Dangerous Games. Charlotte MedeЧитать онлайн книгу.
remind Vesper of the largely transactional nature of their relationship. As for his other promises, they could easily be reconsidered.
The doctor continued to dangle the watch in front of the seated man’s comatose gaze. Whether Vesper was thinking of India, his past, or his regrets, Bellamy could afford not to care. Instead, he spent the moment in private consideration of his perfect future, unfolding as it should thanks to the predator he was grooming like a hawk before the kill. Indulging in the reverie, he found himself unprepared for the doctor’s next words, which caught him broadside.
“Why this man in particular?”
The audacity of the question was breathtaking and correspondingly, Bellamy’s estimation of the doctor—never high to begin with—decreased fractionally. He caressed the fine elephant ivory in his hands before crossing one leg over the other, and said consideringly, “I don’t pay you to make these types of queries, now do I, Vesper? Because what I do with this man at present, in this room, or later elsewhere falls entirely to my discretion and mine alone.”
How calm Bellamy sounded, even to his own ears, when what he really wanted to do was kick the little bastard in the kidneys—is what he wanted to do. These middle-class snivelers, almost worse than the aristocracy, with their affectations and absurd sensitivities. His fingers tightened around the smooth ivory chess piece. For a moment, he considered giving in to his irritation. But then again—his eyes narrowed to take in his hawk held in Vesper’s thrall.
A restrained cough from the doctor. “I didn’t intend to be forward, sir, with my inquiries,” he said. “It’s simply that such delicate treatments require some sort of foundational underpinnings, the patient’s history, for example, and not knowing very many details…” Vesper rambled and then stopped his rush of words along with the motion of the watch in midair with a tightly closed fist.
The figure remained immobile in his chair, oblivious to his role as the focus of the proceedings. As if to assure himself that he still had his patient under his control, Vesper peered intensely through his spectacles before taking them off and holding them up to the gaslight, as though inspecting for smudges that might impair his judgment. Finding none, he carefully donned them again, smoothing back his hair and his composure. “Very well then, sir. I am confident that he is properly primed and that we are prepared to begin.” The words were neutral, the disquiet stored away in another place for another time. “I shall demonstrate.”
“Really?” Anticipation rose in Bellamy’s chest like heat from the Rajasthan desert. He leaned back in his chair. “You’re ready, are you? But upon consideration, I don’t think I’m quite prepared to proceed at this time after all.” It amused him to keep the good doctor off balance. Besides which he knew it would be better if he could draw out the situation at least to some degree, like rubbing salt in a fresh wound. Because the little chambermaid snuffling in the corner like a truffle pig wasn’t nearly as diverting as he’d hoped she’d be. Many years ago she, or many others like her, would have been cause for excitement. But he required more these days. Much more.
Vesper did a quarter turn to look at him with an expression Bellamy had seen before. Not relief at the thought of reprieve, but a combination of greed and self-loathing. Nothing new under the bloody sun, after all. Bellamy smiled benignly and glanced down at his hands holding the chess piece before returning it to its place. “So if we may digress for a moment, doctor, with your permission of course,” he said with a disingenuousness that was almost convincing. He jutted his chin toward the chessboard at his elbow. “I can see that you’re marveling over this wonderful East India chess set.”
The doctor clutched the timepiece in his right hand, rooted to the spot, half his face in shadows cast by the gaslight, his confusion plain. “A thing of great beauty to be sure, but what of it, sir?”
Bellamy returned the watchful gaze. The set was carved from elephant ivory by craftsmen in Berhampore, northeast India, for wealthy officers, aristocrats, and politicians to take home as luxury souvenirs. One side wore East India Company livery, and the opposing pieces were depicted in Indian costume.
“One of my favored pastimes is chess, that game of strategy, as I’m certain you already know,” Bellamy continued mildly and as if they were meeting over drinks at the club on a sultry summer’s day and not in a darkened room, heavy drapes drawn against prying eyes. “A fundamental tactic is to capture the opponent’s pieces while preserving one’s own.” He’d come to the game of strategy late in life, and as a man more accustomed to backstabbing and lynching in back alleyways as opposed to the subtleties of chess, something Vesper probably suspected. And feared.
The doctor glanced at the chessboard, carefully calibrating the mood in the salon, well aware who was paying his fare along the way. His expression was shuttered, the glass of his spectacles reflecting the gaslight and nothing more. “The queen is quite impressive,” he said perfunctorily.
“But not as impressive as these two intricately carved juggernauts pulled by these oxen right here,” said Bellamy, deliberately pedantic now. “Their role is not exactly known except that they relate to an old Indian custom in which pilgrims would throw themselves under the vehicle of the juggernaut idol to be crushed, thus releasing their souls.” He asked casually, “Do you believe in the soul?”
Vesper said nothing.
“Neither do I.” Bellamy looked past the doctor and to the man who remained immobile across from them. He hadn’t moved, and appeared as though made of plaster, except for the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest. “Nor do I believe in the power of the queen,” he added, turning back to the chessboard and picking up the large white piece at its center. “Chess is all about middlegames and endgames. And if one is clever, the queen merely becomes a pawn that is easily captured and eliminated.”
He tossed the piece carelessly to one side and rose from his chair, his extemporaneous lecture quite finished. “Thank you for indulging me, doctor, and now that we understand each other, let’s see what magic you have wrought here.” He smiled tightly. “Not that I am discounting the scientific nature of your enterprise, of course.” And as if it had just suddenly occurred to him, Bellamy twisted around in the chair to gesture over his shoulder to the serving maid, who had stopped her keening.
“The little slut believes that if she’s quiet enough, we may just forget about her,” he said with bemusement. “She will learn differently in a few minutes, if your experiment proves successful. Which I trust it will, given the amount of sterling I’ve poured into your coffers of late,” he added with enough casualness to emphasize the threat in his statement. “And that other matter you would prefer that I attend to…”
For the first time that evening, Vesper turned to face Bellamy directly, demonstrating that a man could hide from many things but not from himself. Shame warred with survival and, not that he was a gambling man, Bellamy predicted which side would win out.
“It is a most unfortunate situation.”
“Indeed. Your unnecessary anguish makes it doubly so, Vesper.”
“However, you may rest assured that I am grateful for your assistance and as such will endeavor to successfully conclude our dealings together.” Vesper marshaled his credentials, in the event additional evidence of his worthiness was required. “As you know, although I believe it is worth reiteration, I have studied with Hippolyte Bernheim at the University of Nancy,” he said. “And, as a result, I have every confidence the outcome here this evening will meet with your approval. As for the gentleman here”—he took a step back to take careful note of the strong but drawn features of his patient—“he is a curious subject, for many reasons which, as you intimated earlier, we needn’t explore at the moment.”
“I’m well aware of the curious nature of our subject. You have no idea how well aware,” Bellamy said. He rose from his chair and sauntered to the opposite side of the room, positioning himself at an optimum vantage point to frame both their subject and the serving maid. From the periphery of his vision, he could see the mass of rags by the cold grate.
“The slut here has calmed down, so that should make things marginally