The Lord of Misrule

28 -- From Within a Wood-Paneled Basement

Bogdan dropped Nathan at his own shitty rental cottage where his brother—Sonny Brant—watched the car through the window, vague orange light from the kitchen pouring in behind him. Alan was gone already, they'd driven him far out into the country, and then slowed the car down until the janitor's eyes went wild, and he flung open the door and leapt out. They'd slowed to maybe ten to give him the idea, and after crumpling into a dusty dirt track the poor kid sprang up in an instant, pumping his feet hard until he collapsed among the bushes. Bogdan stopped the car, and Nathan opened his door and shouted.

"Fuck!" to make it look like it was strictly the kid's idea to escape, and they weren't actually glad to be rid of him.

Crashing of a terrified body slipped away further and further into the woods at Brant's howl. The kid thought he'd made good on an escape. Nathan chuckled and pulled the door shut before Lusk tore off down the road.

Now alone Bogdan pulled back into the driveway of Thwaite's little country house and found the other guard—Roger—leaning by the front door. Face downcast but still watchful, he peered up at the car and didn't look away until Lusk stepped out. It was after midnight, and Lusk knew it could mean only one thing if he was out here.

"Thwaite in the basement?"

Roger paused before answering, but eventually said, "Yes."

"Alone?"

"Of course."

"You should be in the living room," said Bogdan, examining Roger. "Might be strange if you were spotted by a passing car—you're not even smoking."

Roger nodded glumly. Was it really possible he'd only just found out the rumours were true, tonight? Lusk examined him a moment more and then stepped into the house—he was greeted by a spicy, sulphur-tinged smell of charcoal. It was drifting up from the basement with Thwaite.

Roger stepped in behind him, shut the door hard, locked it, and dragged an armchair near to the window—to watch. Opened it an inch before sitting—couldn't stand the smell. Lusk frowned.

"I'm going into the kitchen for dinner," said Bogdan.

"Even with that smell?" complained Roger.

Lusk ignored that, and instead said, "Switch the light off in there so no one sees you."

After a second's hesitation Roger stood again and slapped the switch. His face was tight, Bogdan knew the man was afraid to be in the house when Thwaite was working in the basement.

Fucker must not have had to guard the procession in Belgium or he'd have known about Thwaite before then—Bogdan's mind stopped at the thought. Roger had never guarded the procession, had he? Couldn't have, if all this still scared him. He'd been newly promoted then and sent off on a job like this straight away. That's why he'd never seen him before. Someone was playing at something.

Bogdan smirked and began to think of the odds as he pulled various items from the fridge to leave on the table so that his lie would not be immediately apparent if Roger glanced in. He decided as he finished that odds were that Roger was in some way a threat to him and his job. Too new. Promoted too fast.

Found himself wondering how things would go if he just walked back in and slit Rogers throat with a kitchen knife? But it was possible Thwaite was the one up to something and had placed Roger here. This seemed likely in fact, becuase he took the service of an apparent stranger too easily for other possibilities to have real force.

If it was Venner who planted Roger, things would get complicated. Because why have two spies on Thwaite? The thought reminded Lusk of his own job for Venner. He glanced across at the basement door, listening.