Emma By Gaslight ch 2

Emma by Gaslight

by Gale Force

Part 2 of a multi-part story in which Emma Peel copes with the dangers of 1970s Europe, where eagles...and vultures... are gathering.

The file on Monte Carlo

The Principality of Monaco, a country in Western Europe located along the French Riviera between the Mediterranean Sea and France, is the most famous of the six "microstates" located in Europe. It is the world's most densely populated country and second-smallest independent nation; with a population of about 32,000 in an area of 485 acres.

The city of Monte Carlo is not the capital of Monaco - the country doesn't have one. It's just the most famous and wealthy city in the world. The permanent population is about 3000 - most of them incredibly wealthy immigrants from other countries - the city is a tax haven for wealthy individuals from all over the world.

In addition to its famous casino, Monte Carlo is home to the Formula One Monaco Grand Prix; the Monte Carlo Masters, and the Monte Carlo Car Rally.

...File ends

Part Two:

Emma, by Jason King

I.

Well, how to find her, thought Jason to himself.

Chances were she was staying at the Grand Hotel - the hotel beneath this very café, and the hotel in which he himself was staying.

However...just to be on the safe side... Jason peered down at the handful of cabs parked along the streets. All of the cabs at the port used that square there as their "home base," just as only selected cabs were allowed to ply their trade at each hotel, at the casino, and so on. If he wrote down the numbers of all the cabs that were still parked down below, he could eliminate them from any future inquiries, when he would discover exactly what the lady had instructed her driver.

His eyesight was 20-20, but he couldn't see the license plates for all that. However, there was an easy solution. He pulled a pair of collapsible binoculars from an inside pocket of his jacket, and trained them on the cars far below, jotting down the numbers for ten cabs. That'd do to get on with.

Jason nodded to himself, and, finishing off his coffee, took his own l'addition to the maitre-d. He handed him both slips of paper. "Charge these to my room. #382. Jason King."

"D'accord."

II.

Jason never liked taking lifts in old buildings. He never quite trusted the machinery. So he trotted down the five fights of stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and strolled over to the check-in desk.

He spoke briefly and flatteringly to the girl there, before asking her if a Miss Emma Knight was registered.

She obligingly looked through their registration cards. "No, Jason, no Emma Knight."

"Look, would you be a dear, and call around all the hotels in Monte Carlo, and ask if she's registered anywhere else."

The girl pouted at him prettily. "I suppose I could do that, Jason, but..."

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips. "You'll be doing me a tremendous favor, my dear."

She withdrew her hand with a smile. "Oh, very well. I will make calls as I have spare time throughout the day."

"You're a darling. I'll be back after lunch to check on your progress."

Jason walked out of the hotel, pausing by the door to light a cigarette. Was there any point in quizzing the cab drivers now? Perhaps...yes...prime them to be on the lookout for the driver he wanted to see.

Jason walked over to the taxi-stand, judging by eye where Emma Knight's cab had been in the string, and stopping at the one he judged to have been just behind it.

"The cab, just in front of you a few minutes ago," he began in fluent French.

The driver eyed him warily.

"A young lady entered that cab. Blue slacks and a white shirt. Did you notice?"

The driver smiled a lascivious smile. "Of course, m'sieu."

"Do you know the name of the cabby?"

"Of course. It was..."

"Yes?"

The driver held out a hand and rubbed two fingers together.

Jason smiled, withdrew a banknote from his wallet and handed it over.

"Pierre Javert. He is always here."

"I'd like to speak to him. Will you be seeing him later today?"

"Doubtless, m'sieu."

"Will you have him call me? I'm at that hotel, the Grand. Have him ask for me at the desk, any time of the day or night."

"I shall tell him, m'sieu."

"Thank you."

III.

"The Grand Prix of Monaco is taking place on June 3, this year," Jason King told the microphone he held close to his mouth. His portable tape recorder was slung over his shoulder. "It is a Formula One race. The "Formula" in the title refers to the set of rules which all participants and cars must meet. The race takes place on a circuit built in the center of the city - it takes three weeks to construct the circuit...and it'll take a week to tear it down after the race is over. The race is in four days time."

Jason walked along the observer's platform, where the people of the city could watch the track being constructed.

"Jackie Stewart, the great Scottish racing driver, is retiring this year, so this will be his last Monaco Grand Prix. [Note to self - ask Nicola to see if Stewart would like to review the book when it's finished. An account of the race will be wonderful local color for my next Mark Caine adventure."

Jason turned off the recorder and tucked the microphone back into its slot in the carrying case. He had intended to spend the day tracking down some of the drivers who had already arrived in the city, but he couldn't get the mystery of Emma Knight out of his mind. He would return to the Grand Hotel and see if any of the two hares he'd set in motion earlier in the day had borne fruit.

Hares set in motion earlier in the day had borne fruit, he said to himself with a grimace. "Talk about a mixed metaphor. Oh well, never mind I'll come up with something better when I start writing it."

IV.

Yvette, the girl at the check in desk, was his first disappointment.

"I have called all the hotels, Jason, and she is not registered anywhere."

"Well, not registered as Emma Knight, anyway," thought Jason to himself. Perhaps that was the meaning behind her hesitation when he'd asked her her name earlier. Not that she'd recently been divorced, but that she was traveling under false colors and hadn't yet gotten used to her pseudonym.

There was also no message from a cab driver named Pierre Jouvert, either.

Jason sighed and went up to the roof-top café to have lunch. This was out of character for him - he generally liked to sample new restaurants every day in his travels, but as long as he was here...

The same maitre-d who had been on duty for breakfast was there for lunch. His eyes lit up as he saw King.

"M'sieu King. You will notice the adjustment to your bill at the end of your stay?"

"I will? Why?"

"The young lady, you remember, with whom you shared the table this morning. She returned a few minutes ago, and apologized for leaving without paying her bill. I said that you had paid it, and she insisted on reimbursing you."

"How kind of her," said Jason warmly. (He was indeed touched. He hadn't expected her to do such a thing.) "But how long ago was this?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Perhaps half an hour."

"Is she staying in this hotel, then?"

The maitre-d shrugged gallically. "She paid cash to me. And I have just taken it off your bill. Now, what can I get you for lunch?"

Jason placed his order absently.

If she had returned...had she returned in a different cab? Why hadn't Jouvert contacted him? Well, perhaps he'd picked up another fare straight away. One mustn't be paranoid or impatient in these matters. There was still the afternoon and evening to go. He'd track down Jouvert soon enough.

V.

Jason King spent the rest of the day speaking to various racing car drivers. He returned to the Grand Hotel around 8 o'clock, taking a cab because his feet - encased as they were in snake-skin boots - ached from all the walking. He had picked up a paper - fresh off the delivery trucks - to read on the journey. The headline caught his eye.

Cab driver drives into harbor, drowns

A cold chill ran down Jason's gut. His eyes moved to the first paragraph.

Yes...it was as he suspected. The cab driver had been Pierre Jouvert, and he'd driven full speed into the harbor at around 3 pm that afternoon. Witnesses reported that another car had been chasing his. That one did not stop, but continued on its way.

There had been no passengers in Jouvert's cab at the time.

Jason took a deep breath, and then lit a cigarette. His death was too much of a coincidence. It had to have had something to do with Emma Knight.

And if it did...chances were she was on the run now, from God knew what villains. He had to find her...help her.

Playtime was over, he thought grimly, as he waited for his cab to wend its way through the streets toward his hotel. Now, things were serious.