transport their yachts long distances, and sometimes they prefer not to go along for the ride—fine. But this cargo of yours, this crate—it’s so big that you’re actually having contractors take apart the companionway just to get the thing on board. Why not just truck it up to Seattle?”
Lethe sipped from his glass of Montrachet. Jason had peeked at the wine list—$270 a bottle! “Let’s just say that it suits me far more to transport the crate by water. Hiring a truck seems… mundane.” Then Lethe smiled. “But, seriously, Jason. Do I look like a drug smuggler?”
“Hey, sir, really,” Jason jabbered too quickly. “I wasn’t for a minute suspecting—”
“Please, Jason.” Lethe seemed utterly amused, pausing to sniff at his wine every so often. “It’s your job to be suspicious, and it is that level of thoroughness that I expect. If you want to know what’s in the crate, why don’t you ask?”
“Okay, uh,” Jason said. “What’s, uh, what’s in the crate?”
“A twelfth century footstand.”
“A what? ”
“An entablatured footstand. Think of it as a medieval coffee table; it’s solid oak, weighs close to three hundred pounds.”
“What, some kind of antique?”
“Perforce. This footstand was the actual gold carrier in which a ransom of 150,000 marks was paid to Emperor Henry VI of France, for the safe return of England’s King, Richard I, in the year 1192. It’s quite dull to look at, I’m afraid, but of course the entails of its history make it very valuable.”
A…footstand, Jason thought dumbly. “So you’re an antique collector, is that it?”
Lethe made an odd smile. “A collector, yes.”
“And I guess this footstand is worth a lot of money.”
“Oh, yes. Actually, it’s worth about as much as the yacht.”
Jason nearly spat out his Killian’s Red. A million-five for a fuckin’ footstand! You gotta be out of your mind!
“Because,” Lethe continued, sipping more wine, “the footstand also happens to contain the original ransom agreement, which is signed by both kings. It happens to be the only surviving document, in fact, that bears Richard’s signature.”
I guess that’ll do it, Jason thought. Collectors, what a weird bunch. If Jason had a million-five to blow, he’d pass on the footstand.
“Ah,” Lethe announced as a sultry waitress wended to the table. “Here come the snails. Have some, Jason.”
Jason took one glance at the things on the plate, and that was all she wrote. “No thanks. I’m trying to cut down.”
“Anna?”
Jason’s silent accomplice made a face and shook her head, but she didn’t hesitate to let Lethe pour her more wine. It was then that Jason noticed that most of the women in the restaurant kept stealing glances in their direction. Their waitress seemed to appear at Lethe’s shoulder about every five minutes, as if she seemed eager to serve on bent knee for him. When he commanded her it was by her name. Her face glowed every time he spoke. Lethe was getting her hot and bothered. Jason expected her to pull off her panties at any minute, and beg Lethe to take her on the table.
Jason leaned close. With a conspirator’s tone he commented, “I think she likes you.”
Lethe dismissed the attention as something that he was used to. “It is, after all, her job.”
Jason gravitated to the man. He also noticed that Anna seemed more reticent than before. It was clear that she was not comfortable around her new employer. Jason didn’t really care—money was money. And this was good money.
At any rate, the deal was done. Jason and Anna would take the Betruger up the coast in the morning, and meet Lethe in Seattle. “That reminds me,” Jason spoke up. “I’ll need the number of your hotel so I can call you once we’ve arrived.”
“No need,” Lethe replied and rose. “I’ll find you.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yes, I must go. So I’ll see you both in a couple of days.”
“Guten nacht,”
Lethe sipped from his glass of Montrachet. Jason had peeked at the wine list—$270 a bottle! “Let’s just say that it suits me far more to transport the crate by water. Hiring a truck seems… mundane.” Then Lethe smiled. “But, seriously, Jason. Do I look like a drug smuggler?”
“Hey, sir, really,” Jason jabbered too quickly. “I wasn’t for a minute suspecting—”
“Please, Jason.” Lethe seemed utterly amused, pausing to sniff at his wine every so often. “It’s your job to be suspicious, and it is that level of thoroughness that I expect. If you want to know what’s in the crate, why don’t you ask?”
“Okay, uh,” Jason said. “What’s, uh, what’s in the crate?”
“A twelfth century footstand.”
“A what? ”
“An entablatured footstand. Think of it as a medieval coffee table; it’s solid oak, weighs close to three hundred pounds.”
“What, some kind of antique?”
“Perforce. This footstand was the actual gold carrier in which a ransom of 150,000 marks was paid to Emperor Henry VI of France, for the safe return of England’s King, Richard I, in the year 1192. It’s quite dull to look at, I’m afraid, but of course the entails of its history make it very valuable.”
A…footstand, Jason thought dumbly. “So you’re an antique collector, is that it?”
Lethe made an odd smile. “A collector, yes.”
“And I guess this footstand is worth a lot of money.”
“Oh, yes. Actually, it’s worth about as much as the yacht.”
Jason nearly spat out his Killian’s Red. A million-five for a fuckin’ footstand! You gotta be out of your mind!
“Because,” Lethe continued, sipping more wine, “the footstand also happens to contain the original ransom agreement, which is signed by both kings. It happens to be the only surviving document, in fact, that bears Richard’s signature.”
I guess that’ll do it, Jason thought. Collectors, what a weird bunch. If Jason had a million-five to blow, he’d pass on the footstand.
“Ah,” Lethe announced as a sultry waitress wended to the table. “Here come the snails. Have some, Jason.”
Jason took one glance at the things on the plate, and that was all she wrote. “No thanks. I’m trying to cut down.”
“Anna?”
Jason’s silent accomplice made a face and shook her head, but she didn’t hesitate to let Lethe pour her more wine. It was then that Jason noticed that most of the women in the restaurant kept stealing glances in their direction. Their waitress seemed to appear at Lethe’s shoulder about every five minutes, as if she seemed eager to serve on bent knee for him. When he commanded her it was by her name. Her face glowed every time he spoke. Lethe was getting her hot and bothered. Jason expected her to pull off her panties at any minute, and beg Lethe to take her on the table.
Jason leaned close. With a conspirator’s tone he commented, “I think she likes you.”
Lethe dismissed the attention as something that he was used to. “It is, after all, her job.”
Jason gravitated to the man. He also noticed that Anna seemed more reticent than before. It was clear that she was not comfortable around her new employer. Jason didn’t really care—money was money. And this was good money.
At any rate, the deal was done. Jason and Anna would take the Betruger up the coast in the morning, and meet Lethe in Seattle. “That reminds me,” Jason spoke up. “I’ll need the number of your hotel so I can call you once we’ve arrived.”
“No need,” Lethe replied and rose. “I’ll find you.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yes, I must go. So I’ll see you both in a couple of days.”
“Guten nacht,”
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