# 6 d
Cozy Cat Club, Wednesday in the evening (continued)
“Too bad I missed this show. Looks like it’s been great.”
Kallistos dropped the newspaper back on the table and smiled brightly:
“Seems like we all have our little problems as well, doesn’t it Peter?”
Then he crossed the Judge’s eyes. His smile vanished along with any hint joviality.
“Peter, don’t try that with me.”
Their gazes remained locked to each other. Kallistos traits progressively sagged. A few droplets of sweat started to moisten his front. But he stood. Still as immobile as a statue, Peter whispered:
“I’ve asked you a question, Tsadkiel.”
Kallistos jolted and successfully directed his look at Peter’s gloved hands instead of his bottomless eyes.
“What do you seek with that comedy Peter?”
The Judge bent over the table to bring his face in Kallistos line of sight. His black leather gloves emitted a faint rustling. He had his first expression since the beginning of this interview, in the form of a thin carnivorous smile. He stared at his interlocutor over his glasses.
“You seem a little weak. Do you happen to lack… something.”
Kallistos shivered, looked back and tried his best to cope with the pressure.
“You can’t break the likes of us, Peter, you know this.
- You’re not too sure yourself. But I don’t want to break you. I want a reliable answer.
- Okay.”
Both of them released the tension and leaned back. Kallistos drew a red and yellow handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped sweat off his face.
“Well, Voltshead is just an ambitious jester as you sure know. He wanted to have a little pick on you to boost his political ascension but lacked evidences. I just made plausible ones for him to use. I’m confident that you will be able to debunk them easily.
- I hope this stupid move has been rewarding.
- Hear Peter, granted you can finish me off as you want. But I still have less debunkable tricks in store as well.
- I wouldn’t have expected any less from you.”
Judge Peter joined his hands, crossing the fingers, and put them face down on the table.
“Now, if you really want to buy your way out, you will have to come up with substantial data about the Kamilet’s puppet master. Or masters.
- I’ll think about it then.
- Think hard. Think fast.”
Kallistos rose. He did not try to hide his quivering. The Judge would have noticed anyway.
“I guess we have finished then? I’ll contact you as soon as I have any suitable currency.”
Peter didn’t bother to answer. He simply reopened his red folder and resumed his work. Kallistos went out of the cubicle and crossed the club in a state of mind close to delirium. He would just remember jazzy music, whirling banks of smoke, the dark masses of people around tables. He gripped the bar’s hedge like a castaway reaching an heavenly beach. Was he as distorted as his perceptions? Probably not. But he sure looked like a well soaked drunkard. He discerned Mary and addressed her with a thick voice:
“Mary, this bottle… I need it now. Weak. The… bottle…
- I don’t understand what you mean. And I don’t want to have anything to do with anybody in your…
condition.”
She turned away and went. Kallistos was about to yell after her when he noticed she had forgotten her cocktail on the bar. The glass was full. He whiffed. The sweet smell he lounged for was there, and it was strong. He took a long sip. His mouth burnt, a thread of fire went down his gullet and tears watered his eyes.
Pure, it was
pure! This shook him like a whip. Things all around him recovered their usual sharpness in a few seconds. “
Thanks my dear. I’ll have to marry you one day”. He drank it bottoms up.
Minutes passed as he waited for the waves of warmth to fill in his body. His ideas cleared up, his self-confidence went back. “
Now, Peter, would be the perfect time to resume our little conversation…” But that would be pointless. He nodded his bodyguards. The redhead paid for their drinks and the three of them left the night-club.
The street was still desert. Kallistos sent his blond acolyte to check the way. He came back a minute later.
“No problem sir, Olaf and Sittas await us in the car.”
They hurried to their vehicle, slammed the doors and drove away as quickly as possible. Kallistos kept peering the darkness outside. As they engaged on the unlit North Lake Shore Drive, he patted the driver’s shoulder:
“Slow down. Stay alert.”
Sittas turned back in his seat to look at his boss.
“Something worrying you?
- Indeed. I guess the time has come for a dirty cleaning up.”