The Quick Brown Fox

by Stan Mason

  Coleman stared at him sullenly. ‘Well you’re not me and I resent you interfering in family affairs,’ he snapped irreverently. ‘In other words, mind your own business.’

  Jake smiled at the insult allowing it to pass and he drove back to the house when the henchman carried the young man into the lounge dumping him on the settee.

  ‘He had a little accident with his finger so you’d better bandage it up,’ the ex-convict told him father. ‘In the meantime, he can use the phone with his other hand.’ He picked up a mobile telephone from the coffee table and threw it at the younger man. ‘Go ahead!’ he ordered. ‘Make the calls!’

  Coleman pulled a list from his inside pocket with his good hand and started to dial, telling the people at the other end of the line that the heating process had failed and that all the money for the options needed to be returned. Not surprisingly, he found himself on the end of some unsavoury remarks from a few of his contacts but eventually he laid down the telephone and stared at the ex-convict.

  ‘It’s done! Are you satisfied?’

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ came the reply, as Roy Coleman returned with a bandage to wrap around his son’s hand.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked, hopeful that the danger to his son had passed.

  Jake looked at him sternly. ‘I think the matter’s been resolved as far as we’re concerned. Let’s hope so!’

  ‘My hand hurts!’ bleated young Coleman solemnly.

  ‘You’re very lucky son,’ his father told him. ‘You know so little of worldly matters and what people are like. You got away with it lightly this time.’

  ‘I’m not a coward!’ declared the young man.

  ‘No... you’re a fool!’ retorted his father sharply. ‘I think you’re very fortunate to get away with just a broken finger.’ He turned to the two men. ‘I want to thank you for not doing something more serious to the boy.’

  ‘Let’s be clear Mr. Coleman,’ returned Jake solemnly. ‘It’s not our intention ever to harm anyone but people need to conform with the system and not take it into their own hands to do things by themselves for their own benefit. Your son stole a valuable commodity and he set up an illegal system involving many other people. In normal circumstances we’re not out to make things right in the world but other people are affected by his actions. We’re simply employed to carry out their orders.’

  ‘I understand,’ Roy Coleman told them. ‘My son was at fault and you had a job to do.’

  ‘Well I think we’ve finished here,’ concluded Jake, much to the relief of the senior man. ‘Let me know if anything crops up that we ought to know about, will you?’

  ‘Now it’s my turn to have a serious word with my son,’ continued David’s father earnestly. ‘I won’t break his fingers if he won’t listen. I’ll break his neck!’

  Jake’s face broke into a smile and he nodded to his henchman before leaving. He felt satisfied that, at last, Coleman’s interference in the hydrogentics programme had been terminated. For that reason he knew that Mr. G. would be very relieved when he heard the news.

  ***

  Mr. G. sat in his office with an fresh unlit Havana cigar in his mouth. He poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels waiting for his visitor to arrive. Patience was a virtue and he had begun to lose interest in the hydrogenetics programme. The testing was taking too long and there was the possibility that it would turn out to be ineffective in the end. The whole thing had been a long shot with more hope than tangibility for he had no idea of the calibre of Robert Harris or of his prowess as a scientist. He had simply ridden on the idea when informed about it by Rose Harris. Scientific matters were way beyond his capability and he rued the fact that the situation was completely out of his control. In effect, if the process failed to materialise, he had simply wasted his time instead of focussing his attention on something much more practical. Therefore he recognised that it was essential to look for other ventures instead of waiting for good or bad news, hoping to make his fortune with the hydrogenetics programme. As it happened, it was most fortunate for him that Rose Harris turned up trumps once more with another prospect... one for which he could practically have total control. A man had been admitted to hospital having been beaten up by thieves who had robbed him and she was the nurse who attended him. She learned that he was a skilled metallurgist and a jeweller who ran his own business from a small shop in a derelict area of the city. She also discovered that he sold very little jewellery but that he made his living by copying other people’s work. For example he was known to recreate necklaces, bracelets and ear-rings for wealthy people who were too scared to wear the real items for fear of robbery, especially when they were uninsured against theft. He had been beaten up when two men had entered his shop demanding money. As it happened, the shopkeeper had very little in the cash register and the men became menacing believing him to be hiding the rest of his money in a hidden safe, They had used physical force to try to get him to tell them where it was and eventually left him badly injured behind the counter. Ultimately he managed to get ot his telephone and shortly an ambulance took him to hospital. Rose Harris, with an eye and an ear for promising situations quickly recognised the value of the information and immediately sought to arrange to see her paramour.

  She entered the office of the one-armed entrepreneur and sat in a chair opposite him calmly almost bursting to inform him of the idea that had formulated in her mind. Casually, he lit the cigar and watched the smoke rising to the ceiling before acknowledging her presence.

  ‘What’s so important that you’ve come to see me so early today?’ he enquired casually, staring directly at the woman.

  ‘I have some information that might be of use to you,’ she replied easily pausing to see it effect on the man but he didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

  ‘Go on!’ he urged, puffing at his cigar again.

  ‘I’ve been treating a man in hospital who’s a skilled metallurgist and a jeweller.’

  ‘Good for you!’ he uttered tersely. There was silence in the room before he continued. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of fish?’

  ‘Come on Colin,’ she went on. ‘You know me better than that! I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think that what I have to tell you didn’t have value. I wouldn’t put you on to a bum steer. I can smell potential here.’

  ‘Okay,’ he returned with interest. ‘Tell me about it!’

  ‘Do the words Faberge Eggs excite you?’

  He stared at her vacantly for a few moments ‘Not particularly,’ he told her bluntly. ‘Faberge was a Russian goldsmith who made ornate decorative objects for royalty. He was famous for his jewelled eggs which contained surprise gifts. What has all this got to do with me?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ she said smoothly. ‘Jewelled eggs containing surprise gifts.

  He puffed on his cigar trying to out-think her but he couldn’t find the link. He took a sip of Jack Daniels before continuing. ‘What’s on your mind, Rose? You’re obviously eager to tell me something of interest.’

  ‘The man, Sidney Taffler, is a skilled metallurgist... and a very good one as far as I can determine. He makes duplicate jewellery for wealthy people who don’t wish to wear the real stones in public for fear of theft. In other words he copies jewellery of all kinds... exact copies. He can make anything you want.’

  ‘Are you telling me that he can make copies of Faberge Eggs?’ The atmosphere in the office seemed to change in an instant as the idea percolate through the entrepreneur’s mind.

  Rose sat upright in her chair triumphant that her idea was gaining ground. ‘I’ve spoken to him briefly about it and he tells me that he can make copies of anything in jewellery. Anything!’

  ‘And you’re saying that he can make copies of Faberge Eggs.’

  ‘You’ll have to talk to him about it but I’m certain he can do i
t for you.’

  ‘Okay,’ he returned thoughtfully. ‘What do I have to do to get him to work for me?’

  She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘Well you can mention my name. That might help. He thinks he owes me something for the way I nursed him in hospital. Why don’t you send Jake to see him and open up discussions. He’s a really nice man... easy to talk to. Jake can be very persuasive, as you know. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble bringing him into the fold.’

  He smiled at her easily. ‘You know you’re some piece of work, Rose Harris. I don’t know why you waste your time in nursing. Give it up and come and work for me!’

  ‘Not a chance!’ she retorted quickly. ‘If I did that, our relationship would start to go downhill in a week and you know it to be true.’

  ‘Just testing,’ he laughed sipping at his drink again. ‘Where’s this Taffler at the moment? Is he still in hospital?’

  ‘He’s back in fairly good shape and they’re releasing him this afternoon. He’ll go back to his shop because he lives in the rooms above it.’ She fished a piece of paper from her handbag and passed it to him ‘Here’s his address. I think it’s a great idea.’

  He took it, reading the details briefly. ‘Excuse the pun but you’re a gem!’ he commended with an element of surprise in his voice. ‘Are we all right for tonight?’

  ‘Can’t wait, Mr. Smith,’ she told him eagerly, referring to the name at which they registered at the hotel. ‘Right, I’ll leave it with you. I must go.’

  Without delay, she stood up quickly, blew him a kiss with a smile on her face and left the office. Mr. G. sat quite still for a while staring at the details on the piece of paper. It was time for him to contact Jake again to pursue his next project. He picked up the telephone receiver and dialled a number to leave a message on an ansafone for his subordinate to contact him at the earliest possible moment. Copies of Faberge Eggs! Who would have considered a project of that style and magnitude? It was an area of opportunity that no one had ventured to become involved in before. At least no one had ever heard of such a scam. There was always a market for wealthy collectors who were willing to pay a small fortune for such a prize because they were so rare. The question was how good was this goldsmith Taffler? If he was truly a skilled craftsman, the potential was enormous. It didn’t even depend on the price of manufacture for the end product would bring its own rewards. However he recognised that Taffler had not agreed yet to undertake the task and that he might consider that he was not fit for the task or refuse to play ball on such a sensitive issue. Rose Harris had provided the spark for the project but would it actually burst into flame?

  Chapter Sixteen

  On the following morning, Jake and his henchman walked along the road of a derelict area close to the City of London searching for the shop owned by Sidney Taffler. They eventually came to it and stared into the dirty windows at the impoverished state of the cheap jewellery which lay there for anyone to see. In this downtown area, there was no point in arranging for superb window-dressing. The customers were poor and any high-class or expensive jewellery presented in the window would be beyond their financial reach. It was the most unlikeliest place for Mr. G. to start anew and profitable operation but the two men were not there to question his orders. They entered the shop to be faced by the owner from behind the counter who stared at them suspiciously with fear raking through his mind. He had already been beaten up by robbers. He didn’t want it to happen again.

  ‘How can I help you?’ he asked with concern for by the way they were dressed he could see that they were not the normal type of customer who entered his premises.

  ‘Just a brief few words, Mr. Taffler,’ began the ex-convict firmly. ‘For the purpose of privacy, do you want to talk here or in the back room?.’

  ‘For privacy!’ echoed the jeweller somewhat puzzled. ‘What privacy?’ He was beginning to fear another physical onslaught although he did not know any reason for such a thought.

  ‘We’re going to ask you to help us in our endeavours.’

  ‘What are you talking about? What endeavours?’

  ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about?’

  ‘Why me? Why are you asking me?’

  ‘You were recommended by your nurse when you were in hospital.’

  ‘Rose?’ exclaimed the jeweller. ‘She recommended me? For what?’

  ‘That’s why we’ve come,’ continued Jake bluntly.

  The shop owner hesitated for a few moments and then moved towards the rear door. ‘Follow me!’ he commanded going into a corridor leading to the back of the property.

  He led them to a room which had seen far better days filled with very old worn furniture and invited them to sit down. The fact that Ross Harris’s name had been mentioned ameliorated the immediate danger and he felt far more relieved. Nonetheless he was faced by two strangers who were going to demand something from him and he was most concerned.

  ‘Very well, gentlemen,’ he began in earnest. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘I understand that you’re an expert in metallurgy... skilled in the manufacture of jewels,’ stated Jake bluntly.

  ‘I pride myself on my ability but what’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Faberge Eggs!’ The word echoed around the room in the silence that prevailed.

  ‘What about them?’ asked the jeweller with an element of surprise.

  ‘Are they all genuine?

  ‘What sort of a question is that?’ demanded the other man.

  ‘Do you think that some Faberge Eggs have been copied by expert jewellers outside Russia?’

  The jeweller shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows? Anything’s possible but I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘Exactly!’ declared the ex-convict. ‘There’s one hell of a market for a bargain in Faberge Eggs. Rich collectors would scramble to buy one cheaply.’

  The jeweller began to become impatient. ‘What are you getting at?’ he enquired slowly.

  ‘Okay, I’ll come to the point. Do you think you could copy a Faberge Egg? Do you have the expertise to do so?’

  The other man sat back ostensibly in shock. ‘Copies of Faberge Eggs!’ he gasped. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘I’m asking you whether you can do it.’

  ‘You say that the nurse called Rose put you on to me.’

  ‘Yes... the one who looked after you so well in hospital after you were beaten up.’

  The jeweller screwed up his face as he thought about the matter. ‘Rose!’ he muttered in nostalgia.

  ‘She told us that you were an expert goldsmith who made copies of expensive jewellery for wealthy people. What do you say?’

  The jeweller thought about the idea for a moment scratching his face. ‘It’s not an easy task to copy them. And you know it’s illegal to do so. I could go to jail if I was discovered... passing off such an exclusive piece of jewellery falsely.’

  ‘It’ll never come to that I assure you,’ countered Jake swiftly. ‘We work for a man who will ensure that you’ll always be protected. There are just two questions I need to ask you. One... can you do it? Two... will you do it?’

  ‘Before I answer that, what’s in it for me?’

  ‘Two things,’ responded the ex-convict. ‘Enough money for you to retire on and, secondly, protection. What do you say?’

  ‘You’ll have to give me time to think it over. It’s a big ask. I mean a copy of a Faberge Egg is going to take time. If it’s going to look like the real thing it can’t be hurried.’

  ‘How long would it take you to make one?’

  At least a couple of months if I got hold of the right materials. Firstly, I need an exact coloured photographs of a Faberge Egg showing every angle. That’s a priority before I start. Secondly, I’ll need gold, silver and jewels. You’ll have to pa
y for all that.’

  ‘We’ll arrange for that to happen, Mr. Taffler. You see we’re very serious about this. How much money are we talking about?’

  ‘It depends on how many you’ll be required to make. Don’t worry, you’ll be more than compensated for your work. I think you’d better close up the shop for a while to focus on it. But one thing’s certain. The end product must look exactly like the real thing.’

  ‘If I do this, I’ll be the goose that laid the golden eggs,’ joked the shop owner laughing at his own joke, holding his side as he felt the pain of his injuries.

  ‘That’s very funny,’ returned Jake smiling. ‘I see we’re on the same page. Do you think you could do about six eggs in a year?’

  ‘Maybe... maybe,’ returned Taffer thoughtfully. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. If you can get me all I need I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to hear,’ retorted the ex-convict delightedly. ‘Work out the cost relating to what you need to produce one egg and let me know.’ He removed a business card from his pocket and handed it to the man.

  ‘What about something up front?’ asked the shopkeeper acutely.

  ‘Tell me how much you want and you’ll get it in a few days’ time,’ came the reply.

  They shook hands and a few minutes later, Jake and the henchman left the shop satisfied that they had accomplished their task. Mr. G. would be delighted with the news when he reported back to him.

  Two days later, Jake returned to the shop and he was handed the provisional estimate to producing one counterfeit Faberge Egg.

  ‘Hm,’ he muttered staring at the sheet of paper. ‘It’s not going to be cheap.’

  ‘Of course not,’ stated Taffler sharply. ‘If you want the thing to look like the original, you’ll have to get the right materials. The ex-convict nodded understandingly. ‘What about the protection you offered?’