Chapter 17: This is War!

Kennedy walked the mile or so to the house, arriving a little before six. Mr. Glastonbury wanted a blow-by-blow account of the battle with the bats, then a summary of the poker game. "So, did you win a great deal?"

"No, as near as I can tell, I lost fifteen cents. A couple of the others at the table did well. Pipes and that Carlos fellow. Dennis and Don Valentine did the worst."

"And some of them have heard of Slayers?"

"Yes, sir. The older ones for sure. Dennis didn't know. I wondered why they invited me. I think it was to take my measure."

"Probably," Mr. Glastonbury said. "It's the easiest explanation."

A few days later Kennedy ran into Juan Baptiste at school. "How did the rescue go?"

"She came back before we had to do it. Someone beat up her old man, her uncles and her brother. Whoever it was did a good job of beating some sense into them." He gave her a significant look that said he knew who'd talked to them.

"There's nothing you or I can do," Kennedy told him, "nothing that we can say to Nita that will make what happened hurt one whit less. What we can do is provide support, encouragement and let her know that she's not alone."

Juan Baptiste smiled slightly, turned and started away.

"Juan Baptiste," Kennedy called after him. He turned and looked back at Kennedy.

"Dwight's family thought things over and decided he needed a better understanding of Spanish culture, so he could understand the foolishness of his actions. They changed his enrollment to a military school in northern Argentina."

Juan Baptiste blinked in surprise.

"There are no cell phones, there," Kennedy went on. "In fact, there's only one phone at the school at all and it's in the headmaster's office."

Juan Baptiste grinned and give her a thumbs up, and walked away.

After that, the days fell by the wayside, one by one. Kennedy saw Harriet frequently at school and they talked about all sorts of things, but they didn't even hold hands. The week before Thanksgiving Pipes called and invited Kennedy for another poker game on the Friday after Thanksgiving and she agreed to go.

A few days later, on Saturday morning, Kennedy and Mr. Glastonbury were sitting on the veranda, watching drizzle a few feet away, while sipping on orange juice. They were getting close to calling it quits when the maid came out and spoke to Mr. Glastonbury.

"Sir, Miss Stuyvesant has arrived. She has luggage, several bags."

"Well, make sure she knows when lunch and dinner are."

Kennedy met his eyes and he shrugged. "I have no idea. Your father said he told her not to come."

When they sat down to dinner, Kennedy's stepsister, Victoria, joined them. Kennedy nodded, not planning on saying anything. Her sister virtually never said anything to Kennedy, anyway. Kennedy had long since given up bothering.

However her stepsister had other intentions. "Tell me, little stepsister," Victoria asked, as she was sawing away at her steak, "what have you told father? He told me not to come here any more. That it was dangerous."

Kennedy grimaced. "I've made a few enemies."

"You? Miss nobody?" she sniffed in derision. "I heard you were going to White Plains High, so I went to one of my friends, who has a sister there. She seems to think you tangled with some Mafia types. I just had to see for myself."

"Actually, that thing with the Mafia is sorted out. I went and played poker with some of them. I'll be going back next Friday to play some of them again."

"I just can't picture you playing poker with a bunch of Mafia button men," she said, laughing up a storm.

"They aren't button men," Kennedy corrected her stepsister. "A couple of dons, a couple of others I think are maybe what's that word?"

"Consigliore," Mr. Glastonbury supplied.

"Yeah, top advisors. Those guys."

"Then why is father so sure that it's dangerous here?"

"Well, I'm your poor relation, remember?" Kennedy told her. "I do things wholesale, where you're comfortable with upscale retail."

Her stepsister flipped her a bird. "Is it dangerous, or not?"

"Not today," Kennedy replied honestly. "But ... well, it's not something I can predict. In the long term, it's not safe."

"So, would I be in danger if I stayed here for a couple of weeks, so I can be close to the City during the holiday season?"

"No more than you'll be on the way to and from there." Kennedy told her.

"I still can't figure it. Who would want to hurt you? Why would they give a shit about me?"

Kennedy met her sister's eyes. "Because, Victoria, they don't give a shit about you. You might be in their way, in which case they'd kill you without a second thought. They might decide to use you to get inside ... then they'd kill you after you'd done what they wanted you to do."

"And you're not going to tell me who?"

"Victoria, you can't look at them and tell who they are. They look just like anyone you pass on the street. Not until it's too late ... but knowing then really is too late."

"And you can tell, right?"

Kennedy shook her head. "Probably not. Not until it's too late."

Victoria waved at Mr. Glastonbury. "And you're Kennedy's bodyguard?"

"I'm Miss Kennedy's tutor, Miss Stuyvesant. I have taught Miss Kennedy a few things about self-defense and personal combat. Like you, Miss, I wouldn't figure significantly if the worst happened."

"And the staff? That really frosts my plate! Some of them have worked for the family for years!"

Mr. Glastonbury shook his head. "They are all ex-military or special operations. They are paid very well."

"Even the cute maid?"

"She was medically retired from the Metropolitan Police's Flying Squad. She wanted a sponsor to allow her to come to the US and your father offered to do it. She knows the risks."

"Flying Squad?"

"Something like an American SWAT team, with a typically British twist."

Kennedy waved a fork in her sister's direction. "I'd like to go back and revisit something you said a second ago, about the 'cute maid.'"

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "I said that? Imagine that!" She grinned sardonically at Kennedy. "Don't think you can threaten to out me; I got kicked out of Swarthmore for doing it with a friend in the library. A girlfriend, if you get my drift."

"Victoria, you have your life and I have mine. I've never told on you about anything."

"And I haven't ratted you out either, okay? You think I never peeked into that room downstairs to see what you were doing so early in the morning? Your mother was really pissed about you telling her you were practicing for Olympic kendo ... and there is no such thing. You raised her social hopes enormously. She wasn't at all happy about it."

"Victoria, I respect my mother every bit as much as you respect her. Which is to say, not at all."

Her sister chewed on her steak for a bit, then shook her head. "Imagine! I used to think you were shy, retiring, someone who would be a good candidate for a nunnery."

"I don't think they'd take me," Kennedy said. "Like you, I have certain tastes they would disapprove of."

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Like me, eh?"

"The maid really is cute. Too old for me, but cute."

Victoria laughed lightly. "Being over eighteen, Kennedy! That's the ticket! You can chase anyone you want who is also over eighteen. A hunting license!"

"It'll be a while for me," Kennedy told her.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun at summer camp."

"Yes, and at other times and places."

Victoria laughed again. "God! The picture I have of you in my head is all wrong! Well, cool! I'm going to stay a few weeks. I may or may not chase the maid. Do you have a problem with that?"

She was talking to Kennedy, which was a first in Kennedy's experience. "Victoria, just so long as you understand that if something happens I'm going to be doing what I have to do to personally stay alive. Everyone else in this house is an adult and is supposed to be able to take care of themselves."

"But it's not likely to happen tomorrow?"

"No. Nor today. But it's impossible to say just when."

"Well, you just pretend I'm not here, okay?"

"Business as usual," Kennedy told her. "Sure."

"Miss Stuyvesant," Mr. Glastonbury broke his silence, "I am not your father, mother, nor anyone of importance. What you do is your business, but it will be of use to you, if, before you go out, that you tell one of the staff where you're going and when you'll be back. And if something were to change, if you would call the house again with the change."

"And if I don't feel like having my whereabouts monitored?"

"As I said, it's up to you. You will find it impossible to enter the house after dark until someone lets you in."

"The key worked well enough this morning."

"Just before dark the outer gates are shut and locked, and the house is locked down. Someone will come and let you in, if you message us."

"In other words, I get someone out of bed."

"You'd get someone out of bed, regardless."

"You could give me the key."

"Your father would have to authorize that. Since he didn't give me one either, I wouldn't hold out much hope in your shoes. In any case, if someone uses a key to enter after hours, the alarms sound."

"But not during the day, eh?"

"No."

"Bogeymen, evidently."

"Something like that," Mr. Glastonbury replied.

"Well, like I said, pretend I'm not here."

"No problem," Kennedy told her. The two young women traded cold smiles.

Thanksgiving was a nice meal, with Mr. Glastonbury doing the majority of the cooking and all of serving. Everyone else, including all of those on the staff and their families, were present and had a good time.

Afterwards, Kennedy retired to her room with a plate of pumpkin pie, liberally daubed with whipped cream. There was a knock and she got up, thinking it was one of the staff come to give the obligatory thanks to their host. Instead, it was Victoria.

"May I come in, Kennedy?"

"Sure," she said and waved at the bed.

Victoria laughed. "Forget it."

Kennedy smiled nastily. "Sister mine, that's the only other place to sit in my room. I'm eating pie at my desk; I never eat in bed. I like soft flannel sheets that aren't crunchy."

She flashed on the vampire she'd killed. He'd once been named Crunchy, too. Odd, how the mind works!

Victoria reminded her. She walked over and sat on Kennedy's bed, all very proper and lady-like in her evening dress. Kennedy had giggled when she'd seen the dress. Thanksgiving dinner had been a "formal" meal at the house, which meant that people wore slacks and shirts with collars, shoes and had their hair combed. Some of the women had dressed up to the extent of slacks; most of the men had been in dockers.

"I want to come with you tomorrow, when you go play poker."

Kennedy just laughed and shook her head. "The two times I've been, there's a bunch of tables in the front of the restaurant, where the guards sit. Well away from the game. I have no idea what they talk about there, but I don't think you'd like the conversation much."

"I want to sit at the table."

Again Kennedy shook her head. "Victoria, there are six or seven people at that table, period. All the seats have undoubtedly been sold out for weeks."

"Sold out?"

"I'm like a mascot, I think. We see things the same way."

Victoria paled. "You see things the same way as they do? They're hoodlums! They kill people! They beat them up! They sell drugs, women ... they lie, steal, cheat..."

"And Pete's business interests are entirely legitimate and above board."

"Pete? You mean father?"

"That's the man," Kennedy agreed.

"How dare you! He's your stepfather! You can't address him like that! I certainly don't!"

Kennedy smiled sardonically at her. "Do you do what he asks of you?"

"Well ... yeah. Most of the time."

"Well, he asked me to start calling him Pete."

Victoria shook her head. "I keep hearing this and it just doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense!"

"Do you remember summers in the Hamptons? We'd go down to the beach and look at the bird tracks in the wet sand and try to guess what bird had left which track."

"Kennedy," Victoria said patiently, "I was cheating. I was watching what birds were walking where."

"And I wasn't?" Kennedy asked reasonably. "Still, it's a useful paradigm for what you need to do now: watch carefully, see what's leaving tracks and check out what you think and remember it for the future."

"I want to go with you tomorrow. You can try to go without me, but I'll just follow you."

Kennedy grinned. "I was going to take the train."

Victoria grimaced. "I'll follow you."

It was Kennedy's turn to grimace. She could see the look in Victoria's eyes. The insatiable bump of curiosity.

"Do you know how to play poker?"

"I've played it a few times."

"We'll go over the rules and odds. It'll be nickel, dime, quarter with fifty dollar table stakes limit. There are other rules, I'll cover those, too." She waved at her phone. "I can pick that up and ask, you understand? You can't tell them anything."

"The Mafia?" Victoria shuddered.

Kennedy was patient. "Victoria, you used to like guys a lot. It would be a really, really bad idea to go, hoping to pick up someone. To add a little more spice of danger to your life."

"I don't go that way any more at all."

"So, will you listen to me? Do what I say?"

"Sure. I just want to know what it's like."

"Like I said, I can ask."

She picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. "Pipes, Kennedy."

"Yes, Kennedy. Don't tell me you ate too much today and can't make it tomorrow?"

"No, nothing like that. I have a huge favor to ask. My sister wants to play tomorrow. I was thinking, maybe you could do Dennis a favor and spare him from another shearing."

Pipes laughed. "That's not a problem. Just so you know what you're asking?"

"Like I said, my sister."

"Sure, Kennedy. Does she know the rules?"

"I'll give her a review," Kennedy promised him.

"Fine. One o'clock?"

"I was thinking noon, if there's going to be ravioli."

Again he chuckled. "I taught the chef the recipe. It was my mother's! He always makes it if Dennis or I are going to be there."

"That's it, then. Tomorrow at noon."

"Don't forget your pocketbook!"

She hung up and looked at Victoria. "It's set. Do you understand that they trust me? That if you don't show up tomorrow, they'll think ill of you and your father, not me?"

"That's not fair."

Kennedy laughed. "Like I said, they know me. So I suggest you get lots of sleep. Read up on poker rules. Five card draw, five and seven card stud, no wild cards."

"No blackjack? I play blackjack a lot at Atlantic City and Vegas."

"No blackjack, no craps tables or roulette. No slot machines, no bingo games. Just three different kinds of poker."

"Cool! I'll be ready to go at ten."

"The men will mostly be wearing coats and ties. They don't have a problem with my showing up in slacks and a nice blouse. The weather forecast has a possibility of snow, so wear something comfortable, but warm on your feet, a utilitarian coat."

"I don't need a lesson on how to dress from my little stepsister."

Kennedy stood up and walked over to Victoria. "Stand up."

Victoria stood up. "Victoria, who is looking down on whom?"

Victoria eyed her. "God isn't fair, either. And you're probably still growing, too."

"Three inches this summer, another inch this fall. Now I'm five nine. Mr. Glastonbury thinks another inch or two before I stop."

"A giantess. Well, I better go get my beauty sleep if I'm supposed to be up that early."

Kennedy repressed a sneer. She'd have been up for hours by then, worked out, done some running, had breakfast and spent some time with the books.

Victoria wore black cord slacks, a corn-stalk yellow blouse, with a simple gold chain around her neck. Kennedy just had polyester slacks and a light blue blouse, without adornment. Both wore woolen coats over their clothes.

They reached the restaurant without adventure a little before noon and the hostess took them towards the back, where Pipes was sitting, talking to Don Valentine. They smiled at Victoria when Kennedy made the introductions, then the two girls joined the men at the table for lunch. It was the same delightful ravioli as the last time and Kennedy polished off her plate with gusto.

Victoria shook her head. "If I ate like you, Kennedy, I'd look like the Goodyear blimp."

Pipes nodded. "I too have to do a lot of exercising to pay for the sins of the holiday culinary season."

Later, they played poker. On the first hand, Victoria maxed every raise, like the worst rube poker player. Kennedy was embarrassed, particularly when all the men stayed with her. Victoria took only one card, which Carlos dealt with his studied blank face.

Again, the raises maxed out in the second round. Kennedy had long since moved to the sidelines, thinking her sister was going to embarrass her terribly. She might have, if it hadn't been for the four eights she'd drawn in her hand to begin with.

A little after three in the afternoon, Carlos and Don Valentine were tapped out, Pipes was teetering and Kennedy had lost half her money. And it was all in front of Victoria.

Pipes waved his hand airily. "I want to leave with some shreds of dignity, how about we call it quits?"

Don Valentine laughed. "And why couldn't you have decided that while I still had some money left, eh?"

He nodded to Victoria. "You play poker very well, young woman. It's refreshing to meet someone who can beat Kennedy at something."

"It's true I got kicked out of Swarthmore for hanky-panky in the library. That was the last straw. The first couple of straws were poker games in my dorm room that lasted for days. My father taught me how to play."

Don Valentine smiled. "Ah! That explains it! I played with him once in Monte Carlo. The stakes were a little higher, but he also left me with just my pants."