Ex-soldier Birmingham-gangster bets his life on luck and illegalities, adroit wit and burning passion streaking his blood-stained fingertips as a dire quarrel commence between himself and the disturbed Dane who purloined his lover.
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TO LIFE
OF COURSE, HE KNEW. How could he not? He owned Small Heath district, parts of the Bordesley areas, too, right?
What he was to do with the information, that the women who had left him for Belgium were currently strolling around in high fashion looking like a million bucks, he did not know; if he should even do anything about it. She was no longer his lover, neither was she a friend and from what he had heard of her, he had no reason to consider her an acquaintance.
Ines Lenz.
He barely remembered what she looked like, only that she was just about the most beautiful gal he had ever known. Love did that, however. Make everything seemingly pretty, just a tad bit more. It was blinding and dangerous, and something Thomas had promised himself to never fall back in. Not after Ines, not after Grace. Women just loved leaving him.
. . .
IN THE CHURCHYARD STOOD she, reading her beloved father's tombstone. In loving memory of Hans-Otto Lenz. Beside him, rested his wife and Ines let out a shaky breath, knowing he knew peace. She liked to think they were sat on a cloud up in the heavens, watching over her and proud of what she had become.
But that was just a thought and had she been as naive and bigoted as years back, she might have actually believed that, but now she had grown and become wiser. Kindness and mercy was not a part of God's game. That was not how the Almighty played.
The pain she had felt in the aftermath of her mother's passing, that was nowhere how heartbroken she felt in this instant. Both her parents were now buried in the ground and that did not fail to make her feel hollow, for how many times can a heart break? Could it be she had simply felt it for so long she had grown accustomed to the tearing feeling? Perhaps she was now immune to pain. If that was the case, it most certainly did put pieces together, considering how she had handled situations recently, differently than what she would have years ago.
Nevertheless, subsequently to her short stay in Birmingham, Ines was scheduled to return to Belgium and continue her business. Changes were to be made; some of which would have a great influence on the future of the company. It truly was exciting times and the prosperous name of what started out as a single dealer's shop with a narrow booth making up for a tannery had become a surname that people of power and wealth around Ghent areas and other European countries knew by the end of 1924.
Ines Lenz sailed over the English Channel and three days later she accepted Anton Maes invitation, agreeing to join him to the Hamburg Congress in January. Maes had, to no surprise of Ines, cheered victoriously and then poured a glass of his finest wine.
The detailed bottle hiding away a smooth, red liquor, he retreated from the back of his office cabinet. Pulling out the cork and breathing in the grape scented aroma, his head fell back and with his hand, Anton signaled what perfection she was about to taste. Chuckling, Ines' hand reached out to accept the crystal glassware offered, and she mimicked his action, lifting the glass to make a toast.
"L'chaim!"
. . .
"I WAS NEVER INFORMED what this event contained, in the specifics."
The day was the 15th of January when Ines Lenz found herself going to Germany. A place she had only visited very few times, but one she in her heart found a certain comfort in.
She and Anton Maes found themselves on a steam locomotive it this instance, waiting for the train conductor to blow the whistle and signal their journey to begin.
She could not lie, she was excited about the convention. Once she would have found such an occasion precarious, fatal even, for she had always been one to shy away, often disrupting any chance at climbing the social hierarchy.
Nevertheless, in order to grow successful and even independent, dare she say, she was taught to put on a mean face every now and then, taking control of the situation she otherwise was not comfortable in.
And so, that was a time bygone with years of experience, and she now was on her way to Hamburg with a colleague and by the date of the 20th, the Maes Club contract would show invalid, former business partner.
"There will be more men than women, but you mustn't let that frighten you—see it as an advantage, really. You just pitch them your business and you'll win them with no trouble! Men are easy like that. And should no one happen to see the future in your business, hopefully, we can fish in a few rookies willing to invest.
"You say I should bat my lashes at these men? Take their money?" chuckled Ines, shaking her head seeing no chance at that happening. "That hardly seems fair."
"We're the merchants here, Ines. In this business, the dirty tricks are the ones that work," insisted Anton cocksure, his eyes wide with grit. Leaning back in his seat, his eyes found the beautiful landscape just outside the locomotive and his placed a cigarette between his lips, fishing out his golden lighter. "Besides, it's not like you're luring them into making poor investments. Lenz Leather has a promising future if I do say so myself, and now I have no gypsy blood in me but listen here, your name–" for the sake a dramatic tension, Anton paused and puffed smoke, stabbing his finger at Ines' chest, before carrying on, a wild look in his eye, "soon it will be everywhere."
