by Terry Toler
“At least six million,” she answered.
The auctioneer started his rhythmic cadence which I was getting used to.
“Who’ll start at a million?”
No response.
“Do I hear five hundred thousand?”
That wasn’t unusual. Several times, people waited to bid. Probably not wanting to be the first one. Or waiting to see how high it was going to go before they dipped their toe in the water.
“I can’t believe no one’s bidding on it,” Jamie said as the crowd was still sitting on their hands.
“They may have already spent all their money. Or Degas isn’t as popular as you think. I’m going to change my guess to a hundred thousand,” I said as Jamie rolled her eyes.
Finally, the auctioneer coaxed a bid of three hundred thousand. I was wrong again.
“That’s a steal,” Jamie said.
Then he got a second bid. Three fifty.
“Do I hear four hundred?”
“Four,” I heard a shout.
“Give me five!”
“Yep.”
“How ‘bout seven?”
The painting was gaining momentum. Before we knew it, the price was over a million. The auctioneer barked out words faster than a carnival dog. The idea was clearly to get people bidding on impulse. Before they had time to realize what they were doing.
Then a number of bidders got involved.
One million two fifty.
Then a million five.
Six.
Two million.
The excitement was building in the room.
It went to two million five hundred thousand almost immediately.
Then it slowed down.
Jamie’s eyes were fixed on the auctioneer. I could see the excitement in her face as her eyes were widened and her mouth gaped open. Her shoulders were tensed. She was leaning forward. I loved watching her so excited.
“Do I hear two million six hundred thousand?”
A paddle went into the air.
“Two million seven fifty?”
“Yep!”
A lady was standing to the side with a phone in her hand, talking to someone. I presumed someone was bidding on the phone.
Only two bidders were left now. The one in the room bid two million eight hundred thousand. The person on the phone raised it to two million nine hundred thousand.
“Will you give me three?”
The man in the room, shook his head no and sat back in his chair.
“Are you crazy?” Jamie said to no one in particular. “It’s worth twice that.”
The woman on the phone was shaking it like she’d lost the connection. The person bidding in the room apparently didn’t see it. I could from my vantage point. All the man in the room had to do was raise it to three and he would probably get it.
“Do I hear three million?” the auctioneer asked.
“Anybody? Last call. Three million? Anyone? Don’t let this gem get away,” he urged the crowd.
No one responded.
“Going once! Going twice!”
Suddenly, without notice the auctioneer shouted, “We have three million. A new bidder in the back of the room.”
Oohs and ahs went up throughout the whole room as people turned in their seats to look.
I looked around as well to see who the new bidder was.
Jamie had her paddle high in the air!
“Three million. Going once! Going twice! Sold to the pretty lady in the back.”
What in the world just happened?
13
Jamie was so excited she hugged all three of us. Tad and Gigi seemed as stunned as I was. I wished I shared Jamie’s enthusiasm. We’d just purchased a painting at auction for three million pounds. If I did my math right, that added up to more than four million dollars.
Has Jamie lost her mind?
My second thought was, is there a way out of this?
“Can you excuse us?” Jamie said to Tad and Gigi. “Alex and I have to go and pay for the painting.” She said it like she was going to pay for a fifty-dollar dress at a women’s clothing store.
Jamie grabbed my hand and almost dragged me out of the room. Then I realized it was a good thing. We needed to talk about what just happened. In private. Away from Tad and Gigi.
“What did you just do?” I said roughly, once we were alone in the hallway.
“I know! Can you believe it? We got a Degas for only three million pounds.”
“I don’t think we should’ve spent four million dollars on a picture.”
A hurt look came on Jamie’s face as her lower lip contorted.
“First of all, it’s not a picture. It’s a painting. A work of art. From a master. Second of all, it’s a steal at that price. We can flip it and double our money in no time.”
“How can you be so sure?” I said in a stern tone, so she’d know I wasn’t happy.
“Why are you upset? You’re the one who had the idea to buy and sell artwork. I thought we agreed to that.”
“We didn’t talk about buying a four-million-dollar picture right off the bat.”
“If you call it a picture again, I’m going to slap you across the side of your head. If you’re going to be a connoisseur of the arts, you’ve got to learn the lingo.”
“That’s just it. I’m not a connoisseur of the arts. But I am a co-owner of the business. You should’ve talked to me first.”
“There wasn’t time. I had to make a split-second decision. You need to trust me. I know more about art than you do. Besides, you said we had ten million dollars in our account. That’s what it’s for. To run our business.”
“It’s so we can run our operations. Not buy expensive pictu… paintings.”
“The business is the cover for our operations. This purchase will put AJAX on the map as an art dealer.”
“Couldn’t we have started smaller? Get our feet wet before diving into the deep end?”
“We did start small. Three million pounds is not a lot for a masterpiece. If we want to make a splash in the art world, we have to spend money. What is it you’re always saying? Go big or go home. We’re going big.”
Jamie kissed me on the side of my lips as if that would change my mind. I thought I had a valid point. We should make those decisions together.
“How am I going to explain it to Brad?” I argued.
“I didn’t know you had to. He said it was our money. We risked our lives to get it.”
That was true. Jamie had infiltrated a sex trafficking ring run by a noted terrorist in Belarus. She agreed to meet him in a hotel room, alone, at considerable risk under the guise that she was going to have sex with him. It turned out for the best but only because of Jamie’s considerable skills. We kidnapped him. Stole his two billion dollars. Commandeered his luxury corporate jet and lived to tell about it. The CIA didn’t know what to do with the money and the jet, so they put it in our new corporation.
Jamie had a point. We had two billion dollars at our disposal. Three million pounds was a drop in the bucket. I had to consider whether I was upset about the money or my ego took a hit because I wasn’t involved in the decision.
Nothing I could do about it now anyway. Sometime, when we weren’t on our honeymoon, I might bring it up again. For now, I’d try and be supportive. The one thing Curly always taught us in an operation was to have each other’s backs. I surmised that would be even more important for a married couple.
“Where do we go to pay?” I asked with intended resignation in my voice, so she’d know I was still displeased.
“Main desk.”
The auction was over, and people were filing out. Several came up and congratulated us on our purchase. We pretended like we did this all the time. A number of people gave us their cards. They had paintings to sell or a wish list of what they were looking to buy if we came across it. At least a half dozen people asked for one of our cards. I told them we were out and made a mental note to get some made as soon as we were bac
k home.
Suddenly I felt important. Like an art celebrity. What was the word Jamie had used? An art connoisseur. I liked the sound of that.
When the crowd started to thin out, we went to the desk to give the lady our banking information. I couldn’t believe I was authorizing a purchase of more than four million dollars. That made me feel even more important.
Until I thought about the conversation I’d have to have with Brad.
I’d wait and tell him after the money was already out of the account. As Curly always said, better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“Can you hold it for us?” Jamie asked the lady in charge at the desk. “We’re on our honeymoon and won’t be home until next week.”
“Of course,” she said.
“I’ll call you with a shipping address when we get back to the States.”
Jamie was thinking ahead. The last thing we wanted was a four-million-dollar painting left on our condo doorstep. I almost wondered if we should take it with us. That didn’t make sense. How would we carry it on the plane? What would we do with it when we weren’t in our hotel room? We couldn’t carry it around London. Then I thought of something to ask.
“Will it still be covered under your insurance while it’s in your care.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. We’ll need to notify our insurance company to put it on our policy. That might take a day or two.” Like we even had an insurance company. I didn’t even know who insured paintings of this value. Lloyds of London maybe. I might check it out while we were in London.
After our business was settled, we went to find Gigi and Tad. A crowd had gathered around her, and she was dutifully giving out autographs and having her picture taken with fans. We stood to the side, waiting. She smiled and gave us a slight wave. Tad stood by with a smile on his face.
A woman approached us. I recognized her as the one on the phone with the bidder.
“Congratulations on the Degas,” she said.
“Thank you,” Jamie replied. “I’m thrilled.”
“May I ask if you purchased it for personal or professional reasons?”
Jamie answered. “Professional. Although, Degas is my favorite painter. We own a business that buys and sells fine art. The AJAX corporation. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
My wife’s response made me smile. What we were doing came naturally to Jamie and to me. Almost every mission with the CIA was covert. And we always had a cover. Sometimes I was an architect. An engineer. A salesman. I was even a doctor once. Jamie and I posed as a married couple for three months back when we first started dating. Lying was second nature to us.
In this instance, we weren’t really lying, but the cover was new. We had to act like we’d been buying and selling artwork for years.
The woman hesitated. She wanted to say something.
“Why do you ask?” I said, not giving her any more time.
“Another person was bidding on the painting. I was on the phone with him. He really wants it. The purchase was to be a surprise for his wife’s thirtieth birthday next week.” She leaned in to whisper. “He’s sixty-five. Need I say more. And filthy rich.”
The woman was trying to suppress a laugh. She clearly enjoyed sharing that bit of gossip. The filthy rich part got my attention. Maybe he was still interested in buying it.
“Anywho… He was prepared to continue bidding on it, but we lost the connection. He’s an oilman from Texas. He was out in an oil field somewhere while the auction was going on. I tried to get him back on the phone, but the auctioneer closed the auction before I could.”
“His loss, our gain, I guess,” Jamie said.
Where was she going with this? Maybe we could sell it right away and make a couple hundred thousand dollars on it. My mind raced with possibilities.
“Everything is always for sale,” I blurted. “For the right price. If he’s still interested.”
Jamie glared at me. We’d only been married for a day and a half, but I could read her mind. She was telling me not to seem too anxious.
“Splendid. My client’s prepared to offer you four million pounds for the painting.”
My jaw almost hit the floor.
“I think we’ll pass,” Jamie said.
I think my jaw did hit the floor when she said that.
Could Jamie read my mind as well? If she could, she’d know I was screaming at her at the top of my lungs. Take the money! That’s more than a million dollars profit.
“What would you sell it for?” the lady asked.
“The painting is worth six million dollars,” Jamie said. “We have a number of buyers in the United States who would pay that or more.”
No! I wanted to say. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. There were no buyers in the states. I don’t even know where we’d find one.
“I’ll have to ask my buyer. I’m not authorized to go that high. Will you be here for a few more minutes?”
A crowd was still milling around Gigi. We weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I would wait all afternoon if I had to if it meant selling the painting.
“We can wait for you,” I said. “Go talk to your buyer and get back with us.”
When the lady was gone, I bit my lip. It was all I could do to not lash out at Jamie for turning down a million-dollar profit. I decided to keep quiet. But questions remained.
Was Jamie bluffing? Or has she lost her ever-lovin’ mind?
***
Ten minutes later, the woman approached us again. “My buyer had a question. Is the price six million dollars or six million pounds?”
“Pounds,” Jamie said.
That made a difference of over a million dollars.
The woman let out a sigh. “He’ll agree to the price. Six million pounds. Do we have a deal?”
“Not yet,” Jamie said, much to my consternation.
What now?
“We need to discuss your fee,” Jamie said. “It should be cut in half.”
I wanted to glare at Jamie, but she was purposefully avoiding making eye contact with me.
“Why should I cut my fee?”
“Because you sold the painting twice in less than an hour.”
“Yes. But I got you a buyer for six million pounds.”
“But you’re selling the painting for twice as much. So, you’re making the same amount as you did on the first sale. I think that’s fair. We doubled our money and so did you. That’s a win/win in my book.”
My heart did a couple of somersaults when the lady agreed. All my trepidation turned to euphoria in a matter of seconds. I had no idea my wife was such a shrewd businesswoman.
“I’ll go draw up the bill of sale,” the lady said. “The money is already in our escrow account. We’ll wire it into your account this afternoon. Thank you. You’ve made my buyer very happy.”
When the lady was out of earshot, Jamie squealed like a schoolgirl.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said. “Remind me to never doubt you again.”
“Oh, I will remind you. Everyday. For the rest of our lives.”
About that time, Tad and Gigi walked up.
“What are the two of you so excited about?” Gigi asked.
“We just sold the painting.”
“You did?”
“For six million pounds.”
This time both of the girls squealed like a couple teenagers. Gigi hugged Jamie tightly with effusive congratulations. Tad shook my hand, and we bumped shoulders in sort of a man hug. We’d only know them for a few short hours, but it felt like we were becoming good friends. The plan was for us to leave the Gallery and go to The Tower of London. That was going to be delayed.
Jamie said, “Change of plans. We have to sign the paperwork and take care of all the details. You guys go on without us. We’ll meet you there.”
“That’s fine,” Gigi replied. “We can catch a cab over.”
One last hug and they were gone.
“We’ll text you when we get
there,” Jamie shouted to them as they walked away.
The plan was set. What I really wanted to do was go back to the room and celebrate. Obviously, that was going to be delayed for a few more hours. Jamie was really happy, though. I had a feeling making more than four million dollars in one day was going to make our time even more exciting.
If that was even possible.
***
Iran
Pok was having an early dinner away from the television monitors in the employee cafeteria.
A welcomed break. His eyes had been glued to the screens the entire day. Not much had happened. Halee and his wife and the other couple went to the National Gallery. They’d been in there for hours.
When his stomach started growling, he decided to grab a bite to eat. He gave specific instructions to his assistant to come and get him if Halee and his wife left the Gallery. Niazi had a man armed with acid outside waiting to attack. While Pok didn’t want to miss it, he had to eat something. He could always play it back on tape should something happen while he was gone.
When he finished his last bite, his assistant came running into the eating area, “Halee and his wife left the Gallery. About ten minutes ago.”
“Did our man launch the attack?”
“No. He didn’t have a chance. They got into a cab and left.”
“Where’d they go?”
“The cab dropped them off at the Tower of London.”
“Were they alone or was the other couple with them?”
“It was just the two of them.”
“Excellent.”
The problem Pok foresaw at the Gallery was space to launch an attack. Trafalgar Square was always crowded and patrolled by British Police. As he remembered, the Tower of London had a big courtyard area. That would be a perfect place to attack. That would give Niazi time to move his man into position.
Pok’s heart started racing at the thought of success.
He immediately stood and didn’t even bother cleaning up the dishes. He had to get in front of the television screen as soon as possible.
I can’t wait to see the man throw acid in Jamie’s face.
14
