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Balloch finally managed to get his smoke alight to his own satisfaction. "Haven't seen you in the club before," he said casually, inspecting the burning end of his cigar. "Well, you know how it is," I drawled, "I don't get in here very often these days. Business, you understand. Keeps me out and about." I leaned forward and picked up the brandy balloon, then waved it slightly unsteadily in a second toast. Balloch took the hint, returned the salute and sipped at the Armagnac. He liked it. So did I. I could get a taste for this stuff, if I worked at it for a while. Better than the cheap rotgut I usually drink. "Going well, your business?" Balloch asked in with very nearly successfully concealed interest. Time to string him along a little. "Oh, quite steady, fairly sound," I replied airily, then added, "All a bit boring, actually. I'm looking for new avenues, new opportunities." Balloch should never play poker, at least with me. He just couldn't conceal the surge of excitement when he thought he had a fish on the hook. Oh, he tried to keep a calm thoughtful look on his face, but the flash in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. "Well, as it happens," he said urbanely, pausing for another sip from his glass, "I'm looking for another investor in a little enterprise of my own. I'm a theatre angel for modern popular productions and there's a spot in a new show at the Midnight Square Theatre." "You know, I'm very interested in the theatre," I said slowly, as if thoughtfully - or what would pass for it having apparently drunk a whole bottle of wine, "Although I don't know very much about it." I got the whole sales spiel. Balloch spent at least fifteen minutes talking about the theatre business nineteen to the dozen: what a wonderful opportunity for an investment, how different the world of entertainment was from other businesses, the whole nine yards. The pitch was polished and well-argued, and left me with little to do other than to nod in a fascinated way every thirty seconds and sip my brandy occasionally. "Very interesting," I said when he had wound down enough for me to get a word in. "So you'd like to know more?" "I'd certainly like to have a closer look," I replied, attempting to look shrewd through my supposed inebriation, "Understand a bit about how the theatre works, that kind of thing." "I'd be delighted to show you around," Balloch said, smiling broadly, "How about tomorrow?" "Tomorrow, yes, that would be possible," I slurred, "Not too early." "It's a date," he said decisively, "Now, I must be off. Shall I expect you at the Midnight Square at, say, eleven?" I nodded repeatedly, trying to give the impression that I was committing something important to a slightly befuddled memory. "See you tomorrow morning," he went on, "Have a good night." With that, he drained the last of his brandy, stood slightly unsteadily, stuck the cigar in his mouth and wandered off. I watched Balloch as he made his way out of the library. Few, if any, members watched him leave; most were either dozing or engaged in their own animated conversations. Strathallan observed him closely, bowing slightly as he passed. Balloch ignored the waiter entirely. People who really belong here, I mused, were brought up with certain standards. One of them was: always be polite to the servants. I drained the last of my Armagnac. It really was good stuff. A few moments later, Strathallan materialised at my elbow and swept up the now-empty glasses. "Was the brandy to your satisfaction, sir?" he murmured, keeping up appearances in case anybody nearby was less asleep than they appeared. "You know," I replied offhandedly, "I think it might have been some of the best I’ve tasted."
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Part 15