His confidence made most of the room relax, and others fidgeted anxiously to get on with the bidding.
“Our catalogs also contain a complete list of our specialists, and it is possible to request a comprehensive condition report from our Client Advisory Group. If you plan to attend the auction for a specific item, check the catalog for the time of the sale. Some sales have more than one session, so be attentive that you are attending the proper session for the lot that holds your interest.
“The most important thing to do before you begin the process of bidding is to set a price limit for the items that you intend to bid on.”
As if schooling a new class of students, he proceeded to caution the group. “In placing the bid, the buyer must question why he or she was willing to pay more than the other bidders. This seems an appropriate time to mention that bids are irrevocable, and by bidding you are entering into a legally binding transaction. This is not meant to dissuade bidders, but rather to promote practical consideration.
“Another important part of setting your price limit is recognizing that a buyer’s premium will be added to the hammer price of every lot. All applicable taxes will be added to the total sale price. This is the total amount that you will pay. At lower levels, these fees are quite small; however, they do begin to add up as the hammer price increases. While bidding, make your bids clear. Do not haltingly inch you paddle up or hold it in a way that it cannot be seen clearly by me, the auctioneer.
“Don’t be shy. If something is going wrong, speak up at once. If you have erroneously bid on the wrong item, let me know as soon as you realize. If you wait until the end of the auction, it will be too late.
“I beg the forgiveness of our dedicated clients to indulge me while I caution our new most welcomed members about bidding on a lot. When I look to you for the next bid, nodding your head will indicate that you are still bidding. Shaking your head will indicate your withdrawal from bidding.
“Once the hammer falls you have become the successful bidder. Please remember that your final purchase price will be determined by adding the customary buyer’s premium to your bid on a per lot basis. Any additional local taxes that may be due, for example sales tax, and VAT, will be charged on the entire amount. You may pay with cash, subject to certain restrictions, check, money order or wire transfer. We also accept VISA and MasterCard subject to some limitations. You may pay for your purchase immediately after the auction at the purchaser accounts or cashiers, or an invoice will be mailed to you within three days of the sale. If you pay by check, we ask for your patience as your purchase will be released upon notice that your check has cleared. Payments must come from the invoiced party, only we are unable to accept third-party payments.
“All purchases should be picked up or shipped within ten business days after the auction. After that time, your property will be subject to a handling charge, and you may be charged for storage. If you are interested in shipping, our Art Transport staff will help you with shipping and insurance arrangements.”
And now having taken control of the room, he was ready to start. Auctions can be entertaining and exciting. To watch masterpieces sold can be as action-packed as any spectator sport. Bidding for an important lot might soar into the millions of dollars in seconds. The participants and spectators can be seen during a frenzied bidding war watching the action as if they were at a spirited tennis match. Often, two serious bidders may exchange rapidly increasing bids referred to as a duel.
Though it might seem as if everything proceeded according to a script, it would not. Tonight, something was concealed. This particular Matisse had come to the auction house with a dark and malevolent secret.
And now it was being called to auction. “Through the 1920s, Henri Matisse resided in Nice from late fall until early spring of each year. While in his Nice apartment he completed many of our favorite and most colorful works of art. Among them the following offered for sale tonight, the Cellist and Chess Players. This has been in a private collection since 1930, and is on offer for sale for the first time since it was bought then.”
Any person who looked at this exquisite work with its brilliant bursts and swirls of bold color would never suspect that this picture once was a blank canvas in the hands of a fourteen-year-old forger.
In the air, there was a certain electrical quality as if you could see a short jab of white electricity emanating from the crowd. If you listened close enough, you could hear the crowd’s pulse quicken. If you stared into the bidder’s faces, you could read their thoughts. One woman had it sitting in her living room in her mind. Another gentleman had planned to donate it to a museum so it could rightfully take its place among the greats for patrons to gaze upon it. But the person who was to win the bidding war was an anonymous person whose bid came in by telephone through an agent. After winning the bidding war, arrangements were made for payment and shipping.
Momentarily startled by the conclusion, Emma leaned over and whispered, “What just happened?”
I replied dryly, “You have just witnessed how the machine known as White and Roselov executes civil war and terror. Thirty million dollars’ worth. Let’s go.”
As we advanced to the front office, I had that spine tingling feeling we were being watched. I swept the room again for any obvious tail, and one set of eyes met mine. The man from the day before when we stood admiring the Matisse. He sent a small nod and thin-lipped smile my way and then left.
I pulled out my phone and speed-dialed Jackson. He answered immediately. “We got it. It’s supposed to be deposited into a Swiss account. And . . .” Jackson started.
“And what? Whose account is it?” I demanded.
“Emma Collier. That’s going to be interesting to see how White takes possession of this money,” he said.
“I did not see this coming. The last person I thought the money man would be was White. I was positive it was Roselov. You think White doesn’t know Sopia’s dead and can’t collect his money? What’s your impression? How were they planning on getting that money?”
“No idea. The buyer went through an agent. Got to go. Call me in two,” he said and suddenly disconnected.
Emma touched my sleeve and asked what I learned. I guided her through the office entrance and asked her to wait while I met with the director. Fifteen minutes later, we set out.
“What’s the story?” she asked as we walked back to the hotel to change.
I placed her arm in mine, and we returned to strolling. “We don’t know. The account it is going into threw us a curve ball.”
Why I chose this moment to tell her what I was thinking I had no idea. Was it a good idea? Hell no! Would I regret it? Probably. But before I could put the brakes on it came speeding out of my mouth like a runaway train.
“Em, I have been holding back from you. I know you had a lot to deal with, but I think it’s time that you have the full breadth of the evil known as Jude White.”
“Cillian, my rational mind is split in half. I was seeing the one side of him that he wanted me to see. As his mask slipped this year, I refused to see the clues he was giving me. If I had gone to a therapist, she would have said I was dealing with an emotionally abusive situation as I was walking around on eggshells. But I let it continue, so what does that say about me? Do you have any clue how angry I am at myself? Why couldn’t I have been like Eloise and said ‘Fuck you. I’m gone’ instead of coming home to sleep in separate beds and doing what he said. I need this to end. It seems like I’ll never be free of him.”
“Em, hear me out. He is a thief and con man, and he conned you and so many others. That’s what he did in life, and he was good at it. The man laundered money to help drug dealers put drugs in children’s hands. He helped arm people which led to the slaughter of innocent children by helping procure guns and chemical weapons. Now we have reliable intel that he has stepped up his game and is floating into human trafficking and the black-market organ trade. His help aids in drugging kids on vacation in Thailand and Mexi
co to be abused in the sex trade or to steal their body parts. These people are daughters or sisters, even a son or brother.
“He started down the road earlier this year, playing in the black-market organ harvesting pool using people who can’t leave Aleppo because they don’t have the funds as a way out. The coyotes ship the Syrians to Egypt for an organ donation as their fee to freedom. Since that is frowned upon in most of the world, somebody has to clean the money. So White raised his hand with Roselov, and we believe they have branched out to take it up a level for more monetary gain.
“After seeing the freeport, we know he branched out into looted antiquities. We are now acutely aware there was an arsenal in that place waiting to be shipped to wreak havoc and destruction somewhere. He was no longer a passive player but now an active participant. Is he dead or on the run? Would it be good if White is dead? You bet. Do I care if he never resurfaces? Yes, because I want to bury him in a maximum-security prison where he will sit in a ten-by-ten room, twenty-three hours a day for the rest of his miserable life.”
She whirled on me and a voice laced with venom came at me. “You act as if I care about Jude Edward White the thief, the con artist, the murderer. If you and the goddamn FBI had done your job, he and that Russian bastard would be behind bars. I would not be running for my life or worried. For a year now, he’s been on your radar, and my life has been shit. Now I wonder, will I walk out that fucking door and he’ll be on the other side to put a bullet in my head just like Sopia? Or perhaps Roselov will be the one. Or possibly someone who bought one of my authenticated paintings and now is in financial ruin. Either way, my life is over, and all I can do is hide. I am scared out of my mind for me and anyone who knows me. I have empathy and pity for the children his bombs set on fire and melted their skin. It sickens me to think about the men whose skin was ripped to pieces from his weapons. I have no control over any of that; our government does and if they can’t stop him, then God help us.
“But as self-centered as this sounds right now, the only one that feels my pain is me. My fear is mine, and my anger is mine. Maybe it is karma’s punishment for basking in the fact a man found me attractive. Me. I’m the ugly duckling. I’m the socially inept one. I was so afraid of rejection and abandonment I held tight to a man capable of inflicting mass destruction. I am the only one paying the price right now for my stupidity and lack of self-esteem.”
The venom stopped, and eerie calmness followed.
As I stepped up to her, she put her hand up to push me back.
“I want to go home. I want to pack my shit and go. You and Jackson have a job, so do it. Find those bastards and kill them. But until you jail or kill them, I am gone. I am quitting my job, and I am a ghost. I am cutting off my phone, and I am leaving for the hills where no one can find me. I am done. Right now, I am going upstairs and going to bed. I will meet you downstairs in the morning, and we will board that flight together and fly home. I will instruct Eloise that I no longer want to be the trustee of the goddamn trust, and Margaret will terminate my domestic partnership. Lex will find some way to legally disavow ownership of anything in my name other than the 401K I own and the savings account I am going to liquidate.”
Something was chilling about her eyes that showed no emotion.
She turned and left.
Emma
THE HEAVY CURTAINS WERE DRAWN. The room was pitch black except for a thin sliver of light peeking through the hallway door. My mood reflected the darkness, my mind unable to shut down.
At six, my alarm blared to alert me it was time to drag myself out of bed to face the day. I studied my tired and weary face and decided no makeup today. I just didn’t care how I appeared. I pulled my hair in a ponytail holder and rolled my luggage down to breakfast where I’d wait for Cillian. He joined me soon after, and we ate in comfortable silence.
The taxi ride to terminal two was quiet despite the noise of the busy city. Charles De Gaulle airport, what a nightmare. The security line was the length of a hundred-foot snake, and we were in the belly of this beast. Angry people were arguing with customer service in different languages, and random people asked to leave the line for no apparent reason. I seriously must be losing my mind because I could swear I saw the man from the auction house about ten people behind us.
As I moved through the security line, I placed my bag on the belt and sent it on its way to the X-ray machine. As I walked past the body scanner, I immediately was pulled aside as I watched my luggage roll down after clearing the X-ray machine. A short heavy woman with gloves thoroughly searched me for weapons and tested my fingertips for bomb residue. After I was released, they searched my luggage and tested for bomb residue. How would they react if they knew I was trying to help dismantle a terror group and here I was treated like a terrorist? What the hell?
No one behind me seemed to mind or notice I was being detained, they just went on about their busy lives and circled around me. After repacking my rummaged-through luggage, I joined Cillian and we walked in silence through the concourse to the airport bus and took it to our final destination—terminal B. We navigated one last set of airport security hurdles, and I received my reward which was a coffee and gooey pastry.
Finally, we could sit in the large comfortable waiting area where I found a phone charging seat and also had a place for my pastry and coffee. I was about to take a bite of my meal when Cillian’s phone rang.
“Jackson, what’s up?” he asked sipping his coffee.
There was a response from Jackson I could not understand, but abruptly Cillian responded, “You have to be shitting me. How?”
A lengthy silence ensued. “Okay, call me right back.”
“What?” I was curious but not alarmed.
“Apparently, the inside person at the auction house tried to remove the seventy-two-hour hold on the funds and have the funds released to the bank,” he said standing to stretch. He then wandered toward the window.
Following him, I settled to his left and watched his reflection in the window. He reached out and stroked my arm offering reassurance and comfort. “We had a hold on the funds blocking them from leaving. If it were up to me, I’d have let it go through. The bank account the money was to be deposited into was in your name so we could have intercepted it with your trust. But Jackson and Homeland were afraid the account in your name might be automatically triggered to disperse to other accounts before we could block it at that end and then we could not intercept it.”
“Wait. What? My name? When did you learn this?”
“Days are running into each other with the time zone changes. Yesterday. The problem is this sale was set in motion a month ago. I don’t know if they had Sopia ready to get the money on the termination end acting as you. Or it could be set up as an immediate disbursement to other offshore accounts. Anyway, I understand why they wanted to capture the money and we did. They are now working backward, kind of reverse engineering on where the funds came from, but it will take a while because it was paid through several dummy corporations.”
As he stood to dispose of our garbage, we were alerted our plane was ready for boarding.
“Give me a minute and let me call Jackson and get an update,” he said and told me to get in line to hold our place.
He walked to a less congested area, and I saw his face crumble as he placed his right hand on the pole to brace himself as he leaned. Slowly, he turned and caught my eye and then looked away quickly. He finished his call and returned to me.
“What? What happened?” I asked. I just knew something bad was wrong.
Pulling me to the side and bracing my arms he said, “The safe house where Diana and her family stayed was destroyed a few hours ago. We don’t know how they found them. The investigation is underway, but it can’t be determined if it was a gas explosion or some type of detonation. All I am aware of is the house exploded, and it took a few hours to put out the flames. They recovered the agent, her mother and father’s bodies, but so far not Diana,” he said. “P
erhaps she sneaked out before it happened to be with her boyfriend. Maybe she made it out and is on the run hiding and doesn’t trust us to keep her safe.”
“Oh my God, Cillian. Oh my God. Could they have kidnapped her?” I started chewing my fingernail as I thought more.
“It’s highly unlikely. There’s nothing we can do from here, and I don’t have all the information. When we get back, there will be more information available, and we can all talk. The plane is almost finished boarding. Let’s board and not a word about this on the plane. I have some thoughts but need to discuss them with my people,” he said.
We boarded and headed back to devastation and disaster worse than what we left two days earlier. Had our trip that foiled someone’s plan ignited this new event? Was I next on the hit list?
Cillian
WHAT DID I MISS? WHY come back and take out Diana’s family? This type of action brings more attention to things. Did the parents know more than we thought? Were they a part of this mess? Where is Diana? Is she dead, hurt, or did she decide to hide out somewhere? At some point, she will surface, but why trust us if we couldn’t even keep her family safe.
We have nothing to arrest Roselov on. All the property and bank accounts are in White and Emma’s names. So why stick around? How did they plan to use the money from the auction house?
Emma. What about Emma? Is she next in their sights? How can we realistically keep her safe?
Roselov. What is his next move? Why not leave? Where the hell is White? If I were him, I’d be in some place with no extradition like South America. But does he have access to enough money to live? With all the money he has scammed over the years, he should. Unless we confiscated his only nest egg, which is unlikely. He’s resourceful. Once he’s settled, he should be able to start some new scam. With his passport frozen he won’t be able to get out or back into the States except if he attempts to cross the border illegally. Or more likely he has another false identification already set up.
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