Space-Time of Death: an Al Squires of the Protectorate Novel

Ch. 5.2: A Little Patch of Babylon

We met our contacts just as they turned into the entrance to the alley: one was a scruffy, overweight looking middle-aged guy whose very being seemed to scream 'cop;' the other was a rakishly thin dapper looking and well-dressed slightly younger man with platinum-blonde hair who'd looked more right at home at our destination. Even with the seemingly-out-of-place briefcase that he was carrying.

"Hey, look. It's Archie Bunker trick-or-treating as Columbo," I said out loud as I nodded towards the 'cop;' keeping my pop culture references germane to this era, for obvious reasons. That got a few chuckles from both teams; even Norah cracked a smile.

"Yeah, yeah," the 'cop' gruffly said, rolling his eyes at me as they walked further in. "Very funny, wiseass! So funny, I forgot to fuckin' laugh!"

"And he's got Mr. Humphreys with him," Rozz added, pointing at the flamboyant looking gent. "Talk about your 'odd couples.'" Again, a few chuckles. The only reaction from the dapper gent was a good-natured smile.

"Who?" Norah asked, not getting neither the joke nor the reference.

"Mr. Humphreys?" he said the name again in question form. "He was a character in a BBC sitcom that aired around this era called Are You Being Served? It was actually pretty funny: it takes place on the floor of a posh department store where the Men's Wear and Ladies Wear departments share. The jokes were mostly just a lot of innuendoes and cheeky banter, but I think you might like it. Remind me to show you a few episodes afterwards, luv. Anyway, Humphreys was supposed to be a flaming homosexual on the show." He looked over to the guy again. "And from the looks of this bloke," he added, "I'd say that I'm not far off, am I?"

"Rozz, you really shouldn't make assumptions like that," Norah scolded him softly. "We haven't even met the man yet."

"Sorry, mum!" he said cheekily.

"Callarse, por favor!" Jorge growled at us, telling us to shut up.

The younger man raised his hand in greeting as soon as we were close enough. "Seeing as you must be the specialists we're supposed to meet," he in a sophisticated and professional tone of voice, "I bid you welcome to New York City in this time." He looked us over before his eyes fell on Lady Lane. "Amanda, darling!" he said as he walked over to Lady Lane, his voice now more campy than professional. "Is that really you? My God! It's been literal ages!" he said with a limp wave of his wrist. Upon further study of said wrist, I noticed that he was wearing fashionable cufflinks with the Ouroboros symbol.

"You were saying, luv?" Rozz whispered to Norah, a snarky smirk upon his lips. She gave him a sarcastic look.

"Felix, you old so-and-so," she said happily as she took a few steps towards him. "So, this is when they sent you after you were caught with Oscar Wilde." They gave each other air kisses just as they were close enough.

"Well, you know me, darling," he said with a wink, "I always was a patron of the arts."

"You look fantastic, by the by," Lady Lane commented. "Hardly aged a day."

"You're one to talk," he said as he looked her over. "I must say the years have been kind to you as well, dear heart. It's almost a shame that I don't prefer women. Key word being 'almost.' We simply must share beauty secrets."

"Do let's," she agreed. "Along with how one another's been doing."

"Alright, dial it back a notch, 'Mr. Felix,'" the 'cop' said in a mocking tone; keeping the half-smoked cheap cigar wedged on the side of his mouth as he spoke. "This is business, remember? Not a reunion with one of your old clients from the beauty parlor." He looked over to Lady Lane and added, "Not that I'm calling you old, toots. You're a good looking broad, for a Brit. So, don't give me the third-degree about that, huh? I know how you dames can get when it comes to your age."