The Whole Megillah by Howard Engel Page B

because he went on to explain that it was his favourite drink. ‘I’ll not say no to a drop of Jameson’s or Paddy either. I enjoy a drop, I’ll say that much for myself.’ I still didn’t follow him, but I pretended that he was a great fellow with a wonderful wit and grinned my appreciation. ‘May I give you a dram of your own this early in the morning?’ I smiled again. He darted off the bed and pulled a bottle from a battered bureau. He dumped the toothbrush into the sink, rinsed the single glass, and handed it to me.
    â€˜ Slainte ,’ said Kurian.
    â€˜ Le chiam ,’ I responded. I sipped and passed the glass to Kurian. We passed it back and forth a few times. The whiskey was a jolt at this hour--or, if I’m honest, at any hour--and I was feeling quite warm when the glass stood empty.
    â€˜Bushmill,’ he said, musing. ‘Is that a West Country name at all?’
    â€˜Kurian,’ I answered him. ‘That’s not a Dublin name?’ He smiled and showed a blue tooth on the top left.
    â€˜Well, you have me there,’ he said. ‘Kurian’s the fellow I bought out. I took his stock and name. I found the stock excellent and have no complaints about the name. I was born Michael Brennan. I suspect that you are as Irish as I’m Armenian, Mr. Bushmill. What’s the game, sir?’
    â€˜For the present, Bushmill will do for a name. It belongs to a good friend, who won’t miss it. And as for you, Kurian’s as good a name as Brennan.’
    â€˜Exactly, Mr. Bushmill. Will you join me in another?’
    â€˜Gladly, when we’ve talked a little business.’
    â€˜You say you have a client? How high is he willing to bid? This has become an auction, you see. What’s his high card, sir?’
    â€˜You make no bones about having possession, then?’
    â€˜Why should I? I should tell you that I’ve been offered three hundred and fifty-thousand, which is a fair price, a fair price.’
    â€˜May I ask you how you came by the book?’
    â€˜Why, from its owner, of course. How else?’
    â€˜And when was that?’ I asked, without answering his question.
    â€˜Last Wednesday, I think. Yes, it was Wednesday. The day it rained all day.’
    â€˜My client doubts whether you can prove title.’
    â€˜Prove title? How are you?’ he said scornfully. ‘I wouldn’t waste my time. What I can prove is possession, and that’s as good an argument as I’ll give you. Can the British Museum prove title to the Elgin Marbles? Can the Berlin Museum prove title to the head of Queen Nefertiti? Title be damned!’
    â€˜Then the megillah can never officially be brought out of the dark.’
    â€˜And why not?’ said Kurian with a twinkle. ‘There’s brass in it, and where there’s brass there’ll be compromise.’
    â€˜Can I see it?’
    â€˜ "May" would be a better word--for more than one reason. And would you know what you’re looking at if you had it sitting in your lap, sir?’
    â€˜I know when it was printed and who printed it. I know about the hand-coloured illuminated initials. I know a little about paper and moveable type.’
    â€˜Better and better! But, bejesus, you don’t convince me yet.’
    â€˜I don’t have to. You’re right. But what you don’t know is how hot the book has become since you got it. You probably know that Moore is dead. Murdered. People who kill once may kill again. There are plenty of people who want what you say you have.’
    â€˜Impressive! Very good. Well, my boy, I’ll tell you, I’d be a fool to keep an item like that under my mattress.’
    â€˜That’s exactly where a man like you would keep it!’
    â€˜Ha! You are an original, Mr. Bushmill. I’ll say that for you. Let me say that I can find the book when it is needed. Is that clear enough for you?’ He began lighting a