“Excuse me, sir.” The butler’s polite cough broke the silence of the smoking room.
Four newspapers rustled angrily, behind another someone tutted.
Ezekiel grunted, snorted and woke.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The butler repeated. “But I have a message for you.”
Ezekiel rubbed his face. “Well, it better be about a knighthood. I was sleeping, man.”
“Yes, sir. But I fear that it’s the Empire. I believe She is in need of you. Again.”
More tuts from behind the papers.
Ezekiel took a small envelope from a silver tray in the butler’s hand. “Where did this come from?”
“I am informed that this time it is from Parliament, sir.”
Ezekiel read through the contents. “Well, well, well. I thought he was dead!” He chuckled. “My good man, I think we need to get the others. Harry’s at the bar, Gerald is playing billiards. And… that damn American.” Ezekiel thought. “If he’s at my bloody car…” He strode from the room.
***
“Hey, Zeke. Baby!” Gus was covered in oil.
“How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Ezekiel, you red necked yokel, and keep out of my damned engine!”
Harry and Gerald arrived, dressed like Ezekiel, perfect suits, tailor made for them. Harry carried a cocktail glass, probably not his first by the looks of him.
“What seems to be the trouble? Old Branstone almost up stumps and went back to the pavilion in his hurry to get us.”
Ezekiel handed them they note. Gus wiped his hands and slipped in behind them, looking over their shoulder. Gerald shied away in disgust, but Harry passed the note back.
“But, isn’t he…?” Gerald asked. Harry slung his drink down.
Gus sat down, staring at the note. “Well, I’ll be darned. If I didn’t put him in the goddamned ground myself.”
Ezekiel winced. “Gus. Will you please curb your excessive language and try and act like a gentleman.” It wasn’t a question.
Gus was oblivious to the awkward silence. “So, Zeke. What’s the plan?”
Harry stepped in. “Indeed. What is the plan?”
Ezekiel paced. “Well, we need to prepare. We’ll take the car.”
Gus coughed. Ezekiel sighed. “You good for nothing-”
“I was just improving it.”
Gerald cut in. “So, carriages?”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ezekiel shouted.
“Your engine blows. My ass moves faster than that.
“It’s called a donkey!”
The two men were nose to nose.
Gerald tried again, voice raised. “Gentlemen. We have been summoned by His Majesty’s Parliament to deal with an issue that threatens the Realm herself. I believe whether we take the car is of secondary import.”
Harry rang a bell and Branstone arrived, bringing soap and a bowl for Gus.
“We’ll need carriages, Branstone.”
“At once, Sir.”
“The…special ones, Branstone,” called Harry to the butler’s back.
“Indeed, sir.”
