Gambit Page #6

Good evening, madam.

I am terribly sorry.

Tomorrow evening's Kirov Ballet

is quite sold out

and it's the last performance.

- Oh, my!

- Yes.

Shall we try The Cherry Orchard

at the Duke of York's?

- Yes, let's.

- Lovely.

Lovely. Still just the one...

the one ticket?

- Yes, just the one.

- Lovely. As you please.

- Have a very nice evening.

- Yes, I shall try.

Straight back into bed. My husband

doesn't arrive until Thursday.

Of course, madam.

It must seem like an eternity.

There.

The vase.

Just nipping down the hall for some ice.

You can fly private,

but you still have to take the time.

That's why you need a place like this

to lay your sleepy head.

Oh, look. Here we are.

Here we are. Well, thanks

for escorting me up, Lionel.

I'm pretty tuckered out,

so I should probably just...

- Nonsense. Let's have a nightcap.

- What?

A nightcap, that's code, really,

for a bit more conversation

- and then... who knows?

- Er...

- Well...

- I'm making you uncomfortable.

- Perhaps another time.

- Oh, no, that's fine.

We should do it tonight, so here we go.

Let's go on in. You first.

- What are you doing?

- What?

- Evening, Mr Deane.

- Evening.

Hey, get your butt in here. Come on.

Quite the extensive bar.

What are you having?

Let me think about it.

I'll be right there.

What are you doing here?

Where are your pants?

Hanging on the tree downstairs.

What are you doing with Shabandar?

They're what?

Hanging on the tree downstairs.

Good God, I can hardly put it

more plainly!

There's Scotch, gin, Jgermeister...

Why would you hang your pants

in a tree?

- It ain't Christmas.

- I didn't hang them there.

Why did you invite Shabandar

to your room?

Do your orgiastic impulses

know no limits? You've been drinking.

If I wanna have a nightcap, well,

I am of drinking age and voting age

and the age of consent.

And I can have anyone I want

up to my room,

cos you ain't paying for it

no more anyways.

- What? Are you jealous?

- Jealous? Don't be absurd.

Champagne cooling.

Are you coming out or are you slipping

into something more approachable?

Yeah, that's it.

All sense of shame

is well and truly atrophied.

Not only do you not seek to disguise

your wanton behaviour...

My behaviour? Why don't you go first?

Why were you out on that ledge,

what was in that vase

and why are your pants

hanging in a tree?

You're a very suspicious person, really.

There was nothing in the vase.

As for the rest of it, it is involved,

but unlike your shenanigans,

there's a sensible plan

governing my behaviour.

- Jealous. Good God.

- Ready or not,

here I have to come.

I need to use the lavatory.

But I shall respect your modesty.

I don't suppose you could dash down

and get my trousers?

You get out of here, Harry Deane.

You go get your own damn trousers.

Well, thanks a lot.

- So you don't have any ice, then?

- What?

What did you say?

- Do we have any ice?

- No, not with champagne.

Harry. Harry.

- Harry.

- It's alright. I've practised.

Are you decent?

I'm coming out.

I've never told you, have I,

the story of the Shabandar lion?

Oh! Wanker.

Stroke of luck, madam. One ticket left

for The Cherry Orchard.

- Third row in the stalls, aisle seat.

- Ah, wonderful.

Splendid.

Book that for you straightaway.

Oh, that's where it is. Excuse me.

Housekeeping.

Evening, Mr Deane.

Sometimes I wonder if they drink.

Right, shan't bother you again

and I'll tell switchboard to put

a Do Not Disturb on room 318.

Good evening.

Good evening, sir.

Did you find your glasses?

Yes, thank you. Got 'em right here.

Not forgetting anything else,

are we, sir?

No, no, I shouldn't think so.

- At least he's wearing a tie.

- Extraordinary fellow.

Good morning.

Harry Deane, are you spying on me?

No, not at all.

It's just that seducing Shabandar,

last I checked,

was not part of our plan.

Well, like Momma always used to say,

scratch it if it itches,

even if it's in your britches.

Miss, I've had sufficient

of your mother's gnomic utterances.

Relax, Harry.

Face it, our little plan

ain't exactly operational any more.

You're wrong.

Look...

We gotta have a little talk here.

See, there's two kinds of people.

There's people like Lionel with big

deals and big cars and manners an' all,

and there's people like us.

Look at you, running around

all desperate and cockamamie,

pretending like you're gonna

take Lionel for a gazillion dollars.

Well, Harry Deane,

it ain't gonna happen.

You're not Lionel,

and why would you wanna be?

You got your own thing going on,

with all your art

and your beautiful little painting.

But you gotta quit

trying to be something you're not.

It's OK, you know.

You being you is... is OK.

Look, I understand how certain

unforeseen wrinkles in my plans

have conspired to diminish

your confidence in me.

Consider that you might

still have an obligation,

having incurred considerable expense,

having pledged

a degree of cooperation

and having...

having wounded me personally

by fraternising with a man

who does not deserve your respect,

who's a cynical manipulator

of those less powerful

and who's a degenerate nudist at that.

Only person I've seen traipsing round

London in their underwear is you.

That is not the point.

You sure do have nice eyes

for a fella who never smiles.

Too bad you're all wrapped up

in your crazy scheme.

Maybe you could ungrit your teeth

a little bit every once in a while.

OK, I get it.

I think it's trouble, but...

I'll play along at Lionel's party,

if that's what you want.

Yes, yes. Thank you, madam,

that is all I ask.

I'm certain after tonight, you shall

have reason to admire the skills

of a reborn, reinvigorated

and surprisingly capable Harry Deane.

If you say so.

- Very good evening to you.

- You're most welcome.

Thank you.

There are moments in a life

that define a man.

This was Mr Deane's.

He was sprung for action

and yet perfectly capable

of blowing it completely.

Here we go.

Zowie.

- This the painting?

- Painting's in the crate.

This is my easel so I can have a look

at the bloody thing.

Uncrate the painting in the gallery.

I'll look at it up there.

Managed to get hold of the guest list.

No sign of Zaidenweber, thank God.

You should go, Major.

No reason to put yourself at risk.

You know where to find me.

Good luck, old thing.

- Howdy.

- Good evening.

- Hey, there. Great mask.

- Thank you.

- Hi.

- Good evening.

I'm so glad you could make it

and that you've decided

to consummate our little transaction.

Perhaps you might allow me to do

the same with our other little affair.

You can try all you want, Shabby.

Shabby.

- Shabandar-san!

- Oh, Christ.

It is I, Chuck.

We wish to thank you for extending

of your hospitality

of your extra-big house.

Oh, yes, quite. Delighted.

I see you managed to find the bar.

And if you're hungry,

there's a big old spread over there.

Our boy Lionel pulled out all the stops.

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