CHAPTER TWELVE
The floor was empty.
The Smooth walls of the long polished corridor were painted pale-green in rich creaminess. The lights gave the perfect illumination and the red carpet on the floor appeared so vivid. Crimson doors of the rooms stood in opposites along the long corridor. Some have tags carrying warning signs dangling from their knobs.
The walls were also decorated with floral paintings in brown-woody frames, giving the whole floor some homey warmth. It was all quite; so quite that the atmosphere felt kind of ghostly.
The elevator bell rang through the floor as the lift alighted. The doors slid open and three well dressed men stepped out of it. No one spoke. Only their dull footsteps thud on the rugged floor as they walked. They stopped at the last door; numbered 1002.
There was a little bit of eagerness in each of them; and as they waited for the door to be opened, one of the men looked around the empty floor just to make sure it was really empty. Satisfied it was, he nodded at the other two.
Sitting calmly before a small monitor inside the room, X sipped his drink. He then stood up from the chair when he got visual of the men standing outside.
"They are here” he said
"Perfect. It's about time." The Boss rubbed his hands, an air of optimism and confidence whirling around him. Dressed in deep blue suit and a red tie, he twiddled in his chair with a straight face. It's been a while since he felt such excitement in him. He had waited a long time for this; and now that the moment it here, he'll take his time to make the greatest presentation of his business life. Maybe this meeting could cut him a multimillion dollar deal; the thought was exhilarating.
"Bring them in. I hope they're ready to get blown away." The Boss chucked
X opened the door and the three men strode in; he closed it and led them in to the suit where his boss was on his feet, waiting.
"Gentlemen; Welcome to Nevada."
"Thank you very much. I hope what we came for is ready." The oldest guy amongst the visitors shook hands with the Boss. He was about five feet eight; with a bald head and a moustache that almost covered his mouth.
"Of course, Mr. Brandon, it is. To my office, please."
The Boss nodded at X; and he led the way to the office.
The men walked silently behind X who all this while said nothing. His inclination to the whole thing rested not on the arrival of the men, but on the outcome of the meeting.
X knew the risk at stake. He knew the tallest guy with the visitors was a bodyguard even before the fellow pressed the door bell. The fact that he’s armed was no question. This is black market; X knew the drill. Trust and level headedness are always big problems in this sort of business. Packing heat is a prerequisite for safety. So the feeling of the gun tucked to X's pants was reassuring; kind of feels good. And as they walked into the office, X and the body guard exchanged hard stares. They both got the message. At least, the guy wouldn't try anything funny now that he knew he's got a match in the room.
"Gentlemen; please be seated."
The two men sat down, while the bodyguard remained standing; and so was X. Both had the front buttons of their jackets loosen. The Boss cleared his throat and spoke gently but with radiant enthusiasm.
"Greatest artists in human history had amazing powers of expression and deep thinking. The products of their thoughts make us marvel over the might of their creative geniuses for centuries. Every masterpiece created by their hands came with that power attached to it. Every canvas, every piece of sculpture, every page written and every signature scribbled is seen as if it's alive and breathing in those paintings, statues and books; and even in the lips of those who worship their greatness and live by it, day by day.
"Rembrandt, Bunnoroti, Da Vinci, Raphael, Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso and other masters of art lived lives of strife and imperfection at some point of their lifetime; yet, their masteries grew from strength to strength; and their stories were told to us today, not only by the art historians, but by their works as well. Original masterpieces from these masters are now belongings of just a few wealthy individuals in the world. Most of them have found sanctuaries in museums and few art galleries around the globe; but of course we all know that. However, few of them are not where we think they are." The seated men shifted in their seats on the last statement. The Boss was just about to hit the needed pitch point.
"Pablo Ruiz Picasso made about fifty thousand artworks during his wealthy and populous lifetime. Some of his artworks purchased by some individuals are never auctioned, nor exhibited anywhere in the world; Gentlemen; I'm pleased to tell you that one of those very rare masterpieces of this prolific master, is in this room."
They shifted again; agitated by the furiously rising adrenalin. The Boss walked to a corner of the room where long, red drapes covered what seemed like a window; their eyes followed him; every step of the little walk.
He pulled a blue rope and the drapes pulled gently apart to reveal what was behind them. "Gentlemen, I present to you; a rare Picasso; the Beauty in Sleep 1935."
Mr. Brandon's eyes almost popped out. His mouth opened wide at what appeared before them. It was a beauty; something he has never seen before.
Right there before them, was a masterpiece of solid magnificence, radiance, colour and perfection all combined in a breathtaking peppy image. And what made it all seemed so divine was the style; it's a real canvass painted by the grandmaster of abstraction himself.
The Boss watched the men exhibit an uncontrollable frenzy; it gave him a great pleasure that he was able to blow them away.
I got you; sons of bitches
Mr. Brandon stood up from his chair and walked like a zombie towards the painting and with an unbelievable look on his face. He kept moving until he reached the painting, then he touched it with his fingers.
"Is this real?" He asked himself.
"You tell me Mr. Brandon." The Boss replied; beaming.
"She's just... Perfect. Oh this is so perfect."
The Boss exchanged glances with X; he smiled, X didn't.
"That was an awesome presentation" Enthused Mr. Brandon. "I'm impressed; really. I've been collecting paintings for years and I must admit, what you presented looks the real deal. However; the outbreak of fake Picassos in the art market is of great concern to me. We still need certainty, that the piece had undergone all authentication procedure."
"Of course; New York to Nevada is a long way Mr. Brandon. Inviting you all the way here to look at a fake Picasso would be the greatest professional sin a man like me would never commit. I knew you'd ask about that despite the authentication documents I mailed you. I already made preparations for that. If you will please..."
"I also have." Mr. Brandon cut in. He turned to his companion and nodded. "This is Mr. Abraham, my authentication expert; I brought him along for this. Hope you don't mind."
"Of course not." The Boss smiled. "Do what you have to do. We'll give you a moment of privacy?"
"Yes; thank you."
The Boss and X left the room. Mr. Brandon turned to Abraham. "Take a closer look and tell me what you think."
Abraham stood before the painting for a moment; then scratched his cheek "Brandon; there are signs of originality here. The piece seemed to belong to the Later Works category way after cubism. It might have been done around the thirties because the autograph seems to be from around that time." He paused for a moment, looked closely, caressed the canvass with his fingers."The lines and the images have some degree of spontaneity in their sketches and the canvas texture has thickened a little bit due to embedded dust. I need to check the watermark." He opened his briefcase and set to work.
The Boss paced up and down, fuming. It had been ten minutes sine they had excused themselves out of the room to let Mr. Brandon and his partner do what they need to do. "What the hell is going on in there?"
"Patience boss; you asked to give them a moment; let them take their time."
"I'm not a patient man and they're taking long. I hate waiting X. I
hate waiting."
X stood calmly with folded arms watching his boss prowling about.
"With all the authentication documents we gave them, what more do they need?"
"It's the black market Boss; trust is always an issue; you said that yourself. I think you should chill out and sit. You're sweating already."
The Boss sighed uneasily and touched his forehead to feel the sweat. "Am I?" X nodded. So he sat on the couch and loosen his tie "Ok; let's be patient; let's wait. Get me a drink; and pour one for yourself too. Let's start celebrating before they are done wasting their time. Too bad people can't just get along in business without having doubts on someone's honesty."
And just when X walked to the tray for the drinks, Mr. Brandon's body guard opened the door.
"Mr. Brandon is done, you may come in now."
"Well well; it's about time." The Boss said. X kept the drinks and followed him.
Mr. Brandon and Abraham were still standing before the painting when the Boss strode in.
"Mr. Brandon; I hope what you found out wasn’t disappointing?"
"Well; Mr. Abraham will speak to us all."
The Boss's heart skipped a beat on that statement. He prayed it won't be bad news
"The painting is ninety per cent real" Said Abraham.
"You're French." The Boss said on hearing Abraham's accent.
"The final authentication analysis would be in our laboratory. We want to be certain about the age of the painting because we have little doubt on the age detail you gave us."
"What? I don't understand, are you saying I lied?" The Boss snapped.
"We're saying the age isn't accurate." Mr. Brandon Interrupted.
"The watermark on the canvas gave me a pre-indication the painting is older than you thought" Abraham continued "Now, we must know the accurate age of the painting before we finally conclude on its value. But the good news is; we think the painting is real."
The Boss silently screamed a ‘thank you' praise to the heavens on that statement.
"Congratulations." Mr. Brandon smiled and stretched out his hand to the Boss.
"Thank You Mr. Brandon. Shall we now talk about the price?"
"Oh yes; please"
My Favourite Muse Page 50
