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The Sheik's Son(84)

By:Nicola Italia


Each day was exactly the same and this early dawn, Alain watched as the two parted ways, with the younger man holding a large stack of papers under his arm.

Alain watched the older man climb the steps to his room and waited another half hour before trying to see if the door was unlocked. It was locked, but the window in the back of the shop was slightly ajar. He crawled through it.

The smell of varnish hung heavily in the air; he guessed it was the ink. He listened intently for any noise above him and heard the heavy snoring of the printer. There was a little grey light in the sky, as the sun had barely begun its ascent into the sky.

He made his way to the wooden shelves in the back of the shop and quietly began sorting through the sheets of paper. The handwriting was different for each and when he looked at it in the grey light, none matched what was he was looking for. He tried again and again, searching for the matching writing.

He ran his hand through his unshaven beard and went to the next shelf. Again and again the handwriting didn’t match. This was a fool’s errand, he thought. He had been too arrogant. He thought too much of his skills.

He crouched down on his haunches to the lowest shelf. Several sheets fell to the floor at his feet. He picked them up, shaking his head. He moved over to the window and did the same with them. Suddenly the grey light seemed to turn silver and the paper he held in his hands sparkled. This time he didn’t smile. He looked at the sheet he held in his hands. He felt vindicated. He had been correct all along.

He took the sheets and placed them in his pocket, and placed the other insignificant ones on their shelf. He looked up at the ceiling above him where the printer slept.

“Merci, monsieur.”

He left the printer’s shop through the door.

***

Alain planned the timing of it perfectly. He waited until Sebastian left the home and then boldly delivered the note himself. Knocking on the door, he produced a small handwritten note and handed it to the footman.

The red-haired man was not known to the footman, who asked Alain if he wanted to wait for a reply. Alain said that a reply was not necessary and coolly asked that the note be delivered to “Madame Fairfax’s hand alone.”

The footman nodded in understanding and closed the door at the conclusion of the small interaction.

When Alain turned on his heel to walk from the house, his heart was beating fast. He was playing a dangerous game.

***

Sophie was threading her embroidery needle when the footman entered the room carrying a small silver tray with a note for her.

She thanked him and opened the note. When she read it the first time, she didn’t fully comprehend the words.

The second time it seemed to sink in more clearly. The third time she realized the danger. There was no greeting or salutation.

The note read:



Meet me at ---

Today at noon. Come alone.

AV



She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry. The address given was not known to her but the initials were obvious. She knew the note was from the inspector. He had not given up. Indeed, his brazen and bold step seemed to confirm that he had discovered something new and it was now time to play the game.

She couldn’t tell anyone. She wanted to confide in Sebastian but thought that perhaps she could make the inspector see reason.

She asked Marie to help her change. She chose a grey linen gown with a high neckline, one she used for traveling. It was not a gown designed to beguile or flirt, but one of comfort. She pulled her hair back and up and wore no jewelry except her wedding ring. She wore a long black woolen cape and hood.

“Madame?” Marie questioned her young mistress.

“I must go out. I will return shortly.”

Marie bobbed a curtsey and left Sophie alone with her thoughts. This was surely insane! No. She must go and hear him out. She couldn’t run forever.

***

Sophie hired a carriage and gave him the address the inspector had written down. As they moved through Paris and into the outskirts she realized the neighborhoods had become dirtier, more dingy and looked less reputable.

When the carriage came to a standstill, the driver opened the door for her and nodded at the coin she gave him before disappearing again.

The address had led her to a tavern of sorts with dirty children playing outside in the mud. She saw the inspector standing to one side of the building with a pipe clenched between his teeth.

“Madame.” He gave a mocking half bow and indicated that she should precede him up the narrow flight of stairs behind him.

She did so, only glancing down below her once to see that he was indeed following her. Once she entered the room, he closed the door behind her.

“I did have my doubts.”

“About?” Sophie asked.

“That you would come at all.” He gestured to the room. “That you would come alone.”