She spent a lazy weekend at home, reading, after Thanksgiving. It rained all weekend, and she was happy to be at home in her tiny apartment, which had begun to feel like home, and a cozy cocoon.
—
On Thursday morning, their customs broker called her. Their bags had arrived from Beijing, all two hundred of them, and since she had signed the customs documents in China, he wanted her to clear them with him. She told Ed where she was going shortly before noon. He had a mountain of things on his desk and half a dozen designs on his computer screen and looked distracted.
“Call me if you have any problems,” he said vaguely as she left for U.S. Customs at the airport.
“I won’t,” she reassured him. “The broker will be with me. Everything was very straightforward at the other end.” She sounded confident.
“You never know with customs. They get upset with some minor detail, a zipper or the thread content of the lining. It depends on their mood of the hour and the alignment of the stars that day, and if the customs agent wants to do it by the book.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” She had never cleared a shipment on her own, and normally she wouldn’t have had to, except that she had filled out all the forms and signed every document herself, as Paul had instructed her to since he had made her responsible for the line, and it was a first for her.
She ran into Paul as she left the building, on his way to lunch, and he smiled broadly when he saw her. He looked very dapper in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and red tie, a beautifully cut overcoat, and shoes she recognized as John Lobb by Hermès. He never skimped on himself. He sold low-priced goods, but bought the best for his personal use. And his wife had the reputation of costing him a fortune, which he complained about good-naturedly from time to time. But he seemed to accept the high cost of marriage and divorce as a fact of life.
“Where are you off to?” he asked easily as she hurried to the Uber car she had called, waiting at the curb.
“The airport, customs, to clear our bags. They arrived. The broker just called me.” She knew that Paul would be pleased. She had bought them in black, brown, a natural color, and a few in red. And she agreed with him that they were going to be their new hot item for Christmas. They were beautifully made. Even the lining was attractive, in matching high-quality silk.
“Let’s get them into the stores as soon as we can,” he said, and then hurried off with his collar turned up against the cold, as she nodded agreement and got into the car.
She gave the driver the address of the customs office at the airport, and sat back to answer emails on her iPad, since she had the time. There was one from Kellie and Kyra’s attorney demanding payment for the carpeting she’d already told them she wouldn’t pay for, since they had the house now. He kept saying that her stepdaughters didn’t like the color and wanted it replaced. She forwarded it to Jesse Barclay, and asked him to respond again. She was not going to pay them a penny, but they kept trying. And she had to pay Jesse for his time out of her own pocket, since the estate wouldn’t pay him. But it was cheaper than giving them money she didn’t owe them and didn’t have.
It took them forty minutes to get to the airport from Hell’s Kitchen, and their customs broker was waiting outside for her when she got there.
“Did they release the goods to you?” she asked him, hopeful that they had, and he shook his head. They were going to the office for commercial shipments.
“They said they have to see you in person. They’re being a pain in the ass.” She wasn’t surprised and strode inside the building, with the broker right behind her. She had never met him before, his name was Dan Parker. There were three customs agents waiting for her when they walked in, and they asked to see her identification. They wanted to know if it was her signature on the documents, and she confirmed it. They could see that it was.
“Did you purchase these purses for commercial use?” one of them asked her and she started to feel annoyed, but was polite.
“Yes, we purchased them wholesale directly from the manufacturer in China. I went over to do the transaction myself and approve the finished product.” She didn’t want to admit that they were knockoffs, or they might accuse her of bringing in counterfeits, exact copies, but these bags weren’t illegal. They complied with all the norms for copied goods, made in cheaper leathers, with different linings from the originals and different shoulder straps. She had inspected them herself according to Ed’s specifications and Paul’s directions.
The second agent held up one of the bags for her to identify, and she confirmed that it was one of their shipment. It happened to be a brown leather bag with a brown silk lining that differed from the original brand that had been copied. The originals, she knew, were lined in high-grade leather. And as she watched him, the agent sliced open the lining with a knife and removed it, and laid it on the counter, and Sydney didn’t look happy about it. She would be even less so if they removed all the linings because they didn’t like the fabric content, or charged her higher duty.
“You’re not supposed to damage the merchandise,” she reminded him.
“Take a look at the inside of that bag,” he said, his eyes expressionless as he watched her, and she glanced inside and saw the familiar leather lining she recognized from the similar bag she owned herself, by the original designer. There was a small silver plaque with the name of the expensive brand it had supposedly been copied from, with the clearly marked words “Made in Italy.” She looked up at the agent in amazement, not sure what to make of it. The lining had obviously been carefully fitted and sewn in to hide the original interior of the bag with the famous brand name of the maker. And it did not appear to be a counterfeit. It looked like the real deal, the original bag, to Sydney. Clearly someone had altered the handle and masked the lining to disguise it.
“And you’re not supposed to be bringing stolen goods into the country,” he said coldly in response to her complaint about his removing the lining.
“I didn’t see any sign of that when I inspected them in China,” she said in a much smaller voice.
“Who added the shoulder straps and lining to disguise them?” he asked her.
“They were sold to us as modifications of the original design when they were copied,” she answered, suddenly confused by what was happening. “There was nothing to indicate that they weren’t what they claimed they were. Good-looking copies.”
“Very good-looking,” the first agent commented with a scornful expression. “We’ve seen products from this outfit before. They’re either counterfeit or stolen. These aren’t counterfeit, so they’re stolen.” Once the lining was removed, all the markings were evident. They were expensive bags that were being sold for a fraction of what they were worth, and would have been sold for by their rightful maker. They were obviously stolen goods, being sold in large volume to be distributed in the States. An outfit like Lady Louise could sell many more bags than the black market could handle.
“Then clearly we got burned when we bought them.” Her voice wavered a little, while Paul’s customs broker watched her and didn’t say a word. “I’ll have to call my employer about this. He won’t be happy.” In fact, what they had spent on them had gone up in smoke. It was clear to her that the customs officers were going to confiscate them, and prosecute the people who had sold them.
“Your employer’s name isn’t on these documents,” the agent told her. “Yours is.” And as he said it, he took a pair of handcuffs off his belt and clipped them on her wrists before she could react or object, as she stared at him in horror. “You’re under arrest, Sydney Wells, for trafficking in stolen goods.” He read her her rights as her eyes filled with tears and she turned to the broker with a look of desperation.
“Call Mr. Zeller immediately, and tell him what just happened. Do you have his cellphone number?” Her voice was trembling as he shook his head, and she told him the number from memory. “Tell him to get a lawyer and get me out of here ASAP.” This wasn’t her problem, it
was his. She had purchased the bags for him, and they’d been planning to put her name on them, which panicked her even more. Then she turned to the agents again. One of them was calling for a female agent on his walkie-talkie. “Can I make one phone call?” she asked them, praying that they’d let her.
“To your attorney?” She nodded, lying to them. She was going to let Paul’s attorneys handle it. But she wanted to call Ed Chin and tell him she’d been arrested. She knew he’d find Paul and get her out immediately.
“All right, one call,” they conceded, and handed her a phone. She called Ed’s cellphone and he picked up on the second ring while she prayed it wouldn’t go to voicemail. He sounded busy and distracted.
“I just got arrested at the airport,” she rushed to tell him. “The bags aren’t knockoffs, they’re stolen Prada. The manufacturer put in a fake lining to conceal it. If you cut it out, all the markings are clearly there. That explains the high quality. Fuck the bags. Find Paul and get me out of here. They arrested me because I signed all the import documents.”
Paul had told her to sign everything and she suddenly wondered if he had known what he was doing when he sent her. She couldn’t believe that of him. But he had let her bring them in, on her own, and take the fall when they got caught. Surely he didn’t know they had been stolen either. They had been duped by the merchant in China.
“Are you kidding? Where are you now?” Ed asked, incredulous, when she told him what had happened.
“At the commercial customs office at the airport.” The female agent had appeared by then. She was a hulking woman who looked extremely unpleasant. And Sydney’s expensive shearling coat and Hermès boots didn’t impress her.
“Are they taking you to jail?” he asked, and tears filled her eyes as she turned to the agents.
“Are you taking me somewhere?” she asked them, and one of them answered and told her to wind up the call.
“We’re taking you to a federal holding facility here at the airport. We’ll take you to the federal jail in the city tonight. Your attorney can see you there tomorrow.”
“Can he see me here now?” All three of them shook their heads and she told Ed, and where she was going. “You have to find Paul right away. They can’t arrest me. I was shipping the bags as an agent for the company. He has to take responsibility for this, I’m not going to. Find him, Ed, please.” She was terrified of what would happen to her now.
“I’ll take care of it this minute, and Sydney…I’m so sorry. I never should have let you go back to Beijing alone. Just sit tight, we’ll get you out by morning.”
“Oh my God, I have to spend the night in jail?” She was panicked.
“I’ll see what I can do tonight.” He wanted to kill Paul Zeller for letting Sydney put herself on the line. There was always the risk that goods were counterfeit or stolen when buying cheap copies, especially in Asia. She should never have signed the export documents. The manufacturer should have, but Sydney’s name was all over them.
The female agent took the phone away from Sydney then, handed it back to her co-workers, confiscated Sydney’s handbag, and led her outside to a waiting car to move her to the holding facility. She pushed Sydney roughly into the back of the car, which looked like any ordinary police car except that it was marked “Department of Homeland Security” with a government insignia and an eagle on it, and they drove half a mile away to a building marked “U.S. Customs.” Inside, it looked like a jail, with bars everywhere. It was used to hold drug dealers they apprehended and other criminals, and there was a small area for women. There was only one other woman in the cell they put her in. They had found five hundred grams of heroin on her, taped between her legs, and she started screaming at the customs agent as soon as she saw her. She was demanding a lawyer. Sydney felt as though she had been dropped into someone’s nightmare, and surely not her own.
Her cellmate in what looked like a cage appeared to be in her twenties, and turned to Sydney to ask her what she was in for.
“There’s been some confusion about stolen purses.” Sydney felt ridiculous as she said it, and the other woman laughed.
“There’s been some confusion about half a kilo of heroin taped to my crotch,” she said, and started shouting again. But no one came to help them. And all Sydney could hope was that Ed and Paul would do something quickly and get her out. This just couldn’t be happening, and it wasn’t her fault. It never even occurred to her that Paul Zeller might have known that the purses were stolen, and he had knowingly used her, an innocent, to get them into the country.
Chapter 7
As soon as Ed hung up on Sydney’s call, he raced downstairs to Paul Zeller’s office, and was told by his assistant that he was out to lunch, and probably wouldn’t be back for another hour.
“Find him,” he said tersely. The idea that Sydney had been arrested and was being taken to a federal jail was unthinkable, and he wanted to get her out immediately, not just as her boss but as her friend.
This was the last thing he wanted to happen to her, and he kept wondering over and over again if Paul had known that the bags were real and probably stolen. The supplier had given him a fantastic deal on them, but Ed couldn’t believe Paul would set Sydney up like that and let her take the risk of bringing in stolen goods. He felt guilty for what he was thinking. But whatever he thought, they had to get a lawyer and get her out, and untangle the mess about the allegedly stolen bags. There was a huge market for stolen goods in the fashion industry, particularly leather goods of all kinds. Vuitton, Chanel, Prada, Gucci, it happened to all of them. Thefts were committed, and the bags were trafficked all over the world. And a lot of the stolen articles were shipped from Africa and Asia into Europe and the States.
Ed called Paul on his cellphone and it went to voicemail. He paced up and down outside his office and was waiting for him when he got back from lunch, looking relaxed and pleased, and he seemed startled to see Ed, visibly upset and tense.
“Sydney got arrested in customs. The bags are stolen goods. Her name is all over the documents, so they arrested her. You’ve got to call a lawyer and get her out. The poor woman doesn’t deserve this. She’s been there since one o’clock,” and it was almost four by then. The words came out in a rush. Ed had been going crazy waiting for him. Paul indicated to Ed to follow him into his office, where he took off his coat, dropped it over a chair, sat down at his desk, and stared at Ed.
“First of all, I had no idea the bags were stolen,” he said, clearing himself as the first order of business.
“That’s beside the point, we can talk about that later. You need to call a lawyer right away. She can’t take the blame for a corporate entity. We were duped by the manufacturer, or at least I assume we were. They can’t expect her to take responsibility for it. You have to send someone down there to get her out.”
“I’m not sure who to call,” Paul said slowly. “She needs a federal attorney, and to be honest we don’t have one.” And he seemed to be in no hurry to find one, much to Ed’s dismay.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Ed asked, still looking frantic.
“Once, about five years ago.”
“What happened?”
“The employee got five years in prison, and served four. That was different. He had knowledge that the goods were stolen, or he suspected it, and never warned us. He was getting a commission from the vendor who sold them to us.”
“Sydney had no idea those goods were stolen,” Ed assured him. “She’s an innocent and this is all new to her.” But Paul was well aware of that himself.
“She probably didn’t know,” Paul conceded, “but let’s be honest here. She’s a sophisticated woman. She knows what expensive handbags look like. She may have recognized what these were, even if you and I didn’t. And she didn’t say a word about it to me. For all we know, she may have been getting a commission from the vendor, to bring them in anyway. You and I weren’t in China. We don’t know what went on there.”
&n
bsp; “Are you saying she knew these were stolen goods? Are you kidding? She’s a babe in the woods. She’s a terrific designer but she’s never dealt with purchase and importation. She wouldn’t know the difference between a good copy and the real thing. And she trusts us. She had no reason to suspect the merchandise was stolen.” He had no qualms about vouching for her, and no doubt in his mind.
“I certainly hope not,” Paul said, looking righteous, as Ed began to wonder how much he’d had to drink at lunch. He was moving very slowly, while Sydney was sitting in a federal jail at the airport.
“Why are we sitting here talking about this, wasting time? Why aren’t you calling an attorney?” There was a long pause as Paul looked at him.
“Ed, have you ever read our employee handbook? We have a very clear policy about incidents like this. If an employee gets arrested in the course of the work they do for us, in any form, at any time, in any country, we are not responsible for their legal counsel, nor to defend them. It is entirely their own responsibility. We can’t be responsible for three hundred employees who can get arrested at any time for any reason. When you sign your work contract with us, you indemnify us from any responsibility to defend you. Sydney will have to find her own attorney to defend her in this matter. I have no way of knowing if she knew if the purses were stolen or not. I can’t vouch for her. The manufacturer may have offered her a cut when she was in China. She may look lily pure, but you never know what people are capable of.” Ed couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head as he listened to Paul.
Fall from Grace Page 10
