“Is that…a heart?” asked Cassidy.
George, wide-eyed, swallowed hard. “I think so. I think so.”
“Does that mean that the soul of a horse is in this thing?” asked Gideon.
“Don’t be stupid,” said George.
“Play nice,” said Joseph.
“I think it’s a legitimate question,” said Cassidy. “Do you think that a horse is somehow alive inside this machine?”
“I see no reason to believe that,” said George. “At least not yet. The Professor specialized in advanced medicine. This may be some experiment in transplants or artificial organs. It may just need a machine this big to make it work. It… it… just, wow.”
“I disagree,” said Sheng. “Cables and tubes represent all of the major muscle groups of a horse. If there isn't a horse locked inside this machine, that may very well be its purpose.”
“That's a huge leap to make,” said George. “Maybe the guy just likes horses.”
“Frankly, especially now, I don't give a shit,” said Cassidy. “As of now, it’s our only lead.” She looked the horse up and down. “How much does it weigh?”
George looked at the horse before grabbing hold of the mahogany base and attempting to lift the horse. It didn’t move in the slightest. “Heavy.”
“It looks it,” replied Cassidy. “Joe, do you think you could get in touch with that crew of yours? The one down the docks?”
“Probably,” Joseph said, somewhat hesitantly. “It’s late, but these guys aren’t exactly early birds.”
“Just make it worth their while. I’m sure they’ll come. I want this horse in my office by the morning.” Cassidy let out a sigh. “Aside from that, I’m going home. I’m tired.”
Gideon turned quickly and stepped toward Cassidy. “Uh, Miss St. Claire. Would you mind if I tagged along on this endeavor? I, and I’m sure the U.S. government, would greatly appreciate.”
“Well, while I couldn’t give less of a shit about the government if I tried, you seem nice enough. You’re also kinda’ cute, so why not. Welcome to our gang.”
“Excellent,” said Gideon with a smile.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Palace Hotel.”
“Good god, they treat you well in the State Department, don’t they.”
“Not really. The Palace is popular with foreign dignitaries and so Washington uses it as a staging ground for spying. There are dozens of secret government-only rooms in the basement.” Gideon delivered this news with a smile.
Cassidy paused with an unfazed, almost expressionless look. “Well, that’s unsettling.” Gideon stopped smiling. “We’ll send someone for you when the horse arrives at my house. Other than that, I’m tired of looking at all of you. Goodnight.”
“Oh. Let me go get the horses ready,” said Sheng, hurrying out before Cassidy.
“Goodnight, Cassy. Try to make it home without destroying anything else,” said Joseph with a smirk.
“Yep,” said Cassidy, as she turned to walk out. Suddenly, Cassidy stopped in her tracks, turned back around and walked quickly over to The Professor’s desk and grabbed the jar of acetyl salicylic acid with a swipe, then walked out of the office.
---
The man stood in the shadows, gazing out the large arched window overlooking the twinkling lights of a nearby city, underneath a dark, starry night. A small splash of light illuminated his legs from the knees down, revealing fine clothing. A page dressed in a simple shirt, slacks, and suspenders walked in.
“Sir?” inquired the page. The Shadowy Man turned. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we just received the telegram in from San Francisco. As you assumed, the woman who has been causing us the trouble is indeed Cassidy St. Claire. She came very close to capturing one of our agents earlier today. We received word from Mr. Falkenrath and he confirmed all of this. How would you like us to respond?”
The Shadowy Man did not respond. Instead, a voice came from behind the page, in the hallway. “While this isn’t a surprise, it is still an annoyance.” The page turned in surprise.
“Mr. Martin. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The page stepped to the side and allowed Mr. Martin, a thin man with an almost perfectly ovoid head, into the room. After which, he turned to face the page. “I think that it’s time we pulled our man on the inside,” he said with a slight Irish accent. “We are so close to completing our operations on this continent that his cover has lost most of its usefulness. Send word to Los Angeles. Let our man know that he is to expose himself if he thinks it beneficial and then return here.”
“Right away, sir,” replied the page. The page turned and walked down the hallway, his shoes clopping on the hardwood floor.
Mr. Martin turned to face the Shadowy Man. “Perhaps a bit premature, but nonetheless exciting. Within the month, we will all be back where we belong. It's been so many years. The damaged airframe is about one day out with the other remaining outside of the city in case it is needed. Other than that, I have no news.” Mr. Martin paused. The Shadowy Man did not say anything and instead simply turned back to the window. “Very good, sir. I shall leave you be. If anything changes, I will make sure to report it. Otherwise, things are proceeding as planned.” Mr. Martin bowed slightly, and walked out the door.
The Shadowy Man continued to stare out the window — stare into the starry, moonless night.
8
Gideon stood in front of the mirror in his small, concrete room. A simple bed, sink, and wardrobe filled most of the available area. He tweezed a nose hair, adjusted his tie, collar, and cuffs, and then opened the door. He walked out slightly to find Cassidy right in his face, staring at him.
“AHH!” he screamed.
“Howdy. Glad to see that you’re awake,” said Cassidy.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he asked, breathing heavily with his hand on his abdomen.
“I walked. You guys have terrible security.”
“No we don't! We have excellent security!”
“Well if your security did not see me climbing through a window, I would not describe them as excellent.”
“You crawled through a window!? You could have been shot!”
“Well, yes. I suppose I could have been. I doubt it, though. And besides, my vest and pants are bullet-resistant.”
“None of that answers how you knew which room I was in.”
“Oh that's easy. You're the best-smelling man I've ever encountered. Well, maybe the best smelling man I've ever encountered, there was this one guy who... why am I saying this, nevermind. Even if you are not the best smelling man I know, you're the only man I've ever met who wears lavender-scented cologne, and I could track that from across town.” By now, Gideon's breathing had eased and I was collecting himself. “You good?” she asked.
Gideon paused for a moment and glanced off to the side. “...Yes... Yes, I'm good. I might have lost a year off my life, but I'm good.”
“Excellent. Let's get breakfast,” Cassidy said with a smile, slapping his shoulder.
---
Cassidy and Gideon sat at the exquisitely-fitted table. Gold and silver flatware surrounded fine china plates and crystal glasses. The bright morning sun pierced into the luxurious dining area from large windows opposite the ornate bar area. The white walls and gold accents glowed and glistened, the white; pristine curtains billowed in the spring breeze; well-heeled patrons wandered in and out as Cassidy relaxed in her chair, breathing deeply and looking toward the windows as the invigorating apollonian bath washed over her face.
“I'm sorry for being so brusque yesterday. All I needed was a good night's sleep. I'm feeling much better,” said Cassidy as she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.
“What? Oh. That's no worry. I scarcely noticed,” said Gideon, who sat there stiff and somewhat awkwardly.
“Are you alright?” asked Cassidy, adjusting her shirt.
“Me? Yes. I'm fine. Why?”
“I don't know. You see
m... uncomfortable. You on the lookout for someone?”
“Oh. Yes. I mean no. I'm not looking out for anything. I just feel a little out of place. I would never be able to afford to eat at someplace like this. I think a single meal would be a week's wages for me. I'm just worried that I stand out.”
“Trust me, if either of us stands out, it's me. No one will notice you. And really? The government never footed the bill for a nice night out?” Cassidy asked, sipping her water.
“One moment. The waiter is heading our way,” interjected Gideon.
The waiter, a slim, balding man with a face so clean-shaven as to be almost reflective, walked up. “Good morning,” he said, with a slight French accent. “My name is George. I will be your servant for the meal. Would either of you like any drinks,” he asked, looking at Cassidy.
“Yes. A glass of fine breakfast wine. Whatever you think is good,” replied Cassidy. George then looked to Gideon.
“No thank you. I'll be fine with water.”
“Oh pish,” said Cassidy. “Get him a glass as well.”
“D'accord,” said George. “And for breakfast.”
“I'll have the buffet,” Cassidy said with an animated smile.
“Uh, I will have the buffet as well,” said Gideon.
“Excellent,” said George, taking the menus. “The buffet is still being arranged and will be ready in a few minutes. Please help yourselves to the fruit platter.” Cassidy and Gideon nodded as George walked away.
“So, your boss never took you out for a meal?” asked Cassidy.
“Well, stuff like that happens, just not with foot soldiers like me. I'm not really important enough to get treats like that.”
“How long have you been working for them?”
“Um, about two years. Little bit less, actually. I worked for Thomas Edison before that. That was very exciting, but I had a, uh, an incident that forced me to leave.”
“Incident?”
“Yeah. I'd rather not talk about it. It still rather stings.”
“No problem. I'm not here to excavate your past. So, back to the point. Two years and not a single treat? Unacceptable.” Cassidy took a big swig of water. “Well, look at it like this. All the fancy dinners that those selfish bastards eat are paid for by taxes. So I'm paying a little extra to give a hard-working, and good-smelling, man a good meal.”
Gideon smiled an easy smile. “Thank you. I mean it. Thank you. It's been chaotic since I got the job, I have to admit. No time for friends or family. I've seemingly spent all of my time out on assignment.”
“Exactly! Relax, get drunk, and then I'll take advantage of you in my carriage.”
“Oh, I don't think I'll get drunk enough for that,” said Gideon with a smirk.
Cassidy looked confused and slightly perturbed. “And what's that supposed to mean. You think I'm ugly or something?”
“Oh, no! No! Nothing like that. I mean, I didn't mean, I'm just, well, I'm sorry. You're not ugly! I just wasn't, I, I...”
Cassidy was smiling. “Calm down. I didn't mean anything by it either. Besides, you're far too young for me. What are you, anyways? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
“Just about thirty.”
“What?!” Cassidy put down her water and leaned in slightly with a look of disbelief. “You look like a child! What are you doing, drinking the blood of virgins or something?”
“No. Nothing special, I guess. I don't really go outside too often, and I use aloe on my skin.”
“Well whatever you're doing, it's keeping you looking damn pretty,” Cassidy said as George the waiter came by with their two glasses of wine. Cassidy and Gideon thanked him and he walked off.
“What's your official position in the government that requires you to be wandering all over tarnation, anyhow?”
“I'm just a general purpose sort of field agent. I'm supposed to be in Europe, but I took on an internal assignment soon after joining and just keep getting given more of them. It's frustrating. I know four languages. I trained for it. It's especially frustrating because even though being out here is important, it doesn't get any attention. When things go wrong, oh boy, do people pay attention then. But otherwise, I'm ignored. All of the promotions go to those working in Europe and... well, that's really the whole of it. I'm trapped out here. I can't say no, but by continuing to say yes, I doom myself to just being out here more.”
“You have to make more noise.”
“I can't. There's nowhere to make noise.”
“There's always someplace to make noise, you just have to find it. Trust me, you're a young, well-spoken man. You would have to say some exceptionally stupid things to get yourself booted. I'm telling you this from some experience. Make your problems heard.”
“It's not that easy.”
“Oh believe me, I'm sure that it's not. But I guarantee, I guarantee, that all of the men who are in Europe, receiving promotions, having sex with exotic women, all of those men complain like crazy. They spend half of their business time whining to other people. Oh, they don't sound like they are whining. They make it sound very good. But they are whining. You have to whine too. The quiet baby never received any attention. It's the colicky baby that gets the love, even if everyone hates him.”
Gideon sighed. “That's what I don't want, though. I don't want to be hated by everyone on my quest to the top.”
“Every king, every prime minister, every president, every leader and conqueror throughout history has been as asshole. Assholes rule the world because they don't give a shit about anyone else. It doesn't matter if they self-destruct in the process; they make it. And I think that's great! The biggest asshole beats all of the other assholes. I don't feel bad for anyone in the competition!”
“Yeah! I don't want to be in the competition, though! I want to do great things, but I don't want to be president. Yes, becoming president requires a complete abandonment of ideals, I... Well, I think that's obvious. But the further down you look, the less you have to abandon who you are. Moreover, people only want positions of power for what it can give them. I don't want my position to give me anything. I want my position to make changes. To do something. I don't even care if my name is forgotten the moment I die. The positions of power that I want cannot be the positions that others want, I just have to find them. And if I spend all of my time making noise to try and gain the positions that others want, I will miss those truly virtuous jobs when they present themselves.”
Cassidy nodded as she thought. “Hmm. Yeah. That... that is a very good way of putting it.” Cassidy sipped her wine as the waiter walked up. Cassidy remained oblivious. “I don't know. Perhaps you can achieve what you want without being an asshole, but my earlier statement stands. Whine. Whine a lot. Whine to anyone who will listen. It can be in many forms. Just talking about the work you've done can do it. People will not want to hear what you have to say. They're utterly lost in themselves. Corner them. You're not being an asshole for this. You're merely insisting upon yourself. Force people to be aware that you exist.”
“Ahem,” George the waiter coughed.
Cassidy looked to her left, surprised. “Oh, hi!”
“The buffet is about to open if you would like to avail yourselves of it,” said George, looking at Cassidy.
Cassidy looked at Gideon. “Food?” she said, pointing her thumb toward the buffet table.
“Most certainly,” replied Gideon.
---
Gideon and Cassidy walked toward the large, oak door at the front of St. Claire Manor. As they walked away from the carriage house and through the front gardens expertly maintained under Amos's careful eye, Gideon's gaze wandered all about.
“So what do you think of my abode?” asked Cassidy.
“It's nice. It's very... muted.”
“Well there's a term very few have ever used to describe me.”
“Well, considering your level of wealth and fame, I have to admit I was expecting something a bit more ostentatious. Everything about this house
is very subdued and classical. I mean that to be an utter compliment. How can I... Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember how she first visits Mr. Darcy's house and his simple, unadorned grounds causes her to reassess his character?”
“Um, sure.”
“Well that's the same thing, here. Seeing your house makes me think... I hope you don't find me presumptuous as I say this, but it makes me think more highly of you.”
“Presumptuous? No. But if you are to think highly of anyone, you should think highly of my mother. It was she who designed and directed the construction. I've just never had any desire to change.”
“For someone with millions upon millions of dollars to be happy with what they have is, I think, a testament to their character.”
“I'll take that. I am rather amazing,” Cassidy said as she opened the door for Gideon. “Ladies first,” she said, bowing and letting Gideon go first. Gideon smiled as he walked in.
As they stepped into the foyer, Cassidy yelled down into the kitchen. “Margie! I'm home! I wonder where Amos is.” Cassidy turned and faced Gideon. “Let's set up camp in my office,” Cassidy said, motioning toward her office door. “The horse should be arriving soon. It took them forever to figure out how to move it. It weighed as much as an elephant.” Gideon nodded and they walked into the office.
As they entered Cassidy's office, two well-dressed men who had been sitting in her guest chairs stood at attention. “Who the hell are you?” asked Cassidy.
“Mr. Secretary?” asked Gideon with a look of concern. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Secretary?” asked Cassidy, looking at Gideon. “You know these guys.”
“Yes. He's my superior,” Gideon said, motioning his hand toward the older of two men. Cassidy looked to the duo with suspicion.
Gideon's superior was the taller of the two men, stiff, proper, and handsome for what appeared to be about fifty-five years old. He looked to Cassidy and gave her a slight bow. “Yes. First, I apologize greatly for the intrusion. We became aware through the local constabulary that you were involved in the incidents of last night and, while we initially planned to make an appointment as would be expected, we rushed over upon receipt of this news. We are quite happy to see you unharmed.”
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 17
