Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Rachel was glad to be back aboard the Silver Falcon, allowing her to enjoy the outdoors without fear of being sighted by Hayden or his henchmen. With Vanessa, the crew, and her new wardrobe as company, the dog days of Nantucket ticked by slowly while waiting for the delivery of the paperwork to open the Freeport account and deposit the painting. There was little incentive to go ashore, throngs of summer tourists, and a refusal to take any chances that would risk their payday kept them aboard ship, sipping on Ifty's seemingly endless supply of champagne and basking in the sun.
Rachel learned more about Vanessa and what awaited them in Miami. Vanessa, for her part, assured Rachel she wasn't cramping her lifestyle by staying with her.
"The condo is plenty big, 2,400 sq ft, three bedrooms, four baths. And it has a water view. I think you'll like it," Vanessa said.
"What floor is it on?"
"Tenth floor, it's an older building, but it's on a choice lot, so it has great views."
"Sounds expensive."
Laughing. "Hardly, Miami's house market sucks. Since that building collapsed a few years ago, HOA fees have gone through the roof, thanks to new inspections and regulations. Insurance costs have tripled. Miami is swimming in For Sale signs. I think there's thirty vacant units in my complex alone.
"I was telling Aisha I feel like Ginger from Gilligan's Island. A few days in the Hamptons turns into a months-long adventure. At least we get to share it." The picture forming in Rachel's mind of life in Miami was becoming clearer with every conversation. Her anticipation of arriving, and experiencing it with Vanessa, grew daily.

As the days passed, they even got to know the crew —including the captain, an Aussie named Rhys. Without an owner and guests aboard, there was a whole different vibe. Usually, in the off-season, a ship like the Gray Falcon would keep a skeleton deck crew of 4 plus the captain. But Ifty was generous, keeping the wait staff and chef on board to serve the girls. The crew also enjoyed perks such as occasionally sleeping in a guest suite, if they were discreet. Using the water toys while off duty was everyone's favorite. They weren't allowed ashore, but cruising Nantucket's harbor in the tender or on a jet ski at least gave a glimpse of civilization, opposed to the distant views available from the ship. Rhys was a master of discipline and reward. Follow his rules and fun would follow; break them and the consequences were swift.

Back in New York, Aisha had her staff working overtime. Rush jobs for international clients were always challenging. Bringing a valuable painting into the US on a private ship required careful attention to US Customs rules and regulations. The client needed to understand that there were no shortcuts.
The documents for the Panama and the Cayman Islands shell companies were completed, filed, funded and approved. Nominee directors guaranteed anonymity for the seller. Bank accounts? Set up and funded. The required documents included a commercial invoice from Christie's, a Customs declaration, a Certificate of Authenticity, and an Export License from the UK.
Their Customs Broker would also provide the necessary ACE manifest. There was also, potentially, a need for a bond, depending on whether customs found a discrepancy in valuation, which was something they loved to do. It was a tricky business. Aisha was going to attempt to bring the Basquiat in as Ifty's personal property, destined for a new home he was building. With the thirty thousand dollar valuation on the Christie's Invoice as declared value, she was betting that Customs wouldn't consider it valuable enough to scrutinize too thoroughly. A small risk, but still a risk. The UK export license was the only hang-up. It had to be acquired in London, which required Ifty's help.
"Rachel, it's Aisha."
"Hey, what's up?"
"I have all the documents for the transfer, but one. I need an Export License from the UK. The owner is the only person who can apply for it. Can I call him, or should you?"
"I don't know."
Pause and silence.
"Okay… Let's do this; text Ifty and tell him your lawyer needs to talk to him about an export license, and some other matters, and give him my number, how's that?"
"Done."
"Great, I'll wait to hear from him."

Finally, the day came when Aisha called with the news that the paperwork was complete. They could proceed to Baltimore. According to Rhys, the journey took twenty-six to thirty-nine hours.
Aisha arranged a customs broker's van to meet them in order to construct a crate befitting the painting for the trip to its new freeport home.
A casual poll revealed that nobody on the ship had ever been to Baltimore. No expectations, no disappointments. Their first impression was a drab industrial region and commercial port surrounding the city. If there were a yacht basin, they missed it, but you couldn't miss the container ships everywhere. They were actually tied up to a commercial pier, taking a space usually reserved for a container ship.
Aisha arrived a day later with the shippers and customs agent. While she was introduced to Vanessa and given a tour of the Silver Falcon, the shippers packed the painting. Once it was in the van, the Customs broker presented their paperwork at the Customs office, and the van drove off, tailed by the Customs Broker and Aisha.
"I'll be back by dinner time," Aisha promised.

Aisha returned at ten p.m. "It was a near cock-up, but it's done," she said.
"Are you hungry? We already ate, but the chef will prepare anything you like." Rachel offered.
"Yes, famished."
"We had shrimp salad, with spinach, and feta cheese crisps earlier. I'm sure the chef can whip up some more if you like," said Vanessa.
"Sounds fabulous."
"A drink?" Vanessa asked.
"A glass of wine would be great, thanks."
Vanessa nodded at the server, gesturing for three glasses.
"I think we should have a toast," Rachel suggested.
"It's half the battle, but there is plenty more work to be done," Aisha said.
"I take it Ifty got back to you with the Export License?"
"He did, we had a long conversation, we actually have mutual acquaintances, from school, surprisingly enough. He's very charming, and he invited me to visit him anytime I'm in London." The server had poured the wine, and they each raised their glasses in a toast to the success of their project.

Over the salad and wine, Aisha laid out her plans for the auction of the Basquiat, now planned for early December.
"Between now and then, you two need to lie low and avoid Hayden. His wife told me that he got a call from the police chief the same day I met you at the dock so he knows you're alive. I'm hoping no mention was made of my presence. That would be very sticky, to say the least."
The rest of the evening, they spent talking about Miami, a city they were surprised to learn Aisha had never visited.
"You've never been to Art Basel Miami?" Rachel could hardly believe it.
"The shows and exhibitions aren't part of my job description. They are handled by gallery staff, agents, and Hayden."
"So you get buried in boring paperwork, and they get all the flash and glam? Hardly seems fair."
"I'm fine with it. The part I like best actually isn't the paperwork. It's the artists that I get to work with. SpACE represents nearly a hundred artists, and I've worked with, and gotten to know, nearly all of them. In my opinion the artists are much more interesting people than the buyers."
"You're more bohemian than I'd imagined," Vanessa said.
"I try to be, I want to be, but it's not easy with my job," Aisha said.
Rachel detected a note of melancholy in Aisha's voice and changed the subject.
"Where will you be off to tomorrow, Aisha?" Rachel asked.
"Back to New York and work."
"And we can head to Miami? Vanessa has a bad case of Island fever," Rachel said.
"Island fever? Ah, Gilligan, I get it," Aisha smiled knowingly at Vanessa.

The next morning, they discussed the pros and cons of the various routes to Miami with their coffee and breakfast.
"You should just fly. Hayden has his own jet; I guarantee you won't run into him in the terminal. But SpACE does have a gallery in Miami. He could show up there."
"Have you texted Ifty that the painting is safe and sound?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, this morning. Vanessa, can I get your Miami address?" Aisha asked.
"Sure, I'll text it to you.

At noon Aisha's Uber arrived. Escorting her to the car, they hugged like they were family before she escorted the Customs Broker and the painting to the Freeport, to await its auction day., They waved as the car pulled away, before looking at each other. "Now what?"
They decided to visit the bridge to talk to Rhys about plans for the Grey Falcon.
"It's far cheaper to berth here than in New York. It may not be scenic, but I have a duty to look out for Ifty's money," Rhys said.
"Okay. It looks like we're going to head to Miami. All we need to do is book the flights, I guess they have an airport here, right? Could we use your computer?"
"The airport is called Baltimore/Washington. The computer is on the table behind you. It won't be the same without you two, I'm sorry to see you go. Your trips to the pool. I'm going to miss them." Rhys looked them both up and down. Then all three started laughing.
"We're going to miss you too. We'll be back before you know it."

Two days later, they arrived in Miami, even hotter and muggier than Baltimore.
Rachel, wiping her forehead with a towel, and just returned from her run looked miserable. "This weather's killing me. I've never taken so many showers. I miss Santa Monica."
"You could use the air-conditioned gym instead of jogging outdoors. Staying indoors, especially mid-day, is the way to go."
"I'm still learning. I never really had any concept of what it was like to live in the South. Being on the ocean, you would think Miami would be like Santa Monica, cool breezes and cold water. But here, the water is like a bathtub; it's hard to believe the fish survive."
"Don't worry about the fish. Remember what Aisha said. Hayden is rich; he has his own jet. With that kind of money, tracking you down wouldn't be that hard. Staying indoors is the smart move," Vanessa reminded her again.
"You're right, just have a lot of nervous energy from being cooped up for so long."
"There's always this." From behind, Vanessa put her arms around Rachel's waist and began nibbling on her ear.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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