Part 18 (2/2)

'Yes.' The Doctor shook his head. 'One is often brought up short by the more ugly aspects of this era. But how did you even know I was looking for Duke Ellington?'

'Oh come on. The way Cosmic Ray kept banging on about his music it was obvious he's a pretty important factor in this whole operation. So when I hear he's on the same train you decided we should catch then I'm hardly likely to think it's a coincidence, am I?'

'Indeed not. Well done, Ace.'

Ace hopped off the hamper and joined the Doctor. 'So are we going to the Pullman car?'

'To the dining car, actually. I believe the Duke is just sitting down to his breakfast.'

'Breakfast?' said Ace, checking her watch. 'It's past noon.'

'Jazz musicians, Ace. Jazz musicians.'

Ace soon realised why they called him the Duke. He was a large, dapper man with smooth cafe au lait cafe au lait skin. He wore a beautifully tailored Prince of Wales check jacket, comfortably cut to accommodate his ample contours. He was a man with considerable flesh on him, and unmarked by any outward signs of hards.h.i.+p or suffering, he looked as sleek as a seal. His eyes were sleepy yet alert and a gentle smile played on his lips, coming and going as he sat at the table in the dining car a small table further dwarfed by his bulk discussing with the Doctor the ramifications of the departure of someone called Juan Tizol from the Duke's orchestra. skin. He wore a beautifully tailored Prince of Wales check jacket, comfortably cut to accommodate his ample contours. He was a man with considerable flesh on him, and unmarked by any outward signs of hards.h.i.+p or suffering, he looked as sleek as a seal. His eyes were sleepy yet alert and a gentle smile played on his lips, coming and going as he sat at the table in the dining car a small table further dwarfed by his bulk discussing with the Doctor the ramifications of the departure of someone called Juan Tizol from the Duke's orchestra.

'You need three men just to replace him,' said the Doctor.

'Indeed,' agreed Duke Ellington, nodding graciously. 'Very true, very true.'

He looked at Ace, who was sitting beside the Doctor. 'Your friend is an astute scholar of the swing combo.' He turned back to the Doctor. 'Three men indeed. Sweetpea to help with the composing, Claude Jones to play the valve trombone and good old Tom Whaley to help copy the parts. It was one of those challenges that the Good Lord likes to send my way now and then.' He smiled at Ace. 'I don't think He ever wants me to get too comfortable.' The smile warmed his lazy eyes and Ace realised that, with that smile, those eyes 119and his beautiful manners, the Duke must be something of a lady-killer. Then, of course, there was also the fact that he was a wealthy music star. That would be quite enough to offset the matter of the Duke's considerable girth. He was a big man, and there was no mystery why.

When they had sat down to join the Duke, invited with a gracious wave of the hand after the Doctor had introduced himself, the Duke had been dining on scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, a dozen slices of hot b.u.t.tered toast, hash fried potatoes, three m.u.f.fins with jam, coffee and orange juice. In the course of their conversation he had managed to smoothly put most of this away without ever once talking with his mouth full or spilling a crumb on his immaculate clothing. He moved the knife and fork in his hands with the graceful dexterity of a world-cla.s.s conductor waving his baton in front of a symphony orchestra. 'Tricky Sam still hasn't got over Juan's departure,' he added.

'And that terrible thing with Blanton,' said the Doctor as the Duke finished the last morsel of hash frieds, set his cutlery neatly on the plate and proceeded to address the m.u.f.fins. 'Such a tragedy.'

The Duke nodded, solemnly consuming the first of the three m.u.f.fins. 'Jimmy was so young,' he said. 'He had so much music in him. It was a terrible blow have all that music silenced, but the Lord sends these trials now and then to test our strength, and our faith.' He dispatched the second m.u.f.fin in a couple of swift but somehow unhurried bites and paused for a moment to look at the third m.u.f.fin. It was the only piece of food on the table left undevoured, like the cornered, loan survivor of a ma.s.sacre. 'I never knew anybody could make an upright ba.s.s talk like that. And I don't think anyone ever will again.' He paused, sadness heavy in his eyes for a moment, then fading as he comforted himself with the final m.u.f.fin.

'And you've had some very interesting singers in the band over the years,'

said the Doctor, shooting Ace a glance.

'Hmm, certainly. Very true, very true.' A white-coated black waiter came up to their table, beamed a smile, and began removing the Duke's plates.

Ellington smiled back at the man and said, 'I'm ready now, thank you.' Ready for what? thought Ace.

'Ivy Anderson, Bing Crosby, the Mills Brothers, Herb Jeffries, Al Hibbler,'

said the Doctor. 'And that girl who got into all the trouble.'

The waiter came back pus.h.i.+ng a gleaming chrome steam trolley. He opened the lid to reveal two white plates stacked high with brown-and-beige pancakes, a block of b.u.t.ter melting atop each one, a large green bowl of sausages, and a white jug full of syrup. Using a napkin to protect his hands from the hot porcelain, the waiter transferred the food onto the table. The Duke smiled at the food, then at the Doctor. 'A girl singer who got into trouble?' he 120drawled lazily 'I'm afraid you'll have to be somewhat more precise.' He chuckled. 'There's plenty of them and they all seem to find some way to get into trouble at one time or another.' He turned to the waiter. 'And some bacon, please.'

Bacon? thought Ace, staring at the mound of food on the table.

'This particular girl got into some very specific trouble.'

'Really?' said the Duke, his forehead wrinkling in a frown of sympathy as he poured a generous serving of warm maple syrup onto each of the tall piles of pancakes. He contentedly inspected the syrup dripping down the pancakes, like an artist pleased with an effect on a canvas. 'The poor dear.' He carefully speared one of the piles with a fork, holding it steady as he used the knife in his other hand, cutting like a surgeon. He removed a neat high wedge of pancake, layered like a prime archaeological site, compressed it carefully onto his fork, transferred it to his mouth, chewed and swallowed. He dabbed at his chin with a white napkin, removing a trace of syrup. 'Not too serious I hope.'

'Quite serious,' said the Doctor. 'Trouble with the government. About her sympathies. Or perhaps I should say her loyalties.'

'Ah,' said the Duke. 'That's the silken lady you're alluding to.' He shook his head and set to work carving out another wedge of pancakes. He cut, chewed, swallowed. 'Such a shame, a pretty little thing like that with such a daydream of a voice.' He addressed another wedge of pancakes. 'Then she had to go and get involved in politics.'

'I imagine she felt compelled to because of her background,' said the Doctor.

'Her j.a.panese blood.'

The Duke listened carefully as he continued eating. He had now finished his first plate of pancakes and pushed it aside, drawing the second one closer. 'Yes, you might indeed be tempted to think that, but when she was singing with my band I got to know Lady Silk quite well, and I have to say she didn't seem to have a political bone in her pretty little body. She just changed completely.

Something changed her completely. Now they say she's making propaganda for the enemy And she's a fugitive from justice.' The Duke shook his head as he began to demolish the second stack of pancakes, pausing now and then to help himself to sausages. 'It's such a pity.'

'I believe Lady Silk sang with your band before the war. When you were performing in Los Angeles,' said the Doctor.

The Duke paused in his attack on the sausages. 'Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago, New York, New Orleans, Winnipeg. Across the entire atlas. But mostly Los Angeles. That's where Silk came from. Her home town.'

'So I understood,' said the Doctor. He was smiling and he had that look in his eyes that Ace knew well. The look of a hunter who has at last come in sight of his prey. 'I was wondering if you might have any recollections of places she 121was especially fond of frequenting. Her old haunts, so to speak.'

The Duke finished the last of the pancakes and impaled a lone surviving sausage on his fork. He chewed the sausage, regarding the Doctor shrewdly.

'You wouldn't happen to be some kind of Fed, would you, my friend? A G-man as well as an aficionado of hot music?'

The Doctor grinned as if he had been waiting for this moment and took out a small wallet containing an ID card and a very large, very official-looking badge. Duke Ellington inspected it as he patted his lips with his napkin. 'Of course,' said the Doctor, 'I would entirely understand if you felt you were unable to help us out of a sense of loyalty to an erstwhile colleague of yours.'

Setting down his napkin, the Duke shook his head emphatically. 'Silk was a great vocaliser and I admired her artistry. She was also, when I used to know her, a very sweet person. But something happened to her. She changed. And became what she became. A tool for the enemy.' He looked at the Doctor, his eyes cool and a.s.sured. 'It grieves me to say it, but if I can help you put her behind bars, then I will. It gives me a heavy heart, friend, but my first loyalty is to Uncle Sam.'

'Most commendable,' said the Doctor. 'If we can locate her I guarantee she won't be badly treated. We'll handle her with kid gloves.'

'Not silk gloves?' said the Duke, with a thin, wry smile. Now that he'd agreed to help them he seemed wistful, almost regretful. Ace wondered if the band leader's relations.h.i.+p with the singer had been more than purely professional. The Duke carefully wiped his hands on the napkin, set it aside, and delved into the pocket of his jacket. He took out a notepad and a pen. 'I'll give you some addresses. Mostly music joints.'

'She's unlikely to be showing her face in public for obvious reasons,' said the Doctor.

The Duke nodded. 'I'll also make a note of several drinking establishments, some of them rather less salubrious than others. They're not exactly what you would call public places. And if you're going to visit them I suggest you approach them with a certain amount of caution.' He looked at Ace. 'Especially if you're taking a lady along with you.'

'I'm no lady,' said Ace.

Ellington chuckled. 'Of course you are darling, of course you are.'

'Ace merely means that she can take care of herself. Indeed, upon occasion she has had to take care of me.'

'A friend in need? You are a fortunate man, indeed.' The Duke stopped writing and contemplated the list. 'There is one other place. As you may know, California in general and Los Angeles in particular is a hotbed of cults and charlatans and purveyors of multifarious brands of snake oil. Something about the west coast seems to attract them, and they certainly have no short-122age of adherents.' The Duke smiled. 'Tricky Sam says LA is long on suns.h.i.+ne and oranges, and short on brains. Perhaps that's why. Anyway, some of these phoney religious cats operate what they call churches. Places I would never dignify with such a designation. But there was one that Lady Silk used to get a kick out of visiting. She attended it on a regular basis. I'll put that down too.'

'Would you?' said the Doctor. 'That's extremely helpful.'

'My pleasure,' said Ellington. 'Anything to help Uncle Sam.' He tore the page from his notebook, then reached into his pocket and took out two squares of green cardboard, which he wrapped in the notebook page. 'Tickets for our Los Angeles show tonight,' he said, handing them to the Doctor. 'I hope you and your charming friend will do us the honour of attending.'

'Thank you, that's very kind indeed.' The Doctor accepted the tickets and the piece of paper. The waiter came up beside their table, carrying a metal chafing dish full of crisp bacon. He looked crestfallen when he saw that the Duke had already polished off his pancakes.

'I'm sorry sir,' said the waiter. 'They were backed up in the kitchen, getting ready for lunch and I had to get them to fry up some special. I told them to get a move on. I told them if they didn't hurry they'd be too late.'

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