(IC#01) An Ordinary Day

[Quinch]

Before he knew it, the deal was done and the client had made his meagre selection. Two books wasn't going to pay the rent on this place and Luke knew he'd made a mistake. He'd let the Contessa get to him and his concentration had dropped. He hadn't even checked the guy out before revealing the shops's illicit collection of deviant pornography. He swore and mentally told himself to pull it together. Maybe there was still time to redeem this sale.

Using as much charm as he could manage, he nodded sympathetically. "Fortune telling and fate?" he said, a gleam in his eyes. "You know, I think you might be in luck. Only the other day, we received a shipment that contained a rather unusual piece of literature on this subject. Let me just get it out of the cabinet."

Taking his time in orderto build the anticipation and to enhance the drama of the situation, Luke went over to the counter and retrieved a large and obviously ancient leather bound book. He chatted briefly to Willey, watching the customer out of the corner of his eye, and then walked back over. Placing the book on the table, he took his time to brush the cover carefully and even a little tenderly.

Smiling, he looked up. "It's old, it's very readable, and it has pictures. You're a connoisseur; tell me what you think. Take your time. There's no rush."

Luke pushed the book across the desk and indicated the man should leaf through the pages.

OOC,I'm trying to make a decent sale using a bit of Flattery.

[Taavi]

The man looks at the ostentatious volume with a touch of awe. "Well, I... no, no, I couldn't buy a volume like this on my salary... that is... er... does it... well, does it work?" The look on his face brings to mind various sayings by P.T. Barnum.

[Quinch]

Luke sighs deeply and nods understandingly. He looks genuinely sad for the man, even though he isn't. After a brief pause, he shrugs and says, "Well, we do have other volumes obviously. Cheaper, more, err, mundane. It's just I thought, well, you know. There's no point trifling with things like this. The real question you should ask yourself is, on your salary, can you afford not to have it? You could spend half as much and learn a tenth."

Luke turns to a random page in the book, but tries to make it look as deliberate as possible. He traces a few lines with a finger and then quickly turns the page. "But does it work? Who knows? These things have been around longer than I have, and better men than me have put their faith in them. Can science be the only judge of all we know? Or is there knowledge, lost knowledge, maybe hidden knowledge, out there waiting for someone to take a chance and dive in."

"That's the heart of the matter really, friend. Do you want to paddle and see what is floating around at the edge of the pool, the things everyone has seen and knows, or do you want to dive in? To grasp what is really hidden? To seek the truth at the heart of the matter?" Luke taps the book gently as he speaks, emphasising its worth.

He pauses again for effect. "That's what you need to ask yourself. Do you want to know what can be learned in penny papers and foolish pamphlets, or do you want the truth, the heart of the matter? Only you can make that decision, and it would be wrong of me to try to sway you one way or the other. Money is just that: it comes and goes. You spend it this week, on socks and handkerchiefs, and next week you get more. Some things shouldn't be thought of in terms of money. It's just, well, wrong"

[Taavi]

With a slightly dazed look in his eyes, the man hauls out his chequebook.

OOC,great sales pitch. Bonus points for giving this over priced monster you have created a title, author, bibliographic description, etc.

[Quinch]

Luke nods reassuringly. Taking the book over to the counter whilst his mark writes a cheque, Luke wraps it carefully in brown paper and then writes a proper receipt.

"One copy, An Investigation into the Oracle of Sidon , by Ludwig von Domenstein, dated 1843."

His curiosity was aroused sufficiently to look through the brief preface, just in order to have a better idea what he was actually selling. It wouldn't do for a last minute thorny question to unravel this whole sale.

"Whilst many of his peers and contemporaries dismissed the writings of Méric Casaubon (1599–1671) in "Credulity and Incredulity" as fanciful nonsense, informed more by wine and madness than by science, it has long been the opinion of this author that the Frenchman, whilst somewhat lacking in scientific method, described with accuracy and good intent a valid phenomenon. Having spent many years investigating the legends surrounding the Oracle of Sidon, even visiting that region of the coast where the temple had previously teetered on the edge of a cliff only to fall to its ruin 600 years ago, I now believe it is appropriate to divulge the true extent of my findings. My wife deems me mad, and has taken our children to live with their grandmother, and my peers at the University have frozen me out of their circle. Nonetheless, the truth must be told. Reader, please take your time with my book. It cost me dearly to script and print, and only in reaching the very end will the full total of its truth be available to you."

Luke exhaled deeply and shook his head. He finished wrapping the book and returned to the customer, solemn but friendly.

Handing it over, Luke said, "Remember friend, read it to the end. Its contents may seem shocking but you must have all the information before you make your judgement."

He shook the man's hand and took his payment. A job well done, he thought to himself.

[Taavi]

The man ("Henry Rickmansworth" from his cheque) tucks his parcel under his arm and leaves the shop, nearly colliding with a passer-by whom he doesn't acknowledge.

[Quinch]

Luke watches Rickmansworth struggle through the creaking shop door with his parcel of books. "There's one born every minute," he thinks to himself. "And, for that, I owe the women of London a debt of gratitude."

He wonders briefly whether there is anything of use or interest in the old manuscript he pawned off on the man. He notes the name for future reference; Henry Rickmansworth. It might be worth keeping a few things aside in case he returns after his next pay day. He could retire on the proceeds of half a dozen men with such esoteric tastes and loose attachments to the contents of their wallets.

Happy with his morning's work, and never particularly concerned with following the letter of Grant's orders, Luke grabs his cap and jacket and tells Willey he intends to visit the Palace Tavern for a spot of lunch. He then turns and leaves the shop before Willey can remind him that he was supposed to stay and help. It's not as if anyone could complain; as per usual, he has brought more money in already today than the rest of them will in a month. Or so he tells himself.

[Taavi]

Jory, Luke and Curlew return from the pub. A few minutes later, Harwood enters, looking hungry.

"I say, old boy" Jory comments to Curlew. "What was that you were saying about a German-language bookstore in the neighbourhood?"

[AndrewTBP]

“… When they ask me to dine I say no. I've just had a banana with Lady Diana …” Grant can be heard singing as he enters the bookshop, swinging his umbrella.
“Hullo! Gentlemen, I shall be with you momentarily.” Grant hangs his coat, hat and umbrella in the usual place in the office. “Wing Commander Curlew! What can I do for you?”

[Taavi]

"Ah, Mr Grant!" says Curlew, striding forward to pump Grant's hand vigourously. "Your man Carse here was just saying that you had a copy of the new German translation of Douhet's Command of the Air, with Reichscommissionar Goring's new forward. As I was just telling Jory, I'd heard there was a new shop in the vicinity with a lot of German-language stock, so if you don't have it, perhaps you could tell me where this shop is?"

[Quinch]

Luke catches Grant's eye and shrugs desperately, indicating he has no idea whether the book is in stock. He mouths the word, "Sorry" before retiring to the back of the shop, muttering to himself about fascists.

[Bookman]

Harwood pauses on his way to the back room unobtrusively tidying a few things whilst listening in on the conversation.

[andyw666]

Jory:

On the way back to the bookstore, Jory had been happily chatting aeronautics with Curlew, interspersed with the odd aerial war story (no doubt deathly boring to any not personally involved). Jory had been doing his diplomatic best to avoid any political discussions.

Once back at the store, Jory ducks off with a cry of "I'm certain I can lay hands on that book in a quick spin!"

OOC,Nothing ventured what!? Unless anyone screams no, Jory shall spend 2 bookie points to find the 'squiz'.

[AndrewTBP]

Grant slyly puts his Christie’s catalogue on the cloth-bound Douhet so it’s out of sight before Curlew notices. “Well, Wing Commander, we certainly have that in stock, but you aren’t going to want just the publishers cloth, are you? I think you’ll find the edition Penhalligon has in mind more to your liking.”

[Taavi]

Curlew's eyes gleam as he takes possession of the book, and he admires its form briefly before turning rapidly to the new passages from Goring. He mutters in German and English, nodding or shaking his head at intervals. Eventually he closes it and reaches for his chequebook.

"Odd fellows, these Germans, Jory" he remarks. "Very tactically sound, but their concept of strategy is full of all sorts of downright mystical - well, in Fuller's favourite shop I hesitate to call it claptrap - still, this idea Goring has of disrupting, er, what does he call it, "spiritual nerve centres", I suppose we'd call them leylines, through bombing, well, I'd rather bomb an ammunition factory than a church any day, what? And all this stuff about "Cosmic Ice" - well, yes, I suppose flying does depend on the weather, but what does Atlantis have to do with it? Sykes, our rag's correspondent in Warsaw, mailed me a pamphlet about that the other day - I suppose I'll have to read the dratted thing now. Oh well, know your enemy, eh?"

OOC,Would Jory like to describe the Squiz? Since Grant has endorsed it this becomes a 1 point not a 2 point spend.

[andyw666]

Jory:

"Yes, Commander, as you say, know the Hun, or at least know about him, what? Although, I'd still even rather be dogfighting than bombing cities into firey oblivion. Think of all the books lost, what?"

"Nontheless, here you have it - one of the signal works of Italy's late General Douhet, Command of the Air. A beautifully bound German edition with relevant illustrations, detailing how to win wars by obliterating the enemy's cities in very short order with aerial bombardment. Forward by Reichscommissioner Hermann Goering, himself the recipient of the Blue Max."

"I believe if you open the tome, you will see what is in fact Goering's rather flamboyant signature no less, and a swastika seal under it."

OOC,I have no real idea what I am doing with this description thing, hope this is right!

[AndrewTBP]

“Oh? That pamphlet from Mr Sykes sounds like it might interest some customers of mine, Wing Commander. Would you mind letting me see it?”

[Bookman]

Whilst the conversation is going on Harwood moves quietly out to the back of the shop.

[Taavi]

“Oh? That pamphlet from Mr Sykes sounds like it might interest some customers of mine, Wing Commander. Would you mind letting me see it?”

"Certainly, Mr Grant! I'll bring it in next time I'm by. Now, about this book. A beautiful edition, as Jory said. A touch pricey, though - tell you what, I'm going to review it for my column. Knock off a few quid and I'll be sure to mention where I bought it, in admiring tones." Curlew winks and turns to Jory.

"I take your point about dogfighting, old man, but one can't be sentimental. 'The bomber will always get through', as the PM said. That's where the Germans have the advantage of us at the moment - because we disarmed them after the last war, they've scrapped all their baggage, rebuilding their forces on totally new principles. Whereas a quarter of our army budget still goes on cavalry. Cavalry! Our generals aren't even ready to refight the last war, they're still planning how to defeat bloody Napoleon!"

Curlew snorts, reddening slightly with passion, before collecting himself. "I'm sorry, I'm keeping all of you from dinner! Now, Mr Grant - you've got this priced at 15 pounds - shall we say 12?". Curlew flattens his chequebook on Fuller's table, pen poised, an eyebrow cocked inquiringly.

Outside, the brown light of a London evening is drawing in; other shops on the street are shutting their doors, the owners retiring upstairs or in the direction of Charing Cross station.

[AndrewTBP]

“You want to haggle, Wing Commander? Don’t tell me you were stationed in Palestine and miss the cut and thrust of the marketplace? Anything for a good customer…”

OOC,Mr Grant has [b]Bargain[/b] 2 so I think we can quickly come to a mutually agreeable price.