It's a terrible thing to be alone – yes it is- it is- but don't lower your mask until you have another mask prepared beneath – as terrible as you like – but a mask.
Katherine Mansfield
Chapter Four: Sabotage
Emily spent the next morning preparing for her meeting. Since the weather was warmer she could get away without having to wear a hat in the middle of the day. She decided on wearing her hair down, swept back with a ribbon and a skirt and blouse whose simplicity would be flattering as well as comfortable. Looking at herself in the mirror, she added a pair of small earrings and necklace whose small sapphires would complement her eyes. Stepping back she wondered if this look might be a little too intimate. She did not want to send any messages to the gentlemen that might be construed as an untoward effort at being forward.
First she pinned her hair up, and then took it down. She tried on another dress, but found the tiny printed flowers looked even more girlish, and switched to a business dress. The dress coloring was too somber, and she would have to forgo any make up except for lipstick, and the hair would have to go back up. After a number of attempts, she was back to her original outfit. She looked at the mirror, and thought that if Monsieur De La Shaumette found fault with her attire, he would undoubtedly let her know. With an audible sigh, she picked up her satchel, her door key and left for her appointment.
After waking Erik lit the boiler in the kitchen for hot bath water, and selected his clothes for the day. He looked at his reflection in the bath mirror, and decided that the dark hollows under his eyes meant he should have gotten more sleep. After he was bathed and dressed he made his way downstairs to the kitchen to get a hot cup of tea. There was a short knock at the front door and saw his other personal assistant Javier unlocked the door and enter. "You were out last night?" Javier asked.
"Yes," Erik replied. "I didn't feel like sleeping."
Javier had joined Erik almost a year ago. Erik had worked along the river with Javier. In a life spent watching the activities of others, Erik felt he had a good grasp of the young man's abilities and sense of loyalty. He chose to help him, and had in fact taken him on as an assistant and had put work in the direction of Javier's father as well.
Similarly, Phillipe had come to him by way of working as an accountant whose firm was trying to extort more money for the architect who had removed the two windows and partial front wall of the study to allow for the grand piano to be hoisted into place. Erik showed Phillippe the drawings and measurements that he had given the architect, who had only paid the laborers, and not done the design work himself. Phillipe then reported back to his firm and they closed out the appeal by the architect. At the close of the affair, Erik sent a message to Phillippe and persuaded him to take a job in his employ.
While Phillipe's abilities lay in his business acumen, Javier's talent was his knowledge of the river, the boats, and deals made in back rooms. Javier had also become more of a confidant to Erik; similar experiences along the waterfront, and the fact that neither was a stranger to violence had cemented their relationship. Javier knew him as Charles Martin the scar faced man as well as Erik De La Shaumette.
"What were you able to find out," Erik asked.
"We managed to raise the boat. It's going to cost you. I went through it taking Dugast's list with me. All of the cargo is there including another typewriter, which I dropped off to Eustache Vaudry." Javier paused and went to the pantry, taking out bread and jam; he moved to the stove and started the bread to toast. "It did have some damage in the lower cargo deck, some loose boards. It might have been done shifting cargo, or done by someone with the right tools."
The kettle was steaming now, vapor pouring from its spout. Javier watched Erik go through the mundane action of filling two cups, and replacing the kettle on the stove, filling the tea holder with the loose leaves of tea. Erik's quiet concentration on his task only served to occupy his hands, while his mind worked on the problem of the boat.
Under Erik's terms if the boat was not moving cargo, the men would not be earning a wage. "I want you to tell them I'll take care of their wages for a few days until the boat gets running again." Erik paused to accept a piece of toast that Javier had made, "They can earn it by finding out if any one saw someone near the boat." He took a sip of his tea and turned towards the stairs, "One of my competitors maybe trying to prevent me from getting any more machines imported."
As he climbed the stairs to his study, Erik had another thought come to mind. Whoever did this would know that at a certain point after the boat started taking on water, it would be heavy enough to go down quickly. It meant that anyone on board might have gone below decks to investigate and gotten trapped inside. A cold feeling began to fill him; anyone could be trapped, including Emily.
As he reached his desk, he sat down heavily and stared at his typewriter. It was bad enough to sabotage his boat and jeopardize his workers, but the thought of Emily trapped and helpless made his veins fill with needles of ice. He was surprised at how possessive towards her he felt. The logical part of him said it was only because he watched over every one of his possessions, another part of him said that it was because he hated the thought that he would never have met her, never seen her smile.
Javier ate the last of his toast and watched Erik, sitting to his right side so he could only see the masked side of his face. The intensity in the eye, the living part showing through the façade he wore was sometimes an eerie thing to behold. He only hoped his own life did not take such a turn that the fires inside him would burn so terribly. He wondered if the energy this man used to live out his daily life would eventually fail him; consumed by too many years of struggling to hold on to this world. The eye finally rolled towards him.
"I have invited Madame Griggs to join us this afternoon. I want you here as well as Phillipe; I want to hear your impressions of her. Ask her anything you like." Erik paused to drink his tea. "Dugast and I have to go through her to deal with Remington."
They went on talking about business, but Javier was already wondering about Madame Griggs. As far back as he could recall Erik had stayed away from women. He had on occasion dealt with a couple of the dockside whores and some shop girls, but only as far as information, never the use of their bodies. The man was either amazingly discreet with the fairer sex, or had an iron will to avoid them.
Emily arrived at 1:30, and was ushered into the parlor by Etienne. She always tried to be a bit early to her appointments, that way if something happened to forestall her, at the least she might be able to make it at the appointed time.
One thing that Emily excelled at was having the patience to wait. She used this time others considered boring to collect her thoughts, plan her approach to her client, and peruse the details of her environment to get a feel for the person. During her short previous visit, she had been tired, frustrated and had not got any impressions about her employer other than he was not pleased.
Looking around the parlor Emily noticed that all of the furniture pieces were stylish and new. She felt this was unusual since most people boasted of some piece that had been passed down from a grandparent. Also there were no 'frills'; no dollies or vases, family pictures or curios, knick knacks or accent pillows. Monsieur definitely did not have a wife, or live in female relative. She remembered a small vase in the kitchen window; it must have been put there by Agnes. She wondered if their employer visited his kitchen very often.
She only waited about an additional 10 minutes before Etienne returned to take her up to the study. As they arrived upstairs, the study door was opened by an attractive young man who's dark and exotic good looks fit perfectly with his Spanish name. A little shorter than Phillipe, this man was more muscular.
"Madame, I am Javier Isandro Galván Fernández, and I am so glad to meet you at last." Javier had a wonderful deep voice, open smile, and slightly devilish gleam to his eye. As he bent over her hand and kissed it gently, a stray lock of hair fell forward on his forehead. Emily pictured him as the perfect choice for a role as Romeo. He radiated charm that no doubt could turn the head of any woman from the cradle to the grave, and he new exactly how to use it.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Javier," she replied.
Stepping into the room she saw once again the grand piano to her right with the fireplace and chair. Directly to her right was a small sofa that faced the fireplace. To her left was the large desk and lining the walls behind it were bookshelves. Getting up from a chair next to the desk was Phillipe, who arose and smiled, nodding at her.
Behind the desk stood Monsieur De La Shaumette. "Madame," he said bowing his head slightly. Seeing him in the light she saw that his hair was dark and combed back from his face, it was long enough to brush his collar. He wore a dark suit of a simple cut. Although she noticed the mask, she maintained eye contact with him and smiled, "Good afternoon Monsieur." His eyes seemed to be a light color, perhaps grey or green.
Javier moved a chair over in front of the desk. "Please Madame, have a seat."
"Thank you, Javier. Please call me Emily. 'Madame' always sounds like people are talking to my Mother." This brought smiles from Javier and Phillipe.
Erik sat down in his desk chair across from Emily. "You have already met Phillipe," he began, "he has had a chance to try using the typewriter, as have I." He paused for a moment, "Assuming that our first shipment is positively received, we have questions regarding the importation of more of the machines. Can you tell us a little about Remington's plans to expand the importation of the machine in France?"
Emily began, "Remington has been selling one thousand machines annually for the last two years running. In hopes of raising this figure by half, they are now making French and Italian keyboard arrangements for the machines which will facilitate a broader use than the standard QWERTY arrangement.
Erik sat with his hands on his thighs, reminding himself to relax. He had prepared himself for this face to face meeting with Madame Griggs, but sitting in broad daylight across from her still bothered him. He had waited years to trust Christine enough to reveal himself to her, and now in two days he was allowing this stranger into his life.
Phillipe asked, "Who is QWERTY? Is he the inventor?"
Emily smiled. "Ah no, QWERTY is what the letters on the far left of the third row up on the machine spell. On the French keyboard they spell AZERTY, and on the Italian they spell QZERTY." The men leaned forward to examine the typewriter keys. Emily continued, "The idea of a writing machine is not new, but the first commercially successful machine built used the QWERTY arrangement." Emily stopped at this point. She loved trivial details, they seemed to flesh things out and give such a better insight into the subject, but some people felt it was useless drivel detracting from the facts.
"So you say Remington did not invent this machine," Erik asked.
"The rights to it were sold to Remington, as the company had the resources to be able to mass produce it. It still took two years of further improvements on the first Remington version to get to this the Remington 2."
"Are there plans to change the machine again?" Erik asked. He didn't want to import machines that would be quickly made obsolete.
"Remington is always open to comments and suggestions. This will be the basic look and feel of the machine, no matter what further features might be changed. And now I have questions for you." Emily saw Monsieur's left eyebrow raise and tried not to be amazed at the change to his face. He had changed from a politely distant sort of interest, to an abrupt readiness as his gaze sharpened on her face.
"There are three areas that we need to cover. The first being how you will handle the return and re-inking of the ribbons for your customers, the second being do you plan to develop a repair service, and the last being the further training of typists for the business application of the machine."
Bravissima, thought Erik. Madame had just succinctly pointed out the crux of why the importation of the machines was important. It was the opportunity to ride a profitable wave of change in the business arena. Begrudgingly his impressions of her were raised another notch. Remington knew exactly what they were doing when they had packed her off to France. His interest piqued, there was much more to learn about Madame than met the eye. He turned to Javier. With a lift of his chin he said, "Go ahead."
"We have managed to bring in your typewriter, Emily," Javier said.
"Oh good," Emily breathed. "But I will need to get it apart and thoroughly dried to see if there is any chance of rust."
"Javier has taken it to a machinist we know who can start dismantling it," Erik interjected. "He is to be your 'area number two'; we plan for him to be our repair person." He noticed she sat with a little quirk of a smile playing on her lips.
"Very good," she said smoothly. "I'm going to have to keep busy to keep one step ahead of you, aren't I?"
Madame, Erik thought, you have no idea.
They continued for the better part of another hour covering the other two points that Emily had brought to the table. It was obvious that Javier would handle the repair situation through Eustache Vaudry, who had also purchased a machine for himself. Erik assigned Phillipe the list of stationers Emily had dealt with so far, as well as estimates of what it would take for them to take care of ribbons. At the last she brought up to Erik the idea of training proofreaders and typists.
Javier inquired, "What exactly is the need for training them, have not Monsieur and Phillipe managed on their own?"
"While use of the machine is not at all that difficult, training people has proven to increase their performance by lessoning the number of errors which have slowed them down. For instance, was I not listed as 'Emile Griggs'"?
"What is the job of the Editor?"
"I perform the usual jobs of the proof readers, checking for errors also in arithmetic, that the work does not use confusing chronological time frames or references, and most importantly" she paused to look directly at Erik, "I keep your voice."
Erik had realized with some relief that during that hour he had focused less on her personally and more on the business at hand. Not so now, for the impact of those last words were frightening. His voice along with his music was what Erik considered the better part of himself. It was the beauty in him that had charmed Christine, had wooed her into trusting him, loving him in her own way. For her to say she would be it's keeper was to say she was to posses the one part of him that he felt could make him worthy of some redemption, the thing that he had clung to during those years of desperation and rebuilding his life. She was going to take his soul.
Emily watched the change in his demeanor. His eyes once again had the glitter of jagged glass, hard and brittle and dangerous. There was tightness in his jaw, as he moved his hands to the arms of his chair. He took a deep breath and his brows moved down into a scowl. "What," he said in a menacing tone.
She started again in a quiet and steady voice, "I said I keep your voice. There is, of course, a degree of trust that must be achieved. Trust that I am to keep the writing and the content consistent with the idea put forth by the writer. I am also called upon for the utmost of discretion, leaving that person the freedom to develop what they are working on without worry of that information being relayed to others." She hoped the steady soothing tone of her words was penetrating the storm she saw forming before her.
Almost tangibly, she could feel the air change about her. The temperature was going up, and the light seemed to slightly warp at the edges of her eyes. He was staring at her as if his sheer force of will could push her away, containing her in a vessel he was forming with the energy that seemed to roll off of his body like waves of heat. She fancied she could here a low roaring sound, like the sound one gets when putting a sea shell to the ear. Watching him as calmly as she could, one word formed in her mind. Sorcerer. Other words formed like mists sliding by behind her eyes, writhing together to form a faint image in her mind; power, consuming darkness, and an awful hunger. Her body responded, her breath quickened and something formed low inside her, fingers tracing lines through her, up and down her spine. Soft as a whisper of heat from the mouth of a lover moving over the skin, his eyes changed, softened. Somehow she knew he had come back into control of himself.
Erik had seen her face, the change in her eyes after she stopped talking. He made himself relax. There was no way on this earth she could have anticipated his reaction. What ever it was that had passed between them, Javier and Phillipe had witnessed as well. He needed to get them out of the room, and collect himself.
Javier had watched Erik for over a year, as the capable businessman, and the disheveled and surly dock side worker. He had seen him angry, calculating, and intense as a hound running some game to ground. But he had never seen the strange look he had turned on Emily Griggs. He looked like a man who had just seen the gates of hell swing open, struggling to run as he witnessed the legions of the damned coming for him.
Erik looked at Phillipe, "Do you have any other questions at this time?"
"No," replied Phillipe. "Thank you Emily."
Erik turned to Javier, "And you?"
Javier looked briefly at Erik and then turned to Emily. Perhaps it was time to ask those 'anything' questions Erik had mentioned earlier. "Yes, I do," he began, "it appears that Remington has full faith in your abilities to handle this line of work. Do you experience difficulties dealing with men?"
Emily was surprised at this question. "Of course."
When she did not elaborate, Javier asked, "In what way?"
"Some resistance on the part of the men I have to deal with. In my experience it comes from their personal view of women in general."
Javier pressed, "But there must be some advantages in being a woman as well."
"That depends on what you would consider advantages. I work for Remington's interests, not my own. I do not promote any untoward contact with my clients. I do not rely on flirtations if that is what you are implying." She was trying hard to guess at what he was after.
"No, Madame," he replied gravely. "I do not believe that you would. Is that why you have kept your married name, so that you would not appear to welcome these advances?"
Emily held her breath as he asked the question, unsure of why he was asking.
"You travel alone Emily, is that not dangerous?"
Emily noted a trace of concern in Javier's eyes. Perhaps he was asking because they felt a woman alone in a city might be set upon by a man. For the sake of clarity, she answered the question. "Madame is not available," she said. "I have a companion already. I don't go anywhere without Monsieur Colt."
Still feeling a little put out by the line of questioning, she did note with some pride that her answer had surprised all three men. Let them ponder awhile on that one, she thought, if they were half as intelligent as they believed themselves to be they would soon put it together. "Do you have any further questions for me?"
Erik replied, "No Madame. Thank you for your time and your information."
Phillipe arose and ushered her to the door, she arose and bid them good day, and stepping onto the landing he took her arm. "I'm not sure why Javier asked you that," he began in a hushed tone, "you know M. De La Shaumette would have your safety in mind. He asked the persons at the hotel to look out for you, to report if you did not return from your engagements." He guided her down the stairs to the door.
"It's alright. I think it is as you say, and Javier is just curious," she replied, her words sounding hollow to her own ears. They paused at the door. "I'll see you Saturday when I come by to go out with Sophie."
She exited the house and started walking briskly towards her hotel. She liked to walk; it gave her time alone to think about what had happened today. The farther away from the house she got, the more certain she was that that would be the last time she would be there.
When Phillipe arrived back at the study, Erik had moved towards the window to watch her leave. He moved away from the window and gathered both the men with his eyes. "And just who is Monsieur Colt!" He thundered.
