A uniformed footman stood waiting for them. “If you care to step this way.”He bowed slightly and gestured for them to proceed down a carpeted corridor. He stopped in front of a door. Two men in the same uniform sat outside the door. “Your room is in here. Your luggage will be brought up as soon as it arrives. The dinner will begin at eight o’clock. In the meantime, if you need anything please communicate it to the footmen here. They will remain outside the door ready to assist you.” “I’m sure the room is fine, but are there any other recreational areas? I may want to smoke a cigar, and my sister may want to spend some time in a library, she’s very—” “I will have some books sent up for madam, but you will have to smoke on the balcony.” He walked out. Ruskin walked out on the balcony. The sides which apparently bordered other guest rooms were. Caselli came up behind him. “What do we do?” “Get ready for the party.” “I’ll take a bath, then.” He waited till she had taken a couple step into the living room, before asking, “Need any help?” She stopped. He waited for her to say something. She didn’t. He turned to look at her. “You mean, slathering me in soap? Thick, creamy, and with a scent of roses?” “Whichever flavour you want.” “No thanks.” She crossed the room to the bathroom door. Before she opened it, she looked back at him and smiled, as if they were theatregoers sharing a moment after having seen an amusing scene on the stage. About a hundred people was gathered below the glass dome. The trunk had arrived from the inn, and Ruskin’s midnight blue tailcoat fitted right in. Caselli wore a pale reed dess. Full length. The top seemed to be seemed to be too large and apparently hung in folds and gave the impression that not all angles could be covered. The room lit by thousands candles, in floor stage. Faces turned Ruskin and Caselli walked in. One of them was the chief consulate. His brow creased, he nodded his excuse to the group around him and walked up to Ruskin. “Mr Ruskin, I’m surprised to see you here.” “A queer twist of fate.” “Is that so?”“I have sent enquiries to London about you.” “I trust you have not bothered Mr Henley.” “I think he can get on without your help.” “How do we get into his office?” “How do we even find it?” A woman walked between the ice urns shaped like fruit. She nipped a piece of orange puit of an urn. Something in the way she moved stirred a memory. A lithe body slipping out of leather body suit. Her most distinctive feature was here long red hair curly hair. But that could be because she wore a wig, designed to draw attention. As she ate the orange she looked around. Not obstensively, but practiced. Seemlingly interested, with an air of weariness, but with eyes scanning the room. Like a trained spy. She shook hair back. That was the exact same movement thenwoman had done when she stepped out her leather bodysuit on the pleasure barge. He turned away and took a step that brought a column between himself and the woman. “I better go and talk to our embassy friend alone. He might be more forthcoming. Why don’t you mingle and make some poor guy talk too much. Someone who has been here before and—” “I get it. I know what we need.” They split up and Ruskin sundered toward the man from the embassy. A waiter walked up to the woman. He leaned closed to hear. Much closer than it was fitting for a servant to do. The woman stepped away. Again, she made the covered scan of the room. The woman and the waiter went each their way. Ruskin changed course and followed the waiter, then stopped and instead followed the woman. (describe how the exists are guarded. The guards stands down the corridors so not to be obtrusive.) The woman went to the highest level, and stood in shade of a group of iron sculptures of winged creatures. He walked closer. Should he fetch Caselli. There wasn’t time.Maybe there was time, but why should he? With a little luck he would be lead to the pearl, and with more luck he could carry it away within a few hours. A dark shadow moved behind the woman and she turned and walked into the shadows. Ruskin drew closer. He saw the waiter and the woman walk down the corridor toward a guard. The guard stepped away and let them pass. His grin after they had passed clearly showed that it amused that the waiter and a guest was going into find a quite place and make love. Ruskin waited a minute then he strode down the corridor towards the guard. The guard looked at him and when Ruskin came closer he held up his hand, palm towards Ruskin. “I’m sorry sir. This is a private area.” “Yeah, I bet it is very damn private.” “Sir, please—” “That’s my wife down there with one of your dirty colleagues. And I’m going to get her.” “Sir, there’s noone—” Ruskin jumped forward and floored the man with a Japanese chop to the side of his kneck. The man crumpled to the floor. Ruskin caught him and let him slip to the floor without making a sound. He went down the corridor, following the faint footsteps. With her shoes in her hands Caselli followed (she cant see so she crawls out on the roof).