Morning Coffee
Arron sits in the work yard office with Ratka. The yard boss opens the wooden windows to let the air through as the day warms. Her hair is tied under a blue kerchief. A kettle warms on the iron stove. Ratka spoons aromatic ground coffee into a metal filter.
On the simple table a pair of glasses and an empty glass pitcher sitting out of place in a room in which metal cups and wooden bowls are most common. Arron’s skin has already gone from ashen to the color of flour. A sad slow journey of renewal.
“Miss Ratka?”
“Yes Arron.”
“How come we ain’t met your sisters before.”
“Long before you came to us Arron I lived there.”
“I din’t know you ain’t always lived here.”
“Why’d you ever want to leave? It is quite fine dere.”
“Well, the yard is my family.”
“Ain’t dey your family too?”
Ratka smiles at the boy as she pours the steaming water from the kettle over the coffee. She sits across the table as the smell of coffee blooms throughout the small office.
“They are, we are estranged.”
“Whats ’stranged?”
“We are no longer close.”
“Don’t forget Trapper and the Yard are my family as well. “
“So, you have now met my extended family.” She smiles.
“I like Isobel, she was scary at first. But she was really nice.”
Ratka smiles thinly at the boy,
“Yes, she can be quite scary.
“Thank you for answering her questions.”
“Are they all magic? So, was what happened to me is magic?”
Ratka places a finger on the edge of the pitcher and it begins to fill with clear, clean water. Arron’s eyes go wide with wonder.
“Arron, magic is all around us.
You should know that most people believe it exists, but we don’t talk about it.
The water that you drank at the Atrium has great healing properties.
This water is the same. Once tasted, some cannot live without it.
Those that have tasted the water thrive when they have it and decay when they do not.
You have already had a taste. But as it heals you, it will bestow other benefits. Some would say these come with a cost. The cost to you is that you are going to remain young for a long time.
Even though you will look young to others you will become wise beyond your appearance.”
“When I am all better can’t I just stop drinking the water?”
“Of course you can, but it takes a long time to fade from you.”
“Izzat why all those sisters look so young?”
Ratka smiles, pouring the first glass of water. She takes a long moment and then pours the second glass.
“That is one reason they look so young. I have not drank from this well in a very long time. While you drink, so shall I. You will stay here with Trapper and I.”
“What could be wrong with that?”
Ratka hands the boy the glass. He drinks it deeply. She runs her finger along the rim of the glass in front of her. She considers what it means to drink again from this stream, reconsidering the path along that stream that she abandoned so long ago.
“Nothing is wrong with that little one.”
She sips the water. The smile fades from her face. She downs the glass.
“Nothing is wrong with that at all.”
Arrangement
The tall, tightly cropped secretary sits alone in the lobby. Agenté Truffaut taps his cane on the door frame entering the office. The secretary’s expression registers no change as Truffaut requests time with Demian Ashcrow. The tall man stands to his full height and points an open hand palm up to the uncomfortable seats framing the perimeter of the room.
I’d rather stand, thank you.”
Truffaut places his coat and hat on the rack and waits; his hands rest on the pommel of his cane. In a fluid motion the administrator taps the frosted window entering the inner office. Muffled conversation is heard in the office beyond. When the door opens, Truffaut is allowed to pass by the sentinel/secretary and welcomed by Demian Ashcrow. Le Chat Noir is dressed for the office, though without a jacket. The smell of leather and fresh tobacco mixes with the ever-steeping tea. More casual for sure, and clearly less intimidating than the last visit. The absence of the timer alone puts the agent at ease.
“Tea?” Ashcrow offers with a smile.
“No thank you.”
“Agenté, I trust you have something to report.”
“I do. It is likely Monsieur Fureter's attack was instigated by his lack of character.”
“So, you’re saying he provoked the beating?” Ashcrow removes the silver infuser from his cup.
“Have you met the lad?”
“Oh sure, he is a cad and a liar.” Ashcrow smiles blowing air to cool the tea in his cup.
“Are his lies relevant?” Truffaut asks.
“No, neither is the fact the man is an asshole.”
“Well, we can agree if either were a crime Mazas would be filled to the brim with little room for the wicked. I doubt his claim that his mugging was as he described. He reported only that a scarf was stolen. Not robbed of coin. The underbelly of L’Olympia cares little of fashion. Though his recovery was quite remarkable. I’ve not seen an injury of that type heal so quickly. Your club’s doctor is quite the magician.”
“A scarf?” Ashcrow asks ignoring the agent’s observation.
“Yellow, silk. I saw one on a lad escorted on the block yesterday.”
“A lad? Escorted by the woman visiting this office prior to the commission of the investigation.”
“Yes, that would be young Arron. Also, attacked the evening of Theo’s mugging.”
“Relevant?”
“Perhaps. Any leads left to follow before we close this out?”
“I plan to visit his apartment, but it now seems outside the scope of my remit.”
“Let’s let that aspect of Theo’s investigations simmer for now. What of the other happenings across L’Olympia? The woman you observed escorting Arron has reported three of her wards missing.”
“There was an incident off Rue Edouard, but the investigation has not turned up leads yet. Can I interview the woman for details on her wards?”
The door opens and the striking woman who accompanied Demian to the mystery apartment enters the room. She says nothing sitting at the couch opposite the gentleman and the Sûreté agent.
“Agenté Alan Truffaut, may I introduce my associate Ashra Kazemi, she will be our liaison for your investigation going forward.”
“Monsieur Ashcrow, I do not understand, if our investigation of Theo Fureter is complete what further involvement will there be?”
“We have reason to believe there is more to Theo than originally thought. Additionally, there are forces at play between various factions and organizations that are spilling onto the streets and boulevards. This office has interest in seeing these quietly resolved. Theo, as you have noted previously is a ‘person of interest.’ My associates and I agree. Between your official capacity, Ashra’s abilities, access and authority of this office doors unseen will open to you to our mutual benefit.”
Truffaut is confused but does not let it slip clearly making a connection between Le Den du Turk and Ashcrow’s operations.
“And why would I do this?”
“You will be handsomely compensated for your continued participation and cooperation in our ‘arrangement’.”
Ashcrow moves to his desk producing folio and pen. He writes a check placing it in an envelope, folding it closed.
“As long as our arrangement stands, this office will pay you 10,000 francs per month for your ongoing discretion and your private investigation.”
He hands the envelope to Ashra.
"Agreed?" She asks the agenté.
“For now.” Truffaut states.
“Try it on, see how it fits. You will not be required to do anything untoward.” Ashcrow smiles, with emotionless eyes he sips his tea.
Ashra hands him the envelope. “Shall we begin?”
Coffee and Arrangements