It's a classic by Charles Dickens set in the 19th century.
Here's an excerpt that shows how the protagonists see themselves as "Pip" manipulated by a "Magwitch."
Lord Frederick Wise and Commander Reginald Barrett put on the proper garments to parley at Quantum Speakeasy.
The Q*S dress code was London businessman attire. Lord Wise chose his navy suit with red tie. The Commander his Royal Navy blues.They escaped their quarantined townhome in what looked like a department of health vehicle. Then switched to a limo, which drove them to the older part of London and dropped them off at the multi-storied Victorian brownstone with white trim.
Two guests in dapper gray suits were waiting for them in the Q*S reception area. Dr. Brutus Frankel had shaved off his mustache. (A clean lip was the price he paid to transition between a man to a woman and back again.) And Brutus had a suit bag with him.
The other guest called himself Adam Smith. He wore sunglasses and a dark wig. Wrinkles and leathery skin betrayed his age.
“We’re here, as requested, gentlemen.” Wise signed them in. “Follow me to parley.”
Then Wise escorted Reggie, Brutus, and Adam to a private smoker’s lounge. The room was rich with dark wood paneling and hardwood tables and leather chairs and the smell of fine cigars. Wise sat across from Brutus. Reggie across from Adam.
“So, is it Dr. Brutus Frankel now?” Wise raised an eyebrow. “I assume your pronouns are he/him, else you would not be allowed inside Q*S.”
“He/him suits me fine, Freddy Weddy.” Brutus laid his suit bag on the coffee table.
Wise frowned. “That’s Lord Wise to you.”
“At this point of the game, you need me more than I need you, Freddy.” Brutus moved back in his leather chair. “I’ll call you what I wish.”
“My son calls you, Dr. Frank-N-Furter.” Reggie smirked.
“Delightful boy.” Brutus shifted in his chair. “May your other son turn out to be as…charming.”
“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way.” Reggie raised his eyebrows. “Let’s talk turkey, as my American wife would say.”
“First things first, Commander. We are in England.” Then Brutus asked Wise, “Aren’t you going to offer us a cigar, Freddy? This is a cigar lounge, isn’t it?”
“If you must.” Wise called for an attendant to fetch his cigars.
With cigar box in hand, Wise offered Bruce and Adam a choice from his finest. But Adam brought his own pipe as well as his own tobacco, which he extracted from his jacket pockets.
Wise sized up the two guests while the Commander squinted at Brutus with suspicion. Adam, though, looked familiar, especially with his pipe. But neither Reggie or Wise could place him.
“That was good,” said Brutus after a few puffs on Wise’s cigar. “Now if you will, old boy, please check the lounge for bugs.”
“As you wish.” Wise took out his sweeper and completed the task.
“What’s in the garment bag?” Reggie asked. “Your dress, Gretchen?”
“It’s for you, Commander.” Brutus handed it over. Reggie unzipped the bag to find Captain Whitlock’s uniform, cleaned and pressed.
Then Brutus handed over the Captain’s wallet. Reggie examined the contents, finding all ID and cards intact.
“But kidnapping my captain…why did you do it?” Reggie asked.
“To get your attention and demonstrate how vulnerable you are.” Brutus rolled his eyes about the room. “And here we are in this lovely establishment having our little pow wow…as your Native American wife would say, Commander.”
Reggie scowled. “But kidnapping is a serious crime.”
“Indeed. It was Daphne Peterson’s idea. Wicked girl. Remember your old friend with benefits when you were between wives?” Brutus eyed the Commander. “I do believe your nickname-loving son calls her Daffy. And for good reason. So easy to bribe, that one. Took her 30 pieces of silver, then took off for the continent with her latest boy toy. No love lost between the two of you.”
Reggie hissed. “Despicable.”
“Me or Daffy?” Brutus grinned.
“Despicable for both of you.” Wise growled. “A girl was killed at that pleasure house.”
“She was already dead, Fred,” said Brutus. “OD’ed the night before. We only took advantage of the girl’s body before it was disposed of.”
Reggie’s neck strained. “And you used that tragedy to torment my captain…make him believe he was responsible for her death.”
“Sorry, old boy.” Brutus raised his hands. “But sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.”
“Back to our business at hand.” Wise feared the Commander would take a swing at Brutus. “What does your friend, Mr. Smith, have to do with any of this, Brutus?”
“Much,” said Brutus. “And if you hear him out, we’ll give you a clue to your missing nuke. Which is what this meeting is all about, right, gentlemen?”
“I can take it from here.” Adam put down his pipe. “And my business is primarily with the Commander.”
“Go on, Mr. Smith,” said Reggie. “And you do look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I believe so. First of all, my real name is not Adam Smith.” He took off his sun glasses and wig, revealing an old man with gray hair. “You know me as August Adolf. And yes, we’ve met before, Commander. At your wife’s murder trial in Pasadena, California—The Trial of the Century. Now known as The Shortest Trial Ever.”
“Right…I remember that.” Reggie tilted his head back. “You sat in the gallery to support your girl—like she belonged to you. So, why come all the way over here? A simple phone call would suffice.”
“Perhaps, to see your gentleman’s club.” August grinned and pulled down his gray eyebrows. “A bit stuffy…no women…and not as fun as mine—The Gentleman’s Delight Mansion. You have your king in England, boys. But at GDM, I am king.”
Reggie snorted. “I thought America has no king.”
“We all are beholden to someone.” August returned a crooked smile. “The rich. The powerful. Which both of you gentlemen are so quickly becoming…richer and more powerful every day, aren’t you?”
“Your point?”
“Another woman we have in common,” said August. “Your wife, Commander. Ms. Indian Summer. I made her into the important person she is today.”
“Is that so?” Reggie said through gritted teeth.
“There was a time when Nova Orlovic was on the cusp of losing everything…her grandfather’s ranch…his coal mines…his legacy.” August pressed a finger to his chest. “That is, until I stepped in to help this lady in distress. And I was the only one with the means who did help her out when so-called better men would not.”
“But you also sold her scantily clad pictures in your men’s magazine.” Reggie raised eyebrows. “Then you got much applause as a protector of Native Americans. She helped you a lot…made you a pile of cash as well as garnering your gentleman’s club much public good will…which you so desperately need in your line of business.”
“It was mutually beneficial. I am a business man, after all.” August continued, “But if I hadn’t rescued her, you would never have married a billionaire American, who bailed your family out of bankruptcy. And no position for you, Lord Wise, in Ameri-Brit Capital, which put you in the billionaire boys’ club. No head of Barrett Research Institute of Technology for you, Commander, to make you a rising star in the field of medicine.”
“You’re taking credit for all that?” asked Reggie. “What chutzpah.”
“Indeed.” Then August rubbed his hands together. “The old domino effect. It was I, who made Nova Orlovic. Hence, I made you, gentlemen. You owe me big time for that.”
“What do you want from us?” Reggie asked.
“I’m dying, Commander.” August wheezed. “And I know about your Methuselah project.”
“Of course. Fountain of youth…every tyrant’s dream.” Reggie grimaced. “It’s in development. Long term side effects unknown. And it’ll be years before market. Not to mention working out the ethics involved.”
“But I’ll gladly submit myself as a test subject,” said August. “And if it’s not me, there’s another aging kingmaker who will come after you with a most unpleasant offer you can’t refuse. I speak of Konstantin Popov. The force behind The Friends of Yasser Nasser.”
“Is he now?” asked Wise.
“He has never forgiven Nova for taking those CyBytes meant for Lincoln Todd,” said August. “The CyBytes that made you all filthy rich. And he will come to collect—with interest. Mark my words.”
“And he’s also as old as you and will age out soon.” Reggie squinted at August Adolf.
“Oh, yes. Only far, far more evil.” August chuckled. “Popov not only tried to assassinate your wife, Commander. But through Yasser Nasser, he gave the order to kill another American Ambassador a few years earlier. William Kennedy in Bashan, Pisgah.”
“I see you blanch, Commander,” Brutus chimed in. “Mean something to you?”
Reggie swallowed. “I was the doctor in the emergency room in Bashan and tried to save him. But his head wound…he bled out.”
“So, it’s best to deal with the devil you know,” said Brutus. “And here’s the offer on the table. Give your word as an officer and gentleman to treat my friend Auggie. In return, he’ll give you a vital clue of the whereabouts of your missing nuke.”
“And how would he know that?” Wise asked.
“I’ll tell you,” August answered. “At GDM, what happens there, stays there. And I enforce that rule—ruthlessly. Therefore, GDM’s a haven, half-way house for many troubled souls. Where men can let their guard down surrounded by pleasure and beauty…my beautiful Resident Ladies as well as the beauty of Lake Tahoe. Powerful men like Lincoln Todd and the AX man are my frequent guests.”
“What’s that to us?” asked Wise.
“At GDM, I am king.” Auggie pressed a finger to his chest. “But as king, I don’t follow my own rules. Because it’s my kingdom. You see, I record everything said and done within my borders. And I have recordings of so many privy conversations that would peel the paint off a B2 Bomber. Especially the plot to take out President Kelly. And I know all about that missing reactor turned nuke, and I know where it will be placed.”
“So, you’ll tell us that in exchange for what?” asked Wise.
“For anti-aging treatment from the Commander,” said August. “I’ll give you a big hint of its final destination, Lord Wise. And for continued treatment, a steady stream of intel from the rich and powerful—especially the big prize, the AX man.”
“See, Freddy Weddy.” Brutus returned a smug smile as he sat back with crossed arms. “I told you I’d deliver the AX man. And Auggie here is offering him on a silver platter.”
Wise exchanged glances with Reggie. “Give us a moment.”
* * *
Wise and Reggie stepped outside the smoker’s lounge for a private pow wow.
“It’s like we’re in the Charles Dickens novel, Great Expectations,” said Reggie. “We’re Pip, and our benefactor August Adolf is Magwitch, the criminal the Crown sent to Australia where he made his fortune, then used it to make us into…gentlemen.”
“A ghastly thought.” Wise rubbed his chin. “I, for one—the Baron of Summerset—made by the founder of Gentleman’s Delight, who made his fortune peddling pictures of half-naked women?”
“Not to mention one of them my wife and her president’s dead sister.” Reggie took a breath. “And behind that celebration of beauty and pleasure and the girl next door, I sense something far more sinister.”
“Indeed.” Wise wrinkled his forehead. “Yet there’s always a dark side when dealing with power and money and lust and politics.”
“Now I fully understand the dilemma Nova was facing,” said Reggie. “Pose for those pictures, or lose her grandfather’s ranch to greedy bastards.”
“Yet, this offer to help find the nuke at the eleventh hour is too tempting to turn down,” said Wise. “Not to mention the treasure trove of intelligence Mr. Adolf is offering.”
“At what price?” asked Reggie. “A deal with the devil?”
“But we all make such deals in this world.” Wise conceded with a sigh. “Especially in the business I was in. We took what we could get...no matter how shady.”
* * *
Wise and Reggie slipped inside the lounge. August put down his pipe. Brutus put out his cigar.
“All right, Mr. Adolf,” said Reggie. “You have my word as an officer and a gentleman to start trial treatments of Methuselah anti-aging therapy on test patient Adam Smith, immediately.”
“Very good.” Auggie nodded. “I knew you were a reasonable man.”
“What’s the clue?” asked Wise.
“Morning Glory.” Auggie flashed stained teeth.
“As in the flower?” Wise curled his lip. But he texted the enigmatic clue on his gazzard to Stag in America.
Bingo!
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What happens next?
Here is a blurb for Book 5.
Your readership is appreciated.
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