Although they were no longer young no one would consider them old enough to be on their own, yet Jack and Jonathan Fortescue were leaving Drury's Academy for the High in Society & Proven Propriety for good. They slid silently out the door into the cold London night carrying between them two extra pairs of underwear, Jack's pocket knife, Jonathan's gold ring bearing the family crest and a large jar of Schneibler’s chicken noodle soup they stole from the cook, Schneibler. The pink and orange tickets that lay hidden in their pockets would afford them the 60 kilometer train ride to the coast, where they would then board a Blue Line Steamer bound for France.
Amal Tangiri—a dark and brooding yet lithe and surprisingly strong Indian—was a trained assassin who had a passion for hunting wild game, gold baubles, belly dancers, and was an expert backgammon player. His beige turban, decorated with a large red ruby in the center, glowed ever-so-slightly as he waited patiently in a dark hallway of Paddington Station. He spotted the Fortescue brothers and discreetly followed them to their platform and boarded their train, slipping past the conductor behind a large box marked "Danger: Live Animal."
Crouched in the musty cargo car Amal dabbed his favourite cologne on the left side of his neck, took a pihch of anise from his pocket placed on his tounge, stood up carefully, looked down the corridor intently and then walked swiftly to the dining car of the train. He sat at the table nearest the back of the car and slid into the dimly lit corner chair.
The Moon poured on fir trees and river rocks that surrounded the steel tracks causing them to glow with milky, white light. The firs began to rustle, then began to sway. Each tree seemed to bend and nearly touch the ground before they snapped back to attention as the locomotive rushed by.
Mikhail Vladimir Romanov—a sizable, swarthy Russian and captain of the Blue Line Steamer named "Di Lello"—had a penchant for cuban cigars, antique guns, loose women and of course, vodka. He met the Fortescue brothers with a smokey grunt and a nod. The boys looked up at him smiling innocently. Romanov's broken english menaced it's way through the smoke as he questioned, "You boys make problem on boat?" Jack looked at Jonathan and Jonathan looked at Jack, they shook their heads simultaneously and sneaked surreptitiously toward their quarters.
The monstrous cherrywood door closed with a sturdy thud as Jack revealed the two thick cigars he lifted from Romanov's pea coat pocket. Jonathan, apparently unimpressed, clipped the ends of both cigars, clenched one in his teeth, carefully lighting it, while handing Jack the other. Jack raised an eyebrow at the lighter Jonathan handed him engraved with the letters "M.V. R."
The tufted settees of muted blue and green stripes where the boys lay as the smoke from their cigars plumed in the air were wearily comfortable. Jack's cigar extinguished itself as he dropped it into his crystal goblet—the bottom of which was full of vodka. His head swirled as it crashed into the throw pillows on the settee, his eyes blurring as he whispered quite groggily to his already sleeping brother, "We made it."
Professor Nicholas Drury—benefactor and headmaster of Drury's Academy for the High in Society & Proven Propriety—sat meticulously curling ginger scented wax into his ginger coloured mustache. Drury’s long, slender black suit was scrupulously clean, as was the black ascot which was fastidiously tied and tucked beneath his painstakingly pressed black shirt, the black kingsman in his front pocket, creased dead center, only added to his persnicketiness. The dimly lit study in which he sat, filled with the smells of wax, tobacco, indian ink, old books and the mahogany bookshelves upon which they rested, was the only place he could think without interruptions.
Although Drury was quite wealthy, his inclinations were that no man could ever be too wealthy and that a man should go to any lengths to receive greater wealth. It was this very sentiment that lead him to constantly spy on the two wealthiest boys in his Academy, the Forescues. Tonight his spying paid off as he overheard the boys whispering about their plans to escape the school. Drury listened intently as Jack told Jonathan about the book their Uncle Max would send. Inside this book was the map to the Fortescue family fortune buried somewhere in France. Drury knew two things, the first being that he needed to follow the Fortescues and second that if he didn’t he would lose out on a fortune.
While being tall for her age and certainly quite beautiful, Lola Rosenmeyer was without doubt, always disheveled. Her eclectic combinations of expensive designer clothing never seemed to match, her long, wavy, dark hair—now being tousled by the wind—was a constant nuisance and she could never find anything in the enormous purses she carried. She stood perched like a flamingo on one foot—her pink, knee-length jacket making the illusion complete—while waiting impatiently on the deck.
The mysterious, leather-bound book in Lola’s gloved hand was her reason for not only being impatient but also a little nervous. Despite the guilt she knew she would feel for reading the book she had poured over it’s contents until she knew the flourish of every elegantly inscribed letter by heart. Lola enjoyed the stories written inside and she particularly adored the unusual and elaborate illustrations disbursed throughout the headings of the pages. She reflected on one such illustration—that of a lynx, humanized by it's wearing of an eye patch and a suit coat—as two boys stealthily approached her from the shadows created by the upper deck of the steamer.
to be continued...
