Sebastian paused to appreciate the photograph in the entertainment section. It showed a crowd gathered in the Higgins Hotel to see Mrs. Garlow's installation, and it was his first sale. He then moved on to reading the letters to the editor. There were a couple of letters defending Mrs. Flannery's comments about Mrs. Garlow's installation. They questioned how such a thing could possibly be called art, and having seen the installation in question, Sebastian was on their side. There was a letter from someone who'd bought a copy of Gran's book, and seemed to think it was money well spent.
Monday
Sebastian flipped through the paper until he came to the letters to the editor. Today, for the first time Sebastian could remember, they took up an entire page. There were the run of the mill letters, where people complained about the government or the way the iron-rimmed wheels on wagons traveling through Grantville were damaging the roads. And then there was the developing battle between Mrs. Garlow and Mrs. Flannery. People were starting to take sides. And caught in the middle was Gran's book. Sebastian chewed at his thumbnail as he tried to work out if this was good or bad.
"Stop chewing your nails. There's plenty of food in the house!"
He dropped the thumb instantly and turned to his mother. "I'm worried about what this will do to sales of Gran's book. Do you think it'll hurt it?"
"Of course not, it's all good publicity."
She was his mother, so of course she'd say something like that. Sebastian turned back to the letters. As he read he felt his thumb brushing his lips and hastily dropped it.
Tuesday
Sebastian put down the phone and smiled.
"Some more orders?" his father asked.
He nodded. "That's the sixth shop to call asking for delivery of more books as soon as possible."
"So everyone likes Mom's book again?"
"Everyone but Mrs. Bonnaro. I got a check and her returns today."
Simon walked around to read the list of orders Sebastian had taken down. "She might regret that. How many books have you sold, then?"
Sebastian opened the order book at the back, where he'd been keeping a running tally. "We've had orders for three hundred in Grantville, of which we've been paid for a hundred and thirty four, and we have mail-orders for another sixty, waiting on the clearance of payments."
"So you've got close to two hundred actual sales, and nearly four hundred possible sales. That's not bad."
"But we need to sell nearly seven hundred to break even."
"So get out there and hustle. Advertise. Do what you have to do to move them. Otherwise you'll end up remaindering them for fifty percent off."
Wednesday
The Grantville Times Wednesday edition was double its normal size, being a bumper four section, sixteen page monster. The letters to the editor claimed the full two page center-spread in one section. And it wasn't just the Times. The Daily News was also running an enlarged letters to the editor section.
The opening of Mrs. Garlow's latest show was also being promoted. Sebastian looked at it, and wondered. "Dad, would it be all right if I go to the gallery tonight?"
"What time?"
"The show starts at seven thirty, so I'd like to get there earlier."
"What show?" Mary Ellen asked.
"Mrs. Garlow's got a new exhibition starting tonight."
"And why this sudden interest in first night showings?"
"I thought I might take a camera and see if I can get some shots for the paper."
His father smiled. "You're hoping to earn a little pocket money? Don't let your first sale go to your head."
"I won't," Sebastian said, although that was exactly what he was thinking. He'd got a hundred dollars for that shot. If he made another sale. .
"Just stay out of trouble," Mary Ellen said.
"What kind of trouble can you get into at an art gallery?"
Wednesday night
Sebastian had an advantage over all the other photographers. His grandparents had been enthusiastic photographers and collectors of photographic paraphernalia. His grandfather had reenacted as a Civil war photographer, even going so far as to use historically correct wet-plate photography. Not that Sebastian was using anything that primitive. No, he was using a Speed Graphic with an electronic flash. Not only was it a better camera than anybody else had, it opened doors, including the front door to the gallery. He hadn't thought about the dress code for a first night of an exhibition.
Sebastian happily moved through the gallery taking photographs of the notables as he saw them, usually with their enthusiastic agreement. Then he saw Mrs. Flannery. Sebastian was no student of body language, but with the current battle raging in the letters to the editor he would have thought she'd be a bit of a spectre at the feast. He decided to follow her. He saw her stop in front of a woman and they started talking.
FLASH! Smack!
The room went silent. Half of the patrons were staring at him, while the rest were staring at the two women. The one Mrs. Flannery had confronted was holding a hand to her face.
Sebastian lowered the camera he didn't remember lifting and smiled innocently to the people looking his way. "Don't take any notice of me. I'm just the photographer." He did his best to disappear into the woodwork as he rapidly changed out the exposed double-dark, filed it in his camera bag, and reloaded the camera. By the time he finished reloading the camera, the capacitor on the flash unit was recharged. He looked around for something else to photograph.
A hand tapped on his shoulder "Did you get a shot of that?"
Sebastian turned to find Lyle Kindred and his wife looking at him. "What?"
"Brianna Flannery slapping Heather Garlow."
"Oh!" He looked back to where Mrs. Garlow was still being comforted by a male escort. "Is that who she is?"
"Yes. Now, did you get a shot of the slap?"
"I don't know. I don't even remember lifting the camera, let alone taking the photo."
"We might make a press photographer of you yet," Lyle said. "Come with me to the Times, and we'll see what you've got."
"You're not going to abandon me here are you?" Mary Jo Kindred demanded.
"Have you seen anything you like?" Lyle asked.
"No!"
"Then there's no problem," Lyle said as he started to escort Sebastian out of the gallery.
"I might decide there's something I like," Mary Jo called after them. "Something really expensive," she added just before Lyle and Sebastian left the gallery.
Thursday
The Grantville Times was two sections again. The photograph of Mrs. Flannery slapping Mrs. Garlow made page four. Sebastian looked at it with pride. He'd got it just about perfect. He couldn't have taken a better shot if he'd tried, and according to Mr. Kindred, if he'd tried, he probably would have made a mess of it.
He moved on to the entertainment section, and saw some more of his photographs. This time they were people who'd attended the showing. Mr. Kindred hadn't paid as much for them, but he'd suggested that the subjects might want to buy copies.
That left the review of the exhibition. Sebastian found it, and cracked up laughing.
Across the table, his mother lowered her copy of the Times. "What's so funny?"
"Have a look at who Mr. Kindred got to do the review of Mrs. Garlow's exhibition."
Mary Ellen did as she was told and giggled. "'Reminiscent of the more extreme forms of Cubism.' Brianna Flannery really doesn't like Heather Garlow."
"So why did Mr. Kindred ask her to review Mrs. Garlow's exhibition?" Sebastian asked.
"You're the one who claims to have learned so much from your business studies. Think!"
Sebastian did as he was told. He thought. He looked at the paper, and eventually it came to him. "The Times doubled in size inside a week, and they're carrying a lot more advertising." His mother's slow clap response told Sebastian he'd hit the nail on the head.
Friday
"Free at last." Sebastian all but sang the phrase as he hurried up the path. For him, school
was finally over. He'd survived the last day of preparatory Latin, and now he was ready to attend his first lectures at university. There was a pile of messages stuck to the fridge for him. They were phone orders from shops wanting more books. There was also a request for an urgent delivery from an outfit called the Round theRing Guided Tours. They wanted two cartons delivered to their office as soon as possible. There was also a contact phone number.
Sebastian hung up the phone and made a note in his sales book.
"You're looking awfully cheerful," his mother said.
"A tour business based in Rottenbach just ordered two cartons, and they'll pay cash on delivery if I can get them to them today." His mother didn't look quite as happy about his good news as he would have liked. "It's good news, Mom."
"But that's a lot of money to carry around."
Sebastian stared at his mother while he did the necessary mental calculations. Forty books at wholesale was nearly twenty-eight grand. Sure he'd processed similar sized orders before, but payment had usually been by check. "I'll be careful."
"I'd rather you waited until your father got home."
"But they need the books now. Apparently they didn't know about the book until a client showed up with a copy asking to be shown where the various photographs had been taken from. They have a couple of parties coming in tomorrow morning and they want to have them available before they set out."
Mary Ellen sighed. "At least take a gun, and be careful."
Coming from his mother, the suggestion that he take a gun was a reflection of just how worried she was. "I will."
The gun he selected was a Beretta 92. He slipped that into a small-of-the-back holster and set about loading his bicycle. Two cartons filled the box he'd fitted to his rear carrier, leaving the front carrier free for his camera bag. He lifted his jacket to show his mother he had a gun and set out.
The road to Rottenbach took Sebastian up the north arm of Route 250. He made a comfort stop at the church at Drakes Run and had just returned to his bike when heard the roar of a motorcycle reverberating in the valley. He thought immediately of Denise Beasley and her friend, and how he'd missed getting photographs of Minnie Hugelmair riding her motorcycle into city hall. He grabbed his camera and hurried to the road. He saw the biker heading his way and got ready. The rider was past in a flash, and Sebastian could only hope he'd got the photograph. He knew the theory of photographing a moving vehicle, he just hadn't had a lot of practice, especially with one moving so fast.
Suddenly Sebastian realized he couldn't hear the motorbike any more. He changed over the double-dark, got on his bike, and pedaled madly in the direction the biker had gone.
When he rounded the corner he slowed down. The biker might be in trouble, but not of the kind that Sebastian could help with. As he cycled past he glanced at the man standing by his bike while the policeman wrote him a ticket. He had such a hangdog expression on his face that Sebastian couldn't help himself. He lifted his camera.
Ten minutes later, and a mile up the road, Sebastian was cursing his luck. He unloaded his bike and turned it over so he could free the back wheel. Why couldn't it have been the motorcyclist who picked up the bit of glass?
He was just reassembling his bike after repairing the puncture when a pickup truck pulled up alongside him and Officer Blake Haggerty leaned out the window. "You need a lift anywhere?"
Sebastian almost said no, but then he thought, who better to help him collect nearly thirty thousand dollars than a couple of police officers. "I've almost got it fixed, but I don't suppose you could help me do something else?"
"What?" Officer Heinrich Steinfeldt asked.
He pointed to the two cartons of books. "I'm supposed to be delivering those to a place in Rottenbach, and they've said they'll pay cash." He paused. "It's a lot of money, and I'd feel a lot better if you were with me."
"How much money?" Blake asked.
"Just under twenty-eight thousand dollars."
The two police officers exchanged looks and shrugged. "Why not? Toss your bike in the back."
The rest of the trip to Rottenbach was uneventful, as was the transaction, and the trip to the Grantville bank to deposit the money. Sebastian's mother just about fell on Officer's Haggerty and Steinfeldt in gratitude when they delivered Sebastian safe and sound to the front door. However, as a mother she knew how to show proper appreciation, and both men left weighed down with cake and cookies.
With another forty books sold Sebastian headed over to his gran's house to develop the photographs he'd taken. He was on good terms with Gran's tenants, and after letting them know he was there he disappeared into the darkroom his grandparents had built into the back of the garage.
The shot of the down-timer being talked to by Officer Steinfeldt was as good as he'd hoped it would be, but the shot of the motorbike speeding by was even better. He pulled out a packet of the biggest paper in the darkroom-some of the twenty-four by thirty inch paper being made for the Kirlian Imaging industry, and made as big a print as he could.
He had just put the large print away in the glazing press to dry when there was a firm knock on the door.
"Can we talk to you for a moment, Herr Jones?
Sebastian didn't recognize the voice, but it didn't sound threatening. "Just a moment!" he called. He did a quick check that he'd put everything away, checked that the prints hanging over the sink were dry enough not to attract any dust, turned on the light, turning off the red safe light at the same time. Then he opened the door.
They were Suits, and very expensive Suits at that. Sebastian recognized one of them. She was an up-time female-young and attractive. The other was a down-time man-not so young, and not so attractive. Actually, he looked a lot like a well-dressed bouncer, but no bouncer could afford tailoring that good. Sebastian looked beyond them to see the reassuring sight of Gran's tenants. He waved to them, and the Suits looked to see who he was waving at. "How can I help you?"
"We believe you took some photographs of Don Francisco Nasi today," Tommasina “Tommie” Genucci said.
"I've just printed them," Sebastian said. "Do you want to have a look?" Sebastian stepped away from the door to let them in.
Tommasina removed the photo of Don Francisco being given a traffic ticket from the drying line and studied it. "We've been empowered to negotiate for the negative of this photograph and any prints you might have made."
Sebastian took a few seconds to work his way around what she'd said. Finally deciding it meant they had been asked to buy it. He looked at the photograph. The guy really did look embarrassed to be stopped and given a ticket. Still, Tommasina hadn't said Mr. Nasi was their client, and Sebastian didn't want to embarrass the guy anymore than he already was. "Sorry, but it's not for sale."
Tommasina pulled back her shoulders and jiggled her chest a little while running her tongue over her lips. "We're willing to pay you a thousand dollars, in cash, for everything you have on Don Francisco Nasi." She nodded to the man who opened an envelope and counted out ten hundred dollar bills.
That made Sebastian even more dubious. The most he'd been paid for a photograph was the two hundred and fifty dollars for the Slap. He shook his head. "Nope."
"Our client really wants that negative and any prints. Two thousand dollars," she said.
"Nope!" Sebastian said. "If it's that important, I'll send them to Mr. Nasi myself."
There was a standoff with the two Suits looking at Sebastian, who looked straight back. Eventually the man put back the wad of hundred dollar bills and pulled out a wallet and produced a Johnnie. "Use a courier."
Sebastian stared at the twenty dollar bill in the man's hand. It seemed that maybe they were on the up and up. It wouldn't hurt to accept the money, if it was used to pay to send the negative and prints to Mr. Nasi. He reached out for the money. "I'll do that."
"Tonight!" the man said.
Sebastian checked his watch. "That might be pushing it. I'll try, but they have to dry first. Now, the sooner you lea
ve, the sooner I can finish up here and get over to the post office to send them off."
The man stared hard at Sebastian, but he easily maintained eye contact until the man nodded his head and gestured to Tommasina that it was time to go.
Sebastian showed them out, and was happy to see a couple of the tenants were lazing in the swing seat watching the darkroom door. He waved to them, and to the two Suits, before shutting the door on them. He glanced at his watch again. He wasn't sure he'd be able to dry the prints and get them to the courier in time.
"That could have gone better," Wolfgang Klettwich muttered as they walked down the path to their waiting cab. "Your sex appeal certainly fell flat. Herr Jones didn't even bat an eye when you jiggled your tits."
"He's a Methodist. What do you expect?"
"Considering how you insisted he'd be putty in your hands, I'd have expected at least a little staring down your cleavage."
"At least we stopped the photo going public," Tommasina muttered.
"Not by anything you did." Wolfgang glanced over his shoulder at the still closed door of the darkroom. "I wonder if he really will send Don Francisco the negative."
"Of course he will. He took the twenty you offered for the courier."
"So?"
"He's a Methodist. He wouldn't have taken the money if he wasn't going to send the negative."
"You show remarkable faith in human nature for a lawyer, Tommie."
Tommasina stopped in her tracks and turned to face Wolfgang. "Sebastian Jones will mail the negative to Don Francisco."
"Would you care to wager a little money on that?"
Tommasina glanced at the darkroom door and back to Wolfgang. "A hundred dollars says Sebastian Jones at least tries to get the negatives to the courier office before they close."
Wolfgang looked at the darkroom door for a few seconds before spitting on his hand and holding it out. Tommasina did likewise and they shook hands. "How are we going to be sure what happens?" Wolfgang asked.
"We hang around and wait."
Wolfgang pulled out his watch and checked the time. "He has an hour."
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