The Iron Man [Serial]

Valentine

Winds and tides being as they were, we arrived in Napoli after sunset. Our first glimpses of the Italian port were of the dark silhouette of a multi-peaked mountain and steams of glowing gas or electrical lamps that traced centers of population and nightlife.

We had dressed with some care before debarking, mindful of our identities and cover on entering a new port and the mainland of the Nuovo Impero which unified Italia and several smaller republics or principalities under the influence of Rome, which showed much deference to the Fashionista ruling in Paris.

Murphy dressed reg proper, which was to say he  presented himself as if a landed or titled member of the upper castes, and not like a musician or kapareghora. I wore one of my fall suits in medium-dark charcoal wool, with a navy blue waistcoat and pale blue Egyptian cotton shirt. I meant to wear one of my new tie clips, but Murphy stopped me, saying a small eccentricity like a silk scarf or fanciful bow might go over better. He wouldn't allow me to debark until we'd powdered my face, lined my eyes, and mussed my hair just so.

I asked him why he fussed more this night.

"You know this saying? 'If you should be in Roma, live in the Roman manner.' It goes for Napoli, too."

Sina dressed in a continental fashion and the most unlike an Egyptian or a young woman devoted to a god as I had ever seen her. She wore heeled shoes, a black frock hanging just above ankle length, a bustled overskirt, and a veiled cocktail hat. 

Alpha still wore his leather boots and trousers, but had donned a pea coat and tucked his shoulder-length hair beneath a wool fisherman's cap decorated with braid and embroidered appliqué across the brim. He flipped the collar of his coat as we stepped onto the pier. Prim, without changing his natural manner, looked as much like a sailor.

Our group proceeded through a port authority office without incident. We boarded a street-rail car for the ride to our hotel within a converted palazzo.

Murphy went right to the lobby desk, while I helped Alpha and Prim carry the luggage. "Go with him," Alpha whispered, just as porters arrived with a cart.

I made a nod and followed after Murphy. Sina was still at his side.

"There you are, Jules, almost thought I lost you," Murphy said. I was curious about their reasons, but I certainly got the message that my job was to stay at Murphy's side.

"Your rooms are ready, Sir," the desk attendant informed Murphy.

"Very good. My men will not be staying the night," Murphy gestured to Alpha and Prim, "but I have need for them to wire some private documents. Can you direct us to a fax?"

"Of course."

"And, have any messages preceded me here?"

The attendant waved to another hotel employee. "His Highness's messages."

"Let us discreetly say 'Signore Smith'," Murphy said quietly.

"Sì, of course, Signore Smith," the attendant replied as a concierge brought an old fashioned wax-sealed envelop to Murphy. He fanned the envelope beneath his nose, then broke the seal to remove the note within. Murphy passed the envelope to me left-handed as he held the note to read it.

The remainder of the seal was enough to identify it as having been a 'V' within a heart in red wax, and the paper was strongly scented with citrus. "Eau de Cologne?" I asked.

Murphy nodded. He beckoned then to the concierge. "This Notti del Vesuvio what manner of place is it?"

"A cabaret in the Deutsche style."

"And the crowd?"

"Mixed, Sir."

"Grazie."

From the lobby, we accompanied our porter through the converted palazzo with its courtyard lined by roman archways to a large lift, which we rode to an upper floor. Here we exited onto an open gallery overlooking the garden and fountains of the courtyard below, and then to our adjoining rooms. We stayed only briefly to visit toilets or secure our belongings as needed. Murphy recommended I remove my holster, as he suspected such might be watched for at the cabaret, but conceal some small weapons as I was otherwise able.

"Are you really titled?" I asked Murphy, as we awaited Sina who was in the adjoining room.

"What do you think?" He asked, lifting his brows.

"I asked you. But, at least I can see those you meet in Europe believe you're titled. Molly thought you an Emir. But, Alpha says you were raised in tents."

"You don't think one can be noble and live in a tent?"

"Nobility of character is different than nobility of birth," I said, "however some peoples of the First Nations do still live in tents, and they certainly have their own government and leaders."

Murphy smiled, and laughed softly. "Let's say my people are something like that. I was not born titled, but it is true I was granted a title." Then, as if in afterthought, Murphy added, "For certain reasons."

"I see." I didn't really, but Murphy was not going to explain himself.

He took my left hand in his right as Sina returned to us. We started on our way back to the lobby. "You are doing very well," Murphy whispered to me, "just keep watching and follow my cues."

Alpha and Prim met us outside, where Murphy spoke to a doorman who found us a cab-for-hire to take us to the Notti del Vesuvio.

When we reached the cabaret, the five of us went inside. Murphy spoke to the host. "Valentine is expecting us for supper."

We were led from a waiting room, past a bar and into the large dining room, populated by many round tables seated with diners, with a raised stage along the far wall. We were shown to one of the semicircular booths at the periphery of the dining room where two blonds sat drinking. The man in the leopard skin waistcoat grinned. "Long time no see, Lederhosen!"

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It's not Tuesday or Friday, but since I missed some updates last week, have another chapter.