The Sugared Game - K.J. Charles Page 0,20
holding out a hand. “Arthur Brabazon, good to meet you. It’s my opinion there is something very wrong at the High-Low. Would you disagree?”
Beaumont looked a little startled by that abrupt opening. “It’s a night-club. What would you expect?”
“I’m talking about more than that. I think you know what I mean.”
Beaumont’s eyes widened. Kim went on, “Of course you can say, Not my business, or More than my job’s worth, and perhaps that’s true. But Darling has told me enough about you that I believe that you’ll do the right thing, if you’ll just hear me out.”
His voice was steady, serious, so intensely sincere that Will almost forgot he hadn’t told Kim anything of the sort. Beaumont’s eyes flicked between them, uncertain, and Will suddenly remembered the boy from 1916 trying to hide his fear behind his lieutenant’s uniform.
“The kettle’s boiling,” he said. “How about a brew-up while we talk about it?”
Beaumont straightened his back. “All right.”
In the back room, Will put the tea on while Kim unfolded the old camp bed to serve as a divan since there was only one chair. They’d fucked on that their first night together, a fact Will put firmly to one side. Kim perched on it while Beaumont took the chair.
“Brabazon, was it?” Beaumont asked. “Darling said you wanted me to help you out. I’m not sure what you think I can do.”
“I’d better give you the story. The fact is, I’m being blackmailed,” Kim said, with charming ruefulness.
Beaumont’s jaw dropped, as well it might. Kim shrugged. “I did a damn fool thing and I’m not greatly proud of myself, but I don’t think I deserve to be bled white by some grasping swine.”
“No. Er. I’m sorry to hear it. You can’t go to the police?”
“Not easily. It would cause a great deal of difficulty and painful embarrassment, which I might deserve, but others don’t. I’m damned if I’m going to pay up, though, and I see no reason to be civilised about this. I’d rather take the fight to the blighters.”
“And face the consequences?” Beaumont said, a little sceptically.
“Let’s say, spread the consequences around. My intention is that the blackmailers will regret this a great deal more than I will.”
“He’s not joking,” Will said. “They picked the wrong target. Sugar?”
“No. Thanks.” Beaumont took the mug. “You’re planning to go off the rails? Are you in this, Darling?”
“I didn’t get mentioned in Dispatches for sitting on my hands.”
“No. No, you were one of the hard nuts, weren’t you?”
“This is of course between us,” Kim added. “I’ll happily swear you were never part of this conversation if need be. But I felt you should know where we stand.”
“Why? Why are you telling me this?” Beaumont demanded.
“Because the blackmail is coming from the High-Low Club,” Kim said. “And I don’t think you’re surprised to hear that, are you?”
Beaumont’s lips parted. “What—how—” He darted a look at Will. “What did you tell him?”
Will hadn’t told him anything, which raised all sorts of questions. Kim came in smoothly. “Merely that you were in a sticky situation, which makes two of us. And the High-Low Club is in the middle of the web. Am I wrong?”
Beaumont passed a hand over his face. “Let me think a moment.”
Will sat on the bed with his tea. He didn’t look at Kim, though he was very aware of him there, a foot away, in his element.
“Look,” Beaumont said at last. “I do know something. But if I tell you and you act on it, it might come back on—well, me, but on someone else too.”
“That’s the risk,” Kim said. “I give you my word as a gentleman that if you help us we’ll help you. We’ll do our best to deal with your problem, and the police won’t be involved if I have anything to say to it. I operate better under cover of darkness.”
Beaumont’s eyes widened. “But this is someone else’s secret. I can’t just go around telling people willy-nilly.”
“But you need to tell someone. If you could deal with this alone, you would have done so already. You need allies. We’re here.”
Beaumont looked from one to the other again, then his eyes narrowed. “I know what Darling did in the war. What did you do?”
Kim grinned. It was a wicked, conspiratorial grin that bore no resemblance to any real expression Will had seen him wear while discussing his past. “An excellent question, to which I can give no answer. If you’re asking, do I know what I’m doing and