The Price of Greed

CHAPTER 37

The room, lit by the dark red glow from a pair of heavily shaded ceiling lamps, hanging on chains from the high ceiling, hid its black painted, rough cement walls. Sparsely furnished, it held only a small wooden table, which displayed a series of specialty appliances, and a straight-backed chair with a padded seat. Between the lights, a man dangled by his stretched arms from leather straps, over his head was a leather hood with only a slit for his mouth.

The crack of the whip behind him stirred the man and he groaned aloud as the strands of leather flicked against his back.

"I think that's enough for this session, Clifford. Are you satisfied that you have repented enough?" The groaned response was a mix of assent and regret. The hood was removed and the straps untied from his wrists and he sagged to his knees, panting a soft moan.

"I won't be available for a few weeks so you will not call me or otherwise make a nuisance of yourself."

He nodded and stood shakily, slipping his shirt on and fumbling with the buttons. The woman stood back, watching him dress and when he was finished she held out her gloved hand. The man took his wallet from his coat and removed a number of bills, handing them to her. She stared at him until he thanked her for taking it and then she reached out and gave his face a slap.

"That is not something you forget, Clifford."

"I'm sorry Mistress Nightwalk, it won't happen again."

"It certainly won't. Now go." He bowed slightly and made his way to the door, opening and closing it softly.

Charlotte d'Bouvier turned off the red lamps and hit the switch for the regular ceiling light. She counted the money and set it on the table while she removed her leather outfit and redressed in her street clothes. The location in the basement of a private library was rented by the month for the business sessions Charlotte held for the few clients she kept in her semi-retirement.

As she came up from the basement she stopped short, catching the knowing smile from Hood who was leaning against a bookcase, watching her.

"Lady Nightwalk."

She shut and locked the door and started past him.

"Oh no, Charlotte. It's here or it's downtown in much uglier quarters."

"What do you want?" Her voice was still in dominatrix mode and Hood blinked as he stepped back to let her have a chair.

"Milo French. Was he a- a client?"

"Why?"

"Look, I told you, it's here or downtown. Now, was Milo a client of yours?"

"He used my service occasionally."

"Occasionally. And was that enough to decide he was the perfect choice to steal the Enland codes?"

"I don't—"

"But you do, Charlotte. You do. You told Victor's wife that Milo could be used to get the codes she wanted to blackmail her husband with." Charlotte retained a stony silence. "And things went south when Victor applied for a divorce."

Charlotte looked at him and weighed the advantages and disadvantages of cooperating. He new enough to make things awkward but he had some of his facts wrong. Correcting them might give her more grief than she needed; on the other hand it could very well do very nicely for her. They were staring at one another silently and Hood tipped his head and showed a tiny smile.

"The divorce was what I wanted, Detective."

He blinked and she could see his mind working to assimilate this information.