An Evening with Genji

Chapter 2: Samurai Bonds

Neal's loft. November 30, 2004. Tuesday evening.

It was almost midnight when Neal returned to the mansion. Most of the downstairs lights had already been turned off, but the frosted glass globe of the brass lamp on the entry table was still on to welcome him home. He placed the keys to the Jaguar on a porcelain dish next to the lamp and headed upstairs.

When he entered the loft, the only light came from the full moon shining through the skylight. A shadowy figure sat with his back to the door, a wine glass beside him. Without turning his head, he said, "I've been expecting you, Mr. Bond."

"Why are you sitting in the dark, Mozz? You're not pulling an Ernst Blofeld, are you?" Neal turned on a floor lamp by the couch. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon from France. Have you already finished your job with Gordon Taylor?"

Mozzie rotated his chair to face Neal. "My part's done. It all went remarkably smoothly. Gordon runs a well-oiled machine."

"How did it go with André?" Mozzie had smoothed the way for Neal's friend to join Gordon's crew in appreciation for his assistance with the con that cleared Neal's name at the FBI.

"Gordon and André hit it off like they were long-lost relatives. When I left, Gordon was teaching André pool in exchange for fencing lessons. And, I might add, that my own luster was significantly burnished in the process." Mozzie reached for the bottle of wine on the table. "May I pour you a glass of your wine?"

 "No thanks. Workday tomorrow."

Mozzie eyed him pityingly. "Ah yes, you're a member of the downtrodden masses now. June told me where you were when I arrived. I find the fact that you attended 'An Evening with Genji' quite amusing."

"Why is that?" Neal asked as he slipped off his jacket.

"You, floating among the clouds of the New York aristocracy ... You don't think you had a distinct resemblance to the night's honoree?"

"Not that much," Neal protested, not liking the comparison. "I've never heard of any nobles among my ancestors, and my record as a lover is definitely not on a level with Genji's."

"You've merely misplaced your affections. You've let yourself be seduced by a succession of Mata Haris."

Neal winced. Mozzie had never been a member of Kate's fan club, but she wasn't a Mata Hari. Although ... in light of her actions last spring, he'd have to admit there was a kernel of truth in the comparison.

"You should let me instruct you in the fine art of courtship," Mozzie continued. Neal spun around to stare at him. Mozzie didn't have a hint of a smile. "The fair Fiona is a much worthier pursuit. Beauty, brains, and a musical soul. Of course, her naiveté concerning the forces around her is an issue but I'll happily offer my services to instruct her. I could act as Professor Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle, Pygmalion to her Galatea."

"Fiona may not be ready for your revelations. Let's hold off bursting her bubble." Mozzie hadn't met Fiona. His knowledge of her was solely based on what snippets he'd gleaned from Neal plus a few photos. And Neal was happy to keep it that way. Fiona knew virtually nothing about his life before Columbia. She'd met El and Peter, but that was different. They were part of what Neal liked to think of as his life in the light. She didn't need to know about his life in the shadows. That included Mozzie and everything associated with his con artist past. "In any case, Fiona and I are just good friends."

Mozzie rolled his eyes. "Neal, please. Are you still using that trite expression?"

"Do you prefer amis-amants? But it's not what you think. Fiona's in the same boat as me. She's getting over someone else. We decided to hang out together. I don't know that our relationship will ever go much further."