On the riverside of promise Read Online Free PDF Page A

dived straight into the matter and said
bluntly:
     
    “Mr. Bloom, I need a cover.”
     
    Isidor Bloom blinked once or twice with an
unwavering, somewhat unnatural smile, and seemingly quite baffled,
replied:
     
    “I beg your pardon, what kind of cover are
you talking about Mr. Whittmore?”
     
    Before Ethan had time to elaborate, Mr. Bloom
had furrowed his brow, waving a `no-no’ finger at Ethan. He got up
from his chair and leisurely closed the door of his office. Ethan
could only frown with genuine puzzlement while Mr. Bloom sat down
again comfortably, lit his smoking pipe and had a puff. He then
asked Ethan while looking him directly in the eye, his gaze
strangely unnerving:
     
    “Do you ask for a cunt when walking into a
brothel, Mr. Whittmore? In such delicate matters, a little more
room for maneuver is usually required. You’d ask for a girl or a
woman, perhaps even some company. Not for a cunt, which what
brothels have on offer. Are you following me, son?”
     
    Ethan looked ever more perplexed, especially
by the sudden change of mood in the middle-aged man. He understood
he had been too blunt, but while trying to think what to say next
and especially how to apologise, the public servant leaned closer
to Ethan before continuing:
     
    “Listen, old chap; everybody knows what we’re
doing here and everyone, including us, knows we’re just doing
pottery and traditional art exhibitions. On Thursdays there’s a
bagpipe night, though. Savvy?”
     
    Ethan nodded numbly despite not actually
understanding all too well what the man was trying to get at. Mr.
Bloom saw the confusion written on Ethan’s face and after sighing
slightly, continued:
     
    “Right. Well then, let’s make things easier
for you, and expediate the process. Is there someone I can call on
your behalf? Someone who can help me, help you?”
     
    At that, Ethan replied automatically, as if
he had been waiting for that question for some time:
     
    “Yes, sir. That would be Ian Ruthers, a
personal friend.”
     
    As suddenly as before, Mr. Bloom’s attitude
switched back to his jovial, well-mannered and quite expedient
self. Wearing an almost disconcertingly wide grin on his face, he
picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a single number, and
said:
     
    “Hello? Jenny? Put me through to Bristol.
Yes, yes, definitely.”
     
    A small wait ensued, which was reason enough
for Ethan to start sweating even though the temperature inside the
room was quite pleasant. Mr. Bloom kept smiling and nodding in a
reassuring fashion, which only accentuated the weird stressful
feeling of anxiety that had overcome Ethan. Mr. Bloom was then
heard talking over the phone:
     
    “Hello? Leonard? Yes, it’s me Isidor. Long
time no see, but it’s business again I’m afraid. Is Ruthers one of
yours? I see. Is he hot right now? No? Ah, splendid. Could you tell
him to give me a call please? Yes, my office. Well, right about now
would be indeed a perfect time. I’d like to get on with this before
lunch. Yes, well she’s fine, working on her garden and all that.
How’s Marie? Loved her cherry pie last Christmas, marvellous stuff
really. Would love to, old chap. Have your man call me, alright
then? Goodbye Leonard, don’t forget to give my regards.
Goodbye.”
     
    Once he hang up the phone, Mr. Bloom
surprised Ethan once again with his choice of words:
     
    “Fucking cunt can sod off. Now, let’s clear
up a few things: This friend of yours, Ruthers, can sod off as
well. If he’s going to push something for me down my pipe, that’s
fine and all. I don’t give fuckall about the why or how. Do you
understand that? I’m going home to Cheltenham before Christmas, and
this desk can rot on my piss. And just so that you know, the cock
around here tastes awful so brush often and have a care with that
mouth of yours.”
     
    Mr. Bloom put out his pipe, placed it in his
shirt pocket, picked up his hat and strolled out of his office,
careful to smoothly close the door