23 January 1960
"I must apologize for my long absence," the Major said, his tone light and breezy, as if they were old friends, as if he had not ever threatened Jean's son and the stability of her business, as if his very presence did not give proof of that threat.
It was very important, Jean knew, that she show no signs of weakness. The slightest hint of fear or disgust from her might well set him off, and as he stood with one hand casually resting on his hip his jacket turned back just enough to show her that he carried a pistol holstered by his side. The man was unpredictable, and the presence of a gun in the dining room was foreboding; Jean would not dare confront him, not here, not with a room full of unarmed customers and Maureen just behind the bar. It was vital, she knew, that she give no sign of her distress, that she make him feel comfortable, and at ease, and keep his pistol right where it was. Jean had rather a lot of experience in placating despicable men, and so her voice was steady when she answered him.
"It's the lot of a soldier, isn't it?" she asked lightly. "You must do as you're told. I can understand that."
"Yes, I imagine you can," the Major said, leering at her in a way that made her stomach heave with disgust, though she forced herself to smile up at him.
"Tell me, Mrs. Beazley," he continued, "have you had a chance to consider my offer?"
Carefully now, Jean told herself. Arguing with him would do no good, and she did not want him to disappear again, only to come back angrier or more dangerous than ever before. Maureen was behind the counter, and Maureen knew what to do, and Jean would just have to trust in her protege, and trust in Lucien, trust that the plans they had laid between them would be sufficient to avoid disaster.
"I have," she said lightly. "Six hundred pounds, wasn't that what we agreed?"
"Are we agreed, then?" he asked, his gaze suddenly sharp, and Jean could have kicked herself for not choosing her words more carefully. She'd made it sound as if she'd already made up her mind, as if she had already decided to accept him, and it would be very difficult to walk that back now.
"That depends," she said, trying to sound coy; she'd charmed her fair share of gentlemen over the years, and honed certain skills in that department. She only prayed she wasn't too old to pull off the coquettish act, only prayed he would find her amusing, and not tiresome. "Do you have the money?"
To her great relief, he grinned.
"Six hundred pounds," he said, tapping the pocket of his jacket. "All in order, and ready to be delivered into your lovely hands. Do we have a deal, Mrs. Beazley?"
Just breathe, Maureen told herself as she slowly approached the telephone, watching Mrs. Beazley and the Major out of the corner of her eye. It would not do to draw attention to herself, to make her interest in them too plain; the entire operation would hinge, she knew, on her ability to stay calm and cool under pressure. Over the months since the Major had first put in an appearance Maureen and Mrs. Beazley had discussed their plan of attack more than once, and she knew well the part that she must play. Her course of action had already been decided; all she need do now was follow through.
With a trembling hand she reached for the telephone, and dialed off the Doctor's number by heart. She'd memorized it long ago, just in case, and she was thankful for that now.
The Doctor will know what to do, she told herself. The Doctor will fix this.
But as she held the receiver up to her ear the strangest thing happened; it did not ring through to his home, as it should, but only made a strange noise, and promptly disconnected.
Just breathe, Maureen told herself again, as her heart began to race. Why hadn't it worked? She had the number right, she was sure of it. The phone should have rung through to him at once. Why hadn't it?
One more time, she thought. Carefully she dialed the number, exactly as she learned it. Holding her breath she waited, praying, hoping -
The line disconnected again.
Oh, bloody hell, she thought. In that moment she was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life.
"Thank you for the whiskey, Lucien," Matthew said, raising his nearly empty glass as if in toast. "I can always count on you to have the best drinks on hand."
Lucien laughed, sprawled out in his armchair, half-drunk and content.
"I'm happy to be of service," he said winsomely.
It had been, he thought, a terribly fine evening. Dinner and tea with Jean had been lovely, and her gentle voice had been lovelier still, and Matthew made fine company to wile away the last remaining hours before bed, and come the morning Lucien would trade his bed for Jean's, and celebrate her birthday in high style. There was a bottle of champagne and a bucket of strawberries chilling in his refrigerator at that very moment, and a small box containing a beautiful pair of diamond earrings wrapped up and waiting for her to open it. Everything was exactly as it should have been, and Lucien wanted for nothing, in that moment.
"You've been in fine spirits lately," Matthew remarked, and though he tried to make the comment sound casual Lucien had been working with him too long to be fooled by his air of disinterest. Matthew was a copper, down to his bones, and Lucien recognized the interrogation for what it was. He had, however, drunk just enough whiskey to find Matthew's questioning amusing, rather than intrusive.
"Have I indeed?" he asked jovially.
Matthew frowned.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, Blake," he grumbled.
It's more what I've gotten myself into, Lucien thought, grinning. Why shouldn't he tell Matthew the truth? Why shouldn't he tell his dearest friend that he was in love, and that the object of his affections returned that love with equal ardor? Why shouldn't he bring Matthew into his confidence as regarded his plans for the future? After all, he and Jean weren't doing anything wrong; he was not a customer paying for the services of a prostitute, any more. He was simply a man, in love with a woman, and surely it would be all right to share his joy with his best mate.
As he opened his mouth to speak, to confess to this wondrous news, there came the worrisome, altogether unexpected sound of a footfall in the corridor, and before he had a chance to rise to his feet a terrible omen of doom appeared on the other side of the parlor.
"Evening, gentlemen," Sergeant Hannam said in a dreadful, soulless sort of voice. He stood tall and proud in his army uniform, and his gun was trained on Lucien. "Hands where I can see them, please."
Though Maureen had failed to reach the Doctor, though the Major was leaning ever closer to Mrs. Beazley and her terror was growing by the second, she remained right where she was. She had, with Mrs. Beazley's help, developed several contingency plans to manage the Major's appearance, and now that she knew the Doctor was out of the picture she reached for the phone once more, and dialed a different number. Please pick up, she prayed, as - mercifully - the phone began to ring. Please pick up, please pick up, please -
"Ballarat police station," a gruff voice said on the other end of the line.
"Oh, Danny, thank God," Maureen breathed, relief washing over her in waves so strong she swayed on the spot.
"Mo?" Danny asked, apparently shocked to find her ringing the police station so late in the evening. The ladies of the Lock and Key did not, as a rule, involve the police in their affairs. He had to have known that trouble was afoot, and Maureen confirmed it for him in a moment.
"Listen, Danny, we've got a problem," she said, keeping her voice very low so as not to carry to the Major's ears where he stood across the room. "The Major's come back."
"Oh, Christ," Danny groaned. As Jean's nephew and a sometime bouncer for the pub Danny had of necessity been brought into their confidence on the matter of Major Alderton and the threat that he presented, and he knew exactly how big a problem the Major's reappearance was.
"I tried to ring the Doc but the line's been disconnected."
"Right," Danny said, suddenly all business, and if Maureen hadn't been so bloody terrified she might have teased him for pretending to sound like a grown up. As it was, however, she remained silent and hung on his every word.
"The boss was supposed to go round to see the Doc tonight. Might be he's still there. I'll go there first, and see if they're all right, and then all three of us will come to the pub, ok?"
"Danny, can't you come now? It'll take too long-"
"I can't sign out a weapon without the boss, Mo," Danny told her grimly. "And we can bet this Alderton bloke is armed. It's not even Auntie Jean he wants, it's the Doc. I'll just be about twenty minutes, all right? No time at all. Keep him calm until we can get there."
"Danny-"
"Cavalry's coming, Mo. Just stay calm."
And then he hung up the phone, and if she hadn't been trying so hard to avoid drawing attention to herself Maureen would have stomped her foot and sworn in frustration. All she could do for the moment, however, was watch, and wait, in silence.
"Since you're agreeable to the payment, Mrs. Beazley, and business hours are nearly through, why don't we take care of this tonight?"
All along she'd been afraid that he might ask that question, and now he'd gone and done it. Surely Maureen had reached Lucien by now, but it would take at least a few minutes for him to reach the pub, and so much could happen, in just a few minutes. Could she keep him talking long enough? What if he grew tired of her and pulled that gun? Would Paul be able to wrestle it away from him before he hurt anyone? The lad had been hired to intimidate businessmen, not go toe-to-toe with armed soldiers well trained in the art of combat. What good were a boxer's skills against a bullet? Jean couldn't bear the thought of putting the lad in harm's way like that, not if she could help it.
"There are rules, Major Alderton," she said primly. "Any customer who wishes to avail himself of my services must first make an appointment. Particularly if he's looking to be entertained for an entire night, as you are."
"I think you'll find, Mrs. Beazley," he answered without a trace of a smile, "that I am not the sort of man to whom such rules apply."
He shifted his hand on his hip, drawing her attention once more to the gun he carried. She could not help but stare at it, aghast, and when her eyes flicked back up to his face she saw that he had caught her looking, and understood it for what it was; a terrible, heartless smile stretched at his too-thin lips.
"For six hundred pounds, I think you could see me right now. Or will I have to be more...convincing?"
"Perhaps an exception could be made, in this case," she allowed, trying to keep her voice even. No further convincing was needed; the gun had done the trick. "Considering your handsome offer and your...upstanding moral character."
His eyes flashed at her, dark and full of hate for a moment; he knew she'd rather curse him than praise him. Perhaps that was another misstep; you shouldn't antagonize him, she told herself glumly.
"Let's get to it then, shall we?" he asked, somewhat impatiently, holding out his hand.
Every nerve in her body screamed out against it. She loathed this man, this man who had threatened her family, who sought to use her body for his own gain, who thought money might be enough to sway her, who had only come to her door in the hopes of hurting Lucien. She loathed him, but she could see no way to reject him without bringing bloodshed to her own door. The plan was already in place; now that Maureen had rung Lucien the wheels were turning, and help was on its way to her, she knew. If she took the Major upstairs Maureen would clear the dining room, and she would bring Paul upstairs with her, and they would, with Lucien's help, subdue the Major and rescue Jean from his clutches.
You just need to buy yourself a few minutes upstairs, she told herself, and then Lucien will come. Lucien will know what to do.
"Yes," Jean answered, forcing herself to reach out and accept the hand he offered her. "Let's."
And with that she rose from her booth, and led the Major toward the stairs, her heart shrieking in terrified agony with every breath she took.