WRITTEN FOR ME ( thomas shelby )

015 ━ Last But Not Least ..

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" Last But Not Least "

          THE CHURCH BELLS SOUNDED in the Plaza de la Catedral, where afternoon heat danced over the cubic stone in illusions. A bath of light cast down restlessly from spotless blue skies over the city of Cádiz where that very morning their ships had anchored, forcing thus Jackie, in a desperate attempt to not lose her edge, to acquire and wear one of those new pairs of round sunglasses circulating for a while. While she couldn't stop the heat from playing a number on her when it came to her wear — a formally-appropriate length dress with short loose sleeves and an imitation of a button's up collar rested around her neck, an outfit from which Tommy's hat was no longer allowed to be missing anymore —, she could certainly make sure the sun blinding her eyes won't be forcing her to miss a step while climbing up to the entrance of the Cádiz Cathedral.

Before the open doors, a priest waited for her. "Lady Sarah?" he inquired once she stopped before him, measuring Jackie from head to toe.

"In the flesh," Jackie breathed out, smiling through his confirmation to her that he was her contact. Alas, she removed her sunglasses upon entering the cathedral, which they had to in order to reach the crypt beneath and walk the maze only the priest thought he knew; this underground structure would have likely impressed Jackie had Lester not had the time in the morning, since their docking, to find all the maps of the plaza above and the cathedral itself, including that of the tunnels running underneath. If they could gain this information so fast, anyone could as well.

"Tell me about the production, the tunnels, profits made in the area," Jackie urged the priest to enter a discussion long before they have traversed the entirety of the distance through the crypt towards the smuggling deposits.

"We own a good chunk of the Palomino vineyards," the priest admitted. "The distillery is that way," he pointed down a tunnel they passed, opening to the side. "This underground network spreads in all the right parts of the city. Everything coming from the distillery, bottled up Sherry, PX Syrup, Muscat and Cognac, passes down this way twice a year and gets stored in the deposit we are seeing now. From the deposit, we sell during winter to the city's people, during spring to the hotels and bars, during summer we send transports to our fellow churches in the region and during autumn we fill up the deposit again. Ten bottles sum up to about one peseta. A dollar, I have heard is about sixty peseta these days, so we have around a hundred dollar profit."

"Not amazing, but not catastrophic either," Jackie noted. "I reckon I can get you a fair price of one dollar per bottle if it's of quality." She watched carefully for the glint in the priest's eyes.

"And how will this work?"

"I'll evaluate your wines," Jackie walked him through the process. "We approximate how much they are worth currently, based on your figures and registers. Accountants can be present if you are uncertain of your numbers, but not necessary in setting our base price. This base price is what I will be paying you upfront to lift the merchandise off your hands. A classic selling procedure, we'll even have a formal, legal contract as a guarantee. What happens next with your goods is really none of your concern. Me and my company sell them at local value in different parts of the world. Once we sell out, we bill you the income, from which we claim five percent per twelve item batch, non-negotiable. After the bill, we pay you and that's it. Quite an easy process, right?"

"You've been doing this for a while," the priest laughed nervously. "And the contract..."

"We both keep a copy, Father," Jackie beamed quickly over his uncertain trailing off. "This is a one time deal, the contract dissolves as soon as the goods have been spread on the market."