AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The gentleman who’s image you hold in your clammy hand is a notorious agent for other heinous reasons,” the lady said. She glanced at the man at her side. “We have reason to believe he has gone rogue and the October House cannot possibly allow this.”
Theodore’s brain thrummed. Nothing made sense. “What does he have to do with me?”
“Normally, we seek recruits, then groom them to become lords and ladies of espionage,” the gentleman explained, speaking to Theodore as though he were an imbecile. “It takes years before they are ready for the field. But in your case, it’s a tad different. Your father insists that you’ll be a perfect fit for the organisation. So, consider our next instructions to be a test. An examination of entry, if you will.”
Before Theodore could protest, the lady stood up and her companion followed suit. “We have received word that this particular agent is attempting to steal something rather exorbitant at an event next Friday at the Grand Hotel,” she said. “You will kill him before he does. Do not protest, or you will die. You are property of the October House now.” The woman waved a thin hand in front of her face as though she smelt something putrid and smirked. “Kill or be killed. Your choice, Mister Quick.”
Chapter Ten
On the afternoon of January eighth, Harley found himself on the bustling Adderley Street in town, dodging pedestrians both large and small as a pair of vagabonds performed a somewhat delightful rendition of Sarie Marais on the corner.
His mother had insisted on visiting the dressmaker, who owned a shop along the street. Harley loathed visiting stores and all the unnecessaries that came with shopping. It was beneath him, and his mother too. His family employed people to carry out these kinds of duties, but his mother wouldn’t hear a word of it, no matter how much Harley protested. She wanted her dress to look incredible. Her argument was that she couldn’t evaluate the progress if she sent a chambermaid to the store. When Harley had asked her if the dressmaker could bring the dress to the house, she merely brushed him off and told him to stop whining.
The weather hadn’t cooled. The people surrounding Harley and the sizzle rising from the pavement made it worse. He wouldn’t have agreed to the Adderley Street outing had his mother not bribed him with a trip to the botany art exhibition at the South African Museum. Of course, being at the very establishment would fill Harley with thoughts of Theodore again, he’d predicted that much. Deep down, there was even a tiny part of him that longed for a chance encounter at the museum. He and his mother would no doubt run into Mister Quick, so was it too farfetched a wish to catch Theodore there too, even after what he’d said three days prior had broken Harley’s heart?
Nothing about that is farfetched. Just sad.
As Harley and his mother navigated their way past labourers carrying crates and a trio of schoolgirls dressed in white frocks, he recognised a face in the crowd heading in their direction. What with all the buzz around him, he couldn’t focus enough on the face to determine where he had seen it before, but it looked familiar. As the gentleman squeezed between two red-faced sailors, Harley spotted the silver-plated walking cane. He quickly pretended that something in a shop window caught his attention to avoid being seen by the man from Oak Avenue, but Harley knew his attempt was in vain the moment he caught the gentleman in the reflection of the window slowing down his pace with a grin of acknowledgement.
“Why, hello there.” The man from Oak Avenue was dressed in almost the same kind of outfit from that day, but he donned a different coloured coat and wasn’t wearing a satin puff tie. Harley ground his teeth. His mother came to a halt beside him. “Isn’t this serendipitous?” The gentleman said, placing both hands on his cane. “And right outside my place of work too.”
Harley looked up at the large building further down where the gentleman pointed with his thumb. It was the Standard Bank of South Africa — quite a gorgeous monument that reminded Harley of ancient Greece.
“Do you know one another?” His mother asked him with a confused smile.
“Not quite,” Harley snorted.
“Apologies for my impoliteness, madam.” The man gave Harley’s mother a courteous nod and she offered her hand for him to take. “My name is Asher van Dijk.”
“That’s an interesting name,” Harley’s mother said, slipping her hand from Asher’s grip. “You’re Dutch, are you not, Mister van Dijk?”
“Fresh off the boat, I’m afraid,” Asher clarified.
“Marvelous!” Harley’s mother exclaimed. “And how are you finding the Colony thus far?”
“Interesting,” Asher said, sneaking a glance at Harley. “To say the least.” He tapped the rim of his top hat. “I have never experienced such a warm climate before. It can be overwhelming sometimes.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Harley’s mother said, fumbling with the peacock brooch pinned to her chest.
“If not, you can always catch the next boat back home,” Harley said, wanting more than anything for the conversation to end.
“I didn’t quite catch your name the other day in the Company’s Garden, my good sir,” Asher said. His knuckles turned white as his hands gripped the cane.
“I am Margaret Devonshire,” his mother said before Harley could respond. “The miserable chap to my left is Harley-Electron.”
Harley ground his teeth. He loathed it when his mother used his full name. It brought back unwanted memories of being ridiculed in boarding school.
Asher frowned slightly as though in contemplation. “Now that’s a fascinating name. Electron…The male version of Electra, I believe? I find Greek mythology rather fascinating.”
“Look at that, Harley!” His mother cried. “Mister van Dijk is proving to be quite a delightful surprise.” Her fingers left her brooch and came to rest on her bottom lip. “Handsome too.”
“Compose yourself, Mother!” Harley spat, a little more aggressively than he intended.
She snapped her head in his direction, and with embers in her eyes said, “I beg your pardon?”
An awkward hiatus in the conversation rose above them, as the vagabonds down the street were chased from their spot by policemen.
Asher balled a hand, brought it to his mouth and politely coughed. “It was fantastic running into you again, Mister Devonshire. And I have had the best time meeting your mother.” He punctuated the last part of his sentence with a wink. “I’m afraid I must be off. I have an exhibition to get to before my lunch hour is complete.”
