Chapter X

WARNING: Major whumpage

"So this is Alfred Haldon, huh." it was a testament to Neal's level of self control for him not to have dropped the silver tray he was carrying with the etched crystal decanter of Fortnum's Oloroso VORS 30 year old Sherry and the Waterford crystal glasses as he backed into Armeni's inner office, the first time he'd been there, to serve the guest who had arrived earlier than expected. He was supposed to be in prison.

The room was huge, with one wall a floor to ceiling book shelf packed solid with what Neal could see were rare collections. The other walls were decorated with more paintings which, if they were not forgeries, had been stolen from all over the world.

"Haldon will do," Armeni said to his guest. He turned back to Neal, "Put the tray over there on the credenza and serve us."

Neal managed to walk at a sedate pace to do as he was told while his heart was racing a mile a minute. He didn't think there was much more Armeni could do to keep him off balance, but again, he underestimated the psychopath.

Armeni and Matthew Keller exchanged quiet pleasantries, sitting across from each other on tapestried Queen Anne chairs nest to Armeni's onyx desk and ignored Neal until he brought them their drinks. "He came highly recommended but he still needs instruction in developing the finer qualities of a good butler, don't you Haldon?"

"Yes sir," Neal said without inflection, standing straight, and eyes not moving.

"Yeah, I can see that," Keller lifted up the security badge that Neal wore around his neck with the picture of him taken only two days ago, when he first arrived, comparing it to his visage now. He smirked as he reached over and pushed at the swelling still on Neal's face.

The pain wasn't as excruciating as the anxiety as Keller indulged in poking at Neal's bruises while Neal diverted himself from the pain by trying to divine his opponent's game. Keller wouldn't have any qualms about snitching Neal out just for the fun of it, and if he could make some money in the process, that would be irresistible.

Kellter grabbed Neal's wrist, re-bandaged, more because Neal couldn't bear to look at it, and made a show of examining Neal's hands, "doesn't like to get his hands dirty, does he?"

"That was a problem but I believe we've addressed that sufficiently last night," Armeni commented as if the cold blooded butchery of his mistress was no more to him than a minor reprimand of a servant, and to him, it was.

"Seems to me I've seen you someplace before, Haldon."

Armeni, thankfully answered before Neal had even a chance to draw breath, "His references are from some of the finest homes in New York."

"Yeah, it might have been there. But then again, butlers are supposed to be inconspicuous, humble, with no imagination. Do you have any imagination Haldon?"

Again Armeni answered shaking his head, "Unfortunately, I've seen a few signs of it."

"But not too much, I wager. Hey Count?" Keller chuckled and walked around Neal swinging his arm over onto Neal's shoulders, squeezing hard. "So Count, we can talk in front of Haldon, right?

Armeni stared into Neal's eyes, "No, he hasn't been properly broken in yet. We've been dealing with his flaws one at a time, I'll be adding imagination to the list too, I'm sure. He's had a few lessons in discretion, loyalty and obedience."

"Obedience? Like training for a dog, huh," Keller chuckled. "That's what it would take. I'll remember that."

Armeni grinned, "Dogs are much easier. Unlike man's best friend, Haldon will need some lessons in humility I think. Don't you Haldon?"

"As you say sir."

"Hey, now, I'd like to see that," Keller squeezed Neal's shoulders. "Oughta be good." Neal nearly bit his tongue through to keep from reacting as Keller pinched hard at Neal's bruised cheek before finally letting go.

"Yes, humiliation is best taught in a less private setting where more people can join in. There would be a nominal fee, of course, more if you wish to actively participate."

Keller looked Neal straight in the eye. "Hey, I get a chance to buy tickets for that? Yeah, that's what I like to hear. I'll pay whatever the price is. Besides, I'm planning a deal right now that will more than pay for it," he smiled.

"Good, we can negotiate after the art is presented tonight. I'm sure it will be worth every penny."

"Hey, your word is good enough for me."

Neal nearly fainted in relief when Armeni lead Keller away to a section of the book shelf against the far wall. Yet he could not control the raw fear that surged through him. Keller knew who Neal was, he knew who he worked for and he probably surmised why he was here. The only reason Keller hadn't yet spilled the beans had to be because he was going to play this against Neal some how. That must be the deal Keller spoke about. Neal didn't care what Keller's game was and as such, he'd promise him anything. All he had to do was keep it together for this one night and if he had any luck, he'd be out of here.

Then movement across the room caught Neal's eye when the shelving slid out and to the side, hiding a huge vault. It was the vault, the one with all the art, the secrets, everything. The two men entered but Neal could not see inside. He knew he had to get in there, the sooner the better. The evidence he'd find in there would nail Armeni and topple his dark kingdom.

The quiet conversation drifted into his thoughts as the men walked out, "Our bargain was for $1 million. Good explosives men don't come cheap and I have overhead as well."

"The job was only half way completed. I paid for both, I only got one. I should only have to pay for one. I want to know why he failed and what the fallout will be. "

"I've received word he's due to arrive later this evening and we can all discuss it after my business is complete here."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Link entered. "Count Armeni, the rest of your guests are arriving and are being entertained in the salon until you are ready. Chef informs me dinner will be served upon your request."

"Ah, excellent, we'll be right in. Haldon, you know what you have to do."

Keller laughed as Neal left the room, "So, Count, what have you got to eat around here that's good? I'm starved."

Neal barely caught himself from collapsing as he exited the room. Keller was playing with him now, Armeni was about to teach him another no doubt painful and terrifying lesson and dinner was going to get cold if he did not organize it being served.

I'm definably becoming hysterical. Neal knew he had to hold it together until tomorrow morning. The only thing that was keeping him going was the knowledge that if he could spot the art he knew was definitely stolen tonight, the FBI would have enough to get warrants to search the ship and put Armeni and some other major scum away for good, he hoped. That is if Armeni left enough of Neal whole to function enough to call Peter.

"And to think," Neal shook his head, "I gave up prison for this."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dinner was all that Neal expected it to be and more.

Neal leading the line of under butlers into the dining room, carrying trays of the covered plates of appetizers and, set one in front of each guest, removed the cover with just enough flourish for presentation but not so much as to be ostentatious.

Not that ostentation would be noticed by these particular people. While Neal had never met anyone of them in person, he had seen their pictures and read about them and he didn't think that as jaded as he had become to corruption, he was still shocked to see some of the people there.

Men known to represent large governments mingled with kings and dictators of smaller and poorer countries who had no problem exchanging banter with some known underworld figures from every country known to have a mafia. He found no surprise that the poorer the country the more expensive the suits, gowns and jewels. Gold, silver, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies nearly dripped from the women in attendance, but he doubted any of them were actually wives. He didn't know, and except from making sure he got their pictures, he didn't care.

The amber music box! As Neal looked up from removing the cover from Armeni's plate he almost lost it as he spotted the treasure he stole from the Italian Embassy, sitting on the table in front of an Asian delegation lead by none other than Interpol Agent Mei Lynn Wong.

Their eyes caught for a moment and Mei Lynn's went wide with surprise, shock and possibly even some concern, but she quickly subdued her reaction.

Control, control, keep control, Neal thought barely tearing his eyes away while he gave the cover to an under butler and fetched the wine from the sideboard to pour for the first course.

Every once in a while a guest would halt Neal, look from the security badge to his face. "What a waste," said one girl, about the same age as Armeni's former mistress. Others smirked and raised their glass of wine to Armeni in acknowledgment.

Armeni had been deep in conversation with one of the other guests and so Neal had not noticed his eyes on him, or how Armeni pressed his lips in to a visage of delighted anticipation as Neal's hands shook and almost over poured the wine.

As soon as Neal finished pouring for Armeni, the Count tossed it on Neal's face.

"If you'll excuse me sir," but before Neal could finish asking to leave to change, Armeni grabbed his bruised arm.

"You will stay until I tell you to leave, Haldon and another lesson in obedience is obviously in order."

"As you say, sir," Neal said, and so it went throughout dinner, whenever Neal poured Armeni a glass of wine, the first glass would be poured over his head, thrown in his face, sloshed over his pants, until Neal was soaked with alcohol.

Every time he passed Keller on the way out, his opponent lit a match to relight a cigar, waving the match close to Neal's alcohol drenched clothing.

Neal could ill afford fury at this treatment, for all the treatment he'd been subjected to but the knowledge that this was almost over helped him keep his visage pleasant, his responses to direct questions genial.

Demeaning comments from Armeni continued, as his guests watched, some with less interest, some adding to his humilition like Keller and some masking all reaction, like Mei Lyn.

Yet this remarkably worked in Neal's favor as he was able to take pictures of everyone at the table, as well as get closer to identify more of the art which was on the walls.

These people had come to pick up art which they'd ordered from Armeni who had it stolen for them, some on order, some on consignment. In the process of fulfilling his orders, Armeni had other pieces taken he thought his customers would also like. It was not an auction but it was an exclusive gallery.

"People must know their place in society, my dear," Armeni said to a woman whom Neal surmised was the new mistress, seated opposite the wife, "Like Haldon here."

Neal stopped refilling wine glasses and stood straight, looking at Armeni, "Sir?"

"You know your place, don't you, Haldon?"

"Yes sir. I know my place." Neal remembered saying that to Peter, could it have been only two days ago. It felt like a lifetime. All his place meant then was that he could not see highly classified papers because he had broken several laws and been tried and convicted of just one of the crimes. As such, it was his own fault people who knew his past did not trust him. His place meant he had to accept that but it was something he was working on changing. He thought he'd felt humiliated then. If he had only known.

"Of course Haldon, and what is your place?"

"I'm in your employ sir," said Neal as pleasantly as he could.

Armeni shook his head, "Ah, I see the lessons have not yet been learned, but we'll have plenty of time for that soon. You may serve the coffee now.'

Neal had a horrifying feeling that he knew exactly what was coming and he didn't know if he could take it. It was one thing to be covered in wine but he trembled slightly at the thought of scalding hot coffee being thrown at him, poured over him, spilled on him.

None of that happened.

It was worse.

Neal brought in a pot of coffee for the final round and stood at Armeni's right side to await permission to pour.

Armeni looked up at Neal, "Haldon, you've had a very long, hard day, you must be exhausted. I wouldn't want you to spill anything, please put down the pot."

Neal knew that the sudden solicitous manner signaled an approaching nightmare. He was not wrong as Armeni stood up, grabbed Neal's wrist in a vice like grip, twisted his arm behind his back so he could not move and poured the scalding hot coffee over Neal's head.

Guests at the table gasped as Neal screamed in agony as the boiling liquid sluiced over his hair, over his face, dripped down is neck and was absorbed into his already damp clothing. Driven to his knees by the pain Neal tried to pull the cloth, drenched with the now hot liquid away from his skin, only to have Armeni bend his arm backward at any attempt of Neal to protect himself or ease the pain.

From the far side of the table, one guest, Keller, stood up, and applauded. "Bravo, Count. Bravo. Best way to cure clumsiness I've ever seen."

"Do you think you have learned to pay attention to what you are doing," Armeni said genially.

"Yes, sir," Neal was barely able to say through gritted teeth as he fought to control his pain response.

"Now you will be grateful that I am giving you one hour to collect yourself and be back here to serve refreshments as the art is brought in."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you grateful Haldon?"

"Yes," Neal said.

"What do you say when you have been given something you are grateful for?"

Neal could not believe he was still conscious with the pain from the liquid still scalding him. He had to get away and it seemed there was only one way to do that.

"Thank you sir."