Dangerous by Default

10. The White Wing

"Well, that'll depend on you, gorge." White Wing replied, moving stealthily from the balcony into the long shadows of the office.

"On me? I thought our boundaries were quite clear. I ask, I get, I pay. You must be confused."

"Can't a gal flip the roles, every once in a while?"

"As you can tell, I have a full house awaiting my presence. I don't have time for your games. Were you successful?"

White Wing huffed noisily and tossed the metal canister into Pechaude's lap, causing him to flinch nervously. He flicked on the desk lamp and unrolled the delicate paper.

"And here it is. It looks as if it was written by a child." Pechaude's eyes briefly scanned the artifact that White Wing had brought him.

This wasn't the first time Pechaude had employed White Wing's expertise. It had only been a few months ago when she approached him with the Alpine killer tapes, promising that if he employed her as his only source he'd be the wealthiest man in town. This was the budding of what had so far been a fruitful business relationship. She did the digging, and after paying her handsomely he made back the money tenfold.

"How long before I can list it? I mean, is someone looking for this?"

"Look, this wasn't easy to get, Pechaude. Very exclusive scoop, if you ask me. But no, not a soul in the world knows that this piece of music exists. I'd wait six months for the air to clear, just to be safe, but it's totally clean now. But, before I can let you keep it, I have a request for you."

Pechaude's eyes wrinkled. Though he never witnessed her methods of obtaining goods, and he certainly didn't ask questions, he certainly had his suspicions. The feeling of being on the hook to White Wing made him nervous. But she'd gotten him this far, what was the harm in entertaining her?

"You promised that if I got the Capone manuscript, you'd come visit me in San Francisco!"

Pechaude laughed, grateful that was all she asked for. This had slipped his mind completely. It must have been when she had presented him the Alpine diary. He had brushed this promise off as a joke. White Wing had always been so playful, but he knew better than to cross her.

"Thank you for the invitation, and yes I promise I will come visit you someday."

"Tomorrow. Come tomorrow, while you're still in California, silly!"

"Unfortunately that's impossible. I have a...

"What, that bogus appointment with the 'academy'?" She made air quotes with her gloved hands, as if to question their importance. "What if I told you that I can make it worth your while, more so than any fancy luncheon with a bunch of old rich men?"

"I apologize, White Wing. But it's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"They will never let you in as a member, Pechaude. It's not worth deluding yourself on that. They just want you to break bread while they mock you behind your back, as they always have, even while you amass a collection that puts them to shame. There's an artist having a major retrospective tomorrow at the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. I think you've heard of him..."

"Yes, of course. Caine Blue."

"Yes, of course. Seeing that you're one of his biggest collectors."

"More than that. Many of the works in the exhibition will say, 'in the collection of Jean-Auguste Dominique Pechaude'. My staff has been coordinating for months with that obnoxious curator."

"Aha! So why don't you join me at the opening? I'm sure you've got a few VIP tickets sitting around. Don't you want to see how much people love the work that you own?"

"I'll consider it, but to be honest, I can't see how a room full of admiring art snobs could compare to the praise of the great academy."

White Wing moved silently back into a shadow, obscuring her hood from view. Pechaude felt the hair on his neck stand up as he suddenly sensed she was right behind him. The faintest trace of her scent was just barely present, feeling both electrified and defensive.

"There is no one more prominent, relevant even, in danger art than Caine Blue. All of his work lives on the edge of calamity. What do you think would happen to the value of your collection if something were to happen that would make Caine suddenly notorious?"

Pechaude's eyes grew wider.

"This is more than intel, Pechaude. Think of this as your big break! My alliance, the Doves, had me bring this to you first. You have the choice to change your life for the superficial, and go to your petty little luncheon. Or change your life forever, and surpass all the great men you claim to admire."

He suddenly felt the tickle of her breathe by his ear, making him jump in his seat.

White Wing laughed at him."Trust me. You wanna be there, daddy. I know you have a thing for the wife, and little birds tell me she may be looking for a new investor. You could get extra lucky, with her in such a vulnerable state.."

"Even if what you suggest could happen, it would be far better for anything to occur in my absence."

"You are too much on the sidelines. Smell it up close, get your hands dirty! It will be like no opening you've ever seen, gorge."

Pechaude had grown impatient with her impish yammering and stood up with a swell in his chest. "I appreciate your business. The money will be wired as agreed. As for San Francisco, I'll be sure to visit you on my way back from Europe. Until then, I look forward to learning of your handiwork in the news."

The pride that swelled in his chest quickly deflated. He sniffed the air. White Wing's fragrance hovered, but it was fading. He was alone again. The stench of decay was returning. He pulled the blue carnation he wore on his lapel up to his nose and breathed in deeply. It was no use. Maybe it was worth going to San Francisco just to get rid of this stench, he thought.

On his phone, Pechaude searched Caine Blue Wife.

"First Transgender Billionaire Donates Funds To Public Housing For At-Risk Youth." His thumb petted the image. He couldn't help but imagine the warm, sugary smells that only her milky skin would hold.

Pechaude returned to his party and mingled, pretending to laugh at their jokes and sharing stories he memorized about the documents on display. His assistant came by to make sure he had eaten a small plate of hors d'oeuvres she had saved for him when he tugged her wrist gently to pull her aside.

"I'd like you to adjust my travel schedule. I'll be going to San Francisco first thing in the morning."