Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

hesitated, but then what was the point in lying now? They’d hear about it sooner or later. “Elizabeth’s gone to dinner with him,” he said. “And I plan on interrupting.”
    Charlie’s eyes went round with alarm. “Lizzy? Why would she do that?”
    As if he weren’t worried enough, Charlie’s near panicked voice sent Simon into overdrive. “Where does he live?”
    “You can’t just go bustin’ in. King’s not a man you wanna cross.”
    “Neither am I.”
    They stood at an impasse. The silence in the room stretched out between them until it was paper thin.
    Charlie gave him a measured look. “There’s somethin’ you need to know, Professor.”
    Dix paled and gripped his arm. “Charlie.”
“Get me a bottle of the good stuff,” he said without looking away from Simon.
    Didn’t this buffoon realize every minute was precious?
    “I don’t want a drink.”
    Charlie shook his head. “Ain’t for you. Come on,” he said. “Give it over, Dix.”
    Her hands trembled as she held the bottle, her eyes beseeching. “We ain’t supposed to say nothin’, Charlie.”
    Charlie took the whiskey from her hand and then opened the door to the storeroom. “You might think I’m one stop from Bellevue, but...there’s something you need to know.”
    * * *
    Elizabeth had never been claustrophobic before, but she had the feeling the walls of the elevator were closing in on her as she neared King’s penthouse. She took a few deep, calming breaths and swallowed the urge to make inane small talk with the elevator operator. Not that he would have responded. He hadn’t met her eyes once since she’d gotten in. He looked straight ahead like a soldier, working the car’s levers with quick, sure movements. He brought the car to a stop and the doors opened to reveal a lavish foyer.
    Art deco moldings circled the high, arched ceiling of the rotunda. Stark, white, Greek marble statues stood sentinel to over-sized doubled doors. She hesitated and then stepped off the elevator. The doors shut quickly behind her.
    She was debating whether to knock or run away when the double doors opened inward. For a second, she thought they’d opened by themselves. Then she saw one of King’s men standing there, devoid of expression. He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. A ghostly butler would have been better.
    There was no turning back now, Elizabeth realized as she steadied her jangled nerves and walked inside. She flexed her hands and tried to relax. The last thing she needed was to go into dinner already on edge.
    Antiquities from every imaginable period lined the walls of the main hall. Cloisonné vases, intricately carved ivory statues mingled with marble busts and classic paintings. Thick tapestries covered most of the walls. There wasn’t an empty space to be found. It wasn’t exactly cluttered, but full. Too full. The overly ornate chandelier hung overhead like a crystalline storm cloud. Candlelight reflected in jumbled prismatic colors. She shuddered; it wasn’t the cold room temperature, but the impersonal chill of things to be admired, but never touched. Oppressively rich and heavy fabrics covered the windows.
    Lines from Coleridge’s “Kubla Kahn” came to her mind: “In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure dome decree: where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea.”
    The henchman gestured for her to follow, and she trailed along behind him down the hall. She’d never seen such an ostentatious display of wealth. In spite of her nerves, she couldn’t help but stare. An exquisite soft-paste porcelain vase painted with Roman soldiers and Cleopatra sat nestled on a glass case. Under the glass was row after row of jewelry. Jade, gold, every kind of stone imaginable rested in ornate settings.
    To the left was a brown ink drawing of a woman holding the hands of small children. She stopped walking, drawn in by innocence of the piece, so atypical to what she knew of King.
    “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
    She jumped back and crashed into King, who’d silently moved behind her. “S-sorry. I...Quite a collection.”
    He smiled down at her before turning his attention back to the artwork. “I’ve always collected beautiful things.”
    She smoothed down her already smooth hair in an attempt to gather her composure. “One of the perks of being richer than God, I guess.”
    He laughed easily and looked at her. “Money has its benefits, but there are some things