The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [354]
Señor Linares flicked his stick toward the house. “Is there a place where we may speak? The matter is most urgent.”
“Please,” the Doctor said, indicating the front door. The señor moved toward it and the Doctor followed, after which the rest of us moved to do the same: but then the two lascars jumped down off the brougham and stood in our way at the gate to the front yard, folding their arms and seeming ready for an argument.
The Doctor turned around, an expression of shock coming into his face. “Señor,” he said, very sternly. “What is the meaning of this behavior? These people are residents of and guests in this house.”
Considering the matter for a moment, the señor just nodded and said, “So.” Then he mouthed some words in Spanish to the lascars, who glumly moved back toward the carriage. After that we all went inside, Cyrus keeping a very careful eye on the two boys at the curb as we did.
The Doctor led Señor Linares up into the parlor and offered him a drink. When the visitor requested a glass of brandy, Mr. Moore fetched it, while the rest of us took seats. Cyrus stood by one window and opened it, still watching the lascars.
“Dr. Kreizler,” Señor Linares said in some surprise, when he saw that we all intended on staying in the parlor. “My business with you is of a private nature—it is certainly not for the ears of servants.”
“There are no servants here,” the Doctor replied. “These are my colleagues.”
The señor glanced at Cyrus. “The black, as well?”
Trying hard not to get openly irritated, the Doctor just said, “If you have something you wish to discuss, señor, you must do so in front of our collected company. Otherwise, I must bid you good evening.”
Shrugging, Señor Linares drained his brandy and put the glass aside. “I shall come to the point, then. I have reason to believe, Doctor, that you know the whereabouts of my wife and child.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. If this is so, I most strongly recommend that you reveal those whereabouts to me, unless you wish to provoke a diplomatic incident.”
The Doctor paused and took out his cigarette case. “I had always understood that diplomats were tactful men,” he said. “Perhaps I was misinformed.”
“The time for tact is long past,” Señor Linares answered testily. “I know that, some time ago, my wife sought the assistance of this woman—” He waved his stick in Miss Howard’s general direction. “Since then, my life has been a succession of difficulties. I warn you, sir, I am most sincere in my threat of an official protest.”
As he lit one of his smokes, the Doctor studied the señor for a few more seconds, then sat back. “Actually, you are not.”
Señor Linares looked like he’d been slapped. “You call me a liar?” he demanded, getting to his feet.
“Please, sir,” the Doctor replied, waving his cigarette and not at all concerned. “Spare me your Latin pride—or what is the term that men such as yourself use? Your machismo? It is wasted here, I assure you.”
“Dr. Kreizler,” the señor answered, “I am not a man to endure such words—”
“Señor Linares,” the Doctor said, “please do sit down. I submit that if you had any intention of actually involving either your consulate or your government in this matter, you would have done so long ago. And you would certainly not have arrived at my house in the company of such creatures as those two men”—he threw a hand lightly in the direction of the window—“whose presence was undoubtedly intended to extract through physical intimidation the information you seek. Fortunately for myself—less fortunately for you—I did not return home alone. Shall we dispense, then, with talk of diplomatic incidents?”
The señor gave himself a couple of seconds, then sat back down and even managed a small, what you might call begrudging smile. “Yes. I heard that you were a clever man.”
The Doctor’s face suddenly went hard. “And I have heard that you, sir, are a man who does not shrink from beating women, as well as anyone else who might be smaller and weaker than yourself. And that you have been perfectly willing, anxious even, to conceal the abduction