“How can children be considered outside influences?” Anna interrupts.
Sherlock straightens his back signaling that he will answer, “Your question is a good one. In an average, common suburban setting, children in a marriage are the norm. And because of this, Lady Banks and Lord Banks are more likely to live in a professional urban center, a no kid zone. Lord Banks’ living arrangement requires flexibility. He must be able to move at a moment’s notice, to go wherever, whenever. Children compromise his fluidity.”
Anna is not about to let go of this issue, “The No Kids policy is neat. However, how does this play out in real life, given Lady Banks’ procreating hormonal drive?”
Sherlock takes a moment to give Anna time to think about how this works out. He looks again into her eyes that now look yummy cinnamon brown. He sees that she is waiting for an answer. He arches both eyebrows this time and answers, “Nothing is left to chance. Every attention to detail is made in her selection.”
Anna’s edginess grows, “Do I understand you to say that along with emotional vulnerability, low self image, low sex drive, we are talking barrenness? Or are we talking sterilization?”
Mycroft relieves Sherlock, “Every means will be employed to insure Lord Banks’ mission. His work must be unimpeded and successful.”
Anna is repulsed, “Really we come back to it every time; the end justifies the means. I keep on forgetting how menacing this culture really is. Lady Banks agrees to sterilization?”
Dodd calls time out, “Shall we order tea?”
Anna shakes her head vigorously, “No! I want to know how this plays out.”
Sherlock obliges, “Better to get to the heart of this than to let it fester in your imagination. In the initial recruitment process, Lady Banks’ reproductive capacity and sexual appetite are considered and if need be altered.”
Anna now pushes away from the table. She is astonished. She exhales, “How is it that we never talked about this before now?”
Mycroft offers an explanation, “It just didn’t come up.”
Anna takes a deep breath and sighs as she exhales, “Fair enough. Sorry for my poor outburst.”
Mycroft returns, “The childless relationship is almost a given simply because typically Lord Banks prefers men. This was central to our first talks. Lady Banks provides the pretense for a heterosexual liaison.”
Anna thinks hard on Mycroft’s words. She speaks cautiously “Sorry, I’m just now putting facts into context. So a gay Lord Banks pretty much insures a childless union. “
Sherlock expands, “Optimally, Lady Banks’ hormonal drive to reproduce, as you put it, is tempered by her low sex drive. We did talk about this as part of her profile. If need be, drug therapy will be introduced.”
Anna is aghast, “They drug her?”
Sherlock is surprised at Anna’s level of resistance. He sits back in his seat.
Mycroft intervenes, “Yes. Sex, drugs and alcohol are staples in the world of spooks. Hormone treatment is part of the regimen to lower Lady Banks’ sex drive and fertility when needed.”
Sherlock follows up, “And the same applies to Lord Banks, his sexual appetites are carefully regulated with drug interventions also.”
Anna offers sarcastically, “Oh well that makes the whole thing all right!”
Sherlock hopes that they are not going to get stuck in a quagmire of recriminations. He broaches another aspect. “Right or wrong is not what we are about. This is the morality free zone. That is something that you will have to address, if and when, you put it into context.
But you should know that in training, in her initiation, Lady Banks is conditioned to a mind-set that is childless. Subliminally she will be taught that motherhood is undesirable. She will have the best and latest in birth control. If she does become pregnant, the pregnancy will be terminated. And in all likelihood she will then undergo sterilization.”
Anna just heaves a long sigh of contempt. “It will take me some time to get my head around that.”
Sherlock senses that Anna is becoming unglued with the reality of Lady Banks. He wonders if perhaps it is hitting home finally. He rests his hand on hers and whispers “Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.”
Anna nods slightly acknowledging the wisdom in the Eagles’ lyric. She rests her other hand on his for a brief second. Then she proceeds to fold her hands together. She presses on,
“So what else do I need to know that makes this union significantly different from the typical heterosexual union?”
Sherlock nods for Mycroft to go on. He begins, “The need for control and surveillance really structures the whole relationship. Lady Banks’ life is subject to constant scrutiny. Within the union, Lady Banks can never compromise Lord Banks’ cover. The less contact she has with the outside world, the more secure the cover and the control.”
Anna resigns herself as best she can that nothing is really going to be acceptable in this Lord Banks and Lady Banks world. She utters in dismay, “So Lady Banks lives forever isolated? What about Lady Banks’ family?”
Mycroft answers, “In the initiation process, Lady Banks is conditioned to relinquish family ties. A mind set establishes them as peripheral at best. But if the family connection persists, if it compromises Lord Banks’ work, the family will be eliminated.”
Anna’s eyes pop. “Eliminated?” is all she can utter in complete disbelief.
Mycroft lowers his voice hoping to calm her some, “Typically, the agency simply moves the couple beyond practical reach, to another country.”
Anna remains highly suspicious, “What if Lady Banks, out of the blue, insists on seeking refuge in her family?”
Mycroft pouts. He tugs at his neatly arranged ponytail. He speaks with extreme caution, “Every means will be employed to insure the end. If family ties threaten, they are indeed terminated. A mom, a dad will have an accident. Or maybe they will have a heart attack whatever it takes.”
Anna clenches her teeth, in a faint whisper, she asks, “They kill them?”
Anna’s soul aches as she recalls the memory of her parents’ death the very week she accepted her first teaching post. ‘They died instantly,’ the officer on the scene of the accident reported. Cut down by a drunk driver.’ Anna taps her feet, right foot left foot.
Back to the present, Anna tries to find a speck of redemption in this Lord Banks and Lady Banks affair, she asks, “Is there a mechanism in place to protect Lady Banks from a menacing Lord Banks? Is there a safety net?”
Mycroft answers, “Not really, mate, for the most part, Lord Banks controls Lady Banks.”
Anna can’t accept this, “Why can‘t she run away? What about a divorce?”
Mycroft shakes his head, “Remember the profile, Lady Banks’ psychological makeup, her emotional vulnerability precludes a challenge to Lord Banks. He is after all her alter ego. He is her whole world.
In addition, Lord Banks ties her to his purse strings. Consider what it would take for a woman living in a strange area with no outside support to walk out. Finding a place to live and a job require references. She lacks this crucial link to the outside world. I know that you are thinking why doesn’t she just go back home. For the few who do return home, they find it difficult to assimilate back into the clan. This is how all encompassing the conditioning process is. This is the reason for isolation. It would take a strong minded, independent spirit to challenge the union.”
Sherlock adds, “There is another reason Lady Banks remains in a difficult relationship and that is her sense of guilt. Another key aspect of Lady Banks’ profile that we have not mentioned is that very likely she is a victim of childhood abuse. She comes to the relationship with shame and guilt. When things go wrong, Lady Banks’ low sense of self assumes that she is to blame. Conflict dredges up the helplessness of her inner child. Of course Lord Banks capitalizes on this. Shame and guilt keep her from reaching out to family and friends
However, and I can’t stress this enough, in the en
d, it is in the highest interest of the agency to make a proper match, one that will work for both parities. The agency does not want their Lady Banks to burn out. A happy Lady Banks provides the proper cover, insures the legend.”
At that point as if on cue, the train agent announces, “Paris in Fifteen minutes!”
Anna gets up, “Bien, I’m off to take advantage of the first class facilities before we hit the streets of Paris.”
Chapter Twelve
Outside Gare du Nord, the sun sparkles. A Parisian blue sky crowns the city’s landscape. The trees are bare. In place of leaves, Anna notices strings of tiny white lights.
Befuddled, she asks, “Have I been asleep? Is it already Christmas time?”
Sherlock, who remains by her side answers, “Christmas in Europe comes early. Many families across Europe mark the first day of Christmas as December 6, the feast day of old St Nick.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Mycroft spies a six foot, skinny as a rail, Caribbean gent with neat locks, decked out in a string bean green three piece suit with red and gold stripped tie hovering in their vicinity. He silently and subtly catches his brother’s eye. Sherlock fixes his stare upon the colorful gent. He registers his brother’s concern.
Mycroft calls out, “Let’s grab that taxi.” Sherlock endorses this plan and hails a cab.
The four chatter freely taking in the myriad of sights. Approaching Pont Henri Quatre, Dodd directs Anna’s attention, “Look left, Anna, to the next island, recognize anything?”
Anna stops and peers, “Notre Dame!”
Dodd fishes out his pocket watch from his slightly too tight jeans. “Maybe we should get out here. The traffic is too slow. We need to pick up the pace.”
He alerts the driver. Anna welcomes the chance to walk one last time through the streets of Paris. She rummages through her backpack. She dons her white Ethiopian cotton scarf. Sherlock helps with the wrapping. He whispers, “It suits you, Watson.”
The three rooks study Sherlock’s trusty fold out Michelin map of Paris streets. Mycroft suggests, “Let’s cross over at Henri Quatre. We can glimpse Ile St Louis. And we can check out the merchants along the right bank. We’ll pass right in front of the new sports complex. ”
Sherlock’s eyes register a no vote, he offers, “Or we can stroll down St Bernard. It runs into Austerlitz. We can see the Biblioteque National. Its architectural interest is far and above that of the sports complex. We can cross over at Tolbiac. That should lands us right close to your flat.”
Anna puts in her two cents worth, “Let’s take in the right bank now, so Dodd will have a good reference on the immediate neighborhood. We can take in the left bank when the business of the day is done.”
As the rooks get their coordinates, they move out en masse to explore the new up and coming Paris. Dodd leads the way. Behind him Anna and Sherlock walk side by side. Mycroft carries the rear. Midway over the bridge, Mycroft sets his sights on yet another colorful lad standing at the end of the bridge. Without a word, he nonchalantly taps his left shoulder to signal his brother. Sherlock has the youth in his scope already. The stranger, likewise, has a fixed stare on the quartet crossing. Sunrays glow upon his honey gold skin. He wears his black wooly hair cut low except for two dread locks on either side of his bearded face in the style of the Ashkenazi. He dresses in the latest hip-hop fashion; baggy gray sweats embellished with Burberry plaid pouch. His leggings sport matching Burberry patches.
Anna has him in her peripheral vision now. As the troupe passes, the young man turns his back to them revealing a hand painted portrait of the man, Marley. As Anna passes, he bumps her. In muffled tones he greets her, “Rastafari.”
Anna just bows her head. But she does now notice the strange walking configuration. However, the novelty of the sights overrides any call for concern. Out of character, Sherlock’s curiosity overwhelms his better judgment to remain silent.
He asks, “Someone you know? “
Anna’s mouth turns a small shy smile. She tugs at her scarf to remove it. “No. It’s just the Ethiopian scarf. Rasta lays claim to all things Ethiopian.”
They walk briskly along the river rue. Dodd calls out, “Just ahead on the left, you can see the top of the modern Opera de la Bastille.”
Anna takes it all in with great delight. As they pass by DeGaulle Bridge, Dodd directs, “Just there a block up is Gare de Lyon. All the trains to the Mediterranean leave from there. It is a splendid bit of architecture from the ‘Belle Époque.’ And straight ahead…”
Before he can finish, Anna interrupts, “My soul what’s that, a hippopotamus of stone and glass? A sci fi city?”
The rooks laugh and agree. Sherlock steps into Anna and remarks, “Welcome to the world of Mitterrand. That city is the new Finance Bureau. It captures the financial mind set of France, n’est pas?”
Dodd takes over, “Mitterrand decided that the old location outside the Louvre no longer worked. There were some who believed it was Mitterrand lining the pockets of his cronies. I happen to think that the move was a brilliant piece of political strategy. It provided a lot of work for the new immigrants to the area. Would you believe that there are 65,000 workers in there? It even has a heliport. And there is a running ferry along the Quay to carry the ministers to the old city at any time. And in the distance you can see…”
Anna cut’s him off again, “Don’t tell me it’s the sport‘s arena. Do I see grass walls?
Dodd breaks out in a wide grin. He informs Anna, “Indeed! The blue steel dome and the green grass wall are a touch of postmodern artistic genius, don‘t you think? It draws all of Paris. It seats up to 17,000. In addition to housing top sports events, you can hear the best in pop music. Most of the big name concerts are here now. It’s become a cultural hub.”
Anna replies, “It’s doesn’t seem to fit my Paris. And what is that across the river?”
Sherlock answers, “Mitterrand again most of the new sites are the children of Mitterrand. Over there, you see the new Bibliotheque Nationale de France.”
Anna takes a moment to scan the opposite riverbank. “I like it very much. Paris has become exotic, who would have thought?”
Sherlock snuggles closer, “Europe does not sleep. We are the new millennium. But fret not. We will have dinner at my place, the Old Paris just like me.”
Mycroft calls ahead, “Hey mate, how are we on time?”
Dodd struggles to retrieve his pocket watch. He informs the group, “We have all of three minutes. I’ll jog ahead.” He trots on. And then breaks into a gentlemanly jog. He turns back to Sherlock and Anna and shouts,
“Meet you there. Don’t dawdle! Turn left on Rue Pirogues, number 55.”
Mycroft exclaims, “I’ll take the jog with you. Meet you at the new digs, Lock.”
Sherlock calls out to the sprinters, “The agent is bound to be late.”
Anna laughs, “Do you go by the name Lock?”
Sherlock admits sheepishly, “Yes like you, I have a few monikers. I answer to Holmes, Sherlock, Sher or Lock. The latter is Mycroft’s favorite pet name for me. Mycroft answers to Holmes, Croft and even Crofty We often use our pet names in public so as to avoid the whole Holmes explanation. If you like, you can call me Lock.”
Anna replies, “Thanks, but I’ve grown accustomed to Holmes. Though, I do like Dodd’s name for Mycroft, Crofty.”
As they go on, Anna asks Holmes, “Tell me more about this area.”
Holmes takes her arm again, “The sports complex is its biggest draw. I myself favor the park here.”
The two stroll leisurely and happily pass the freshly cut grass terraces that lead up to the park. Anna inhales the sweet scent and remarks; “New grass always makes me high.”
Holmes laughs, “I sort of suspected such.”
Anna lowers her head. She thinks, ‘I can’t believe I said that. He must think I’m some relic of a pot head.’ She ignores his shady implication.
Holmes returns to the tour, “This area showcases the bes
t in urban renewal. The changes in the douxieme, while not my cup of tea, mark France’s efforts to link and bridge the older established inner ring to the newer, global outer ring of Paris. It is quite a challenge to meld the third world immigrant people and the ultra modern French. It is what Mycroft was urging in our earlier talk about the challenges of the New Millennium.”
Anna remembers, “Indeed, I’m glad to see that Europe’s taken a lead.”
The two turn quiet. Anna takes in a deep breath and exhales quickly. She summons the Zen within. She covets the moment, a clean, clear, late autumn day in Paris, a walk along the Seine with a man of substance. She expresses her intrigue, “I think that there is a bit of magic in you, Mr. Holmes.”
Sherlock looks askance at Anna and expands on her comment, “Magic perhaps, but not magician.”
Anna nods meekly to confirm his profession of good faith. They turn onto a narrow crowded street lined with landmark chestnut trees shot with color. Anna breathes in the deep autumn musk that drifts through their branches. She thinks to herself that autumn musk will always remind her of the man who calls himself Sherlock Holmes.
The area is predominantly residential. However, many residences include commercial interests on the first floor. Anna eyes a tailor, a hat boutique even a dentist. All the units are period Bercy, originally modest dwellings that over the years with a bit of gentrification are now quaint even trendy. Sherlock pauses in front of an historic looking wood façade reaching five stories tall. The front entrance, in the center of the building, features a heavy weathered beaten chestnut door with a hand carved rose. On either side of the entrance is a pair of peeling and faded wood shuttered windows.
The Christmas Pudding Lie Page 18
