by Paul Smith
Harlem's Deck 9:A Question of Faith.
By Paul Smith.
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Harlem's Deck 9:A Question of Faith.
Paul Smith
Copyright 2014 Paul Smith
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.
ISBN: 9781311649225
For more information on my work, and to keep up to date with new releases please follow me on Twitter @tattooloverboi or check out one of my galleries:
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Blog: https://paulsmithauthor.wordpress.com/
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'For those of you who have faith, whatever your creed.'
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Author's note:
If you have come across this interlude and would like to find the rest of the book, please visit my galleries on those sites:
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Thank you.
9:A Question of Faith
“I never used the Deck.”
Elliot nodded. “I know, I know: 'I didn't actually touch it...' But you made use of the information...”
“No!” Jaret balled his fists, sitting back in his chair. They were both slumped in his office, Jaret behind his desk, Elliot in one of the comfy chairs over by the fireplace, talking by the light of the desk lamp. Annalise, ever the paragon of sanity, had long since retired to bed. Somewhere Elliot was well aware he and Jay ought to be. This was not a discussion to be having on frayed nerves, but then sometimes the world didn't give you what you wanted.
“I never used the Deck, as in: I never touched the cards myself or asked someone else to.”
“But... what?” Elliot sat up straighter, swinging his feet off the arm of the chair to look at his brother across the office. “You're telling me...”
“It didn't happen.”
“But, the election: those campaign choices! You were dead in the water...”
Jay nodded. “I know man, I know. But I swear, on Lise's life: I was clean.”
Elliot shook his head, uncertain he believed what he was hearing. It stood as one of those unspoken things between them (at least as far as he'd been concerned): that Jay owed his success, initially at least, to the aid of the daemon Harlem and his symbiotic oracle.
He glanced at Jay, wondering. You must have known. Must have realised we all thought you'd done it. Why hide that?
The answer was simple of course. It was the Roscan way, the way of any group in a position of power for that matter: let them underestimate you.
Elliot just didn't see what Jay would have had to gain from doing so, given the tiny number of people aware of the conspiracy.
Did Ishra know the truth? That at least might provide an answer of sorts. If the diva was under the impression she had leverage that did not, in fact, exist, it would give Jaret an edge in any future negotiations on the matter. Which given the circumstances of their break up might not be a bad thing.
He decided to plumb for the obvious question, banking on it being what Jay would expect from him. “Why the swift exit at the gala then?”
Jay sighed, palming a cigarette as he stood. Walked to the open window to gaze out over the driveway with its twin rows of poplars running away from the house. “I panicked, you know how it is. And I did meet with it. Twice, in fact. She could pin that on me, no trouble.”
“It'd just be hearsay...” but Jay was shaking his head “...she has proof?” His brother wouldn't look at him as he lit up, face limned by the flame in the darkened room. “Oh Jay.” Elliot stood, moving across the space to place a palm on his brother's shoulder. Jay glanced at him, offering a weak smile, lifting his own free hand to touch Elliot's.
The chill breeze from the window sent goose pimples chasing across Elliot's bare skin beneath the hoody he'd thrown on after showering.
Stepping back, Elliot lifted the packet in question, nodding his thanks as Jaret waved him to continue. Lit up and came to stand with his brother again.
“You said it gave an ultimatum?”
The kya nodded. “Capitulate or fall, basically.”
Jay sighed. “Certainly sounds like him.” He glanced at Elliot through a wreath of smoke. “He got pretty pissed when I wouldn't cooperate with him last time.”
Elliot offered him a weak smile. “You don't say.”
“So, what... do I go?”
Smoke bit into his lungs as he stopped mid-inhalation, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Seriously?!? Jay are you mad?”
“We should at least see what it wants...”
Elliot shook his head. “It's a mistake, and you know it.”
The 'calling card' had been the one on Jay's pillow. A date and time with the simple phrase 'Camp Roscan' scrawled across the card's back. Elliot had made him burn it, though for some reason he'd found himself unwilling to do the same to his own. Blind Justice currently sat, swords crossed, in his wallet.
“You'll be coming with me.”
“Because that'd go down well.”
Jay scowled. “Don't you want to protect me?”
“Of course! By keeping you away from the walking damned.”
“You hang around with that crow!”
“So I can do my job!” Elliot turned away, using the retrieval of his drink as an excuse to collect himself. The accusation had stuck a cold knife next to his heart. He took a sip, waiting for the liquor to blaze a trail of heat down his gullet, though it did nothing to dispel the sliver of icy shame. “Jay this is stupid, you don't need it...” not, apparently, that you did last time “...you're way ahead in the polls.”
“I know...” Jaret met his gaze as he turned. The remorse there at what he'd said was almost too much. His brother was sorry for his words, but they both knew neither of them could handle him taking them back right this second.
Jay looked away again, as did El.
It was a dangerous path each kya trod, one far too many strayed from. A fact they were both only too aware of; Elliot himself had been forced to participate in shutting down such an individual, during the New Year's Day riots (he and Ruff had got very drunk afterwards).
It was an aspect of their relationship all coiled up in some very complicated feelings. Both he and Jaret worked hard to stay away from it, tiptoeing round them like the proverbial sleeping dragon.
So, forge on.
“Look. If we're going we do this properly.”
Jay's look was slow, wary. But Elliot could see it, the tiny spark of excitement dancing there at the back of his eyes. For better or worse this was one of the traits that made him such a brilliant politician: his willingness to take risks. It just didn't help in this sort of situation.
“For the record though, I'm not happy about it.”
“I know, but it'll be on our turf.”
Elliot scowled. “Those offices are in a public building. Anyone could sneak anything in there.”
“Then we'll be thorough. First thing Tuesday morning you head over there, scope the place out. Leave what's his face...”
“Daiko.”
“...thank you. On guard.”
Elliot shook his head. “I still don't like the timing. It's too close to the vote. Got to be something up it's sleeve for it to shave things that fine.”
“Relax. Seriously, we'll be fine.”
Elliot looked up. “I want another kya on call, in case things go tits up. Not! The girl.”
“Seriously El, she doesn't look like she needs your protection anymore. All grown up now and everything...”
“Jay!”
Jaret at least had the decency to look slight
ly embarrassed. “What? You're telling me you didn't notice those titties?”
“She's eighteen.”
Jay scowled. “You're turning into such a prude in your old age.”
“Masquerade.”
“Hmm... fair point.” Jay nodded. “Well played.”
“I thought so.”
“So we'll be entertaining the pirate fop then?”
Elliot held up a finger. “Only if things go south.”
Jaret sniggered. “If I told Lise, she'd start praying they do.”
“Please don't. She has enough on her plate as it is.” Elliot sighed. “She's going to wonder what's going on.”
“You leave my wife to me.”
Elliot raised his hands in surrender. “You're the boss.”
“Actually that's what the bird calls you.”
“Yes, well, less said about that the better...”
