The Colonel and the Bee by Patrick Canning

Author:Patrick Canning [Canning, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary Fiction_ Adventure
Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lord Chartish’s Swiss estate was the finest property I’d ever seen.

Until I saw the Hacketts’.

Having landed the Ox some distance away in an emptyish patch of forest (and taking a moment to set some concealing brush upon the Ox, which amounted to a green tea cozy upon the hide of an elephant), we found ourselves walking lengthwise up the Hacketts’ front lawn for several minutes towards the colossally pillared mansion at the lawn’s conclusion.

“A bit of butter upon bacon, innit?” Thelma said.

“Conspicuous a place as I’ve ever seen,” George agreed with a wrinkled nose.

“Remember all,” the Colonel said, “whatever you do, make no mention of Sharif. If this lot even suspect we are affiliated with the Nodds, I’m sure it will be to our tremendous discomfort.”

A battalion of slender men hustled from around either side of the mansion (taking some time to meet in the middle) and we were greeted by the hollow eyes of a dozen gun barrels.

One man stood shoulders above the tall group, his height even greater than that of the vertically-substantial Colonel. As brutish looking as Ziro, his face was slightly battered, covered in still-healing wounds like a poorly-trained prize fighter weeks after a tough bout. His mad eyes were set into dark circles of skin that looked not to be injuries, but normal characteristics of the unfortunate face. I could only pity the other party that had been foolish or unlucky enough to tussle with this statue of dark brawn.

“What’s your business?” he snarled.

The Colonel said nothing, but with deliberate transparency, extracted Elmhurst’s note from his waistcoat and handed it over. We remained at gunpoint while the monstrous man took his time reading. After a time, he regarded us again.

“You’re too fair skinned to be Arabs, too jolly to be Russians, yet you could be hired spies for either.”

“I know not how to disprove that which I am not,” the Colonel said.

“Just one last opportunity to rattle you loose should anything be awry. My son speaks well of you. I am Lindenhurst Hackett.” The mad eyes softened, rifles were lowered, introductions made, hands shook. “You wish to stay with us then, Colonel Bacchus?”

“Your son proposed as much. It is no secret we both desire the location of the Sphinx for reasons that are our own. A brief stay may prove mutually beneficial.”

“In that case...” Lindenhurst bared his huge teeth in an ill-fitting grin. “Welcome to Hackett Manor. You must be weary from your walk from the prison.” He nodded at the traveling packs we’d equipped ourselves with to suggest travel on foot.

“We will admit some fatigue, as we haven’t all the metres of your common stride.” The Colonel slapped playfully at Lindenhurst’s tree trunk legs, making the giant jump. The brute turned around in the same movement in an attempt to conceal his alarm and gave a thunderous clap of his hands that echoed even in the vast openness of the lawn.

A butler in a top hat stood at attention before the front doors of the manor.

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