Authors: Russell Blake

The Geronimo Breach (38 page)

BOOK: The Geronimo Breach

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This was a big sale, one of the largest in his life.

The client had contacted him over the Internet, through his store, and expressed interest in several extremely expensive pieces: four Patek Philippe wristwatches from the 1950s and 1960s, complicated moon phase models that were hot on the auction market. The whole deal had come to $1.1 million dollars; after haggling they’d agreed on a purchase price of one million for all four watches, and to meet in San Francisco. The customer, a collector with an appreciation for fine timepieces, was flying in from Korea for the transaction.

Gideon Watch Gallery was one of five premiere previously-owned watch shops in New York, and one of very few in the country with multiple pieces of that rarity and price range. He’d been surprised when the collector had agreed to take all four watches, but not that surprised—in the good old days of the early eighties, when the Japanese yen had been king, he’d routinely had customers buy two-and three-hundred-thousand-dollar watches while on vacation. Lately Korea was a hot spot for fine timepieces, as was China. He’d been in the business long enough so that very little surprised him anymore.

Robert sat patiently awaiting the arrival of Mr. Kiu, a member of the diplomatic team from South Korea. Kiu’s credentials had checked out and he’d indicated he’d bring cash.

That had caused Robert a bit of pause.

Dealing in cash used to be routine, but ever since the Clinton administration had commenced the steady criminalization of using cash in the U.S. in any quantity, he had dealt mostly in wire transfers. The Chinese loved their cash, though, as did the Russians, and he supposed a million dollars was beer money to a wealthy industrialist from Korea.

An older Asian gentleman walked into the lounge and looked around, eyes finally settling on Robert. Evidently Mr. Kiu, as he approached and introduced himself.

“Mr. Gideon?”

“Mr. Kiu, I presume.”

“Yes. I apologize for running late, but the flight experienced some head winds and we were delayed. Shall we find someplace private?” Mr. Kiu hadn’t batted an eye over Robert’s being in a wheelchair. Then again, he was a politician, or at least a diplomat, so he probably had a good poker face.

“I reserved a small meeting room. I trust you’re ready to consummate?” Robert wanted to make sure the deal was closed.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

They entered one of the smaller rooms and closed the door. Robert pulled four dark wooden boxes out of his carry-on bag and placed them on the table.

“You’ll note they’re in mint condition, with full paperwork and histories. One million is a very good price—I can’t imagine any other collector having this combination.” Robert liked to reassure customers of the astuteness of their selection. No one ever minded being complimented on their acumen.

“Yes, yes, I’m pleased to have been fortunate enough to find them.” Mr. Kiu opened each box and looked at the watches for a few minutes. He nodded, and then placed his briefcase on the table. “They appear most satisfactory, Mr. Gideon.” He opened the locks and raised the lid, turned the case so Robert could see the contents. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills, neatly arranged in rows.

“Well, congratulations. Let’s begin the counting, shall we? I presume you won’t have any objection if I verify the authenticity of a few bills at random?” Robert planned on stopping at one of the currency exchange booths to have the bills checked.

“Not at all. Be my guest.” Mr. Kiu was smiling amenably.

Robert extracted a portable currency counter, plugged it in and loaded the first stack. All he had brought with him was a bottle of water, some pills, a small fabric valise for the watches, and the currency counter.

He was scheduled to return to New York in two hours. The counting took less than ten minutes. One million dollars. All there.

“Would you be kind enough to accompany me to the currency exchange?” Robert replaced the four watch boxes in the small fabric satchel and returned it to his bag. He handed the cash-filled briefcase back to Mr. Kiu, while holding several bills in his hand.

Robert wheeled himself to a small currency exchange window several hundred yards from the entrance of the club, accompanied by the Korean. He’d felt comfortable doing the transaction at the airport because of all the protection; there were police everywhere. It was safer than a bank, and no one made it to the club area unless they carried a ticket and cleared security.

Robert handed the clerk four crisp hundred-dollar bills, and asked for Euros. The agent behind the counter scrutinized the cash, ran an iodine pen across each, held them up to the light, compared them to others in his drawer. He extracted the appropriate sum in Euros, and passed them through the slot at the bottom of the bullet-proof glass window.

“Here you go. Anything else I can help you with?” The clerk was bored.

“Nope, I think we’re done. Thanks a million.” Robert couldn’t resist.

They returned to the lounge area, where Robert extracted the fabric bag and swapped it for Kiu’s briefcase. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries—nice meeting you,
etc.

“I must return to my delegation, Mr. Gideon. The watches are beautiful; I shall treasure them. Thank you again.”

Robert wheeled himself back to his departure gate and bought himself a vodka tonic. He’d just made almost two hundred and forty thousand dollars on one deal; he figured a little celebration was in order. He had the time, and heck, he had the money.

But something about the transaction was nagging him. Kiu hadn’t examined the watches the way an aficionado would have, and his eyes hadn’t lit up like a covetous collector’s. He was probably buying them for investment. Not a bad one, either, Robert mused.

Oh well.

A deal was a deal.

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Fatal Exchange

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The Geronimo Breach