Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic

[Panache]

Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic


A Victorian Serial told in Chapters

Chapter 1



This is how it all began.


I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes and filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, keeping it simple..

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a squeeze of lemon…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime and garnished it with a spear of cucumber…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with an orange slice…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a slice of mango and an artfully arranged tiny pickled squid…

My mind reeled as an infinite number of gin and tonics were made in an infinite number of ways at the same moment in the same place. The dark oak paneled library / libraries of the Great Golden Hall / Halls of X Marks the Scot began to spin and darkness began to envelope my / our vision / visions.


Then everything went black.









Opening my eyes I found my fellow moderators Todd and Nelson holding me up and looking concerned. “Are you alright?” Todd asked. I blinked a few times and looked down at the silver and mahogany cocktail trolley our butler Spasm had wheeled in for our libations promptly as the hour struck 4. A single drink sat there innocently with single small lime wedge floating among the ice cubes.

“I’m fine thank you. I‘m not sure what came over me there“ I said standing on my own and straightening the pleats of my kilt.

Nelson said “all of the sudden your eyes glazed over and you began to pitch forward”

Todd looked at me reproachfully , “How many of those have you had? If Nelson and I hadn‘t grabbed you , you would have collapsed over the trolley. Lucky thing we got to you first“

“Especially since there was 20 year old Macallan in the decanter” noted Nelson , as usual having his priorities straight.

“I haven’t had anything to drink yet.” I reached down for my cocktail and remedied that particular problem immediately.

“Do you think it has anything to do with those big crates from MHICE?” asked Nelson.

“I shouldn’t think so. Mike approved the delivery and I had David’s trained attack badger smell the boxes and they seemed alright to him.”

“Mr. Tibbles is actually useful for something other than clawing the furniture and us? I’m surprised” remarked Todd with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes he can smell explosives and other illegal substances”

“Does David worry about receiving such things often?” asked Nelson

“Err… In truth I think he uses him to check out the effectiveness of the wrappings of packages he mails out”

There was an awkward pause among the three of us as we contemplated the Moderator David‘s possibly sinister epistolary pursuits. .

Nelson stroked his neatly trimmed goatee, “any idea what is in those boxes?”

I shook my head. This morning we had been contacted by the local train station that a delivery awaited the League of the Moderators. Heralds Arlen, Dave, and Dee had been dispatched with a large black lorry to retrieve it. They returned grumbling and sweating some time later with three large crates and one small package. All were addressed to the League, care of none other than myself! The return address was Dorset, England and the sender was one Madam Pleater, Head Director of the Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence? Mike, the most grizzled of Moderators (though in truth he might prefer the terms “seasoned, experienced, or wise“ to grizzled, but being that this narrative is mine and not his I shall stand by my descriptor and dearly hope that he doesn’t read it. But I digress) gave his gruff approval that the crates be taken into the Great Golden Hall without further explanation. Having been previously the recipient of several explosive devices contained in rubber chickens delivered by the post, I took the liberty of borrowing Mr. Tibbles and setting him to examine the crates. Once it had been determined they were safe I opened the one small package, being instructions to do so first were neatly printed on it.

Inside was an ornate, thick, and heavy silver waist plate with a enameled blue and white saltire along with a short handwritten note which read:

Captain Panache,

Please accept and wear this buckle as a token of our esteem and trust. You will have received three crates with this package. Please see that they are taken to your zeppelin. The mechanisms can be installed by your chief technical officer as soon as we have finished our final calculations and calibrated our instruments.

I will directly communicate with you in further detail shortly.

Sincerely

Madame Pleater

P.S. WEAR THE BUCKLE!

Reading the note I had the strangest thought of stuffing lighted rags into and then hurling bottle after bottle of good gin from the gondola of my wonderful zeppelin to destroy an elaborate rose garden in a drugged stupor. It seemed almost like a memory but I could never imagine doing such a strange and wasteful thing.
It was very disquieting that she referred to me as “Captain” and seemed to know of my zeppelin, the Saltire. The existence of the blue and white dirigible was a secret known to few beyond the members of the League of the Moderators and her crew.

I had the crates taken to the hidden hangar of my zeppelin and decided to wear the handsome waist plate.

Feeling somewhat revived from the gin and tonic I again thanked Todd and Nelson and excused myself from the library. Thinking that a measure of fresh air might do me a world of good I started down huge stairway towards the grand foyer for a bit of a stroll through the grounds. From the Concert Hall I heard Nelson's private Symphony Orchestra practicing "Songe d'une nuit du Sabbat" from Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. It seemed most appropriate considering my strange experience in the Library. I paused a moment to enjoy the music. Nelson's musicians served double duty as his orchestra (and one of the finest on the Eastern Coast) as well as my stalwart crew of the zeppelin XMTSAS Saltire. Continuing onward and stepping onto the first landing I came upon Herald Dove. He, like myself was dressed in a kilt of the proud blue based tartan of our noble forum. His silver horn of office adorned with a dove lay on his breast. Being that he was supposedly well versed in such things I asked him about “Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence”. He thought for a moment and said “Well Jamie, it is said that when Her Majesty’s government has an impossible problem they turn to MI6 and when MI6 has an impossible problem they turn to the MHICE.”

I thought on this for a moment and then asked if he knew anything about “Madam Pleater”. Dave began to speak but I never heard his response.

Because he abruptly vanished in a flash of blue light!

To be continued …