Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue's Quiet Weekend
by Tux Toledo
Page 11
"James,
we need an airplane."
"Sir?"
"Harry Avalon may on to something but he needs more information and
that information happens to be locked up at the moment."
"I see, sir."
"So he needs to utilize some of your more practical skills."
"Very good, sir."
"But we don't much time. If Jepson's deal is a scam we'll have to be
back before two o'clock in order to save Mr. and Mrs. Duke from losing
their life savings."
"And if it is not a scam?"
"Then we'll relax and enjoy the flight."
We drove to the local airport at a speed the Rolls found slightly
uncomfortable. The only sign of life was a sleepy tabby sunning himself
on top of an oil barrel. We "borrowed" an airplane and flew to San
Francisco. Harry met us at the airport.
"What are you doing in Nevada City?" Harry asked.
"Having a quiet weekend."
"That's what I was having until you called." He looked me over the way
he looks people over. "I suppose I owe you one, though. Come on." He
led us to his car.
"So what have you discovered?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. I may have found something but I need more information
and that information isn't at my immediate disposal."
"You shall have it," I said.
Harry stopped his Mercedes at the fringes of the Financial District
just a few blocks from the offices of International Investments. James
slid out of the car and immediately went to work. He did his usual
superb job and obtained the information without a hitch. Good
chauffeur, that James. Do you know how hard it is to find a chauffeur
named James?
"I don't want to know how you got that," Harry said, nodding toward the
bundle of papers in James' arms. "But it was a fine job."
I smiled. Harry drove us back to his spectacular Russian Hill home and
we settled into a den that housed more books than most municipal
libraries. A few vintage first editions shared self spaced with law
books and business tomes. He took a bottle of port from a wine rack
that someone had ingeniously built into an antique glass-doored
bookcase. The port was a 1963 vintage from the Rio Torto valley. It had
a fine color, fine nose, and
a fine taste.
We toasted each other then Harry sat down to examine the papers James
had obtained for him.
© 2008 David Biagini