Harlem's Deck 14: A Studied Lack of Circumspection.
By Paul Smith.
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Harlem's Deck 14: A Studied Lack of Circumspection.
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: 9781310786419
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'For your inner Goth.'
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Author's note:
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Thank you.
14:A Studied Lack of Circumspection.
On the principal that you can never have enough information, Elliot managed to persuade Jay to schedule some time at the house so that he could do some sneaking around the Chiang holdings in the city.
“Are you sure this is wise?” his brother asked. They were in Jay's office at the house, having retired there after a busy day petitioning other counsellors for support at City Hall. He was wearing his Serious face, the one he always put on for lawyers and visiting female dignitaries (the men got his Old Boys face). It was a phenomenon he'd been blind to until Annalise clued him in on it.
“You two have lived in each other's pockets for so long, everything is just blah blah blah to you now.”
“Blah blah blah?”
She'd pulled a face, pouting prettily. “You know what I mean! It's all routine. You don't really look at the detail any more.”
It was a fair point too. The relationship he had with Jay, the bond they shared... it was the sort of thing only a married couple could ever relate to, that level of intimacy over such a length of time. To be Nu Shakya was so much more than to hold the sword.
Anyway... back to the point...
“Yes, perfectly sure,” he'd assured his (Serious faced) brother. “We need to know he's not hiding any tricks up those Carter Row silk sleeves.”
Jay nodded, allowing himself a smile. Elliot watched the decision make itself on his brother's face: for a man who made his living from words and posture, he could be remarkably easy to read in private. Once, that was, you knew what you were looking for.
Must get tiring wearing the mask though...
Elliot had always counted himself lucky he and his brother had been born to the burdens they had, would never want to shoulder the weight Jaret did.
“What exactly are you expecting to find?”
Elliot shrugged, unable to entirely suppress the impish glee that crept up about his eyes. A large part of his desire for this was born from a need to get out there and do something – anything! - that didn't involve brooding at his brother's shoulder whilst he talked shop. But Jay didn't need to know that. And there was a reasonable chance he might dig something up. The man had to keep records of what he was up to somewhere...
“I'll know when I've found it...?”
Now Jay did laugh, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. “You'll be careful?”
“Absolutely. I'm taking the crow.” He squeezed his brother's arm. “I just want to see if I can find any other physical evidence that might shed some light on the ties back to the Insurgency. Or failing that something concrete to link Chiang with Jones. Something you can flash about under the press' nose.”
Jaret nodded. “Ok. I'll put Brahms at your disposal.”
Elliot's eyes lit up. “You mean...?”
Jay nodded. “He'll have the Moonbeam.”
“You're too good to me.”
Jaret grinned, shook his head. “Just don't get caught! I don't want to have to explain to Dad why that particular asset is no longer viable.”
Elliot saluted. “Tell Roscan Senior I'll be circumspect.”
“He has met you, you know.”
“You have a point...” Elliot examined his nails, glanced at his brother sheepishly. “How about 'I'll get the job done'?”
“Bit more like it.”
El nodded. “Got the right sort of ring.”
“Just try and avoid getting blood on the leather? You know we can't take it for valeting like that and Adira wouldn't speak to me for a week after the last time.”
“I remember. She shrank three of my best tops.”
“Well then.”
“I'll be careful.” He stood. “Best go write a shopping list. Always find it's best on these occasions to be prepared.”
“Hmm...” Jaret stood as he did, stretching. “I get the feeling this is one of those 'the less I know the better' times.”
“Like when Ruffio took me to the Palisades?”
“Exactly like that.”
Elliot lofted a hand as he left. “Tell Brahms I'll call him later to arrange pick up.”