The Messenger

Auvers?”
    “The latter, Andrew. It was painted during the final days of his life in Auvers.”
    “You’re not sitting on an undiscovered portrait of Marguerite Gachet, are you, Julian?”
    “Maybe we should have a glance at the menu.”
    “Fuck the menu, Julian. Answer the question: Are you sitting on an undiscovered portrait of Marguerite?”
    “I’ve gone as far as I can in terms of the content, Andrew. And that’s final. If you want to know what it is, you’ll have to take a look at it for yourself.”
    “You’re offering me a look?”
    “I’m offering your man a look, not you.”
    “Easier said than done. Running the world keeps my man busy.”
    “I’m prepared to offer you and Zizi exclusivity for seventy-two hours. After that, I’ll have to open it up to other collectors.”
    “Bad form, Julian. My man doesn’t like ultimatums.”
    “It’s not an ultimatum. It’s just business. He understands that.”
    “What kind of price tag are we talking about?”
    “Eighty-five million.”
    “Eighty-five million? Then you do indeed need Zizi. You see, money’s a bit tight at the moment, isn’t it? Can’t remember the last time someone’s laid down eighty-five million for something. Can you, Julie?”
    “This painting is worth every penny.”
    “If it’s what you say it is, and if it’s in perfect condition, I’ll get you your eighty-five million in very short order. You see, my man has been looking for something splashy like this for a very long time. But then you knew that, didn’t you, Julie? That’s why you brought it to me first. You knew we could get the deal done in an afternoon. No auctions. No press. No nagging questions about your quiet little French woman who wants to remain anonymous. I’m the goose that lays the golden egg as far as you’re concerned, and you’re going to have to give the goose his due.”
    “What on earth are you talking about, Andrew?”
    “You know precisely what I’m talking about.”
    “Maybe I’m a bit slow today. Mind spelling it out?”
    “I’m talking about money, Julian. I’m talking about a very small slice of a very large pie.”
    “You want a cut? A piece of the action, as the Americans like to say.”
    “Let’s leave the Americans out of this, shall we? My man’s not terribly fond of the Americans at the moment.”
    “What sort of slice are we talking about, Andrew?”
    “Let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that your commission on the sale is ten percent. That means you’ll clear eight and a half million dollars for an afternoon’s work. I’m asking for ten percent of your ten percent. Actually, I’m not asking, I’m demanding it. And you’ll pay it, because that’s the way the game is played.”
    “To the best of my faded recollection, you are Zizi al-Bakari’s exclusive art consultant. Zizi pays you an outrageous salary. You practically live on Zizi’s expense account. And you spend most of your free time relaxing at Zizi’s properties. He does this so that the advice you bring him remains untainted by other dealings on your part. But you’ve been playing both sides of the street, haven’t you, Andrew? How long has it been going on? How much have you been skimming? How much of Zizi’s money have you got salted away?”
    “It’s not Zizi’s money. It’s my money. And what Zizi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
    “And if he finds out? He’ll drop you in the Empty Quarter and let the vultures pick over your bones.”
    “Precisely, love. Which is why you’re never going to mention a word of this to Zizi. I’m offering you seven and a half million dollars for an afternoon’s work. Not bad, Julie. Take the deal. Let’s get rich together, shall we?”
    “All right, Andrew. You’ll get your ten percent. But I want Zizi al-Bakari in my gallery in all his glory in seventy-two hours or the deal’s off.”

    G ABRIEL STOPPED THE RECORDING , reset it, and played the final bit again.
    “But you’ve been playing both sides of the street, haven’t you, Andrew? How long has it been going on? How much have you been skimming? How much of Zizi’s money have you got salted away?”
    “It’s not Zizi’s money. It’s my money. And what Zizi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
    “And if he finds out? He’ll drop you in the Empty Quarter and let the vultures pick over your bones.”
    “Precisely, love. Which is why you’re never going to mention a word of this to Zizi.”
    Gabriel closed the file and