My Little Pixie

Chapter Eighteen - Inferno

A few days later, I was enjoying dinner with the little pixie. Desert had just been served when my phone rang. "Excuse me," I said as I took it out. I had invited her to dine with me so she deserved that level of courtesy.

My phone is configured with a 'white list' of individuals from whom I will accept calls and they all know much better than to disturb me out-of-hours on anything but a matter of critical importance.

It was the manager of 'Inferno'. They had just detained a client who was taking photographs inside the club. This is, of course, against the membership rules and we treat it extremely seriously.

"Thank you for informing me," I said. "Hold him securely but do not start to interrogate him yet... in fact, keep him in isolation. I shall come and deal with him personally."

"Very good, Sir."

"And look up who his patron is."

"Already done that, Sir. It's Lord Barton."

I vaguely knew the guy. "A useful idiot with a title and money problems," I said, more or less to myself.

"That's what it looks like, Sir."

I rang off and the pixie tried to say something but I waved her into silence. Then I sat, staring straight ahead, for about a minute, trying to work out what the significance of this might be. The best I could come up with was that it was someone trying to blackmail us - and the range of possibilities went rapidly south from there.

At last I reached for my phone and put in a call to my duty manager.

"Have you been told about the events at 'Inferno'?" I asked.

"With the photographer?"

"Yes. Please contact the managers of the other clubs and instruct them to be on alert for more of the same."

"Already done that, Sir."

"Good. I intend to go over there to speak to the perpetrator. Please organise a limousine for..." I checked the time... "nine o'clock."

"Consider it done, Sir."

With that I rang off. I did not have time for idle chat and nor did he.

"Something has come up and I need to pay a visit to one of my clubs," I told the pixie. I paused for a moment when I saw the look in her eyes and then added, "It is an hour's drive away and, when I am there, I will have work to do. However, you may join me if you wish?"

She didn't need to use words to reply. She was almost exploding with excitement.

I studied her for a while, sipping my wine as she finished the rest of her dessert. "Go and put on your white dress," I told her. "Keep your hair loose. No make-up, shoes, socks or underwear."

Her eyes widened slightly at the last one but she made no comment. She just said her obedient, "Yes, Sir," as she left the room. But I continued to sit there for a moment longer, deep in thought, before following her upstairs.

I selected one of my trademark dark grey suits - smart enough to let people know that they are dealing with someone significant but, when paired with a crisp, plain, white shirt, not at all out of place in one of my clubs.

The suit was tailor made, of course. I have never been able to abide 'named brand' suits. To me, they always smack of a slightly desperate attempt to say, 'I'm one of them'.

And I have no wish whatsoever to be 'one of them', whoever they are. I am me. Live with it.

In spite of this new threat, I had to smile as I came down the sweeping staircase and found the little pixie waiting for me in the entrance hall. Stunningly beautiful and yet radiating an almost tangible aura of innocence and purity.