Star Chamber Brotherhood Read Online Free PDF Page A

lived.  
    Over the past two decades, the Maine Coast had been hit by disaster after disaster including hurricanes, a tsunami, recurrent flooding, and massive forest fires, and had shared in the country’s pandemics, famines, and civil unrest as well. Since Harriet came from one of Maine’s larger clans, when the troubles hit Down East, her relatives called upon her early and often for help. Until her husband died in the Saigon Flu epidemic, she had been able to help many of them, taking in some for weeks at a time while they looked for work or a new home. But without her husband’s support, she had been obliged to sell the house and move in with her daughter in Boston.
    Werner found a seventh flute glass, though it didn’t match, and filled it for Harriet. Her eyes widened with delight, as sparkling wines had become a rarity even for relatively affluent professionals like Carol and her friends.
    “We give thanks to Carol for enriching our lives this past year and may she have her best year ever in 2029,” Linda Holt declared, raising her glass. “ Happy birthday!”
    To that, the seven raised their glasses and drank.
    Carol immediately set about opening the presents arranged before her on the coffee table. From Linda she received a crystal pendant, from the Steens a framed print, from the Professor a book of poetry, and from Werner an embossed antique silver bowl with hand chasing.
    Once all presents had been opened and duly admired, Werner dispensed the remaining wine and found a seat beside Carol on the sofa.
    “Cambridge,” Werner’ responded to Professor Worthington’s question where he found the silver bowl. “A woman lost her house in the flood and was selling some of her valuables. She had a beautiful silver collection. Most of the pieces were beyond my budget, but this one was reasonable enough.”
    “My wife collected heaps of silver in her day,” Worthington mused. “Her housekeeper spent a day each week polishing it. I suppose it must be a glut on the market these days, with so many people selling? Was she offering it through a dealer?”
    “Actually. I met the woman at a flea market. I make the rounds several times a week. It’s where I find leads for much of the pre-Events wine and spirits I trade.”
    “Really?” the older man questioned. “Don’t you find it dangerous to do business at flea markets? I’ve read that those places are teeming with thieves and pickpockets and shady characters selling counterfeit goods.”
    “Not at all. Most of the sellers are ordinary people,” Werner declared. “Some are former shopkeepers who can’t afford rent anymore, but continue to buy and sell in the open air. Others come only when they need to sell something to keep food on the table. These people aren’t stupid, Professor. They set up in fenced-off areas like schoolyards and vacant lots and arrange for their own security. Some even bring armed guards if they’re handling a lot of cash. Markets like these are how people have traded throughout the world since civilization began.”
    “I see your point, Frank,” Worthington conceded. “It’s been so long since I’ve traveled outside the country that I’ve nearly forgotten all those charming bazaars and marchés and mercados my wife used to drag me through.”
    “Frank,” Mary Steen chimed in, “Carol mentioned that you spent some years out West before returning to Boston. I’m so curious what it’s like now. Since the government declared so much of the West a Restricted Zone during the insurgency, it seems there’s hardly a mention of it in the media any more.”
    Her husband raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been told that anyone who works in a Restricted Zone is required to sign a nondisclosure agreement. If that’s so, perhaps Frank may not be at liberty to talk to us about what he saw there.”
    All eyes turned to Werner.
    “Oh, no, it’s perfectly all right,” Werner replied genially, emptying his glass. “Most of what I can