Chapter 46: Pez Volador

Ox asked, “Are you ready to go to Franklin?”

I said, “Yes. I found myself in a runabout, flying over the town of Franklin. They have some industry there. I saw a steam-powered sawmill and a big, stinky factory-looking place.”

I asked, “Ox, what smells?”

Ox said, “That’s the paper mill. The river is adjacent to the sawmill, and the paper plant is called the Blackwater. It eventually pours into the Pamlico Sound in North Carolina. Small steam barges ply the rivers south and west from Franklin. Some products are transported by river to the Norfolk, Hampton, and Chesapeake areas. The sawmill delivers, by the way.

There is also a big hardware store for tools and nails, and the like.”

Bitchily I said, “Pushy much?”

Ox didn’t reply, and I sensed his amusement.

We flew over the dirt road and over a cleared area where tobacco was already growing. The aliens had timed it and planted the tobacco last spring.

We settled past that in a large clearing. There was a large pile of gravel and a pile of flat rocks already there. Oho. The aliens are seriously in a hurry to build this cigarillo-cigarette factory.

I said, “OK, I’ve seen it now. Let’s go find this Mathew Rees Edwards.”

So, we flew to England in the big runabout. We went beyond the atmosphere and flew much faster than usual.

Ox said, “Time change is five hours, it’s early afternoon here.”

I found myself over the Thames river. I was shocked. London was small and disappointing compared to the modern London, which I had visited on Earth 23. Whitehall was much smaller here. I saw Buckingham and it was small. The Tower of London was noticeably smaller.

With a 5:1 ratio of adult men, this is somewhat telling of the conditions here. Seeing this, and comparing it to where I had been before, brought home the fact that Earth 19 was sad by comparison to my Earth 23.

Ox said, “Here we are. This is called Brock’s Club. A Gentleman’s club on James Street. It is a members-only club for men. Your vest pocket has your membership card, of course. Please change into the dress shoes. Your gabardine kilt, matching silk shirt, and vest should do. I placed things into your sporran. It, of course, holds your automatic pistol, a nice pipe, your Triple Threat Tobacco, and a pipe lighter.”

I changed clothes inside the ship as Ox talked.

Ox said, “There are females here who are servants at Brock’s Club. They will bring any libation you can think of. Let me recommend the Madeira. Madeira is a fortified wine, so savor it slowly. With Exos, you will not feel the effects of a strong drink. I recommend drinking responsibly. Other people might notice if you guzzled booze down piggishly and stayed sober.”

I was set down up the street in a doorway and walked towards the club. I knew they had done that so nobody would notice me.

I knocked on the door there and was interviewed at a desk before being allowed in. I had an overlay of the first floor in my left eye, so I went straight towards the bar. There, I got an aperitif-sized glass of Madeira.

I entered a sitting room with tables and sat conveniently near Matthew Rees Edwards. Ox had indicated where he was sitting. I pulled out a large carved meerschaum. I stuffed it with Triple Threat tobacco. I lit it and took a few tentative puffs.

I tamped the tobacco again and relit the pipe. This time it took off better. I did not puff like a locomotive. I took a sip of the Madeira and then took a long, slow draw of the pipe. I enjoyed the two differing flavors. They are unbelievably matched.

Ox was showing that I had captured Edward’s attention. He was looking directly at my pipe, which was a gnarly-looking elf face. The elf looked out from inside a tree stump. This pipe was one of the larger fake Heillizdt made meerschaums. It was new, and I liked it.

Edwards leaned my way and said, “I say, what are you smoking, my good man?”

I said, “Would you like to try a bowl? It’s called Triple Threat Tobacco. ( TTT )”

I pulled my tobacco pouch from my sporran and handed it to him.

He tamped his pipe out.

I saw a brief flare from his pipe bowl. Someone had used a blast of fire to cleanse his pipe. I saw it, and nobody else had noticed it. More alien magic is at work.

Edwards loaded up his pipe with some Triple Threat.

He used a single match to light it. He handed back my pouch as he took a few puffs contemplatively. We smoked quietly together. He was drinking ale, I think. Neither of us said anything for a while.

He broke the silence again.

He said, “I say, I have never tasted its like.”

I said, “It is good, even if I say so myself. It’s a brand new mixture. _I blended it myself.”

“You came up with this?” How?”

I said, “I own Cooper-Howard Tobacco in the Province of Virginia.”

He said, “I have been there myself to buy tobacco wholesale.”

I said, “How interesting. So you are in the tobacco business?”

He said, “Was, was. I am a recent employee of Brambles. They got their start making pipes, as you can probably tell by the name. They added pipe tobacco later. Business has been slow for Brambles. I was let go recently.”

Ox injected, “No, the owners had their hands in the till.”

I said, “Do say, do say. I am actually here looking for a manager for a new company. Are you familiar with Cigarillos?”

He said, “A small cigar, hard to make? They require strong, nimble hands. You won’t find many hands like that in England.”

I held up one of my big paws, “Don’t I know that. Actually, I saw a machine in Cuba that does most of the work of rolling a Cigarillo.”

He said, “A machine? What will they think of next?”

I said, “Have you heard of a cheroot?”

He said, “Can’t say I have.”

I said, “My father invented it. They are quickly gaining popularity all over New England.”

Ox said, “Cheroots are in your sporran now. I added another never-ending tobacco pouch of Triple Threat. He can keep that one.”