Bartholomew Jacoby Kendall IV is thwarted
“We’ve found it,” the well-dressed man informed Bartholomew Kendall IV, known throughout the Society and New York City social circles as Jacoby. The suit, well-tailored and dark, could not hide the man’s muscles.
Kendall looked up from his book and dismissed the others in the club’s “reading room.” With wealth comes certain privileges, being able to clear everyone out of the secret room below the dining room, where those fortunate enough could sample the club’s rarest of wines, champagnes, and brandies, along with having hush tones to be able to read. He had a snifter filled with a rare bourbon, found in the basement of a Kentucky distillery and bottled in 1865. He finished it and looked his hired man.
“Well,” Kendall implored. “Out with it.”
The Muscle removed a piece of paper from his suit jacket’s inner pocket and unfolded it. He didn’t speak, just handed it to his boss. Kendall gave it a quick glance.
“Interesting,” the rich man mumbled. He folded it and placed it in his pocket. He stood and leaned in. “Does anyone else know of this?”
The man shook his head. “Only those who discovered the location and me.
“And let’s keep it that way.” Kendall took a few steps towards the secret staircase that lead back up to the ground floor before stopping. “Make sure our associates are well paid for finding the item.” A nasty smirk came to his face.
“Of course,” the Muscle answered. He waited until the rich man began his ascent below following. He knew once he reached a phone, he could tell others like him to give the locators their “rewards” for a job well done.
Jacoby Kendall sat in the Cadillac and stared at the house’s front door. The trip from the city took four hours, shorter than he expected. Diplomatic plates helped, allowed his driver to use the speed limit as a suggestion.
Inside were Muscle and another hired man, one who had been with Jacoby since he turned 18. The men had walked inside the two-story wooden house 10 minutes earlier, no knocking and waiting for the homeowners to answer. Kendall looked at his watch: it was taking too long for a snatch job.
His Muscle exited, his face confused, followed by his Man. The rich man rolled down the window and before he could question the two, a third man came out, an unfamiliar but young face.
The young man looked directly at Kendall and smiled. “You’re too late.” He turned and re-entered the house. A flash of light lit the scene.
“Damn!” Kendall screamed. He watched as his men shook their heads. He knew the reason for this: a confusion spell had been cast, presumably by the young man.
“What happened?” Muscle asked, looking at his boss.
“They arrived,” was all he could say.