The Familiar Strangers
STOOD OUTSIDE THE small tailoring establishment in Hosni, Cornelius Quaint felt an unanticipated smile creep onto his lips. It was an odd feeling looking at the sand-whipped paint on the shop's door, as if a tiny piece of him was coming home. Above the rattling din of a pedal-powered sewing machine, a woman's voice could be heard singing away from the other side of the door. Quaint knocked his knuckles hard against the dry wood, and immediately the noise abated. A beautiful woman with a mass of wild dark hair and even wilder dark eyes swung open the door.
'What do you want?' she demanded, looking Quaint up and down as if he had arrived at her door purely for her personal inspection.
'A "hello" would be nice,' Quaint teased. 'Is that any way to greet your visitors?'
Unrestrained inside her blouse, the woman's ample bosoms sashayed back and forth and Quaint was unintentionally mesmerised. 'Are you going to tell me what you want, or do you intend to stand there all day gawping at my chest?'
'Can I give me a minute to decide?' smiled Quaint.
She slapped his face and he quickly made up his mind, redirecting his eyes.
'You are English, am I right?' the woman asked. 'All Englishmen think they are so charming, with their pleases and their thank yous. Well, do not think for one moment that I will fall for any of your mucking about. Charm does not work on me – only money! And I hope you are not going to ask for a discount, because I do not do discounts.'
'Alex, will you shut up for a moment and let me speak?' said Quaint.
'How do you know my name?' the Egyptian woman asked.
'Because it's me!' Quaint insisted.
The woman's face glowed with a spark of recognition.
'Cornelius? Cornelius Quaint?' She quickly bundled him inside her premises, slamming the door shut behind him. 'Come inside, I am so glad to see you!'
Quaint looked at her dubiously. 'You are?'
'Of course – you owe me money!' exclaimed the tailor. 'And it is Alexandria, not Alex, if you please…I am a grown woman now.'
Quaint's eyes were drawn back to the woman's breasts. 'It hadn't escaped my notice.'
Alexandria linked her arm through Quaint's, leading him to her workshop along a corridor cluttered with rolls of material, clothing rails and dusty mannequins.
'My word, Cornelius, what are you wearing?' Alexandria said. 'You would not have been seen dead in pinstripes when you and I were…' She forced herself to look away for a moment, '…in the old days, I mean. And tell me, what has happened to your hair? Not a hint of grey when we last met, and now you are…what is the English phrase…as white as a sheep?'
'It's sheet,' said Quaint.
'I know what I mean,' said Alexandria dryly. 'Please do not tell me that I have aged as poorly as you.'
'As sensitive to my feelings as ever, Alex,' said Quaint. 'The years are unkind to us all eventually. I like to think of myself as a vintage wine…I grow in value with each passing year.'
'In that case, you must be worth a fortune,' Alexandria said. 'Well, for all your chips and cracks, I am relieved to see you are still intact, Cornelius.'
'And let me take a good look at you, eh?' said Quaint, stepping back to avoid further inspection. She wore a white blouse under an embroidered waistcoat, a flowing crimson skirt, and from a wide belt around her slender waist hung an assortment of bobbins of yarn and reels of thread. 'There is no doubt about it…you are still the most ravishing woman in all of Egypt. Surely if you'd been born in the old days, you would be revered as a goddess.'
Alexandria slapped his broad chest playfully. 'The same old lines to make a lady's heart beat faster, Cornelius? Shame on you.'
'Actually, that's a brand new one just for you,' said Quaint
'I very much doubt it,' Alexandria said. 'As much as I would like it to be true, I do not believe that you came halfway around the world just to see me. So tell me, what brings you back to Egypt after all these years?'
'Just a little bit of business…of the unfinished variety,' Quaint replied, as he began a stroll around the workshop. 'You know me, Alex. Nothing changes.'
Alexandria watched him, unable to take her eyes off him for a moment.
'No…nothing changes,' she said.
Quaint brushed his hands over the array of tailored shirts, jackets, coats and dresses. The workshop was an organised mess, with reams of silks and cottons arranged how a lover of books might display their collection. A large overcoat adorning a headless mannequin caught his eye, and he beamed at it as though it were a familiar face. It was an indigo, three-quarter length, split-tailed long-coat, with wide lapels and thick cuffs. As he stepped closer to the garment, the colour seemed to dance before his eyes, changing from blue to black, like oil across water.
'One of yours I take it?' he asked.
Alexandria nodded. 'It meets with your approval?'
'It's a work of art, my dear. It belongs in a museum,' Quaint answered.
'Hmm, well…it was a special order for a Chinaman named Cho-zen Li over six months ago. If he does not send payment for it soon, it might as well hang in a museum for all the good it is doing here,' Alexandria said gloomily, casting her eyes around the workshop as if it were her prison cell, and she its captive.
Quaint spied the anxious look in her eyes, despite her utmost efforts to hide it.
'I take it business is a little slow at the moment?'
'Not just at the moment…all of the time,' Alexandria replied. 'This district is not exactly a place to notice finery and good workmanship. I rely on all my overseas clients, many of which I have you to thank for their continued custom over the years. But I get by.' She moved a large box of cotton reels and sat herself up on a bench, swinging her legs back and forth. 'You have probably noticed that there are more garments cluttering up this place than there should be. The times are hard. Despite what I said to you when you arrived, I do give discounts…sometimes more than I can afford. Joran is growing fast, and his is a big mouth to fill.'
'It certainly is,' grinned Quaint. 'So this coat…it's a bit on the large side for a Chinese, isn't it?' he asked, running his hand inside the overcoat's lapel.
'It is not my place to question my clients' measurements, Cornelius,' Alexandria said, with a quick glance at Quaint's waist. 'You have filled out with a bit of ballast of your own, I see…and you have not purchased a suit from me in over a year! Do not tell me you have defected to Savile Row?'
'And pay those vultures' prices? Certainly not! Rest assured, Alex, that I shall be a loyal customer of yours until the day I die…which I have on very good authority will be a long way off yet.' Quaint smiled to himself.
'I am glad to hear it. So…when was it that you were last here?' Alexandria asked, changing the subject with a distracted jerk of her head.
Quaint ruffled his curls. 'Hmm, now you have me. I was trying to work it out earlier myself. Eighteen forty, maybe? Forty-one?'
'That long?' Alexandria asked. 'And the last time we conversed, were you not some sort of circus magician? A man that pulls rabbits from hats, saws women in half, and escapes from chains in vats of water?'
'I'm a conjuror, Alex, and rarely dabble in escapology – unless it's on a purely personal basis. I rely on misdirection and sleight of hand, not rigged props and pretty assistants. Would you care for a little demonstration?' Quaint reached into his trouser pocket and produced a pack of playing cards.
Alexandria stared at him. 'You carry a deck of cards with you?'
'Doesn't everyone?' Quaint replied offhandedly.
'And so what is this trick all about?' Alexandria asked.
Quaint greeted her question with a terse exhalation. 'Alex, I detest the term "trick". My craft is more than mere trickery! I usually do this blindfolded, but no matter, we shall suffice. Now…observe.' He took the deck of cards and split it exactly in half, laying the two equal piles on the workbench behind him. Taking a pile in each hand, he locked his eyes into Alexandria's and shuffled the cards. She tried her best to keep up with him, but he split, shuffled and cut the cards deftly with experienced fingers at a blinding speed. Quaint stacked the cards back into a full deck, fanned them out like a peacock's tail, and offered them to Alexandria. 'Madam, would you care to pick a card?'
A curious grin on her lips, Alexandria tentatively did as she was told.
'Good. Now memorise it, but don't let me see it,' instructed Quaint.
Alexandria held the card close to her face and looked at the seven of diamonds.
'Now, place your card back in the deck,' said the conjuror. 'You will agree that I have not seen the card you selected? There are no hidden mirrors hereabouts and your choice was your own, correct?' Quaint waited for Alexandria to confirm. He relished the opportunity to step back into the shoes of a showman – he had almost forgotten what it felt like. Splaying the cards face down onto the workbench behind him, he floated his fingertips above them as if feeling for a breeze. 'I want you to think of the card in your head. Think only of the card! I will attempt to reach into your mind and pluck it from your thoughts.' Quaint's eyelids flickered as he mouthed an incantation of some sort. He flicked his eyes open and stared accusingly at the row of playing cards. 'Something's not quite right.' He licked his thumb and began counting out the cards onto the workbench, one at a time. Alexandria, meanwhile, had lost much of her interest in the impromptu display, and began picking at her fingernails. 'Just as I thought. I'm a card down!' he snapped, huffily stowing the cards back into his trouser pocket. 'It's not supposed to do that!'
'That is comforting to know,' Alexandria said, hiding her smile behind a swathe of dark hair.
'Ha-ha,' said Quaint without one ounce of humour.
'Is that why you ran away to the circus? To learn how to do it properly?' asked Alexandria. 'Perhaps you would do better cleaning up after the elephants.'
'I didn't run away to join the circus, Alex! As well as being its resident conjuror, I happen to own the bloody thing – and for your information, we don't have any elephants. Besides a tiger, we've no wild animals at all…unless you include a pair of sour-tempered clowns.'
'You own a circus?' Alexandria smirked. 'You of all people?'
'And what's that supposed to mean?'
Alexandria bit her lip. 'Can I be frank?'
'Are you ever anything but?' squawked Quaint.
'You are not exactly famed for your sense of humour,' said Alexandria, watching Quaint's face fall. 'I cannot imagine that any circus run by an old grump like you would be very entertaining for the audience.'
'Madam, you offend me!' said Quaint brusquely – and he was telling the truth. 'My circus is fantastic! We take a great pride in our shows. We've got feats of strength and skill that would amaze you, marvellous acrobatic displays and hilarious clown escapades – what more could you want? "Dr Marvello's Travelling Circus is a cornucopia of the strange and the fanciful," they say. Even royalty loves us! Did you know that after the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, I was personally contacted by Prince Albert himself, requesting me to perform for Queen Victoria's birthday?'
'Someone else not famed for her sense of humour,' chimed in Alexandria.
'Bah!' snapped Quaint, turning on his heel.
Alexandria laughed even more at that. 'I am sorry, Cornelius, I was just teasing you,' she said, pulling him back by the crook of his arm. 'The look on your face is irresistible! I am sure you do an admirable job running your circus, I really am, and I am sure your performers are highly skilled. Tell me, do you wear a long red coat?'
'That's a ringmaster…and no, I don't,' growled Quaint.
'Good, because you always looked awful in red,' Alexandria said, sliding off the bench. 'So…how long are you here for on this business of yours?'
'That depends.' Quaint's face turned a shade darker as his true motives for his visit drove back into focus. 'We on a bit of a tight schedule. We only have until New Year's Eve.'
'We?' enquired Alexandria.
Her face fell, and she did not attempt to conceal her disappointment.
'I'm here with Madame Destine,' Quaint explained. 'You remember her – the French governess that I used to speak of. The woman who practically raised me?'
'The one who pretended she could see the future?' asked Alexandria.
Quaint scowled. 'She can see the future!'
'Of course…and I can whistle underwater,' said Alexandria.
'It's true! Well, at least it used to be true…she seems to be having a little trouble in that department recently, but that's another story.'
'Cornelius, I cannot believe that you brought your governess all this way with you! Is that why you are dressed so staidly? Does she still pick out your clothes each day and lay them on your bed for you?' mocked Alexandria.
'Don't be ridiculous!' Quaint said, quickly occupying his eyes around the room. The woman was uncannily (and embarrassingly) accurate, but he was not about to admit that to her and face yet more ribbing. 'On the matter that has brought me to Egypt, I needed someone whose counsel I revere above all others…which is why Destine is here with me. But some things require another's perspective. That's why I came to see you. I need your help, Alex.'
'My help? Cornelius, it has been thirteen years and finally you return, yet not for the reason that I would have preferred,' said Alexandria, a hint of resentment buoying every word. 'Whatever it is, it must be of great importance.'
'It is,' Quaint said, taking a deep breath before ploughing ahead. 'You see, a diabolical organisation called the Hades Consortium plans to deposit a deadly poison into the River Nile sometime very soon. That's why I'm here – to stop it from happening! So now that you know…what do you think?'
The look on Alexandria's face did not bode well. 'What do I think?' she screeched, her voice skirting dangerously close to hysterics. 'I think that the Egyptian sun has gone to your head! What utter madness is this? You stroll back into my shop – back into my life – and expect me to believe that someone is going to poison the Nile?'
'Alex, please keep your voice down.' Quaint pushed his finger against her lips.
Alexandria slapped it away, and then slapped him.
'Ow!' Quaint said, rubbing his jaw. 'I think you loosened one of my teeth.'
'That is not the only thing loose around here! You must think me a fool, Cornelius. Poisoning the Nile? I have never heard of anything so absurd! And I suppose you have proof of this?'
Sadly, Quaint could offer nothing but a charming smile.
'I knew it! Same old Cornelius Quaint!'
'Alex, I'm serious, listen to me. When have I ever-'
'Shush!' Alexandria interrupted, brandishing her finger like a weapon.
'What?' interjected Quaint.
'I know what you are about to say…so shush!'
'What, do you read minds now?'
'You were about to say "When have I ever lied to you?"'
'Ah.' Quaint winced. 'Well, it's true! When have I ever-?'
'Have you forgotten how you left things between us?' interrupted Alexandria. 'You left me without so much as a kiss. No letter of explanation, no warning – nothing! It was almost a month before you wrote to explain why you had to go.'
'Okay, I admit that one time…but this is totally different,' Quaint said, hoping to recapture Alexandria's trust – not that he had much of it to begin with. 'This plot is real, whether you believe me or not…and it is going to continue to be real unless I do something to stop it! I'm not making this up, Alex, I swear. You have my word.'
'And you think that is something I have come to trust?' asked Alexandria.
'Alex…don't make this about you and me. I know how we left things all those years ago. There was a lot that I should have said…and probably a lot more that I should not have said, but I am begging you…help me.'
'What help could I possibly give you?' Alexandria asked.
Quaint held his tongue for a second, cementing his focus.
'The Hades Consortium is well connected, but they couldn't pull off a plot this big alone. I know how this country operates. They'd need someone local, someone doing the legwork, pulling the strings – someone with no love of Egypt! Look, I'm guessing, all right? I'm out of my depth here, Alex, I admit that. But you…you know people. You hear things. Gossip…rumours…boasts. Maybe you overheard something and didn't know what it was. Anything could be important!'
Alexandria turned her back to him. He was devilishly charming, of course. He always was. If she was honest, she did not need any evidence of this dastardly plot. One look in those all-consuming, jet-black eyes of his was evidence enough.
'All right, Cornelius,' she said eventually, 'maybe there is someone that might be able to tell you something. You can tell me more about how exactly you got involved in this plot on the way.'
'Thank you,' Quaint said. 'Wait. On the way? On the way where?'