hand.
Spence’s palms were moist. Will watched him rub them on his shirt. “I don’t have time to play games,” he said.
“It’s your money,” Will observed, sipping his coffee.
“I’m jacking this up to 20,000, Mr. Stein.”
The announcement set the room buzzing. Frazier blinked in disbelief. He felt for the bulge of his cell phone in his pants pocket, but it was premature to reach for it. He still had plenty of room.
Toby’s moustache moved upward ever so slightly as his lip curled in obvious excitement. “Well, then, shall we say 30,000?”
Frazier didn’t hesitate. Of course he was in.
After several moments, the response came from the telephone desk. Stein announced, in a daze, “The bid has been raised to £50,000!”
The murmuring from the audience crescendoed. Stein and Toby looked at each other in disbelief, but Toby was able to maintain his indomitable composure, and simply said, “I have 50,000, may I ask for 60,000?” He beckoned Peter Nieve to his side and whispered for the lad to fetch the Managing Director.
Frazier could feel his heart pounding in his barrel chest. He was authorized to go up to $200,000, about £125,000 which his masters had assumed would be an absurdly ample cushion given the upper estimate of £3,000. There wasn’t a penny more in the Pierce & Whyte escrow account that had been established for him. They were almost halfway there. Who the fuck is bidding against me, he thought angrily. He raised his paddle emphatically.
Spence hit the mute button on his phone and loudly complained, “I wish I could look the son of a bitch who’s bidding against us in the face. Who in hell would pay that kind of money for something that looks like an old census book?”
“Maybe someone else who knows what it is,” Will said ominously.
“Not very likely,” Spence sniffed, “unless…Alf, what do you think?”
Kenyon shrugged, “It’s possible, Henry, it’s always possible.”
“What are you talking about?” Will asked.
“The watchers. The goons from Area 51 could have gotten wind of it, I suppose. I hope not.” Then he declared, “I’m going to take this up a notch.”
“Just how much money does he have?” Will asked Kenyon.
“A lot.”
“And you can’t take it with you,” Spence said. He unmuted the phone. “Stein, you go ahead and bid £100,000 for me. I don’t have the patience for this.”
“Can I just confirm that you said £100,000?” Stein asked, his voice brittle.
“That’s correct.”
Stein shook his head, and announced loudly, “The telephone bid is now £100,000!”
Frazier saw that Toby’s demeanor had turned from excitement to suspicion. He thought, this guy must have just figured out there’s more to the book than he bargained for.
“Well, then,” Toby said evenly, looking straight into Frazier’s pugnacious face. “I wonder if sir would like to go to £125,000?”
Frazier nodded, opened his mouth for the first time all morning, and simply said, “Yes.”
He was nearly maxed out. The last time he had experienced anything close to panic was in his early twenties, a young commando on a SEAL Boat team off the eastern coast of Africa on a mission that had gone bad. Pinned down, outmanned thirty to one, taking RPG fire from some rebel assholes. This felt worse.
He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed the Secretary of the Navy, who, at that moment, was playing an early-morning game of squash in Arlington. His mobile phone rang in a locker, and Frazier heard, “This is Lester. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Stein presented the new bid of 125,000. Spence told him to hang on a second then muted the phone. “It’s time to finish this,” he growled to his companions. Will shrugged. It was his money. When he came back on the line with Stein he said, “I’m bidding £200,000.”
When Stein announced the bid, Toby seemed to steady himself by placing both hands on the podium. The Managing Director of Pierce &
Spence’s palms were moist. Will watched him rub them on his shirt. “I don’t have time to play games,” he said.
“It’s your money,” Will observed, sipping his coffee.
“I’m jacking this up to 20,000, Mr. Stein.”
The announcement set the room buzzing. Frazier blinked in disbelief. He felt for the bulge of his cell phone in his pants pocket, but it was premature to reach for it. He still had plenty of room.
Toby’s moustache moved upward ever so slightly as his lip curled in obvious excitement. “Well, then, shall we say 30,000?”
Frazier didn’t hesitate. Of course he was in.
After several moments, the response came from the telephone desk. Stein announced, in a daze, “The bid has been raised to £50,000!”
The murmuring from the audience crescendoed. Stein and Toby looked at each other in disbelief, but Toby was able to maintain his indomitable composure, and simply said, “I have 50,000, may I ask for 60,000?” He beckoned Peter Nieve to his side and whispered for the lad to fetch the Managing Director.
Frazier could feel his heart pounding in his barrel chest. He was authorized to go up to $200,000, about £125,000 which his masters had assumed would be an absurdly ample cushion given the upper estimate of £3,000. There wasn’t a penny more in the Pierce & Whyte escrow account that had been established for him. They were almost halfway there. Who the fuck is bidding against me, he thought angrily. He raised his paddle emphatically.
Spence hit the mute button on his phone and loudly complained, “I wish I could look the son of a bitch who’s bidding against us in the face. Who in hell would pay that kind of money for something that looks like an old census book?”
“Maybe someone else who knows what it is,” Will said ominously.
“Not very likely,” Spence sniffed, “unless…Alf, what do you think?”
Kenyon shrugged, “It’s possible, Henry, it’s always possible.”
“What are you talking about?” Will asked.
“The watchers. The goons from Area 51 could have gotten wind of it, I suppose. I hope not.” Then he declared, “I’m going to take this up a notch.”
“Just how much money does he have?” Will asked Kenyon.
“A lot.”
“And you can’t take it with you,” Spence said. He unmuted the phone. “Stein, you go ahead and bid £100,000 for me. I don’t have the patience for this.”
“Can I just confirm that you said £100,000?” Stein asked, his voice brittle.
“That’s correct.”
Stein shook his head, and announced loudly, “The telephone bid is now £100,000!”
Frazier saw that Toby’s demeanor had turned from excitement to suspicion. He thought, this guy must have just figured out there’s more to the book than he bargained for.
“Well, then,” Toby said evenly, looking straight into Frazier’s pugnacious face. “I wonder if sir would like to go to £125,000?”
Frazier nodded, opened his mouth for the first time all morning, and simply said, “Yes.”
He was nearly maxed out. The last time he had experienced anything close to panic was in his early twenties, a young commando on a SEAL Boat team off the eastern coast of Africa on a mission that had gone bad. Pinned down, outmanned thirty to one, taking RPG fire from some rebel assholes. This felt worse.
He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed the Secretary of the Navy, who, at that moment, was playing an early-morning game of squash in Arlington. His mobile phone rang in a locker, and Frazier heard, “This is Lester. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Stein presented the new bid of 125,000. Spence told him to hang on a second then muted the phone. “It’s time to finish this,” he growled to his companions. Will shrugged. It was his money. When he came back on the line with Stein he said, “I’m bidding £200,000.”
When Stein announced the bid, Toby seemed to steady himself by placing both hands on the podium. The Managing Director of Pierce &
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