Free States

19. DANS LE COEUR DE LA VILLE

‘WE ARE PLAYING charades, do you see!’ Paul Minct’s mask glittered with a kind of merriment. ‘Major Moyra is in the part of Little Fanny Fun, while Manly Mark Male is played by our own dashing Jasmine Shah! But who shall play the rival? Who shall play Handsome Harry Ho-Ho? You know this one, Mr Oakenhurst, I’m sure.’

‘Those tales no longer fascinate me, Mr Minct.’ Sam Oakenhurst stood just within the cabin door. The three would-be murderers had pushed away furniture and draperies and made a stage of a broad, ebony table, its legs carved with a catalogue of machinoix delights. It was on this that the two performed, while their superior applauded from an asymmetrical couch he had made comfortable with the sanctuary’s afterlife cushions.

‘This is disrespectful to your hosts.’

‘Oh, Mr Oakenhurst, we shall not be going back to New Orleans! We’re on our way to the Fault to find the Holy Grail, remember?’ Major Moyra bawled in open contempt and unhitched her gaudy skirts.

The Rose stepped up, anxious to end this. ‘Crude entertainment for a mind such as yours, Paul Minct. Or is this merely a leitmotif ?’

‘You are too judgemental, Mrs von Bek.’ Paul Minct turned his glaring mask this way and that as if he could barely see through the holes. ‘You must be more flexible. Only flexibility will enable you to survive the perils of the Fault. Come now, join our little time-passer. Choose a character of your own. Pearl Peru? The Spammer Gain? Corporal Pork? Karl Kapital?’

‘I have nothing further to take from this,’ said Sam Oakenhurst. ‘And nothing to put in. Play on, pards, and don’t mind me.’

‘Play for the hell of it, then!’ Jasmine Shah sprawled her painted legs over the table. ‘Play. Play. What else is there to do, Mr Oakenhurst?’ Her yellow eyes were sluggish with guilty appetites. His anticipated death was making her salivate. ‘Taste something fresh.’

The killing ritual was beginning. And so they sat obediently until they were called and Mr Oakenhurst was a somewhat wooden Harry Ho-Ho, while the Rose became Pearl Peru to the life, telling the first tale of The Spammer Gain and how her fishlings were stolen. Enough to distract Paul Minct a little and make him clap his pale hands together. ‘You are a natural actress, Mrs von Bek. You missed your vocation.

‘I think not,’ she said.

‘There, pards, we’ve proved ourselves easy sports,’ announced Sam Oakenhurst, ‘but now we must come to business. We are here to discuss the part of our plan where we take over the meat boat. Are the whiteys bribed, yet?’ Mr Oakenhurst found himself again speaking from impulse. His tone was sufficient to let the enmascaro know that Sam Oakenhurst was making a call.

‘Not yet,’ said Paul Minct easily. ‘There’s time enough, Mr Oakenhurst. Let us relax.’

‘We no longer accept you as our director.’ The Rose swung down from the table as Paul Minct, gloating in a supposed small victory, displayed his surprise. But he recovered quickly.

‘Here’s a better game than I anticipated.’ Mr Minct calmed his two shadows with a casual hand. They were both thoroughly alarmed. Evidently they had not once considered a play made at the opponents’ convenience.

Caged light, fluttering in the woven flambeaux, cast the only movement on Mr Minct now. His body was still as stone. As if he hoped to stop time.

‘This is not like you, Mr Oakenhurst.’ The Rose was amused.

‘Not like me at all.’ He turned to address the enmascaro. ‘A surprise play, eh, Mr Minct?’

Eyes moved like quick reptiles behind the mask. The curtain over the mouth rattled. ‘Just so, Mr Oakenhurst.’

Sam Oakenhurst hardly knew what to do next. He felt a rush of elation. He was in control of his terrors.