The Friday Society Read Free

smudged windows of the high street so many years ago.
    There was a hand on her arm, and Cora pulled away without turning around. She told herself she simply didn’t have the time to engage, but she knew the truth. She didn’t want to see this girl, the look of desperation. A look that translated into a sad resignation deep inside.
    “I said no thank you.”
    There was a small gasp. “Are you . . .”
    “Very busy? Yes. Good day.” Cora resumed her journey through the crowd, desperate to brush off the encounter. She would not go back there. Even if she had to physically, now and again, she would never go back there in her mind.
    Though, “Are you . . .?”
    Cora turned, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
    She hoped upon hope that the rest of the sentence hadn’t been, “. . . Cora Bell?”
    Only a few steps more and she was facing the door to the Red Veil, a plain wooden thing with a small dragon carved into it at eye level. Cora pushed the brief encounter with the flower girl from her thoughts and focused on the task ahead.
    Deep breath.
    She didn’t bother knocking, just burst her way inside. Maybe it was a little overly enthusiastic of her, but her nerves were on edge.
    She found herself in a small vestibule where a short, pockmarked Chinese man, his flesh sagging off his face, stood staring at her, clearly shocked by her sudden arrival.
    She approached him and, as casually as she could, said, “I’m looking for Lord White.”
    The way the man’s eyes widened instantly told her that her boss was definitely here. Where he was precisely, though, she had no idea, as it looked like there were no other rooms or hallways off this one.
    “Where is he?” she asked, turning back to the man.
    The man suddenly launched into a speech in his native language, but of course Cora couldn’t understand a word of it. He gesticulated wildly, punctuating his thoughts with his finger thrusting into her face. Cora nodded, growing impatient.
    “Yes, yes, I see,” she interrupted loudly. “Now, as to Lord White . . . ?”
    “Lord White?” asked the man as if it was the first time she’d mentioned the name.
    “Stop pretending. There’s no need for secrecy. I know for a fact he’s here. Where is he?”
    The man shook his head vehemently.
    “No Lord White,” he said.
    “Don’t be difficult; just show me.”
    “No. No Lord White here. Now go.”
    He pointed toward the exit. Cora noticed the man glance for a brief moment at a faded tapestry hanging on the wall beside him, and then glance back at her. It was the smallest of moves, but Cora had seen it.
    “Yes, fine,” she said slowly, “I’ll go.” And she turned her body slightly to give the impression she was leaving.
    The man relaxed, and Cora knew that finally his guard was down. It didn’t take much effort to push beyond him to the tapestry. He’d clearly had no idea she was going to just whip past him like that, and, as she pushed her way through the tapestry and into the dark stairwell beyond, he stood totally still, paralyzed with confusion.
    She was already halfway down the stairs when he finally came rushing down after her, shouting, “No, no!” When he put his sweaty palm on her shoulder, Cora had had enough.
    “Sir,” she said, turning around abruptly and aiming her small pistol between his legs, “I am not the police. I am not here to make a scene, nor to report any activity to anyone. I am merely here to find my boss and bring him home so he can prepare for an event this evening for which it would be best if he were sober. You have been most unhelpful, and if you don’t let me take care of my business, I can assure you I will do away with yours.”
    The man offered a weak “No,” but it was clear he took her threat seriously. Cora raised an eyebrow at him, and he took two steps back upstairs.
    She lowered the pistol and tucked it back inside her small purse. “Good.” Then she turned and continued her descent into the dark.
    She