Dream London Read Online Free Page B

like the way Dream London is going,” I said, carefully. “Former bankers, some of the underworld, politicians, the minor royals left behind in the city: all the people who have been gradually losing power this past year or so.”
    I refilled both of our glasses.
    “And I have to say,” I added. “I’m delighted about that.”
    Alan pulled a long face.
    “Oh James, don’t be like that. They talk about you, you know. The Cartel speaks very highly of you.”
    “I’m delighted to hear it.”
    “No need to be sarcastic. What if I told you they had a job for you? One that would pay very well.”
    I gazed at Alan.
    “It would depend on the job,” I said. “More to the point, it would depend on the money.”
    “We’re not offering cash,” he said. “We’ve got something even better than that. We’re offering you land. Freehold. How would you like to be a Lord of Dream London?”

 
     

    TWO
    DADDIO CLARKE AND THE MACON WAILERS
     
     
    T HE MAID ARRIVED at that moment with fresh plates. I heard a sizzling and, at the same time, smelt a deliciously savoury aroma. Mother Clap was approaching, bearing two beautifully thick steaks on a silver platter. She laid the steaks onto our plates, pink blood oozing onto the china. I was torn between hunger and curiosity, impatient as the accompanying dishes – the little glass jars of condiments – were laid before us. I was impatient to eat, impatient to hear more. I watched as Mother Clap ground pepper, first over my meal, then over Alan’s, watched as she spooned potatoes, green beans, braised cabbage onto our plates. Then there was a little French mustard, a little salt. A smear of Gentleman’s Relish. I was impatient to resume our conversation, but still I had to wait as the Burgundy was poured into my glass to taste. I sipped and nodded and watched as she filled our glasses.
    At last, the meal was ready, but still Mother Clap remained at our sides.
    “Shall I cut your steaks up for you, gentlemen?”
    “No thank you, Mother Clap,” said Alan, happily.
    “Are you sure? Would you like me to blow on your steak and cool it down?”
    “We’re both big boys, Mother Clap. We can look after ourselves.”
    “If you say so.”
    Finally, we were left on our own. I cut into the meat.
    “Freehold?” I said. “Where?”
    “Belltower End. That’s where your, ahem, business is based at the moment, isn’t it?”
    “You know it is.”
    “How much do you currently pay in rent?” asked Alan through a mouthful of steak.
    “Way too much. And it goes up all the time.” I gazed at him suspiciously. “Am I to take it that you’re my landlord then? Is that what you’re telling me?”
    “Me? Hardly.” He seemed disappointed. “I can see that you’re not as aware of what’s going on in Dream London as you maybe thought.”
    “I know that land in Dream London is at a premium,” I said. “The shape of the city changes all the time. A man can go to bed rich with 100 acres and wake up poor with property the area of a postage stamp.”
    I ate a piece of steak, warm red blood bursting in my mouth. It was delicious.
    “Indeed,” said Alan. “And the opposite is also true. It would be to anyone’s advantage to take freehold of a property that is due to grow.” He winked at me. “Take your time to think about it.”
    “What do I have to do?”
    “Two things,” said Alan. He laid his fork on his plate, a piece of meat speared on the end. He was obviously not so hungry as I.
    “One thing, I suspect that will be rather easier than the other.”
    “Go on,” I said.
    “First the easier thing. We want you to find the people behind what’s happened to Dream London.”
    I gulped down a piece of steak.
    “Hah!” I said. “Like no one else ever tried!”
    “Oh, lots of people have,” said Alan. “But I think you could succeed. Join the Cartel. A title and a uniform would look good in the boardrooms up east. Captain Jim Wedderburn would be a valuable addition to