The Camel Club

CHAPTER

16

OLIVER STONE HAD RETURNED to his cottage and attempted sleep, but the night’s extraordinary events rendered that act impossible. He built a small fire to battle the chill in the air and sat and read until dawn, though his thoughts continually wandered to the death of Patrick Johnson. Or rather, murder. Then he made some coffee and had a bit of breakfast. After that, he spent the next several hours attending to his duties in the cemetery. As he weeded, cut the grass, cleared debris and cleaned off aged tombstones, he focused on how close he and his friends had come to losing their lives last night. It was a feeling he’d had many times earlier in his life, and he’d learned to deal with it. Now it would not go away so easily.

After he’d finished his work, he went inside the cottage and showered. Looking at his appearance in the mirror, Stone made a decision; only he didn’t have the necessary tools to implement that decision. Caleb and Reuben would be at work by now. And he just didn’t trust Milton to do the job properly.

There was really only one alternative. He headed to Chinatown.

“Adelphia?” Stone called out. It was forty-five minutes later, and he was standing outside her apartment, which was situated over a dry cleaners. “Adelphia?” he said again. He wondered if she’d already gone out. Then he heard approaching footsteps and Adelphia opened the door, dressed in a pair of black pants and a long sweater, her hair pulled back in a bun. She looked at him crossly.

“How you know where I live?” she demanded.

“You told me.”

“Oh.” She scowled at him. “How did meeting go?” she said irritably.

“Actually, there were a few surprises.”

“What is it you want, Oliver?”

Stone cleared his throat and launched into his lie. “I’ve thought about your advice about my appearance. So I was wondering if you could give me a haircut. I suppose I could do it myself, but I’m afraid the result would be worse than how I look right now.”

“It is not so bad you look.” This comment seemed to slip out before the lady realized it. She coughed self- consciously and then gazed at him in mild surprise. “So, you take my advice?”

He nodded. “I’m going to get some new clothes too. Well, new in the sense that they’ll be new to me. And shoes.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “And the beard? That thing that makes you look to be, how you say, that Rumpelstein person.”

“Yes, the beard will go too. But I can shave that off myself.”

She waved dismissively. “No, I do. I have dreamed many times of disappearing that beard.” She motioned him into her apartment. “Come, come, we do it now. Before your mind it is changed.”

Stone followed her in and looked around. The inside of Adelphia’s apartment was very clean and organized, which surprised him. The woman’s personality seemed far too impulsive and fractured to manufacture such order.

She led him into the bathroom and pointed to the toilet. “Sit.”

He did so while she busied herself with getting necessary instruments. From where he was sitting Stone could see a shelf in the hallway that held books on many subjects, a few in languages Stone did not recognize, though he had spent many years traveling the world.

“Do you know all those languages, Adelphia?” he asked, pointing at the books.

She stopped assembling her tools and looked at him suspiciously. “And why would books like that I keep if I could not read them? Does my apartment look so big that I keep things I no use?”

“I see your point.”

She draped a sheet over him and knotted it behind his neck.

“How much cutting is it you want?”

“Over the ears and off the neck will do nicely.”

“You are sure of this?”

“Absolutely sure.”

She started clipping. Finished, she combed his hair into place, gelling down a few stubborn cowlicks. Next she attacked his thick beard with her shears, whittling it down quickly. Then picked up another object.

“It is this I use on my legs,” she said, holding up a lady’s razor. “But it will do too for your face.”

When he saw what he looked like in a small mirror Adelphia handed him after she’d finished, Stone almost didn’t recognize his reflection. He rubbed at facial skin he had not seen in years. With the bundle of long, scraggly hair and beard gone he noted that he had a long forehead with stacks of wrinkles and a smooth, slender neck.

“It is a nice face you have,” Adelphia said sincerely. “And your neck is like baby’s skin. Me, I have got no nice neck. It is old woman’s. Like the turkey. ”

“I think you have very pleasing features, Adelphia,” he said. Stone was still looking at his face in the mirror, so he didn’t see her blush and quickly look down.

“You have visitor last night.”

Stone glanced up at her. “A visitor. Who?”

“A man in suit. His name it is Fort, or is something like that. I not remember exactly. He say to tell you of his coming by.”

“Fort?”

“I see him talking to those men, the ones across the street. You know him, Oliver. The Secret men.”

“The Secret Service. Do you mean Ford? Agent Alex Ford?”

Adelphia pointed at him. “That is it. A big man he is. Taller than you.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“Only that he say hello.”

“What time was this?”

“Do I look like keeper of time? I tell you he say hello.” She hesitated. “I think it is midnight he come by. It is nothing else I know.”

His mind now preoccupied with this latest news, Stone hurriedly rose and took off the sheet. “I would like to pay you,” he began, but she waved this offer away. “There must be something I can do to return this kindness.”

She glanced at him sharply. “There is a thing you can do.” She paused and he stared at her curiously. “We get the cafe sometime.” She added with a scowl, “When you not have big meeting in middle of night.”

Stone was a little taken aback but decided what was the harm in talk and coffee? “All right, Adelphia. I guess it’s time we did things like that.”

“Then that is good.” She put out her hand for him to shake. He was surprised by how strong her long fingers were.

As Stone walked along the streets a few minutes later, he thought about his late night visitor. Alex Ford had been closer to Stone than any of the other Secret Service agents. So his visit could be simply a coincidence.

Stone headed to a nearby Goodwill store. There, with the money Reuben had given him, he purchased two pairs of dungarees, a pair of sturdy walking shoes, socks, shirts, a sweater and a faded blue blazer. The clerk, whom he knew well, threw in two pairs of brand-new underwear.

“You look years younger, Oliver,” the man commented.

“I feel it. I really do,” he answered. He returned to Lafayette Park with his purchases to make a quick change inside his tent. However, as he started to enter his little sanctum, a voice called out.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, bud?”

Stone looked up to see a uniformed Secret Service agent staring at him. “That tent’s already occupied, so move on.”

Stone replied, “Officer, this is my tent.”

The guard walked over to him. “Stone? Is that really you?”