Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Baltimore was experiencing pleasant autumn weather with the auction day for the Basquiat approaching. Partly cloudy skies, no anticipation of rain. The Grey Eagle would serve as a luxury hotel over the next few days, Ifty arriving first from London. Rachel and Vanessa flying in from Miami, then Aisha from New Mexico. Ifty welcomed all of them with his perpetually joyful exuberance. "Champaigne girls? I'm so happy to have you all on board."
"Of course!" The chorus replied.
Drinks in hand, Rachel and Vanessa reminiscing about their first meeting, just four short months ago. Rachel was introducing Aisha to Ifty as the attorney responsible for the first sale of the painting, a paper transaction from Ifty to a blind trust in the Cayman's she'd created. Now that Cayman's trust would be auctioning the painting, without Ifty's name attached. At the completion of the auction, the highest bidder's shell entity will pay the proceeds from the sale to another shell company in Malta controlled by yet another shell corporation belonging to Ifty. Very effective in its confusion.
Both having lived in London, Aisha and Ifty, were discovering they shared friends through school, giving them plenty to talk about.
"I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow. This is so exciting." Ifty couldn't stop smiling, his constant squirming on the sofa hinted at what a bundle of nerves he was.
"Ifty, I believe you will set a record for a Basquiat tomorrow," said Aisha. "But let's not get drunk with joy quite yet. There is work to do."
"In Pakistan, we say destiny is like a saddled donkey; he goes wherever you lead him."
"Meaning?" Rachel asked.
"Our actions and choices, how we packed for the trip, so to say, plays a significant role in determining our destiny. Tomorrow we will know if I made wise choices in Rachel and Aisha." Ifty held up his glass in a toast.
"Chin-chin." The chorus echoed again.
The weather was becoming somewhat brisk, but they were comfortably gathered in the indoor living/dining area, with the glass doors shut.
"We have Maryland crab in season, the perfect accompaniment to the Moet. If you catch a chill, there's fresh clam chowder. Oh, and oysters, if you feel the need," Ifty said, winking.
"I should have guessed." Rachel laughed. Same old Ifty.
The crabs were served, cracked and ready to eat, presented on a massive platter with remoulade and curry mustard sauces. No bibs or tools; crab forks and napkins sufficed, very civilized.
Aisha wanted to hear about London. "Is it still as racist as I remember it?"
"I'm afraid so, dear, probably worse."
"I've wanted to go back so many times over the years, but I've always had a nagging sense I'd be disappointed."
"Well, if you do pay a visit, let me know, I'll show you a good time." Ifty winked.
"I'll remember that." Aisha winked back.
A few more bottles of champagne and dozens of oysters later, the afternoon was drawing to a close.
"Ladies, today has been a joy. But in anticipation of the celebration tomorrow evening, I'm going to retire. It's ten PM London time, and with the eight-hour flight, I've had a full day. Vanessa, feel free to assign suites to your liking." Ifty rose, air-kissing each of them on his way to his cabin.
"Such a sweetheart!" Aisha said.
"A good guy to know," said Rachel.
"I think you're right," said Aisha. A VERY good guy to know.
A potential investor if the right situation came along, she thought. Or, at least a valuable ally with deep pockets and no connection to New York, the art world, or Hayden. Jolly good to know, Aisha thought.
Aisha brought them back to the tasks at hand. "Let's go over tomorrow one more time, shall we?" She said to the girls.
"Yeah, tomorrow. When should we leave?"
"Before we leave, I need to text our burner number to the bidders and verify the connections. We can leave after that, about nine, I'd guess." Aisha said.

For the auction, Aisha had her choice of willing bidders, including two museums. However, her strict contingencies on NDAs for privacy, and a penalty clause if the painting was resold within five years left her with six blue-chip bidders. One, The Sphinx, was invited specifically to assure the final bid was a record-breaker. He led the syndicate that owned more paintings by Basquiat than anyone else. His attendance assured there would be no low-ball bids. The Sphinx would either end up owning the painting or make the winning bidder pay a hefty premium to win it. Aisha, Rachel, and Ifty won either way. Each of the six bidders had inspected the painting in the freeport over the past week before accepting Aisha's invitation.

The bids were to be made in rounds. A first-round of opening bids, then Aisha would text the top bid from that round to all the bidders. The second round required bids higher than the first round top bid, and so on, until a bidder failed to offer a bid within the allotted time. With ten minute intervals, the rounds would continue until only one bidder was left standing.
Each of the bidders were assigned a number and instructed to send their bids to Aisha's burner via WhatsApp text. Aisha had purchased an additional six burner phones, delivering them to the bidders. Vanessa and Rachel were to man the burners as the bids came in, Aisha keeping the tally of the high bidder and the amount.
The first round would begin at 2 pm EDT, 10 minutes were allotted between rounds for consultation and tallying. So, it would be 2:10, 2:20, 2:30, and so on, until only one bidder remained.
"The first round bids will be accepted at 2 pm. You two will read the bids off the burners to me, and I'll log them in my laptop. Then it's tally ho, until there's only one bidder left standing," Aisha said.
"That's it?" Vanessa smiled at Rachel anxious to wrap up the party.
"For today," Rachel said .
"Is Ifty coming with us?" Aisha asked.
"I suggested it. He declined, too nerve-wracking," Vanessa said.
"He is quite the bundle of nerves, isn't he?" said Rachel.
"With this much money on the line, you would be too."
"I'll drink to that," said Rachel.
"Bob's your uncle," Aisha giggled.
"That's enough champagne for you two, time for bed," said Vanessa getting up to dole out the cabins, assuring an early night.

Tuesday they met for an early breakfast on the stern deck. It was a beautiful day, crisp and clear again.
"I've sent our burner number to the bidders. As soon as they verify receipt, we can head out," Aisha said.
Vanessa and Rachel looked at each other. Vanessa took Rachel's hand and squeezed it. If everything went as planned, they would fly home with a nice sum deposited in their own shell corporation. Aisha's firm was also charging a 3% fee for its services. A lot was riding on today.
When the last verification call came in, an Uber van was already waiting dockside to ferry them to the Freeport.

Aisha led them through the maze of corridors of that made up the Foreign-Trade Zone #74.
Vanessa was in disbelief when they found the space and the door was opened. A small closet with a steel door.
The three of them barely fit inside, having to balance the laptop and phone on the edge of the crate holding on to the painting in order to shuffle around. It was tight, luckily the AC and Wi-Fi were working fine. But,the phones were silent. Two pm ticked by. The girls fidgeted, there was no breathing room, every minute that passed seemed like an hour. Finally notifications started lighting up the burner at seven minutes past two.
Rachel read them out in order of the time they were received. "Number nine - 93 million. Number 12 - 90 million. Number 11 - 65 million. Number 13 - 68 million. Number 14 - 75 Million. Number 10 - 91 million.
The bidders were notified 93 million was the high bid. The girls stood, waiting for the next round to come in. "Aisha, I have to ask, what aren't the bidders numbered one through six?"
"Psych. I want them to think there are many more bidders, not just six."
At fifteen minutes past two a new bid from Number 11 - now 95 million. Then two more, 9 and 10, both at 99 million. Number 14's bid came in at 100 million. The last two bids, from 13 and 12 were for 94 million and 97 million.
The 100 million high bid was sent to the bidders, and the girls, again stood idly by looking at each other.
Almost immediately 110 million came in from number 9. Then 109 million from 12. Even number 14 sent a higher bid, 110 million, forced by the rules to bid in every round or drop out.
As two thirty ticked by there were no more bids, numbers 10, 11, and 13 had dropped out. That left three bidders and a high bid of 110 million.
Aisha sent all the bidders the new high bid. This time there was no wait. Immediately 14 shot back with 150 million. Vanessa told Aisha the number, and the three of them looked at each other, when Aisha announced it was a new record for a Basquiat, smiles broke out as their mental calculators went to work. No other bids came in. The Sphinx won.

The ride home after the auction was nouveau riche—A limousine stocked with champagne and caviar.
Ifty was waiting anxiously aboard the ship when they returned at 4:30. Aisha had purposely refrained from calling him with the results. Vanessa had also ignored his calls and texts.
The girls boarded the ship while Ifty paced anxiously on deck. Like Ahab stalking his whale, his eyes darting between them, searching for any clue that would reveal how the auction went.
Aisha was the last aboard. She leaned down and air-kissed Ifty while whispering in his ear, "One Hundred Fifty, a new record."
"Oh my God, really?" Ifty's hands flew up in prayer, and they all broke into applause. The champagne, held at the ready, flowed for everyone, including the crew.
"Aisha, Rachel, it is with the greatest respect that I thank you for your services today. You did a fabulous job," Ifty said.
"That was a lot of money to be hanging on a kitchen wall," Vanessa said.
The chef laughed. "I won't miss it; that picture always made me feel like he was reacting to my food with that ugly grimace. Good riddance."
"So, the work is done, time to play," Vanessa said.
"Tonight for dinner, the Chef has something special, Japanese Kobe beef, and Maine lobster," Ifty said.
"When do we eat?" Rachel asked.
"Say seven?" the chef suggested, looking at Ifty.
"Seven," Ifty declared.
Aisha sat down on a sectional, her flute empty. Rachel and Vanessa had ventured off.
Ifty sat down beside her. "Can I offer you a little more kick?"
"Please, today has been a memorable day in my career. For you as well, I hope." Aisha said.
"No question. It's not every day one can pocket this kind of money."
Ifty signaled a server and whispered to him. The server nodded.
"I have an exquisite bottle of Macallan 26 I keep hidden. So, you have a law firm?"
"Yes, a single client firm, two clients, if I count you."
Ifty waited while the server poured two glasses, neat, of his precious elixir.
He held his glass out to toast. She raised her glass and they drank. She sipped slowly, savoring the warmth, letting the silky fluid linger in her mouth before swallowing. It was exactly what she needed.
"Your refined tastes are exceeded only by your hospitality," Aisha said before taking another sip.
"Thank you, I am always happy to please you."
Aisha smiled at him. "Aren't Pakistanis, Indians and Brits supposed to be rivals? It's interesting, our paths should cross," she said.
"Wise choices made it destiny. The donkey was ready for the journey," Ifty said.

The remainder of the evening Aisha spent initiating Ifty into the elite world of fine art. She explained to him how the Industrial Revolution left many British families destitute; they had land and titles, and often vast art collections, but no cash. But a Lord's privilege of privacy applied even when destitute. Therefore, to avoid embarrassment, a seller only needed to be identified as 'A Gentleman' when his items were auctioned off to pay creditors. That rule still holds to this day, the privacy loophole that enables it all.
"The British aristocracy have always looked out for themselves first, eventually bankrupting the Empire," Ifty said.
"Point taken, but don't all empires decline, eventually. Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Persians, Vikings. We can all guess who may be next on the list," Aisha said.
"With empires, it's military might that gives an advantage. In the art market, it's knowledge that makes you powerful," Rachel said.
"But some paper and paint costs what? Three pounds ninety-five? The Basquiat was painted on cardboard of all things!" Ifty remarked.
"Right, it has no intrinsic value whatsoever. What is being sold is scarcity. And prestige. The actual, subjective value is in who painted it, who owned it, and, most importantly, who wants to own it. That's where the knowledge comes in. It's all very specialized, a hundred people in the world play the game at this level. And they're all sharks," Rachel said.
"Just look at Aisha," Ifty joked. Aisha bared her teeth.
"I hope this isn't the last time we meet," Aisha said, looking at Ifty.
"I suppose there are always opportunities in the art markets?" Ifty asked.
"With money and knowledge, many things are possible. Let's keep in touch." Aisha said.
"Let's," Ifty replied.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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