finding a present?” he added as he scanned the front page of the
Financial Times.
The City Editor
was already speculating on the possible takeover, describing it as a coup. A
smile of satisfaction appeared on Victor’s face for the second time that
morning.
“Yes, my
darling,” Consuela replied. “I did come across one little bauble that I rather
liked. I just hope it isn’t too expensive.”
“And how much is
this “little bauble?” Victor asked.
Consuela turned
to face him. She was wearing only two garments, both of them black, and both of
them remarkably skimpy.
Victor started
to wonder if he still had the time, but then he remembered the lawyers, who had
been up all night and would be waiting patiently for him at the bank.
“I didn’t ask
the price,” Consuela replied. “You’re so much cleverer than I am at that sort
of thing,” she added, as she slipped into a navy silk blouse.
Victor glanced
at his watch. “How far away is it?” he asked.
“Just across the
road, in Bond Street, my darling,” Consuela replied. “I shouldn’t have to delay
you for too long.” She knew exactly what was going through her husband’s mind.
“Good. Then
let’s go and look at this little bauble without delay,” he said as he did up
the buttons on his shirt.
While Victor
finished dressing, Consuela, with the help of the Financial Times, skilfully
guided the conversation back to his triumph of the previous day. She listened
once more to the details of the takeover as they left the hotel and strolled up
Bond Street together arm in arm.
“Probably saved
myself several million,” he told her yet again.
Consuela smiled
as she led him to the door of the House of Graff.
“Several
million?” she gasped. “How clever you are, Victor.” The security guard quickly
opened the door, and this time Consuela found that Mr. Graff was already
standing by the table waiting for her. He bowed low, then turned to Victor. “May I offer my congratulations on your brilliant coup, Mr. Rosenheim. ” Victor smiled. “How may I help you ?”
“My husband
would like to see the Kanemarra heirloom,” said Consuela, before Victor had a
chance to reply.
“Of course,
madam,” said the proprietor. He stepped behind the table and spread out the
black velvet cloth. Once again the assistant removed the magnificent necklace
from its stand in the third window, and carefully laid it out on the centre of
the velvet cloth to show the jewels to their best advantage. Mr. Graff was
about to embark on the piece’s history, when Victor simply said, “How much is
it?” Mr. Graff raised his head. “This is no ordinary piece of jewellery. I feel...”
“How much?”
repeated Victor.
“Its provenance
alone warrants...”
“How much ?”
“The sheer
beauty, not to mention the craftsmanship involved...”
“How much?”
asked Victor, his voice now rising.
“...the word
unique would not be inappropriate.”
“You may be
right, but I still need to know how much it’s going to cost me,” said Victor,
who was beginning to sound exasperated.
“One million
pounds, sir,” Graff said in an even tone, aware that he could not risk another
superlative.
TI1 settle at
half a million, no more,” came back the immediate reply.
“I am sorry to
say, sir,” said Graff, ‘that with this particular piece, there is no room for
bargaining.”
“There’s always
room for bargaining, whatever one is selling,” said Victor. “I repeat my offer. Half a million.”
“I fear that in
this case, sir...”
“I feel
confident that you’ll see things my way, given time,” said Victor. “But I don’t
have that much time to spare this morning, so I’ll write out a cheque for half
a million, and leave you to decide whether you wish to cash it or not.”
“I fear you are
wasting your time, sir,” said Graff. “I cannot let the Kanemarra heirloom go
for less than one million.”
Victor took out
a chequebook from his inside pocket,
Financial Times.
The City Editor
was already speculating on the possible takeover, describing it as a coup. A
smile of satisfaction appeared on Victor’s face for the second time that
morning.
“Yes, my
darling,” Consuela replied. “I did come across one little bauble that I rather
liked. I just hope it isn’t too expensive.”
“And how much is
this “little bauble?” Victor asked.
Consuela turned
to face him. She was wearing only two garments, both of them black, and both of
them remarkably skimpy.
Victor started
to wonder if he still had the time, but then he remembered the lawyers, who had
been up all night and would be waiting patiently for him at the bank.
“I didn’t ask
the price,” Consuela replied. “You’re so much cleverer than I am at that sort
of thing,” she added, as she slipped into a navy silk blouse.
Victor glanced
at his watch. “How far away is it?” he asked.
“Just across the
road, in Bond Street, my darling,” Consuela replied. “I shouldn’t have to delay
you for too long.” She knew exactly what was going through her husband’s mind.
“Good. Then
let’s go and look at this little bauble without delay,” he said as he did up
the buttons on his shirt.
While Victor
finished dressing, Consuela, with the help of the Financial Times, skilfully
guided the conversation back to his triumph of the previous day. She listened
once more to the details of the takeover as they left the hotel and strolled up
Bond Street together arm in arm.
“Probably saved
myself several million,” he told her yet again.
Consuela smiled
as she led him to the door of the House of Graff.
“Several
million?” she gasped. “How clever you are, Victor.” The security guard quickly
opened the door, and this time Consuela found that Mr. Graff was already
standing by the table waiting for her. He bowed low, then turned to Victor. “May I offer my congratulations on your brilliant coup, Mr. Rosenheim. ” Victor smiled. “How may I help you ?”
“My husband
would like to see the Kanemarra heirloom,” said Consuela, before Victor had a
chance to reply.
“Of course,
madam,” said the proprietor. He stepped behind the table and spread out the
black velvet cloth. Once again the assistant removed the magnificent necklace
from its stand in the third window, and carefully laid it out on the centre of
the velvet cloth to show the jewels to their best advantage. Mr. Graff was
about to embark on the piece’s history, when Victor simply said, “How much is
it?” Mr. Graff raised his head. “This is no ordinary piece of jewellery. I feel...”
“How much?”
repeated Victor.
“Its provenance
alone warrants...”
“How much ?”
“The sheer
beauty, not to mention the craftsmanship involved...”
“How much?”
asked Victor, his voice now rising.
“...the word
unique would not be inappropriate.”
“You may be
right, but I still need to know how much it’s going to cost me,” said Victor,
who was beginning to sound exasperated.
“One million
pounds, sir,” Graff said in an even tone, aware that he could not risk another
superlative.
TI1 settle at
half a million, no more,” came back the immediate reply.
“I am sorry to
say, sir,” said Graff, ‘that with this particular piece, there is no room for
bargaining.”
“There’s always
room for bargaining, whatever one is selling,” said Victor. “I repeat my offer. Half a million.”
“I fear that in
this case, sir...”
“I feel
confident that you’ll see things my way, given time,” said Victor. “But I don’t
have that much time to spare this morning, so I’ll write out a cheque for half
a million, and leave you to decide whether you wish to cash it or not.”
“I fear you are
wasting your time, sir,” said Graff. “I cannot let the Kanemarra heirloom go
for less than one million.”
Victor took out
a chequebook from his inside pocket,
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