In the next hour, Nazir explained that he had a close friend, a man who knew one of WT&C’s hedge fund owners. Nazir’s friend had mentioned that Brian’s firm was aggressive, had just come through an ordeal and had emerged with its reputation intact. The man also said the firm was looking for business.
Brian’s radar went up at once. “May I ask the name of your friend?”
“I doubt you would know him, and in his position his name usually isn’t in the forefront of conversations. His involvement really isn’t important in considering the proposal I sent you.”
Brian replied that although that might be true, the firm had an obligation to ensure its dealings were with honest individuals whose backgrounds and histories would not create issues down the road, either for WT&C or for the public offering itself. There was nothing as bad as a deal on which hundreds of thousands of dollars had been spent, then one secret became public – one untruth in the offering document came to light – and the deal fell apart in a wave of negative publicity.
Darius Nazir looked at Brian intently. “The man is a client of mine, one I have known for twenty years. He is an American who lives in my native Egypt. He was in town and offered to send my proposal to you and a couple of other firms. His name is Patrick. Carlton Patrick. I’d like you to keep his name confidential. I’m not accustomed to revealing things I don’t think are necessary. But if it will put you at ease, I’m happy to tell you.”
Brian’s stress level decreased visibly.
“Do you know him?” Nazir asked.
“I don’t.”
Brian felt that the “payback” might involve John Spedino. Nazir’s statement that this Carlton Patrick was living in Egypt made him more comfortable that Nazir’s friend wasn’t the godfather himself.
He asked one more question – one that could end the entire adventure with Bijan Rarities before it had hardly begun. He might as well get things on the table up front.
“Have you ever heard of John Spedino?”
“The godfather? Of course I’ve heard his name – hasn’t everyone in New York? I’ve never seen him in person. Why do you ask?”
Brian settled into the chair and told Nazir the real reason for his visit.
“To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not one of the people at WT&C who makes a decision on proposals like yours. I’m in the sales department but somehow your document was sent to me. It had a cryptic note attached – something about a ‘payback’. The FBI says John Spedino was involved with one of the companies our firm took public, and it was a big deal around the office. They arrested our sales manager and he turned up dead on the street one morning shortly afterwards. It’s scary stuff. I’m interested in Bijan Rarities for a personal reason and I had to come see you to satisfy myself I wasn’t getting involved with one of Spedino’s deals. Now that I’ve spent time with you I feel much more comfortable.”
And that was true. Darius Nazir was an engaging man with a quick mind and a ready smile. Brian had liked him the moment he met the gallery owner. He knew things might be different than they appeared but Brian had a gut feeling Nazir was an honest businessman and a good person.
“I understand your caution, especially given how the prospectus reached your desk. I have no idea about the ‘payback’ note on it. But trust me, the godfather of the Mafia is no friend of mine!”
Brian smiled. “That’s reassuring. Now I’m inclined to think my getting your prospectus was a fortuitous coincidence – and I’m not usually a man who believes in coincidence.
“I’m probably the most interested layman in Texas in the concepts of your business, and specifically in the relics you handle. I’d like to help you on the public offering if I can, but I also would like to approach you about my becoming a shareholder.”
They took a break at four. Walking into the showroom they saw through the tinted front windows that the snow was falling much harder now. Darius asked Brian if he had checked into his hotel. He hadn’t, and Darius suggested he should do so as soon as possible.
“When the weather is like this people get stranded in Manhattan, and desk clerks have been known to let a room go to a man with a hundred dollar tip in his hand.”
Darius offered to send his young associate to the Inter-Continental Hotel a few blocks away to check Brian in. He took Brian’s suitcase and a half hour later the man was back, room key in hand.
Meanwhile Brian and Darius continued talking. Brian explained that he was relatively certain the firm would do the Bijan Rarities public offering, but that he himself had been considering a change in his personal life.
“I’ve never had a feeling like I had when I read your proposal. I must admit I’m fascinated by your business.”
Brian explained that he was willing to help Darius Nazir raise the money he wanted. But even more, he hoped Nazir would entertain the possibility of Brian’s investing his own money in the firm.
Snowy afternoon turned into wintry evening as the men chatted. At six Collette popped in to say she and Jason were leaving for the day. Nazir saw them off and dimmed the lights in the showroom. A series of spotlights continued to brightly illuminate the beautiful sarcophagus so that it could clearly be see by passersby on the sidewalk. There won’t be many of those tonight, Brian thought to himself.
Chapter Nine
“Would you join me for dinner so we may continue our conversation?”
Brian agreed enthusiastically. They decided to walk the few blocks to his hotel since there was little chance of getting a cab as the snow intensified.
Darius loaned Brian a pair of rubber galoshes. “You’ll need these for sure.”
As they stepped from the building onto the sidewalk, Darius turned, locked the door and set an alarm. Brian looked down the street at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He couldn’t see the top of the spires in the swirling snow. It’s like a wonderland.
As they began the trek to East 48th Street, Darius apologized for the walk.
“It’s no problem at all,” Brian responded. “I’m a big fan both of snow and New York City. So I’d rather be out here than in a cab any day!”
Foot traffic was light and they made the trip in less than twenty minutes. Darius sat in the lobby bar while Brian dropped his briefcase in his room and freshened up.
Brian joined Nazir in the bar and ordered a martini. The Egyptian said, “First things first. I don’t know what foods you like, but my favorite restaurant in Manhattan is a Chinese place not far from here.”
Brian enthusiastically agreed. Chinese was one of his favorites as well. They settled in to their martinis as Darius returned to the discussion they had been having at the office.
He told Brian that it actually was a good time to consider bringing a partner into Bijan Rarities. Darius wanted to travel for pleasure more and his adult children lived in California. He told Brian his wife had died ten years before, not long after he founded Bijan.
“There are a lot more things we need to know about each other before we can determine if it’s a fit, but I’m open to the concept of bringing in a minority partner.”
“I read in the proposal that you previously worked for the Antiquities Department in Egypt. Tell me about that. It must have been fascinating!”
They talked about the interesting work Darius had done for twenty-five years and the digs he had been privileged to be involved in. He captivated Brian with stories of ancient ruins uncovered as infrastructure improvement projects caused streets to be dug up in Cairo.
“Early civilizations built literally everywhere in northern Egypt. It’s difficult to dig anywhere without uncovering a lot of ancient things.”
As a bachelor in his late thirties, he had vacationed in London and met a beautiful Syrian girl. They had fallen in love and for several years maintained a long distance relationship. She worked for a large American bank and told him one day she was being transferred to New York. Devastated, he spent days calculating how he might get a job in America himself and marry this girl he had
come to love.
The Director of Antiquities at the time was very well connected. He made some calls to a wealthy New Yorker who had been a benefactor of the Museum in Cairo. He was also an archaeology buff and the Director had allowed him behind the scenes at a number of excavations on the man’s trips to Egypt.
A few months later Darius was placed at the Carlyle Museum, a privately funded institution where the Director’s friend served as a board member. Darius married his Syrian sweetheart and settled in to his work, remaining at the museum for ten years. He arranged acquisitions, helped prepare exhibits and guided the fund-raisers the museum regularly held. One day, he said, the man who’d helped him get his job came to him and said that a rare opportunity had opened up. A storefront had become vacant in a Fifth Avenue building the man owned, and he offered to back Darius in a rarities gallery.
Art galleries abounded in New York, but the concept of an upscale store selling antiquities was something novel. Darius said he had jumped at the opportunity. The man had provided sufficient capital to allow them to purchase a number of interesting pieces, and some friends of Darius’ benefactor had put other objects in the store on consignment. At last Bijan Rarities opened with a black tie event, a string quartet from the Met, and that night Darius sold four pieces for over a hundred thousand total.
“I’ve had a wonderful time ever since. Five years ago my backer told me he wanted to get his money out. Although the place was worth many times what it was the day we opened, he always treated his investment as nothing more than a loan and I paid him interest every year. So I used the company’s bank line of credit, borrowed a couple of million dollars, and paid him off in full. That was a good feeling, owning my own very successful business. But at that time I was already over sixty years old, and I knew I had to eventually think of a succession plan of my own.”
His children were professionals. One was a doctor, another a dentist, in San Francisco and La Jolla respectively. They visited New York regularly but neither had any interest in the gallery or in living in the city where they grew up.
The men left the bar for dinner, continuing the discussion as they walked in the intensifying snow. They went five blocks north to 53rd Street, then a couple of blocks east to Peking Duck House. Once inside, the warm inviting place, Brian found himself really hungry as he smelled the aromas wafting from the kitchen. After one more martini they enjoyed dumplings and a wonderful meal.
From that first evening the men became good friends. It was as though a bond was formed which had been forged in destiny. Brian’s exuberance and enthusiasm for the subject balanced his lack of knowledge of the business itself. He could raise money while Darius taught him the ropes and ran the gallery’s successful auction and sales business. By the time dinner and coffee were finished, the two had created a real bond.
Darius was heading north on the subway while Brian was going back to the hotel. They parted ways in the subway station, agreeing to meet the next morning at ten at the gallery.
Once Darius boarded his northbound train Brian briefly thought about going to Quo and the flight attendant who might be waiting there. He decided he had had enough excitement for one evening. His head was spinning with possibilities. He boarded the southbound train and exited at Grand Central, walked the few blocks back to his hotel and spent a night dreaming of Inkharaton and the upcoming auction of his sarcophagus.
Chapter Ten
The Judean hills near Bethlehem
Benjamin sat in his room, quill in hand, carefully writing on a piece of parchment. He shivered involuntarily as he recalled the events of last night. He could hear his father in the other room telling his mother what had happened to the small band of shepherds.
Benjamin’s mother asked Joab if he was going to talk to the priests about what he and Benjamin had seen.
“I don’t know,” he heard his father reply. “There is no doubt the story will be told everywhere in a very short time. Not only did we see the event but dozens of others did as well. It may be better that the priests hear it from another than I.”
In truth Joab feared telling the priests. He knew it could be viewed as blasphemy or worse. Many times last night he had heard the baby proclaimed as the Messiah. He even knew the child’s name – Yeshua. What if the priests chose to take action against the parents of this child? They could be imprisoned for the words they had spoken. Or the baby could be hunted down and killed. Joab did not wish to tell a story which could result in such drastic retaliation against this poor family. And to relate what they had seen…it was such a fantastic story it would likely be believed by no one who had not also witnessed it.
“I will ponder these things,” Joab said to Rachel.
She rose and walked to Benjamin’s room. She hugged her son tightly and said, “I am so proud of you. I believe every word your father told me and I only wish I had also been chosen by God to be part of the miracle you witnessed.”
Benjamin was glad she believed the story, but was also certain there were many who would be greatly angered by it. He continued recounting the events on his parchment until he was finished. He laid down on his cot and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eleven
New York City
Brian slept fitfully. Although his mind was filled with the excitement of his discussion with Darius Nazir, he could not ignore the fact that someone had orchestrated all this and that payback, whatever that meant, would come with significant strings attached. Brian figured John Spedino had to be involved, but this deal was too good to pass up. He put aside his nagging doubt and chose to focus on how to make a deal for Bijan Rarities.
This is happening for a reason. It’s the best career move I could have ever hoped for – perfect for me in every way. And I can deal with Spedino or whoever it is when or if that ever comes up.
He looked out the hotel window. The snow had stopped and the morning sun’s first rays appeared over the East River. Six inches or more of snow had fallen. It was a winter wonderland on the streets outside. New Yorkers being what they were, people were already going about their morning chores. He could see a grocery store across Lexington Avenue from the hotel. The shopkeeper was sweeping his sidewalk free of snow as best he could. Some people were actually jogging. For them it was slow going, given the combination of heavy clothing and deep snowdrifts, but they were slogging it out anyway.
Brian spent the day at Bijan. He had a seven pm plane back to Dallas, and he cut it so close he almost didn’t make it through security at LaGuardia in time.
Flying home, he thought about everything that had transpired. The day had begun with a discussion of Bijan’s financing needs. Darius wanted $4 million from a public offering to supplement the company’s existing $5 million line of credit. On top of that Bijan had a net worth of over $3 million – most of that was tied up in inventory, store fixtures and the cash the company had on hand to buy and sell items as they came in. The company was in good financial shape already – the new $4 million infusion would merely improve the gallery’s stature in the rare world of antiquities. It would also provide funds for acquisitions.
Brian admitted he didn’t bring expertise to the deal. Darius countered that he had plenty of that himself. What he needed was a partner who knew how to finance acquisitions and sales, how to deal with banks, lines of credit, and all the alternative sources of financing that a company might be able to tap if a truly monumental, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came along. From college through Merrill to WT&C, Brian knew enough about these subjects to be an asset to the company.
Darius mentioned something else that interested Brian. “What I also want is a partner who can be my acquisitions man. With your obvious interest in rarities, you’d be a natural.”
Before noon Brian and Darius had put together the outline of a deal whereby Brian would become a 40% shareholder and have the option to buy Darius out if he ever decided to sell. For this investment, Brian was prepared to put $1 million of his own money in the
company. Darius asked for more. Since the company’s current net worth was $3 million, he suggested 40% was at a minimum worth $1.2 million, and in reality the company’s real value was far higher than its net worth. It was profitable, well established in its field and virtually unique in the types of ancient rarities it sold. All of those intangibles added to its value.
Darius therefore countered at two and a half million and they finally settled on $1.5 million, plus Brian’s guarantee that the $4 million public offering would be accomplished by WT&C in the next 90 days. If that didn’t happen, the employment deal was off. They also set Brian’s annual salary at four hundred thousand dollars plus ten percent of the net proceeds on any deals he brought to the gallery. Darius made everything contingent on a background check he would order up on Brian. Brian figured it would be no problem, hoping the FBI inquiry had truly gone away as it appeared to have done.
Darius was obviously excited about this deal. Likewise Brian was thrilled about the arrangement they’d hammered out. It was his ticket out of the investment banking business. Even more importantly, working at Bijan would be more like pursuing a hobby rather than putting in hours at a job.
They spent the afternoon on the upcoming Inkharaton sale. Darius showed Brian everything he had been doing to get things ready. If a bidder wished to remain in New York instead of traveling to Egypt where the sale would take place, he or she could attend by closed circuit satellite feed in Bijan’s gallery. Although Darius thought there would be a very limited bidder list, and every bidder would probably want to have a representative at the site in the Valley of the Kings, it never hurt to have an alternative venue for a potential multi-million dollar participant.
In a few short hours Brian had learned a lot about what made a gallery run seamlessly. At the same time he and Darius Nazir learned about each other. By the end of the day they had found the mutual respect that made a natural fit for two partners.
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 13
