Hide-and-Seek. Sergey Redkin

spend more time in the fresh air.

      Harry appeared at the main door as soon as our car pulled up.

      “I expect your trip was pleasant, sir,” he said stepping out from the darkness of the hall.

      “It was good, Harry,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “How have you been? Still in shape, I see.”

      “Life has been kind to me, sir. Thank you. No luggage?”

      I only had the bag with Charlie’s shirt with me. “It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

      Before we stepped into the house, Benny turned on some lights in the hall and I couldn’t help but notice the bareness of the once opulent entryway. The slightly lighter squares on the brick walls and wooden panels indicated where the pictures were when the house was full of life.

      “Would you like something to eat, sir?” Harry asked. “I’m sure we can even find some refreshments.”

      “I’d have a glass of single malt if you can manage to find that.”

      “Certainly, sir,” Harry said as we were walking through the hall. “Would you like me to serve it in the library, sir?”

      “Oh gosh, does it still have furniture?”

      “Well, we keep a few chairs and the table there, just in case.”

      “Good man,” I said, contemplating where I should go. “Let’s see the old place. Why not?”

      Harry and Benny went downstairs to the kitchen, and I continued to the library. I needed a few moments on my own before proceeding with the plan I didn’t have yet. I was hoping that the magic power of whiskey would show me the way and relax me a bit. Besides, I still had a bit of Ching left. I thought I could give my weary brain one more boost for another hour.

      I looked at the empty bookshelves that used to be filled with the leather backs of hundreds of folios collected by my predecessors. Some of those had to be sold at closed auctions to keep the family afloat. No one had to know that the collection was getting smaller.

      I saw our old taxidermy fox still standing near the fireplace. James’s father, Richard Harding, gave the thing to my father as a gift about thirty years ago. It had a secret pocket inside big enough to hide a bottle of whiskey – something Richard used to do because his wife, Margaret, was quite strict on alcohol. We used it to hide presents and snacks. No one seemed to want this old fur for anything anymore and it was destined to be eaten by moths.

      I thought if I said something loudly in here, I would be able to hear the echo. I didn’t test my hypothesis and went straight to the red leather armchairs that were still placed by the fireplace and sat down. I tried to remember the end of my conversation with Jared back in the pub.

      “We looked everywhere,” I said to Jared. “I believe there was no stone left unturned in the search for my little brother.”

      “Right,” Jared said and chewed on his upper lip.

      The pause was getting a bit too long and the silence was calling either for another round or for the meeting to be adjourned.

      “Well, thank you for giving the shirt back,” I said finally.

      “You bet.” Jared stood up and pressed a few buttons on his phone.

      I also stood up and felt that I’d had just about the right amount of alcohol. I waved to Hugh to come and give us the check. He understood me but gestured that there was no need.

      “Don’t worry about that,” Jared said. “My treat.”

      “Thank you,” I said.

      Jared waved to Hugh, and we walked out of the bar. It was chilly, but I found it refreshing and congratulated myself for wearing the jacket. Jared’s car, a big black SUV, was parked right outside and Freddy was standing near it, ready to open the passenger door.

      “Do you need a ride?” Jared asked. “Freddy will take you anywhere you want.”

      I felt that I’d had enough of Jared and his people for one evening. “I’m good.”

      “Cool,” Jared said and turned to Freddy. “I’ll walk to the office, Freddy.”

      Freddy nodded, walked around the car, and got in.

      “Listen Alex,” Jared started. “I didn’t mean to stir up the past with all those questions back there. I was fascinated with your family once and I guess I got carried away with my nostalgia a bit.”

      “No worries,” I said, feeling surprised at this sudden correctness.

      “Good,” he said. “I’ll have my people contact you about the proposal in a day or two.”

      “Thank you, Jared,” I said and felt that it would be better not to push my luck by asking if I’d got it.

      ***

      I was deep in my thoughts when Harry appeared with my drink on a tray.

      “Cheers,” I said taking the drink and getting the first sip. “Wow, how can we possibly still have this in the house, Harry?”

      It was The Balvenie, the scotch my family has been buying since the distillery started production all that way back in the nineteenth century. All the males in my family preferred it to any other whiskey. I was sure that we had emptied our cellar when we moved to France.

      “I kept a few bottles, just in case, sir,” Harry said.

      “Good man.”

      Suddenly, I felt at home and at ease enough to take my business a step further.

      “So, the foxy is still here, huh?” I asked and pointed to the thing with my index finger because other fingers were busy holding the glass.

      “It is, sir,” he said. “Would you like us to put it down in the basement?”

      “Nah, keep it here where it belongs,” I said taking a sip. “I say, Harry, do you remember the old pirate chest we kept in the attic?”

      “I do, sir. We moved it together with all the other old furniture to the cellars.”

      “I’d like to take a look at it if it’s not too much trouble.”

      “No trouble at all, sir. I’ll have Benny fetch the keys and open the basement for you. Would you like me to accompany you?”

      “No need. Benny’ll do just fine. I’ll just finish my drink and meet him in the hall in, say, ten minutes.”

      “Very good, sir,” Harry said and left the library thoughtfully leaving the tray with the crystal whiskey pitcher on the table.

      All right. The wheels were in motion, so to speak. I would have one more drink and then I’d be ready to see it. One more drink.

      ***

      We had a big basement under Maple Grove House. It matched all the floor space of the levels above. Since it was carrying the weight of the house, its walls were built to act as a continuation of the foundations, and they were much thicker than the walls above. There were two entries: one from the inside of the house, from the kitchen, and one from the backyard. Both entries led to passageways with storage spaces, wine and whiskey cellars, and pantries on both sides. The basement had one secret exit that was disguised as a dead-end, next to the farthest cellar, which led into the escape tunnel. Ezekiel Montague included that in the design of the house in case he had to flee the property. The exit was hidden in a maple grove about fifty meters away from the house. That gave us, the descendants, an idea that he had still had a few skeletons in his closet that’d been bothering him. Over the years, the tunnel proved to be an extremely helpful addition for those who knew where the exit (or entrance) was and wanted to get into the house unnoticed. Those were mostly male members of the family returning from some debauchery late at night. In fact, it started to get so out of hand that at some point my great grandfather ordered it sealed. After that, no one used the tunnel much. “No one” who didn’t want to be seen using it, that is. The basement was off limits to us when we were kids, but we managed to sneak in from time to time, with the staff