SCENE TWO Baltimore State Asylum, Baltimore MD the 1870s
Gideon Boudin now pulled out his favorite Meerschaum pipe, an inheritance from his late father, along with a pouch of his most favored tobacco blend: a broken flake of dark Virginia, Syrian Latakia, and black Cavendish. He wasn't a man to remain satisfied with one purpose, one home, one horse, one wine, one lover, or one blend, but this one had been a favorite since an old school chum introduced Boudin to its peppery-smoky taste and aroma. The pouch aroma was unmistakable, strong, distinctive and pleasing. The Georgian never once heard even his most sensitive guests at The Cadmea, his estate outside Atlanta, complain of its room-aroma, either. And more importantly now, Boudin knew very well that some friends, acquaintances and even adversaries, identified this tobacco's signature scent with him, very strongly, and that would serve his present purpose very well indeed.
This represents the one favor you did me, Jimmy, years ago, when I came to William and Mary for the one year only, that I find I can still appreciate. Boudin considered, thinking of his long ago school-friend James Torrance Kieran Randolph. All the rest you sullied, if not ruined once and for all. You wrecked so many lovely possibilities, my dear, old friend! You shattered so many bright hopes and plans. Well, now I hear you're finally coming home from Cyprus, with your bereaved daughter and granddaughter in tow, along with dear Joanna and my own cherished sister, Beatrice Helene! And now, soon, you will see the ruin, the wreckage and the shattering I have accomplished in return
"Our Jessy-Anne's little boy, our Torry," Boudin heard Jimmy Randolph saying in a long past memory, "isn't only all that we have left of his angel-momma, lost to us all those years ago. No, he's like one of my own to me! He's bright as a copper penny, Remiel, quick and sure and fine… He's fired-gold to the rest of the world's dross, my friend, just as his angel-momma was! He's our pride, our proud young princeling! He's the Brian Boru! He's the light of all our eyes! He's the shining star of the breed, old friend, the shining star of the breed!
That's what Torry is, just as Jessy-Anne was, and just as our dear brother Nate was, years ago! I'm proud to say I've had part of the raising of our Torry. And he's surely done us proud, Remy. He always has done us real proud! And when I come to think we could have lost them both, lost Torry and Jessy-Anne both, in that one night, in that awful fire! I don't know how we would have come back from a blow like that, I surely do not know
Well, old friend, in a short while you will surely learn the answer to that conundrum! Your Torry is well and truly lost these days, old friend, and he shall remain so, so long as I posseSsthe means and the knowledge to ensure that! You will come home, and come here, only to find the boy you loved so well, being your beloved sister's only surviving child, as hopelessly lost as if he'd gone down with all hands in the midst of some great battle at sea! But I wonder, my dear old Jimmy, if you will ever discover, if you will ever truly understand how long and just how well I've been engineering exactly this destiny for you and a boy you seemed to love more than your own two sons. Shall I make it all known to you at some point, old friend? Shall I let you in on all the darkest, deepest of my plans and plots and secrets, someday, Jimmy? Boudin thought, smiling icily as in the office behind him, his remaining employee hurried to do his bidding.
The Georgian liked it very much when someone, and even better, when a great many someones did his bidding. He was, after all, a born and bred Southron aristocrat! He was after all one of the last scions and survivors of that genteel class from antebellum days. As such Boudin demanded, and with the far flung interests of his parent's estates, got, what he wanted, at all times and under all conceivable conditions. He was a proud man, certainly. But unlike the hoi polloi, the Georgian knew he had every right to be immensely proud, to be extraordinarily particular, and to be a considerable power in this benighted post-bellum land. And eternally damned be anyone who by word or look or act implied otherwise!
"Sir, we've entirely concluded with the solution to … the matter just under discussion." The Administrator muttered, rushing down the hallway to wave a sheaf of papers at the Georgian. "The proper disposition … has been … made, sir. And the documents are all ready now for … for your perusal, that is, if you would wish to do so, Sir."
"For my perusal, you say?" Boudin frowned. 'those documents were fully prepared before they were given into your keeping, sir! Nevertheless, in view of the circumstances, in this one case, I shall peruse them. I shall that is, immediately, when you provide me the proper place to do so, and the proper equipment on which to rest my great grandfather's Meerschaum!"
"Oh indeed, indeed, of course, of course, Sir!" The floundering functionary agreed, shaking so hard it was difficult to say whether he was also nodding his agreement. "If you will simply take a seat, in my … outer office, Sir. And on Mr. Lawson's sage advice, Sir, so as not to trouble you any further, I've also entirely disposed of my erstwhile assistant. I had no idea, Sir, no idea whatever that young simpleton was was being corrupted by … that other … gentleman, Sir!"
"I can entirely believe you had no idea whatever, my man." Boudin agreed. "And as for the young imbecile being … corrupted, well, that can happen to the young. However I must, it seems, ask you to be much more particular, now. In what manner precisely has your imbecilic former subordinate been disposed of?"
"Why, why, my good, good, Sir, the young dolt was taken well in hand by our fine Mr. Smith, Sir. And shortly thereafter, Mr. Smith confined the young fool in one of our 'treatment rooms' one of those we only make use of when treating our most violent charges, Sir. Oh, I can assure you, I do assure you entirely, Sir, nothing more will be heard of that greedy, that grasping, that … " The old dolt sputtered and spit with outrage, running quite out of breath, it seemed.
"Imbecile." Boudin finished. "Yes, I quite understand you. And our Mr. Mahann, that is, poor Mr. Hamilton-Lewis, where is he, just at present? He's no longer in your office, I should sincerely hope, my man, if you intend me to return there."
"Oh, no, no, of course he isn't there, Sir!" The functionary answered. 'that abject madman, screeching, and screaming every step of the way, I might add, and thereby greatly disturbing the other inmates in that part of the complex, has now been likewise incarcerated, Sir. He is, even now, confined to one of the water-treatment wards, Sir. He has been fully restrained and indeed is now locked into one of the treatment barrels … that is, tubs, there, Sir. That is, at one time, the receptacles we use were in fact, quite over-sized barrels, Sir. And if need be, as often happens with the hopelessly mad in our facility, Sir, that desperate creature will be forcibly … umm… medicated as per our well-established practice, Sir. You need have no further concern on his account, Sir."
"Indeed?" Boudin asked. "Well, we shall see, shan't we? The established practice has been to medicate such violent cases immediately on their admission to this institution, not after they've already disturbed their fellow inmates. You seem to have forgotten that, my man, along with a great many of our other dictums regarding the operation of this compound! Therefore, while I am perusing these documents, and the records you were ordered to make available, you will see to that sad wretch's instantaneous dosing, will you not, my man? Then you will return here, directly!"
"Oh, indeed, yes! Indeed, yes! So I shall, Sir! Oh, immediately, Sir!" The once more frightened fool exclaimed. And after gesturing to his former assistant's previous working quarters, he scurried away from Boudin as fast as his flabby legs could take him. The Georgian was satisfied upon examining the space to find only a smallish, emptied roll top desk, the Administrator's own desk chair, the records previously asked for, and an acceptable marble ashtray there. And on the latter of those objects, Boudin now set his pipe, and pulled on his riding gloves once again.
In almost any other circumstances, Gideon Boudin would not have lifted a hand to such menial, clerkish duties, but in these circumstances, he would not allow any other hands, or eyes. He'd sent Lawson, Smith, Mahann, and more than a dozen other surrogates over the past twelve years to make sure all was as he wished regarding this crumbling old complex, and in most cases he'd been satisfied with their undeviating reports of absolute compliance with his dictums. Now, the Atlanta native was no longer willing to take that assessment at face value. Too many eager county, state and federal beaureaucrats, along with their interminable supernumeraries and low caste menials, wanted to go through these same files, with a fine-tooth comb, just lately. He saw his long awaited prize hanging like a Georgia peach in summer, about to drop into his hand.
He would not lose this chance at grasping all he wanted, all he sought for, and all he was destined to have. So as he combed those dusty files, wearying himself in the musty little office, Boudin was coldly smiling. He had been rightly, justly furious, of course at the betrayal Lawson and Smith uncovered. He had been ready to crush the breath out of Mahann, for his damnable treachery, surely. And Mahann's fearful confession had merely served to seal the matter for Boudin. Some of those damnable Unionists actually sought to buy their way into these records! What Mahann never realized was that both sides had entrapped him during the proceSsof his desperate double-dealings. Yes, the former Richmond attorney, now a blabbering, screaming amnesiac lunatic, had planned to steal and sell those records. Yes, he made secret, traitorous contact with agents of The One's Great Enemy.
Fortunately for the Georgian, and unfortunately in the extreme for Mahann and those Federal extortionists, these much sought after records had long since been encrypted, almost as intricately as Stephan Aynsley's notes and journals. So, all was still on course, despite one or two decidedly frustrating setbacks, Boudin considered. All would soon be his, at long last, all that he'd been deprived, robbed, denied, and cheated of for so long. And moreover, all those who'd cheated, who'd denied, who'd robbed and who'd deprived the Georgian soon would have what another old friend might have called "just recompense" for their treachery and their transgressions. And he himself, none other, had cast wide the net that drew them, inexorably, into his hands.
Some have mocked my long limbs, and likened me to a "king spider", spinning my webs, trapping all unwary creatures in my radius, devouring everything within my reach. Well, there may not truly be such a creature within Nature. But, no matter, I have never sought, nor accepted such false constraints. Now what I most desire, what I have too long awaited will be accomplished, and by myself, alone! Now what I myself long since set in motion will live and breathe and become immortal in my grasp!
For the enervating total of one hour and twenty-seven minutes, Boudin worked his way through the records he'd demanded. From one he pulled an invoice, copied and sent off to The Cadmea. From a second, a notice of someone's hiring and subsequent dismissal, included in correspondence with his former law practice in Atlanta. And from another file, the Georgian, scowling now, took a list of former guards dismissed late this past spring, noting his estate's manager as a reference for two thirds of them. With these, and half a dozen other potential 'stumbling blocks' cheerily burning in the grate, Boudin turned his focus to the matter that seemed most frightening to the spineless dolt he'd put in place here as Administrator. That fool had duly returned from performing his duty, as ordered, and stood, still shaking like a willow, within the doorway of his own office, as if belonged to anyone but him.
"You also retrieved and compiled the records of those poor souls committed here without a family member's signature, or petition?" the Georgian asked, turning to his frown on the functionary.
"Y-yes, Sir." the patent imbecile replied, quaking.
"And you've allowed no one else, no one else whomsoever, for any reason whatsoever, to see those documents?" Boudin continued, peering sharply at the idiot.
"N-n-no, Sir. N-n-n-no one but yourself, Sir, not ever in my entire term… er… tenure… er not for any reason whatever … never, Sir!" The babbling fool went on.
"But you have been pressed to do so, especially in the past eight to ten months, have you not, my man? You have come under pressure, just as our unfortunate former cohort did, to open these very files to the importunate eyes and hands of outsiders, have you not?" Boudin asked, knowing the answer as well as he knew Port au Prince where he was born or Atlanta where his grandfather's plantation, The Cadmea stood, but finding himself enjoying this pallid man's increasing pallor almost as much as his mounting terror.
"I have, Sir. Y-y-yes, Sir. And all to n-n-no avail whatever, on their p-p-p-part, Sir." the shaking man answered, picking up and laying the over-full files on the desk in front of the Georgian.
Boudin pulled back from the desk and glared at the Administrator as if the quivering dolt had begun swearing like a stevedore on the Baltimore docks, " What are these, pray tell?" he demanded, biting off each syllable as if it carried a foul taste.
"Sir, my good Sir, these are the documents you just now … that is, the very documents we were… I mean to say these are the commitment papers to which I just now made reference, my good Sir." The frightened imbecile replied, his voice rising till it broke.
"But that cannot be the case." The Georgian icily insisted. " Do you hear? I say that can not be. You had instructions from our own Mssrs. Smith and Lawson, you nitwit, you dolt, you imbecile. You received instructions to utterly destroy every scrap, every line, each and every jot and tittle as regards those entirely unfortunate cases leSsthan a month ago, you fool. That being the case, how can it be that you maintained these files, entirely abrogating your instructions?"
Now the Administrator jumped half way across the tiny office, staring at Boudin as if the Georgian had become a cobra, raising its head to strike him dead in the next instant. " No, no! Mister … That is, Sir, please, Sir that is not the case at all! Please, please, my good sir. I received no such instructions! I received no wire, no letter, no correspondence whatsoever ordering the destruction of any asylum records. None, Sir, I do assure you!" the balding, shivering fellow cried.
"Then it is clear to me, sir. That either you, or the person who reported the delivery of those instructions, is guilty of the rankest sort of mendacity!" Boudin exclaimed, wondering if he'd found out yet another traitor to the Great Work.
"Not I, Sir. Not I! Not even once, Sir!" The Administrator insisted.
Boudin studied the man, silently for a moment and then shook his head. "You had no meeting then, with our erstwhile colleague, Mr. Mahann, something over a fortnight past?" he asked.
"No, Sir! I swear to you, Sir, he had not set foot in this complex, much leSs in this office in three or four months time, before this afternoon, Sir. And … " The trembling functionary insisted.
"Yes, yes, and what, precisely?" the Georgian demanded.
"And on the occasion of our last meeting, Mr. Mahann gave me clearly to understand that he would be gone for the winter, gone to the islands, Sir, for the entire winter season. In the past month, Sir, I received the instructions to gather these records, by wire, Sir, which telegram, as instructed, I of course, destroyed."
"Of course! That slothful, self-indulgent coxcomb! That indolent, vainglorious, popinjay! That dandified peacock with the pretensions of an eagle!" Boudin paced the office's width and depth twice over and turned back, still raging. 'this wire you received, my man, it arrived from what location, when?"
"Wh-why from Atlanta, Sir." The Administrator stammered, his pale eyes bulging in his yet paler face. "I was in receipt of that wire … on the 17th instant of last month, Sir."
"And the missive, Mr. Administrator, came with whose signature, if you please? Was it our Mr. Mahann's?"
"N-n-no, Sir. It arrived with the signature of our Mr. Lawson, Sir, Saul Lawson." The dolt answered.
Boudin's thick eyebrows flew upwards at this reply, reminding the frightened Administrator of nothing so much as vultures taking flight. Then he smiled and nodded to himself and the man behind the desk became still more frightened. 'so, either I have been, until just lately, gulled by one incompetent, self-absorbed fool; who sought to make me believe I am betrayed by another of his cohort, or I am doubly betrayed! Which do you think pertains in this situation, my man?"
"Sir, in all honesty, Sir, I do not believe our Mr. Lawson has a disloyal bone in his body, Sir. I imagine I should have retained that wire for your perusal, Sir. However, I am after all this long while in the firm habit of doing just the opposite with any such documents, Sir."
"Indeed. No doubt our erstwhile betrayer, Mr. Mahann, forged the message you received. And I concur with your opinion of our Mr. Lawson. If anything, Mr. Lawson has shown himself more zealous than his entire cohort put together, in pursuit of our shared goals. I have nothing but the utmost confidence in him. Boudin nodded, knowing as well as the fool in front of him that he had utmost confidence in no one other than himself
"Very well. You will next complete the task I have begun here, my man. You will eradicate these commitment papers and all the files pertaining to them, consigning them to the flames here as I have been doing. But before you carry out their destruction, you will open each file for my … perusal. Beginning, now, my man." Boudin ordered and smiled tautly as the soon to be former Administrator dithered about, opening, shredding and transferring these genuinely damning files to the red-hot grate. They had been used to condemn some hundred and seventy eight, all of them Boudin's perceived enemies, to be fraudulently committed here. When the one hundred and-seventy ninth file was about to follow the rest, Boudin stopped the still quaking man, and placed the tip of his ebony walking stick on the fellow's arm.
"Lay that one on the desk, and open it fully, so I may read. Then, when I tell you, and not a moment beforehand, you will consign each separate form and document to the flames, Well, begin, my good man."
"Y-yes, yes, of course, Sir. " The Administrator, a marginally prudent man who had no wish to find himself on the receiving end of the Georgian's powerful wrath, thus complied.
One "Jonathan North Traherne" was the subject/inmate noted, observed and recorded in this file. "Herr Professor Doctor Stephan Johannes Sebastian Aynsley" was the physician of record on "Traherne's' case. A long time judge of the circuit court for the Baltimore/Montgomery County region even appeared to have properly signed off on the commitment decree.
Further documents in the thin file had to do with 'observations' made of and 'treatments' given this "Jonathan Traherne".Each one of several dozen observations echoed the Professor Doctor's original statement, and noted this inmate as "violently, hopelessly insane", "a clear danger to himself and others', and a "cunning lunatic able to make himself appear passive, helpless, almost catatonic, at one moment, only to launch into verbal and physical attacks on anyone in his reach, the next instant." Further notes in the file gave "Traherne's' physical description and more details of his presenting symptoms, diagnosis, and prognosis, as well as mentioning the numerous bronchial infections and quartan fevers he'd presented with, to doctors doing clinical rounds during his two years in this asylum.
Torry could have died on any number of occasions, since I left him here. Boudin surmised, reading each report before tapping it with his cane and watching it burn. And I would have been gratified to a large extent if he had obliged me in that fashion. But then, if "Jonathan Traherne" had passed away at some point in the last two years, I would have lost the chance to observe the shocked and dismayed reactions of his nearest and dearest remaining kin! And I have no intention of missing the tender reunion between those family members! No doubt, further attempts will be made to overturn "Traherne's' commitment with the additional help of his family. No doubt one or another of those attempts will finally succeed. But as to the condition "Traherne" is released in… well, I still have something to say, or rather, something to do about that!
"Sir, my good, good, Sir, I … please excuse me, for interrupting your train of thought, Sir. But there…there is something… something more as regards that last patient, that Traherne, Sir." The Administrator offered, looking to Boudin as if he would collapse from the strain of so much daring.
"Yes, yes, what is it now?" Boudin demanded, frowning darkly and quite enjoying the terror springing back to life in the man's beady eyes.
"It's in this part of that young, blind madman's file, Sir. It's in the newest portion of his file, Sir. You … may wish to … to peruse it, also, before it's destroyed, as well, Sir."
Swallowing a taut grin that threatened to stretch across his face, the Georgian read the offending document. Then he looked up with a scowl at the Administrator.
"What's this I see here, my good man? What's this about "West' and so many other likewise hopelessly mad inmates, being removed from the general population? What's this about monies spent on some alleged improvements and additions to the infirmary here? Were your orders, after all, so ambiguous as to allow you their utter abrogation? No, sir, I think not, my good sir!
Your orders were to maintain young master West in no more and no less a state and place than he had on his arrival. Your orders were to maintain him in the general population where it might be hoped he would obtain some benefit from the natural stimulation of human company, however impaired, my good sir! And only on those occasions when West's mania made his residing there a danger to himself and other inmates, was he to be removed for treatment, always, always I tell you, only on a temporary basis! I will have an explanation for this egregious disregard for the understanding reached on this young lunatic's arrival as with all these others, and that at once, my good sir!"
"Sir, my very good Sir, I … I communicated these … departures from the agreement, in full, and in writing, to, as I thought proper at the time, quite wrongly as it turns out, now, our … Mr. Mahann. Sir, I acted in all good faith, in communicating these matters to him. And in most cases he made no response at all, thereby, as I've always understood, giving assent to th … these changes. Sir, we were finally ordered, by county and state health officials, to make these changes, sir. And among their most strident demands, with the consequences being the immediate closure of this institution, was the removal of a list of some eighteen inmates from the general ward."
"Sir, these demands were made numerous times! These demands came well in advance of the county's tax auction notice! And as the general ward was becoming … more populous, as usual with the autumn and winter weather this year… And with the fevers so prevalent in the main population, Sir, and the demands of these varied governmental officials… I… Sir, if I'd known at the time of making these changes, that the complex would be … was facing …will be auctioned…Sir, I …did what was demanded of me. I did only that, Sir, and nothing more." The Administrator, now back to quaking again, as if a gaping earthquake fault-line had appeared under his feet, almost danced as he tried to allay Boudin's outrage. At least he could direct it onto a third party, he hoped. "And my orders, and my understanding, Sir, has… have always been that no such communication should be directed to you, or to any of your fine dwellings, or your Atlanta offices, my very good Sir."
"I see." the Georgian said, nodding curtly, still privately enjoying the pallid man's dismay greatly. "Well, you had that last correctly at the least. Now, before anything else can be found to cause my ennui to worsen you will immediately show me how these monies I was not informed about have been squandered on this old wreck of a complex. It certainly does not satisfy me to know that the results any such spending will now either end up in rubble when a new owner demolishes this place, or worse as a benefit to their operations here!"
"Yes, Sir! That is, I meant to say, no, no indeed not, Sir!" The bumbling fool stammered.
Boudin smiled frigidly and stood up, stretching his extraordinarily long limbs as he did so. "Well, lead the way, man!"
"Y-yes, Sir. The infirmary remains; naturally in its same location, Sir, at the far end of the corridor, just off to your left, Sir. The rooms were cleared as I mentioned are also along that corridor, Sir. And in truth, Sir, very little monies were needed or expended. We merely, only partially, cleared out some old, dilapidated items stored there. Nothing, Sir, I assure you; nothing of any value was removed from these premises. The …ummm… the health officials who required these measures, as I said, refused to make use of any items which I, in true generosity, offered them, Sir. Instead they actually brought in new items: cots and mattrDubbyuhs, wheeled chairs, a small, cast iron stove, bathing tubs, new linens, garments, books, a plethora of small, odd, hand carved objects, with which these poor delusional souls supposedly exercise their faculties. And they brought pillows, Sir. Pillows! Furthermore, they had the gall to bring in the most appalling and volatile compounds with which their own menials purportedly scrubbed the floors, the walls and the windows in those few, small rooms!"
"They are quite madly obsessed, Sir, with some European nonsense about the mechanism by which diseases are spread, Sir! Can you imagine, can you, Sir, these functionaries, these governmental supernumeraries, tried to tell me the entire complex should be cleaned in the same absurd, and dangerously noxious fashion! They tried to tell me our inmates would not then, or at the least would less often contract diseases that no one knows how to control, Sir! They spoke of controlling the occasion and the spread of cholera, Sir, and pneumonia, quartan fevers, diphtheria, and a host of other ailments known to be incurable! What sort of cruel hoax these meddlers are attempting to propagate, Sir, I have no idea!"
"At least two or three of these persons, these officials, Sir, have been hounding my office almost day and night for months, now, Sir! They want a kitchen to be established and run within this complex! They want this, they want that! They want everything from a roof to be constructed over the courtyard, to a garden for the inmates to work in, in fair weather, to a greenhouse, for the rest of the year, to fresh meat and vegetables purchased and prepared according to their specifications, in this presumed kitchen, every day, Sir! They are surely among the most importunate, over-zealous, over-eager, and demanding persons, Sir, with whom I have ever been acquainted!"
"Yes, yes, I see, how very wearying for you. I'm nearly exhausted, just listening." Boudin shook his head, and went back to tamping and drawing on his pipe. The man was patently a fool, and certainly never got this post due to his paltry medical training. No doubt, even though it was gaining some acceptance, men like this would go on denying the curative powers of Listerism for the next thirty or forty years, if some catastrophe didn't change their perspective.
"So, these hopeless cases, Mr. Administrator, now have separate quarters along that corridor, there?" Boudin asked, impatient to be rid of the fool, now.
"Yes, Sir, yes. Well, no, no, Sir… There aren't any separate quarters. Why, to do that we'd have clear out the entire upper floor of every building in the complex! No, sir. What we have are merely the same storage rooms as before, with the minimum space cleared in each… for some cots, a table, a shelf, well no, not a shelf, there were always some shelves…"
"Be still." The Georgian commanded him very quietly. "I wish to make my own observations of these rooms and their occupants. Since I never have and never will willingly surrender my capital in support of the Federalist monstrosity we nowadays, laughingly, call the national government in Washington's City, this complex will soon be leaving my possession. Oh, and by the way, my good man, do you happen to have any matches? I'm in tremendous need of a relaxing pipe, just now. "
"Y-y-yes, Sir, of- of course, Sir." The quaking man fumbled in his pockets, at length producing a tin of matches. These he held out to Boudin, as a nervous lion tamer might hold a steak out to his largest and hungriest feline.
"These will have to do, I suppose. I did think you might have some matches designed to be used for lighting one's pipe." Boudin sighed, and left the Administrator to quake yet more while he filled and tamped and filled and lit and tamped until the Meerschaum was finally drawing to his satisfaction. Then, the Georgian threw a heavy purse onto the small desk. "You will now, on the instant, absent yourself as far from this office, this complex, and this benighted country as you can go, where I care not, with these funds. And don't dast think of asking for any more, ever, lest you meet our poor Mr. Hamilton-Lewis' sad fate, yourself, my man. Do we clearly understand one another?"
"Perfectly clearly, Sir. And may I say …" The Administrator offered.
"You may not." Boudin answered, cordially, leaving the ashen man still more pale. The Georgian knew the man was well and truly frightened but for how long? Hadn't he proven himself too witless to be properly wary of Mahann's treacherous machinations? Hadn't he proven himself an absolute coward in the face of regional and Federal investigator's bullying? Wouldn't it be best all around to be done with this doddering fool once and for all?
"I've changed my mind." The Georgian said, before the Administrator could take a step. "Give me pen and paper, a candle and some sealing wax, and at once. And when I complete my missive, you will deliver it, sealed, into our Mr. Lawson's capable, loyal, hands. And you may believe me, my man, I will know if you dast defy me by reading the contents of this private communiqué. It is for Mr. Lawson's and Mr. Smith's eyes only. So I will once more, and for the last time ask, do you take my meaning entirely, sir?"
"Why, why, yes, yes, surely, of course, Sir!" The dolt nodded, scrambling through the maelstrom on his desk for the implements of his own doom, making it clear to Boudin that just the opposite was true. Within the next moment, Gideon Boudin had written, signed and sealed his 'missive". He folded it twice and stuffed it into into the imbecile's coat pocket
"You are excused, sir. Be on your way." The Georgian nodded, hiding a grin behind one long, silk gloved hand as the dolt marched off towards his own destruction, just as he'd willingly sent so many others to theirs. Now Boudin strode towards the refurbished infirmary. He glanced in the doorway two down from the infirmary and smiled at what he saw already in place there. Knowing what he knew, the Georgian realized only one more cue was needed, now, to end this "play".
Yes, now we come to the endgame, at long last, Jimmy, old dear. The Georgian told the image of his used-up, wholly defeated, enemy-friend from years past. And we will see it out to that end, together, Jimmy. We will see how your 'shining star", your young champion, your beloved Torry shatters and crumbles into nothingness now, all to pay for your transgressions against me and our long ago friendship! And I wonder, will that quite break your foolishly sentimental old heart for you? Will it kill you, old friend, literally or at the least figuratively, to learn how I've conspired, and connived against you and "your Torry", since he was barely out of swaddling clothes? Will it destroy you, old friend to learn how I've worked against you both, since Torry was toddling about so adorably, your dear 'momma's old house, adored by all?
His pipe was relaxing the Georgian already; the "English blend' spicy and strong and a touch exotic, exactly to his own tastes. But his excitement at today's events showed in a glint that never quite left his ice-grey eyes. Now that tobacco was sending the peppery, smoky tell-tales of its presence down this narrow corridor, into all the open doorways there, just as he meant it should.
Only let Jimmy hurry back to see the moment you turn from him to your Dearest old Remy! Let Jimmy see and hear how his sister's son has come to need, to care for, and to call for his oldest and dearest of friends! Let me see that old man's face crumple like an infant's, and hear his once powerful voice break and quaver! One he has believed all this while was his own precious lad, dearer to him than his own sons, let him see as mine alone, now and forever after! I could live on that moment's reckoning alone, for an eon!
But there will be far more to live on and live for! Just as I promised, dearest, so long ago! You will bring me to the shining Day of Reckoning and Resurgence, dearest. You will fulfill the Glorious Destiny I swore you'd have! And all our enemies, dearest, will stand and gape and fall away like the hollow, heartleSsfools they are! You were surely born to bring about the settling of scores that was always to be mine, as the First Emperor of the Resurgent Confederate America, Gideon Alexander Remiel! And I was born to teach you, shape you, and all but recreate you, dearest, to become the New-Risen South's Matchless and Most Beloved Martyr-Liberator, James Torrance Kieran West!
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