The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - Иван Перепелятник

gentlemen?’ She looked at her master’s guests.

‘No, thanks. Although… please bring some water without gas.’

‘Why do you need water, Mao. We’re going to have tea…well, if that’s what you want. Thank you, Elsa.’

‘So, gentlemen, what do we have on this pygmy?’ The lord persisted.

‘Sir, at the moment there is information on hand that is common knowledge. We are working on…’ Peter Lawrence took a newspaper from the coffee table and started beating with it mercilessly on the side of the chair.

‘Do you see? It was clean here a minute ago! Now, having worked on it with a newspaper, I have knocked out all the dirt and dust from this chair. Do you know how old this silk is?’

‘Excuse me, sir?’

‘That damn golden silk!’ Peter started hitting the chair with the newspaper again. ‘Almost as old as that fop and filthy American immigrant. He goes, you know, back and forth! 100 years! This chair is 100 years old and its silk upholstery as well. You have to work better! Dirt and dust are everywhere! Is it clear to you?!’

‘Yes, sir. Quite clear,’ the assistant replied.

‘Peter, the problem is that there is nothing on him at all. It’s just that everything is clean,’ Secretary Mao joined the conversation. ‘I can hardly imagine this possible at all.’

‘Here we go again! Did you both plot together today?! Are you kidding me?!’

‘Peter, I’m trying to give you the real picture, not only what you would be pleased to hear. Well, excuse me.’

Elsa brought in tea and cookies served on a small cart. After taking a few sips, Peter calmed down a little:

‘Good. Of course, I understand your arguments. But I’m sure, I’m 100% sure, more than 100% sure that this scoundrel has skeletons in his closet! Just look at him,’ Peter gestured to a panel on the wall, with the picture of Robert Harold Richardson—the lord’s main competitor in the upcoming elections to the British parliament.—He’s just perfect. Young. Handsome. Fit. His clothes perfectly chosen. His program ideal. He even has a pedigree. Although it limps a lot. And what about his wife or husband, or who does he sleep there with? What about the family? Did you search?’

‘Yes, sir. We didn’t find anything worth mentioning there. So far.’

‘It’s good that you’ve got the point—not found yet. Well, I will not go around in circles.’

‘And what about his stupid mother? With this weird kind of an actress who dragged the whole family over to the States? Worked as a cook there or whoever. I don’t remember exactly anymore,’ Peter bit into a cookie and took a couple of sips.’ I used to know her for once long time ago. When I was still very young. More than a hundred years… exactly more than a hundred years ago. Even before she emigrated to the U.S. What about her?

‘Sir,’ the assistant started, ‘when Robert got back on his feet, returning from America to England, he moved the whole family back. His mother now also lives in London. We couldn’t have gathered anything interesting on her. There’s no information at all. And his father died in the States. Liver cirrhosis. But this story has been around for so many years that it makes no sense to use it somehow.’

‘How did he get on his feet here, as you say? Who helped him and how?’ the lord definitely was not going to calm down.

‘An uncle. His uncle did well in the PR business. He had his own successful company, which he handed over to his nephew. That is to Robert. His uncle was one of the prominent gay activists in England. He invested a lot of money in the gay community support fund when this topic was relevant in the society. I mean, once the so-called gay community needed support, protection and money to lobby for its interests. Which, of course, is irrelevant now at all. But at the time, Robert’s uncle made a notable contribution to this cause.’

‘I know what you mean. There’s no need to chew everything up here for me. So maybe this Richardson likes boys too,’ Peter said hopefully.

‘Who cares now, sir,’ assistant Mao objected.

‘Well, what can one expect of this society! Nothing is of interest to anyone anymore! What are they interested in at all!’ Peter was getting excited again.

‘In my early days, having such secretive adventures, one could have paid with his career. There were times! Not interested… Look around! Search! There must be something! If you are not able to solve the issue on your own,’ the lord continued, ‘let’s check how much it will cost to delegate such job to professionals. How much is the work of a detective agency? Based on the story you have yarned to me here, I see two possible directions that should be pursued.

First. There is nothing, and everything is cleaned up.

How could it be that a person nowadays would not have a digital footprint? Well? It’s obvious even for me. And I’m already, excuse me, over 150! Second. Let’s call it boys. Let them dig into his crazy uncle and himself. Who is he dating? Who is he sleeping with? Work! Dig in, guys!

Dig in!’

Plan

Robert was sitting at his desk in his home office. Dusk was falling down. It had been dark in the office for a while, but he didn’t turn on the light.

‘Why are you sitting here in the dark, dear?’ his mother came into the office and turned on the light.

‘I was waiting for you,’ his eyes narrowed with bright light.

‘Hello, Robert,’ she came up to him and kissed him on the back of the head. ‘You look smashing as always, my boy.’

‘The genes are yours.’

‘Well, yes. What else. Maybe we’ll have some tea?’ she asked.

‘What is it?’

‘I just wanted to see you. Find