Old Scores--A Barker & Llewelyn Novel by Will Thomas

Author:Will Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That evening I decided to stay in. London was feeling decidedly unsafe, and as it happened, both my best friend and the woman I loved lived in the City, not far from Limehouse. I had been attacked once and there were still two more bodyguards out there who might be looking for me.

I did not want to think about Japan. I’d barely thought about it before this case and I hoped never to think about it again as soon as it was over. Since then, I had thought of nothing else and was certain there would be more to come before it was resolved. I had a nice glass of cold milk from the icebox in the larder, a rare treat, and was reading the part in Far from the Madding Crowd where the fellow dropped the bacon in the road.

Just then the doorbell rang. I sighed but continued to read. One of the characters was saying the bacon was gritty, but if one just made sure one’s teeth didn’t meet in the middle …

“There is an Asian gentleman at the door wishing to speak with you, sir,” Mac said, standing in front of me. I don’t know how he moves about so silently.

“Me?” I asked.

“He said either you or the Guv, and I’m not climbing two flights to inform him when you are here in the library.”

I put down the book, took a swallow of the milk, and got up from my chair, a comfortable gentleman’s club chair in faded brown leather, with a matching tufted ottoman, that had become perfectly comfortable over the years. I gave Mac my best put-upon look. One cannot let a butler have his way or he’ll be running the household.

“Asian gentleman?” I repeated as I walked toward the door.

“Yes, sir. A large one.”

I reached for the pistol that Mac kept hanging from a hook by the stick stand, then opened the door while aiming it. Granted, it’s not the most welcoming way to treat a guest, but we all know what desperate times engender. I’d been attacked already.

Ohara stood outside, his bowler in his flipperlike hands. He bowed. He was very obviously the fellow who had not only crashed through our skylight and fought Barker, but kicked me down the stairs. It still hurt.

“What do you want?” I asked. I was not prepared to be friendly.

“I wish to speak to you and Mr. Barker, sir,” he said and bowed again.

“Why should I? You kicked me down a stairwell.”

“I apologize. It was most regrettable.”

“It is regrettable when someone treads on one’s foot. This is another matter entirely.”

Just then Barker came along behind me, having come leisurely from upstairs. His face, as usual, was without expression. He was wearing an Asian dressing gown over his waistcoat.

“Mr. Ohara,” he said.

Ohara bowed.

“What does he want?” he asked.

“To speak to us.”

“Does he have a weapon?”

“He is a weapon.”

Barker turned his head. Mac was in the doorway of his butler’s pantry, holding his sawn-down shotgun. Ohara probably still carried buckshot from it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.