“No, in fact I didn’t want to place any calls, I wanted to speak with Herr Kleiner within the next two minutes. Thank you.”
I put the phone down again, and waited for Kleiner to get back. I had a feeling he was talking with the manager of his ‘previously owned’ car lot. Evie looked up at me, tearing herself away from the brochure she was reading.
“What are you up to?”
“That blue one looks nice.”
I pointed to the one on the showroom floor.
“Does it have all of the options you wanted?”
“It has every option the company makes, for God’s sake. We don’t need all that.”
“Do you like the colour?”
“Yes, but that’s…”
I finished her sentence for her.
“Exactly what we’re buying”
“Are you serious? We’ll buy it?”
Kleiner walked into the room right then, and I waved him off as he came over to shake my hand.
“Please, Herr Kleiner. We don’t have a lot of time to spare. We’ll take the blue A-4 Quattro in the showroom, and I’m sure Horst has had a rather frantic conversation with you as well, regarding the Corvette.”
Evie slowly turned her eyes in my direction. There were a few questions there, I could tell. I was also having a great time. This was the best trip to a car sales dealer I’d ever had.
“Make up the papers required for us to drive them away in…” I pulled up my wrist and checked the time. It was passing. “…well, now it’s ASAP.”
I could see the frown on his face when I said ‘ASAP’. Not his everyday English. I translated for him.
“I mean as soon as possible. Ten minutes would be good, but I know that won’t happen. I’m willing to wait twenty minutes while the cars are prepared and the paperwork is done. We’ll give you every piece of information you require to achieve that purpose. Evie, why don’t you go with Herr Kleiner’s personal secretary in case there’s something you can help with, because in twenty-two minutes we’ll be looking for another dealer.”
“Right.”
Evie stood, and picked her purse strap off of the corner of the chair. Kleiner got it then, and picked up his phone, followed by some rapid-fire Swiss-German. The secretary was at the door in ten seconds.
“Evie, do you still have all the papers?”
“Yes. No problem.”
Now she was grinning. She had liked the blue one after all.
“Good. Close the door on your way out.”
They were both gone. Kleiner and I were alone. We both settled back in our chairs. Negotiation time. Kleiner led off, being in what he thought was his element here.
“You know you’ve picked the best Audi we have in our stock. You have a good eye for cars, Monsieur Claxton.”
“Thank you.”
“Horst tells me that you are also a collector, interested in one of his new acquisitions, an older Corvette.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, Horst couldn’t tell a car collector from a trash collector where I come from, so let’s cut the crap. I want both of those cars plated and registered and sitting outside your front door, ready to go, within less than twenty minutes. Make it happen.”
He realized I was serious, and picked up the phone again, letting loose with another burst of unintelligible Swiss-German. Outside in the showroom, I saw two sales men jump from their desks and head toward the offices at a rapid clip. It seemed that Herr Kleiner was used to being obeyed.
I got up and went over to the blinds that allowed a view of the cars in the showroom. They were the kind that twirled shut by turning the long handle by the right hand side. I closed them, and returned to my seat. Kleiner had the overhead lighting on in his office and the light from the window was hardly missed. Nevertheless, he switched on a small desktop lamp that leaned over the paperwork area of his workspace.
“Now then, Monsieur Claxton. You have chosen my most expensive Audi, and also a collector’s edition of the older Corvette model. That too is expensive. Shall we attempt to settle on a price, perhaps?”
“There is no settling, there is no negotiation. I pay the going rate on the Audi less ten percent. Tell me what you want for the Corvette.”
“Monsieur Claxton! Ten percent is a huge discount. That Audi is very expensive. If you can’t afford to buy it at the price marked, then we have a problem.”
“You do recall what Ms. Federmann said to you on the phone, do you not?”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing. How much is the sticker price on the Audi?”
He looked at me for a second, then started rummaging around on his desk. Eventually he found the right papers.
“That particular car is worth almost seventy-eight thousand francs.”
“Fine. I like you, Kleiner. I’ll give you seventy-one seven sixty.”
Kleiner ran that one through his head faster than I had.
“That’s eight percent off of our price. Too much.”
“Cash.”
His face changed. Now he looked almost suspicious.
“Cash?”
“Cash. It’s something you invented a long time ago. You buy things with it. Now, what’s the Corvette worth to you?”
“Ah. Well Horst tells me that it’s in mint condition, not even any cracked leather. But it is an older one. Let me see.”
He started punching out some numbers on his calculator, and scratching away on a paper pad. The man didn’t even have a PC on his desk. People. I was banking on the fact that the Swiss liked the seventies Corvettes better than any others, and that might be reflected in the price of the ’66. If they weren’t aware of what they had.
When he gave me the number, it was one I could easily live with. Twenty-five thousand five hundred francs. I was stealing it from him. They didn’t know. Shucks.
“All right. Here’s what I’ll do for you Herr Kleiner.”
I leaned over the desk from my side and brought out one of my rolls. I started counting out brand new thousand franc notes. I stopped when I hit ninety thousand. Kleiner’s eyes would have been drooling if eyes could drool. He just kept looking at the money. After a second or two he picked one up, then another at random, then another and another. Then the phone again. He looked at me, and I nodded yes. They had to be checked. No one was familiar with thousand franc notes. At least, not around here. The Swiss are very organized. This may have been the only cash sale he’d dealt with all year for all I knew.
His secretary came running in, grabbed the notes and high-tailed it out of there. Then he turned his attention back to me.
“You make a very convincing case for your side Monsieur Claxton.”
“Can you arrange French plates for the cars at the border? At that time the Swiss plates can be given back.”
“When will you be leaving for France?”
I took a gamble.
“Possibly tonight. Possibly tomorrow night. We won’t be coming back to Switzerland with the cars.”
“I see. French plates, I’m not sure that I can accomplish that for you…”
I stood up to leave.
“In that case I apologize for wasting your time Herr Kleiner.”
Then I turned and scooping up the remaining cash from his desk, I held up my right hand with four fingers up. That’s how many he sent to have checked. Four one thousand franc notes. The panic didn’t show that much. He was pretty good at bargaining. Just not good enough. I’d had him when he was watching the bills go down on his desk. I could tell from the look in his eyes. He wanted the sale. He wanted the money. Everyone did.
“Please, Monsieur Claxton, one moment. Let me make a phone call. You understand that this is a very difficult request you have made, I’m sure. If it is possible to do, I will do it.”
“Kleiner, put down the phone.”
Surprisingly, he did, without asking why. I walked back to his desk and laid the money back down. Reaching into my jacket, I came out with my roll once more, and laid five
new bills to the top of the pile.
“Does that make the French plates any easier to acquire?”
“Oh yes, Monsieur Claxton. Much, much easier.”
“Fine. Get back on the phone and do it then. We’re not the first people you’ve sold a car to who were going to France with their purchase. I also know that you have a link with all of the Audi Dealerships in Europe. It was a friend of mine who put them all online for Audi a few years ago. Just out of curiosity, is your monitor built into the side of your desk?”
“My monitor?”
“Kleiner, you couldn’t compute your way out of a wet paper bag. No, don’t try to translate it, it won’t make much sense, and it’s not an insult. I’m sure you’re an astute businessman, or you wouldn’t have all of this going for you.
Your secretary does all of your PC work for you, right? Then she outputs the results to a monitor, probably just a ten inch display. That has to be in here somewhere, the desk drawer is the best bet location. It’s been open since I arrived. Either everything you need is in that one drawer all the time, or you’re leaving it open for a reason.
I waked around the desk, and Kleiner smiled at me, obviously not angry that I’d sussed his little secret. In the bottom drawer on the right, was a small VGA monitor. On it were the results of some very quick and diligent work from his underlings. And one of mine. The process had been in effect from the moment I’d left Evie in his hands. The only question had been ‘Which Ones?’. All of the data had been entered prior to the choosing, and was being processed even now, as we spoke.
“You can keep the extra five thousand to help smooth the way. I don’t want any glitches.”
“Glitches?”
“No Problems. None. If that will cost more, tell me now and we’ll take care of it.”
I checked my watch. There were about thirteen minutes left.
“In that case Monsieur Claxton…”
“Would you please stop saying that? Try ‘Claxton’, or Jeffry. That’s a good one, it’s my name too.”
He nodded his head to the side, like he was dumping information to make room for a new batch.
“Certainly, Jeffry. My first name is Marcus. When two people are exchanging valued items in the manner that we are, I suppose that first names are in order. So.
Jeffry, there is one more issue that you may have a different opinion on than your…”
I sighed. If we were doing this in France they wouldn’t have had any trouble with the title. Any title is a good one for your mistress.
“Personal Secretary and Companion.”
“…Companion had. With regards to a special promotion we have underway right now. It affects the blue A-4 Quattro that you have chosen.”
“Go on.”
“Umm. The A-4 Quattro Audi is now available with a hand’s free cellular phone built in at the factory. NEC equipment. It also comes with a Shortwave and Single Side Band Radio Transmitter and Receiver. This package is in the car you chose. Ms. Westwood asked that it be taken out. That, we don’t have the time to do. Not if we want to meet your requirements.”
“You say the system is activated?”
“Yes. The only way we can allow our clients to appreciate the convenience is to have them try it for themselves. Even sitting in the showroom, most buyers love the new option.”
“But it has an additional cost, naturally. Leave it all in, and connected. Are you saying that our negotiations didn’t include this extra detail?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Oh, about four thousand francs or so.”
I walked over to the pile of money and put another four notes from my thousand-franc note roll on the desktop with the others.
“That’s it.”
“We also have the matter of the duty tax charges for France.”
“No, we don’t. I’ll be taking both vehicles to Canada within one week of purchase. That makes it my problem for any duty charges that I have to process when I get there. The French plates are only temporary requirements. One week maximum. Now get it all done. I’m going for a walk to leave you to your work. Take good care of my needs now, and this will always be known as a day of luck for you. Good Joss.”
I gave the slightest of bows from my head only, and he stood and returned it. I was looking through my pockets for the pack of Camels as I left his office, meeting his secretary on the way out. She was coming in, with the four one-thousand franc notes discretely displayed in her hands. She was smiling, so she’d probably spoken with Federmann.
Things would start to happen like magic now. I walked out of the showroom, passing by the Metallic Blue A-4 Quattro on the way. I had underestimated either Kleiner, or Evie, because the magic was taking place already.
The hood was up and there were three mechanics leaning into the engine well. Each one had his own protection mat of course. Wouldn’t do to scratch the finish. It was a paint job that would cost about five thousand bucks, Canadian.
And then there were the cordless tools and lights. The Mechs/Techs were all over it. One was inside the car, and he had a green coverall, and all the seats were covered by plastic, and the guy was actually wearing those disposable ‘boot-covers’ that looked more like ‘booties’ than ‘covers’, as well as a head-cover of the same paper material, with an elastic band around the bottom to hold it on nice and tight, and gloves. The guy inside the car had latex gloves on. It was like a scene from E.R., being directed by Steve Martin.
There were two underneath the car on mechanics’ creepers. Also with cordless tools and lights. There was a guy in a Grey coverall, unlike the rest of the crew who were wearing blue coveralls. He was just standing to the side and coordinating, as well as delivering tools and vehicular liquids, such as transmission fluid, brake fluid, power steering fluid, ad nauseam. All of this stuff was standing on a six by six foot plush carpet, with a raised rim of aluminum all around it. In case of spills I suppose.
Something about him stood out enough to make me think he was the Supervisor, not the hand-it-to-me guy. Or maybe he was a V.P. –Director of Technology–who knew these days?
I only had a Plymouth Voyager minivan at home, a top line model, sure, but a minivan just the same, and it had five major processors that I knew about. They controlled every important facet of the vans’ operation. I’m positive that the system-wide grid of electronics in the van had other microchips embedded all around the vehicle, such as ASICs, better known as dedicated-purpose integrated circuits. Virtually; Application Specific Integrated Circuits. ASICs. All of the programs were loaded into the chips at the factory using special EPROM equipment. Erasable Programmable Read Only Memory. They monitored everything, and important items were kept in a log that could be read back, using the right equipment.
That old image of the big machine rolled up next to the car with the screen in the top section that looked somewhat like an oscilloscope, and that’s what you saw. Sine waves and square waves. No more. All of the equipment was miniaturized, and the ‘oscilloscope’ screen had been replaced by a Graphical Interface similar in concept to the ‘Microsoft Windows’ environment, but touch sensitive as well, or, you could use the mini-version, a three-inch colour LCD screen. Handheld and weighing less than a full pound by half. But then you needed the modular processing system to issue the commands through. Theirs was alive and kicking, sitting piled two high and three across in a standard nineteen-inch rack, sitting on top of its own box, next to the vehicular liquids.
None of the guys had their name written over the pocket. They were all wearing security picture-cards fastened to the collars of their coveralls by some snap-type mechanism. Easy on, easy off. The I.D. cards all had magnetic stripes across the bottom, and matched the colour of the coveralls the guys wore, so presumably they were the means of exit and egress from the sanctity of the ‘Mechanics-Slash-Technicians’ area, as well as a means of identifying the individual employee.
Certainly this was one of the biggest Audi, Porsche
, & Volkswagen Dealers in this part of Europe, never mind the Swiss operation by itself. It seemed that Kleiner ran a tight ship. Good.
That became more obvious ten minutes later. Before that, I stood on the sidewalk in front of the showroom, and smoked two Camels in a row, still not getting enough. I don’t think a cigar would have done it. I was tense, no doubt about it.
On my way back in to see Kleiner, the Corvette was just being driven gently around the corner of the lot, headed for the main door, where I’d been standing. Excellent. So far, so good.
On my way in, I met Evie and one of the senior sales people sharing a laugh at something I hadn’t heard. The salesman was laughing harder than Evie. I said hi.
“Was that your joke or his?”
“Mine.”
“Okay, he’s just sucking up then.”
“Boss, I’d like you to meet Henri.”
She pronounced it ‘on-ree’.
I think On-ree was laughing more at the foreigner than at the joke. I asked if he was part of the process.
“Hell, no. I found him by the water cooler and now he won’t go away.”
“I see.”
I stepped over to Henri, who was about five years short of being Evie’s father-type.
“Henri?”
“Oh, yes, oui?”
I leaned over a little bit, and whispered in his ear.
“Go away now, and don’t come back or I’ll break your legs.”
Suddenly there was no smile on Henri’s face anymore. He left in a hurry, and he didn’t even look back. Evie looked at me.
“What did you say to him?”
“Only what needed saying. How’s the paperwork going.”
“It’s done.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. You know… ’Money talks, and bull’…”
“I know the one.”
I checked my watch. Two minutes to spare. Not bad. Then I turned back to Evie.
“Okay. You’ve got the A-4 Quattro, in Metal-Flake Blue, I might add, and none of the comms gear is taken out. You can modify it to your heart’s content, whenever you want to. I registered the car in your name.”
“In my name?”
“Yeah. You’re the driver, aren’t you?”
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 71