A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

by William Scott

  *

  Pierce and Schell lunched together in the informal dining room after returning their horses. The room was on the ground floor and brighter than most in the Manor. A wall of windows provided diners with a view of the rising mountains behind the Manor. The room itself was large, but not imposing; with a collection of tables and chairs filling it. Mostly empty of diners, save for a pair at the far end of the room and a solitary man by the door.

  Sirinova walked in, and observing the pair finishing their meal headed over to their table. She sat down too quickly for either man to stand for her, not one to wait on protocol. As she settled herself, Schell removed his napkin and placed it over his glass, winking at Pierce.

  “And how are you feeling?” She asked Pierce brusquely after placing her order with the waiter.

  “Very well and thank you for asking,” replied Pierce somewhat confused by the women who had drugged him a short time ago. “And how are you?”

  “Fine, fine,” she said absently. “No sweating, loss of memory, or cramps?”

  “I… no, everything’s fine.”

  “Interesting,” she muttered thoughtfully. “The other test subj… people had at least one of those symptoms. I must be making headway.” With that taken care of she relaxed noticeably, leaning back and taking a drink of the wine the waiter had left. Schell cleared his throat, making Sirinova jump slightly.

  “My dear Wilhelm, I didn’t even notice you there,” she apologised affectionately. “You know how I get when I’m working.”

  “Indeed I do Elena,” replied Schell just as warmly. “There’s no need to apologize.”

  “Well I have been very busy lately,” She continued. “I will have to make an effort to be more social. It seems like ages since we’ve last spent time together.”

  “It has, but I’m glad you decided to join us.”

  “Us? Oh yes. I didn’t realize you were friends with the Commandant here,” she said noticing Pierce again. “Otherwise I might not have…”

  “Used me as a test subject?” interjected Pierce. “Think nothing of it, I’m just glad to be a part of the scientific process,” he continued sarcastically.

  “What a refreshing point of view,” responded Sirinova, oblivious to his tone.

  “Rest assured Patrick, most of us have contributed to the comrade’s science,” Schell offered as Pierce rose from the table.

  “Of course. Well, I have some things to attend to,” he stated stiffly, annoyed by their cavalier attitudes. “I’ll let the two of you get re-acquainted.”

  He left the dining room and headed towards the stairs, trying to figure out why they had affected him so much. He had a mixture of feelings towards both Schell and Sirinova; jealousy, irritation, humiliation, and some he couldn’t put a name to. He had taken her interest in him beyond what she intended, a lab rat. That she was enamoured with Wilhelm did not make the revelation any easier to handle.

  He surfaced from his musings to find himself standing outside his door. He wondered how long he had been standing there as he turned the knob and entered.

  “I’m glad you’ve returned sir,” said Melrose approaching from his dressing room across the hall. “We were able to find a uniform for your dinner tonight, and I need to make sure it fits properly.”

  “Uniform?” asked Pierce confused. The brown leather hunting jacket he had received from MacDuff a week ago was the only uniform he had ever worn.

  “Yes sir, but perhaps I had better explain. For the Reminiscence the members wear their old uniforms or clothing, something from their old life. I took the liberty of tracking down one for you.”

  “But I never wore a uniform,” argued Pierce.

  “Patrick Pierce never wore a uniform, that’s correct,” explained Melrose tactfully. “However Commandant Pierce did.”

  “And you think it will be easier for me to be Commandant Pierce at this dinner?”

  “Infinitely easier sir. The fewer people that know you were recruited early the better.”

  “I see what you mean,” agreed Pierce, nodding his head in thought. “Hmm, I will need some sort of reliable back story though.”

  “I’ve thought of that and believe you should be alright,” stated Melrose as he ushered his master in the dressing room. “You see you come from a more modern time compared to the rest of the members. So if you remain vague enough, no one will know if you provide some somewhat inaccurate details.”

  “Well hopefully no one will want to speak to me. I’m not a very convincing liar.”

  “You’ll be fine sir,” calmed Melrose as he pointed towards a uniform hanging up behind him. “What do you think?”

  Pierce turned and stood stunned, staring at the uniform before him. He hadn’t put much thought towards the uniform, after all uniforms were nothing more than clothing to him. He had foreseen a bland suit or maybe a sport jacket with a crest sewn on the pocket. But that was not what he was presented with. This uniform radiated with dark meaning and he now understood how a uniform could become a symbol and create its own aura.

  “Where did you get this,” whispered Pierce hoarsely.

  “I found the design in one of the books in the library. I had one of the girls sew it up this past week and had the jeweller create the accoutrements. It should be as close to authentic as possible,” he added, noticing Pierce’s unease. “Is there a problem sir?”

  Pierce took a closer look at it, fingering the metal lettering on the epaulettes. “What does RCMS stand for?”

  “In the book it said it stood for Royal Canadian Marshal Service,” replied Melrose, now wary.

  “I think I’d like to see this book,” ordered Pierce still staring at the clothing laid out before him.

  The uniform was an almost exact copy of the Red Serge worn by the RCMP, although this one was jet black. There were additional alterations to the original version; all of them making it appear more intimidating. The shiny brass buttons and insignia had been replaced by brushed silver. The brown leather Sam Browne belt and riding boots were now polished black, with brushed silver buckles. The gold stripe running down the side of the riding breeches was changed to silver. Everything had been altered slightly from the Mountie uniform Pierce remembered, right down to the insignia on the high collar. The crowned bison surrounded by maple leafs was replaced with a ferocious polar bear.

  Despite his apprehensions, he didn’t want to disappoint Melrose, who had clearly put some effort into the uniform. He donned each piece slowly, ignoring the mirror across from him.

  “A marvellous fit,” exclaimed Melrose when Pierce was fully dressed. “Diana does wonderful work; I don’t think any alterations are in order.”

  “I look like a Nazi,” muttered Pierce in distaste. There must have been some mistake in the book Melrose had borrowed. He couldn’t imagine any Canadian agency approving a uniform that so closely resembled the worn by one of histories most evil organizations.

  “Is there a problem sir?” inquired Melrose.

  “No, nothing, it fits like a glove,” replied Pierce. He remembered that Melrose had no knowledge of the history of the outside world and thus did not see the same thing as Pierce did looking at the reflection in the mirror.

  “If you require no changes, I will simply clean it up and prepare it for this evening.”