The Killing Hand (3 page)

   A warm,
business-like smile ran across his face. "I should be asking the same of you, Eric. How long has it been? I am glad you remember me!"

   Remember him? Truthfully, I had been hard at work trying to forget him and his ilk. I knew Lucius from university. I did not care for him mu
ch back then, either. The sole reason we became acquainted, it must be said, was because we all came from the same background. Importance and social standing were Lucius' prime concerns. Prior to my departure from London, Lucius's parents business had secured a large part of the market, cementing their family’s future both financially and as some of the most recognisable faces in London.

   He
continued before I had chance to respond. "Are you well? It has been a year now, has it not?"

   I wondered if ther
e was anybody in London who was not aware of my disappearance. "It has been a while. I took an extended vacation." I waved my hand and dismissed the topic. "Never mind about that, what is new with you? What have I missed?"

   "Nothing in particular, same o
ld business," he plainly stated with a bored stare. "Everyone is busy trying to get richer. It is almost as if that is all there is to do in London."

   "And I trust your work is doing well?"

   He paused and smiled to himself. "It is indeed. My parents have travelled to the Americas and left the company in my control for the time being. The entire English estate in my hands!"

   I forced a smile, feigning interest at his self-indulgent boast.

   He nodded and decided to change the topic. "Do you remember our old acquaintances from University?"

   Again, more men who were friends out of circumstance alone, although some of them were a decent enough sort. Everyone had made a conscious effort to surround themselves with people of similar stature. "I r
emember them. Is there any news of them of interest?'

   "Every week we visit the local men's club and play a game of cards. Should you wish to join us
tomorrow night, you would be welcome."

   "Who is it who attends?" I asked tentatively.

   "I should hope you remember Palmer, Rufus and Harry?"

  
William Palmer was the son of a wealthy banker, sharing the same hunger for money as his Father. Rufus had followed in his Father’s footsteps as a solicitor, also inheriting his family's wealth. Harry Cowley was the son of an estate agent, a timid man who never seemed capable of running anything. There was another of similar standing during those times, James, but as he ventured towards the forces his relations with the other men grew more worn. A year can all too often change the course of events, so I presumed it best to ask.

 
  Lucius responded, "You know he and I never saw eye to eye." This was not to my surprise. James remained close to me after university as I had never let social stature impede my friendship to such a hardworking, decent chap. Lucius continued. "Francis will be there too."

   "Francis?" I found myself confused that Francis would return to the company of these people. Although he too attended university with this group, he never let himself be
come consumed by the greed for wealth. Until now I had assumed that Francis remained estranged to these old friends. The prospect of being trapped in a room with those overly ambitious men, no doubt gambling and drinking, was not exactly the most appealing to my mind.

   Lucius grinned. "Yes. You should join us; I dare say you could do with a decent drink."

   In an attempt to appease Lucius, I told him that I would at least consider the offer.

 
  "I shall not take no for an answer!" he chirped up, apparently believing that such jovial actions would quell my mood, "Besides, it might give you some motivation; you never know when inspiration will strike."

 
  "I doubt that," I murmured back.

   We shook hands and with that we b
ode each other a good day and went our separate ways. Perhaps I should have seen the peculiar circumstances of the event there and then as a signal that perhaps I was entering into something that I wished not to meddle with. However, having spent so much time away from London and spending the previous night alone, my wish to be surrounded by company was greater than my desire to avoid these men. That and the curiosity of what would draw Francis to spend his moments in the company of these men only got the better of me.

I had originally intended to reject Lucius' invitation of joining old friends, having no interest in engaging the grand meeting of the minds. I made a decision only on the evening itself to attend, partly from the boredom of finding myself struggling to fill my days with any sort of worthwhile event and thus becoming hungry for any sort of activity. Better the evil you know. The club mentioned by Lucius was not far from my home - an elite men's club called The Flying Knave. The club attracted the affluent men of London and afar. It was members only; those who joined did so purely as a means to flaunt their influence and wealth amongst their peers. I knew these details only from my Father who used to occasionally visit the club to meet with certain clients who demanded it. I held no such membership, having little interest in such places, but I found upon entering that Lucius had put me on the guest list.

 
  Instantaneous was my isolation and discomfort as I entered. I felt severely out of place, feeling all eyes cast upon me as I was illuminated as the stooge and myself and my attire were deconstructed in an awful manner. Communal criticising and lasting opinions formed through the haze of smoke and expensive liqueurs. The fortuitous inhabitants cast their verdicts – not entirely disparate from my verdict on many of them as it would happen. I knew that I would warm little to those men. For my own wellbeing I decided to remain reticent. I would avoid any converse with them. They commenced drinking and open bragging of their pursuits in an elevated manner to all who would listen. Amidst the crowd I saw nobody I recognised. Apparently the rich and successful did not walk beside me on the street. They must guard themselves behind veils as they passed me. It was not until I approached the well-stocked bar that I heard a familiar voice call my name.

 
  "Eric? Eric, it is you!" I recognised Rufus immediately for he had not changed one bit, his tall slender frame unmistakable. "Francis mentioned you were back, but I could hardly believe it!" His hand clasped mine before I raised it. He shook it vigorously before I was aware that we were in contact. He was always an amicable sort of chap, but I did little to warm to him. I feared his affection insincere. He still had the same boyish face that I remembered from my youth, although by this time it was somewhat gaunt, but still as joyous as ever. His shoulders still slouched, although this could be attributed to the copious amount of drink of which he was in possession. "How have you been?"

 
  "I am well, thank you," I responded whilst looking about the bar and withdrawing my hand. "Where is everyone?"

 
  "We rent out a private room in the back – nice and quiet, away from this rabble. Come on, follow me."

 
  With a drunken stumble Rufus passed through the room. He received several scornful stares as he stumbled into a group of men gesticulating furiously at the sudden interruption. Ignoring the whole group – I am unsure if this was intentional or because he was too inebriated to notice a group of loud, angry men calling after him – he continued pushing forward. He was apparently far too complacent to care about the opinions of others or oblivious to his surroundings, either situation could have proven fatal.

 
  At the far end of the main room there was a quaint wood furnished corridor. Rufus carried the drinks through the room and in doing so spilt a great deal. He beckoned me through the corridor. At the far end there were several doors leading to private rooms. I would prefer to remain ignorant to the magnitude of illegal dealings pervading in that establishment. Rufus hastened to one particular door, threw it open and loudly proclaimed, "Look who I found!"

 
  Sat around a circular table were the men I had expected to see, dressed in grand and expensive attire and drinking expensive bottles of wine. They prepared to gamble their earnings at cards, no doubt. Amidst them sat Francis.

 
  "Ah, the devil himself!" Lucius stood and strode over to me before anyone could say anything, taking my hand in an empty handshake.

 
  "You had us all worried with that disappearing act of yours," Palmer spoke with a warm smile. "How are you Eric?"

 
  "I am presently fine, Palmer. Thank you."

 
  "Horrid business about your Father." The warm smile faded. "My condolences."

 
  "Indeed, most unfortunate." Lucius chimed in as he returned to his seat to pour himself more wine. "Although you must be feeling good about inheriting the family business?"

 
  I should have timed it. I had barely walked into the room before someone brought up the matter of business. I would be trapped in that room for the rest of the evening. Thus, I found it prudent to clear the matter sooner rather than later. "Actually, I have been back only a matter of days. I have not had the time to deal with such matters. Not at present, nor in the foreseeable future."

   "I see."

   With the matter of business brushed aside, Lucius beckoned for me to sit and proceeded to deal cards to each man. I made sure to seat myself beside Francis.

   "I did not expect to see you here," I said as made myself comfy.

   "I like a game of cards as much as the next man. I could same the same to you though."

 
  Before I could say anything more, Rufus heaved himself onto the seat beside me. He scooped up his cards and turned to me. "The game is Old Maid, do you know the rules?"

 
  I nodded. I had first learnt the game whilst attending university. It could probably be attributed to my idleness, but if not cards then it would have been some other fancy that would have lured my mind away from the monotony. Cards were not to blame. I continued to play games many more times afterwards, remaining an avid player. Cards were sometimes the only language I had in common with others.

   The aim of this game is to pair each card
with its respective colour equivalent. One card – a Jack, in this particular case – is removed from the deck. The winner is the first person to empty his hand, and the loser would be the player holding the remaining Jack at the end. Traditionally, you only wanted to make sure that you were not the loser; however from the taunts about the table it was quite obvious that many were in it to emerge victorious.

   Each man collected his cards. We discar
ded each pair and took time to sort our remaining hands. Moving in a clockwise motion we begun to offer our hands to one another, passing our cards back and forth in the hope of blindly making a pair. Little strategy is involved in such a game; the main requirement is to ensure your poker face masks your hand.

 
  The game travelled around the table until Rufus offered his hand out to me, using this as a chance to simultaneously engage me in conversation. "So, what exactly was it that you doing out in Europe, Eric?"

 
  "Mainly settling up trade contracts," I replied plainly while I took a card from him – a five, which was of no use to me. "My Father was looking to import from America."

 
  I turned to Francis to offer my hand, but Rufus continued. "I suppose I was unclear. I meant to say, what were you
really
doing?"

 
  As Francis took a card from my hand – a ten – I could not help but deliver him a scornful look. I was under the impression he had likely paraded the notion of my disappearing act amongst anyone and everyone during my absence.

 
  "I said nothing," Francis assured me, pairing the black ten to one of his own as he placed the duo on the table. "You disappeared for months; did you think no one would notice?"

 
  I could not stay angry at him for long, for his point was valid and I realised it was unrealistic to return without being questioned about my whereabouts. "I just needed some time to myself, nothing more."

 
  "If my wife disappeared for six months every time she said she needed time to herself, I would be a far happier man!" Palmer chortled to himself. The other members of the room apparently did not find his remark amusing.

 
  "You do not simply meander around Europe for some time alone," Rufus enquired, trying to pry the truth.

 
  "I did not come here to be interrogated," I answered firmly before trying to change the topic. "I came here to take all your money."

 
  Palmer spluttered with laughter. "I see spending a year out in the wilds of Europe did nothing to beat the arrogance out of you!" With a wide smile, he laid his remaining pairs on the table, declaring victory. "See here," he bellowed before taking a mouthful from his glass, "as I told you all last week, I was just simply having a bad day. I more than made up for that this week."

 
  "Well done," Lucius responded as he feigned a clap. "I knew you would not lose so abjectly so soon."

 
  The remainder of the game played out. Knowing there had already been a winner, the remaining participants merely made sure they were not the one holding the last Jack. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, in the last turn Francis took my final card, leaving me with the odd card and declaring me the loser for the night.

 
  "Tough luck Eric," he smiled as he laid his cards on the table, bragging about not losing.

 
  The cards were gathered and shuffled by Lucius, but instead of being dealt again they were placed to one side.

 
  "Shall we proceed with business?" Palmer croaked, rubbing his palms together.

 
  My eyes caught Lucius' with a cold stare. He had promised that the night was simply a night of playing cards, but it appeared there was more to these meetings than I had been led to believe.

 
  Apparently Lucius also caught my gaze. "Is something the matter, Eric?"

 
  "I would imagine Eric is a bit disillusioned at present," Francis spoke before I was able to respond. "I am afraid he appears to have lost interest in business since his time abroad. I doubt he would have of an interest in any of the business committed about this table."

 
  "I was under the impression that tonight was purely recreational in nature," I responded.

 
  Lucius grinned. "And I was hoping that it would interest you when you saw what we could achieve.'"

 
  "And besides," Palmer placed his empty wine glass to the table, "to those of us with sense, making money is recreational."

 
  Apparently sensing my falling mood, Lucius tried to move the conversation along. "Let us get started. If Eric chooses to participate with us, he is welcome to do so."

 
  Palmer refilled his glass. "The more the merrier, I always say."

 
  "Very well, on with business." Lucius slid the cards away from the table and sat uniformly. "In the past month, Spencer Insurance was purchased by the Hudson Group. They approached to shut down their business. For this we earned an agreeable £500."

 
  Palmer dragged a cigar from his coat pocket, placing it between his plump lips. "I would wager you are delighted about that Rufus."

 
  "I can only say that I am elated to see the back of them."

 
  "Pardon my intrusion," I finally spoke when I got the opportunity. I was bemused by the entire conversation. "What is The Hudson Group, and why does their business affect us?"

 
  Lucius let out an obvious sigh, setting his glass down. He appeared to tire at the thought of explaining the entire thing to someone already marked as disinterested. "Francis, please explain."

   Francis paused before speaking. "Very well. The Hudson Group is the company founded by the men you see here. This company is us
ed to co-operatively invest, merge and redistribute money between the founding members."

 
  Despite Francis putting it as politically as possible, the goal of the operation did not elude me. "You illegally extort money from business ventures and share the money between yourselves?"

 
  "In a manner of speaking, yes," Lucius fiddled with his empty glass, apparently upset at hearing the truth stated so plainly. "Nobody is clean in the world of business."

 
  "I understand," my response was slow, as the entire meeting ticked over in my mind. "You fund this shadow company and use this money to buy out competition. You then sell the assets. From this you monopolise the market and spread the profits between yourselves."

 
  Apparently I had struck a nerve. None of the men in the room appeared to appreciate hearing their dealings stated in such plainness, and it was not long before somebody tried to explain their actions. Unsurprisingly, it was the solicitor of the group who spoke up.

 
  "The purpose of our venture is not so much about money," Rufus lied. "The primary aims are more specifically relating to the elimination of our competition. Do you know how much we have to spend to compete with other companies? We would make plenty of money if we bought the companies at a loss. The lack of competition alone accounts for most of our profits."