“I’d rather be at the movies,” said a friendly voice behind Mitchell.
Without turning about, Mitchell said, “Cartoons don’t count.”
“Hey, Pixar makes some great stuff,” shot back Jackson.
Turning around, Mitchell looked straight at Nate Jackson, standing there looking bored to death in his snug tuxedo.
“You really should get yourself a new tux.”
“I will when I lose a few pounds,” replied Jackson, tugging at his tight tuxedo jacket.
“So never, then.”
“If you buy me a new one, I’ll wear it.”
“There’s no chance of that ever happening. Jen can spend my money well enough, thank you.”
Watching Atsuko chat with a delegation from the University of Columbia, Jackson said, “How much longer is she going to spend socializing with the local bigwigs?”
Mitchell looked down at his watch. “Not too much longer. She’ll be heading upstairs soon for the unveiling. After that, some more schmoozing, and then it’s straight back to the hotel for the remainder of the evening.”
“Thank God. I brought the wrong shoes with me,” complained Jackson. “These ones are killing my feet.”
“I’d feel sorry for you, but I can’t. You’re the one who beat it into me in the army that good footwear makes all the difference.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever, Captain. For our first assignment since coming off the crap list, this is one dull mission.”
“Let’s just hope it stays that way for a few more hours, and then we can say good-bye to Miss Satomi and head back home ourselves.”
“Have you seen Fahimah yet?”
“No, where is she?” asked Mitchell, looking around the room.
“That would be no fun. All I can tell you is that she’s somewhere on the second floor,” said Jackson as he grabbed a few scallops wrapped in bacon off a tray as it went past. Popping them all in his mouth, Jackson winked and then faded back into the crowd.
Mitchell watched Atsuko as she handed yet another gift to her long-suffering aide, who was now being assisted by a young employee of the gallery. Together they were taking all of the gifts to a table in a side room to be looked after until after the show was finished. Mitchell followed Atsuko and the gallery director as they began to climb the pink granite grand staircase that led all the way to the top of the building. On the second floor, Miss Satomi was introduced to a couple of major-league baseball players from Japan. Both men were dressed in silk suits that easily cost over ten grand apiece. Mitchell was surprised to see how many people had come out for the unveiling. He guessed that there were over five hundred people spread out on the three floors. While Miss Satomi worked the crowd, Mitchell tried spotting Fahimah. Looking past the people congregating around Atsuko, he soon found her.
Standing there in a full-length, Persian blue-silk caftan with matching headscarf, Fahimah was easily the most stunningly beautiful woman in the room. She looked as if she had just walked out of a fashion magazine and into the gallery. Standing beside Fahimah was a short, fat, balding man, more than twice her age, trying his best to sweet-talk her. Upon seeing Mitchell, her eyes lit up, and with a look of desperation on her face, she mouthed help. Mitchell smiled to himself, and quietly strolled through the crowd until he arrived at Fahimah’s side.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” said Mitchell, with a warm smile at Fahimah. “I have been looking for you for hours.”
The short man looked up at Mitchell. He was about to say something, but when he saw the determined look in his eyes, he gulped, and with a quick nod at Fahimah, he slunk away from her and never looked back.
“Thank you,” said Fahimah, feeling relieved that the annoying toad had left.
“You should have just told him to go away.”
“I tried,” said Fahimah shaking her head. “He just wouldn’t quit.”
“Well, I can see why; you look truly beautiful tonight,” Mitchell said honestly.
Fahimah felt her cheeks flush. “You’re not supposed to notice things like that, Mister Mitchell.”
“Impossible. Jen may have stolen my heart, but I would have to be dead not to notice your beauty.”
“Please, you’re embarrassing me. You’re my boss. Besides, Miss Satomi looks like she is ready to head upstairs,” pointed out Fahimah, looking past Mitchell.
Looking back, Mitchell was surprised to see Atsuko already making her way back onto the staircase leading up to the first floor. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that she was a full thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Thinking it odd, he left Fahimah’s side and quickly made his way through the crowd, pushing past an already inebriated man and his wife until he stood beside Atsuko.
“Pardon me,” said Mitchell politely, “Miss Satomi, you’re not supposed to be upstairs until nine o’clock.”
“Mister Mitchell, I’m growing weary of all of this socializing,” replied Satomi. She stifled a yawn. “For some reason, the jet lag is really getting to me tonight. I’d like to wrap things up as quick as I can so I can head back to the hotel and get a few hours’ sleep before I leave in the morning. The gallery’s director has assured me that speeding things up for me isn’t a problem. She said that everything was already in place and that everyone would be invited upstairs to the lobby for the unveiling right away.”
“As you wish,” said Mitchell, wishing that she would adhere to the pre-arranged schedule. Looking over at Matsuda, he saw the same look of discomfort in his eyes. They were both highly trained professionals and knew that changes made on the spur of the moment tended to end badly. Quickly informing his people of the change, Mitchell followed Atsuko upstairs into the spacious lobby.
At the far end of the lobby stood the five paintings concealed under delicate white silk covers. Beside them stood a lectern with a microphone. Already, people had begun to make their way up from below. The catering staff, unaware of the change in timing, tried their best to keep the drinks and finger food moving through the growing crowd. The noise in the lobby soon grew deafening as more and more people filled the room. Deciding that he had best find a good place to observe from, Mitchell made his way over to the side of the lobby. Standing there, he watched as Atsuko and Mrs. North chatted for a few minutes while they waited for all of the other VIPs to arrive. The first two rows of chairs directly in front of the lectern were reserved for the Japanese Ambassador and several dozen of the richest men and women in attendance. As soon as Mrs. North judged that the lobby was as full as it was going to be, she stepped over to the lectern and then in English and Japanese, she asked for everyone’s attention. Slowly, the lobby grew quiet as Atsuko Satomi moved over behind the lectern.
She bowed her head slightly toward Mrs. North, and then spoke to the crowd in English and Japanese. “I would like to thank all of you for coming. It is because of my father’s love of art that he has decided to donate these pieces to the gallery.” Polite applause filled the room every time she paused.
With a practiced eye, Mitchell began to scan the crowd. He smiled when he saw Fahimah standing off to one side, fending off the unwanted advances of another older man. Jackson was nowhere to be seen. As they had discussed days before the event, Mitchell knew that his friend was probably farther back, checking out the people from another angle. Matsuda and his men were prominent and close to Atsuko, their eyes scanning the crowd for any potentially hostile threats.
The applause rose higher as the Japanese Ambassador was invited to help Atsuko unveil the art. A couple of international reporters moved in front of the exhibit, jockeying with one another for the best position to take their pictures.