“Well, well, you have developed the skill of reviving from one of your drunken stupors quickly, haven’t you? Now let us see if you can revive your career with the Triad. This won’t be as easy as getting sober, but it’s your last chance. We have received information that there will be an auction in Geneva, Switzerland of a very special emerald that someone connected to our little operation would like to have in his personal collection. Your job will be to fly to Geneva, get the emerald, and take it to our client in Germany. The details of your assignment, airline tickets, a little expense money, your contacts in Geneva and Munich, are in that packet on the table by the door. The financial arrangement for you to bid have already been put in place with the auction house, so we won’t have to worry about you running off with our money. Now go and get out of my sight before I change my mind. I would wish you luck, but deep down I hope you will fail us, so I can hurt you the way your mother hurt me by screwing that British bastard years ago.”
Within five hours of leaving the smell of White Paper Fan, Tam took a taxi to the Kai Tak Airport, checked in, and attached himself to a vacant seat in the Lufthansa boarding area. He watched the people around him for a while, wondering what was in store for them wherever they were going. His eyes grew heavy and he slumped in his seat, leaned his head back and began to think about himself and where he had gone wrong with his life.
He knew that despite his dissolute lifestyle, he still could present himself, when sober and prepared that is, as a very knowledgeable gentleman, a connoisseur of the arts. And, he had the education to back it up. He had a black belt, or close to it, in some ancient form of marshal art, he couldn’t remember which one at the moment, and it had been a long time since he needed to use that, except to once in a while roll some other drunk to get more drink money.
He knew because of his background, the Triad had chosen him in the past for stealing shipments containing art objects, jewels, paintings and historical artifacts. He could quickly tell if the items were genuine or not. He knew his usefulness to the Triad relied only upon his expertise, not in the phony flattery White Paper Fan laid on him, or his shaky martial arts. He knew that Fan just needed to stroke his own ego and belittle him in the process, but he also knew that Fan was vicious and willful enough to kill him, even outside the Triad’s territorial oversight. He knew his key to escape this chaotic, messy life was money, and lots of it. If somehow he could make a big score he might find his way to some Pacific island where he could drink and screw native girls all he liked. There he would be free of the Triad grasp. At least he knew it when he was sober. But booze always seemed to get in the way, and he knew that, too. Knowing all this didn’t make anything better. Sue Lai Mee, his only real love was still dead, had been for five months now and his heart had died with her, and nothing really seemed to matter after that.
His few friends wondered why he was still alive in the Triad especially since he had botched his last four jobs because of his drinking. Now no one would seriously consider him for a job of any sort any more they thought. But the occasional job for the Triad provided the only means of an income since he didn’t have a wife or relatives to care for him. He knew there were Triad members who watched him constantly because he wanted out and they knew if he ever got a chance to make some good money and run, he would. Maybe this trip to Europe and this emerald might be his chance.
Tam was jarred from his reverie by the loud announcement of his flight. As he got up he threw his paper coffee cup in a trash bin and noticed he had spilled some on his pants. He waited in the boarding line, wiped his pants with a handkerchief and noticed a man smiling at his attempt. On the plane, his small bag stowed in the overhead bin, he waited nervously for this adventure to begin. Reclined his seat in the Lufthansa coach section after the seatbelt sign flashed off, he opened the heavy manila envelope White Paper Fan had given him and began to re-read the instructions he had already read several times before he caught his flight. After reading them again, he started to formulate a plan in his mind for escape, but in a few minutes, the roar and vibration of the giant air ship lulled him into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER 6
Hans stood for a moment, put on a pair of Fendi glasses, adjusted the handkerchief in the pocket of his charcoal, pinstripe Gucci suit, and made sure his tie was tight and straight before he opened the ornately carved door, and entered Christie’s Geneva branch of the international auction house. As his eyes became accustomed to the filtered gloom, he saw all of the clutter in the room, which surprised him. The shelves lining the walls were filled to overflowing with books and catalogues of every size and shape. Object d’art and paintings leaned against every available table and filled the few wall spaces between the bookshelves. Hans noticed the ancient Oriental carpet showed a definite wear path from the front door to a door at the rear of the room. This place looked more like an old neglected antique shop than the local office of the most prestigious auction house in the world. Had he made a mistake about the address?
A middle-aged, heavy-set woman appeared through the door at the opposite end of the rug path. She wore a stern look on her face that matched her attire: a baggy brown sweater, tweed skirt, opaque stockings and flat walking shoes. As soon as she realized that she was not alone in the room she stopped, startled.
“Pouvoir je vous aide?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak French,” Hans replied. “English, please, or German, if you wish”
In a sarcastic voice, she replied, “But of course, I’m sorry. I thought you were Swiss. May I help you?”
“I’m here to speak to the director about the upcoming auction.”
“He’s occupied in his office. Perhaps I can help you. What is your name?”
“I am Klaus Dohring.” He gave no more information than necessary.
“Mr. Dohring, nice to meet you.” She shook hands with Hans, thinking he was very strong for one who appeared to be so old. She guessed sixties. She noticed the shine on his shoes. He did not look wealthy though, because his hands did not look manicured.
“And how may I help you, sir?”
“I am interested in learning how your auctions operate. Perhaps you could be so kind as to explain them to me. I may have some things to offer. Also I may be interested in purchasing some jewels for my collection.”
“Of course, I have a pamphlet that will cover most of the basic questions.” She walked back to the table and shuffled through the papers spread across its surface, finally drawing forth the pamphlet, handing it to Hans.
He glanced over it, but nothing struck him, as pertinent to his search.
“What I am most interested in are the jewels in your auctions. Do you have any auctions coming up soon?”
“Why yes, tomorrow, in fact. However, I do not believe that there are any jewels or jewelry in that one. If you are interested, all of our auctions are held at the Hotel Richmonde. Let me get you a catalogue of tomorrow’s offerings.” She retrieved a brochure from the table and waited while he looked it over, noting how young his hands looked, and somewhat dirty.
“If you don’t mind me asking, my dear lady, since you’ve been so kind, how can one learn when a particular jewel that is not on the current program might be offered…a jewel such as a ruby or diamond or emerald…for my collection, you understand?”
“Most jewels are offered privately, sir. You would have to have an invitation for those auctions, that is, if you are speaking of something very valuable…over a million.”