"We left The Ritz and decided to walk and enjoy the cigars. Connor managed to talk but revealed very little. Mostly, he pointed out landmarks, briefly covered the weather and made some tasteful comments about some of the women we passed.”
“Did you know that he was your brother?” Kelly asked.
“No idea. But I found his company to be quite pleasant and decided that I liked him. There are times in life when you meet someone and hit it off. I got the very strong impression that I already knew him and that somehow we could become close friends. Little did I know. We arrived at 33 St James's Square in less than ten minutes.”
"We found our way to the solicitor's office. Harold P. Smythe. He was very gracious and showed us to a couple of leather chairs."
HPS: "Well, Mr. Picker, I imagine that all of this might come as something as a shock."
Harold didn't manage to tut-tut or pip-pip, but I swore he came awfully close. "You might say that."
"In that case, let's get down to it. This is a copy of Simon Jones' last will and testament. Your father. My secretary will provide you with a copy. Essentially, it conveys what you are to receive from his estate."
Smythe rummaged in the middle drawer of his desk and retrieved a DVD. Reached over the desk and handed it to me. Appearing to be just a tad absent minded, he looked in the right hand drawer and pulled out a set of keys. He also handed them to me.
Harold continued, "There are one or two personal effects that your father wished you to have. Your brother here will arrange to get them to you. Any questions?"
Sonofabitch. I looked over at Connor and raise an eyebrow. Could it be? He's about my height, close to my weight and even my age. His eyes are brown, like mine, but his hair is dark. The build is lanky, although he is slightly broader in the chest and shoulders. The head is square and his nose is better proportioned that mine. All in all, quite handsome.
"Surprised?" he asked.
"I'll say. Didn't know I had any family. That is, except for my Uncle."
Connor smiled. "You mean Uncle Moe?"
Sonofabitch. Did I say that already?
I turned to Kelly, said, "It's time for bed."
"But, there's more. I want to hear it."
"I will, promise."
We went upstairs. Her being a woman and me being a man, well, you know, we did the things that those people do. Then we went to sleep.
September 1975 Philadelphia
"How are you feeling?"
Emily was five months pregnant. Simon was both thrilled and nervous. The future was uncertain; it made him highly uncomfortable.
"Good, considering. Finding a position to sleep isn't easy. Other than that, fine."
Simon had come from the studio. Copy number one was complete. He had discussed the various methods of getting it to Price undetected with Anthony.
"Messenger service," Anthony suggested.
Simon nodded. Simple, elegant, virtually undetectable. "Who?"
Anthony lifted his eyebrows and tucked his chin. "My oldest boy. Anthony, Jr."
"Shit, Anthony. Are you sure? I don't want to expose your family."
"Low risk, high reward. In essence, the painting doesn't leave our hands until it reaches the museum. You'll have to consider how to pass it off though. You seem to think that Price is being observed."
"I know he is. Set it up. I'll call Price."
Simon walked down to the pharmacy and called from the pay phone. "The package will arrive tomorrow at noon. Have your secretary pick it up from the front desk. Do not get it yourself."
From there he drove over to a cafe on South Street. He met Emily at a small table out front.
"How is your 'project' coming along?" She couldn't help but smile. Simon realized that most women would be appalled. Emily, for some reason, found the whole episode highly amusing.
"Great. By tomorrow at this time I'll be the proud owner of, albeit temporarily, the real deal."
Emily gasped, slightly. "You mean to say…"
"Shhh… Not here."
"By the way, I have some interesting news. Uncle Moe is coming to visit."
Emily was curious. "What can you tell me about him?"
"Uncle Moe is quite the character." Simon took a sip of his wine. "Let me tell you a story. Moses Aronson was born into a poor Jewish family in Ireland at the turn of the century. His dream from a very young age was to see the world. At sixteen he lies about his age and signs up for military service. He proved to have a talent with guns. Most of his service was spent as a sniper. He once hit a ‘target’ at 2,710 yards. Which is interesting because he beat the world’s official record by three yards. Moe does his twenty years and gets out at the relatively young age of thirty six.
The wanderlust is not quite out of his system. With his small pension and ability to hustle antiques he continues roaming the globe. At one point he's aboard a ship traveling through the South China Sea. One evening, there is a violent storm and the ship is destroyed just off of Borneo.
The survivors are captured by cannibals; their wrists and feet bound; hoisted on long wooden poles and carried deep into the jungle."
At this point in the story Emily's eyes have grown wide. "You're absolutely making this up."
"Listen, it gets better. The captives, bound on these long poles, are placed upon spits. Piles of logs, twigs and leaves are placed under each survivor. Men with knives remove the clothes of their prisoners. They get to Uncle Moe; loud words are exchanged between the warrior with the knife and his chief.
"Moe, at this point naked as a newborn, is cut down and lead over to the chief of the tribe. The chief is speaking rapidly in a language that Moses doesn’t understand. Then, the chief points to Moe's legs. The other penny drops. Moses Aronson has suffered from eczema his entire life. His legs are covered with red rashes which are crusty; flaking; blistering; cracking and even oozing. The obvious conclusion is that he is 'unclean' and not fit to eat."
Emily giggles, takes a deep breath and asks, "Well, how did he get out?"
"He didn't, at least not right away. Moses actually stuck around for a few months, became friendly with the chief; learned the language and kept a diary of what he learned about the Pygmies. One of the guides eventually led him from the forest back to civilization where he hitched a ride on a freighter.
"He returned to London with his diary and a couple of trunks of artifacts. Moe wrote a monograph on the life of the Borneo Pygmies; rented a hall and advertised his lectures in the local papers. When each lecture was over he sold copies of his small book and the articles brought back from the island."
"I'm almost afraid to ask. What did Uncle Moe bring back with him?"
"Blow guns, poison darts, shrunken heads and native jewelry made from ivory. He made a small fortune."
"That is the most incredible story that I have ever heard. It can't possibly be true."
"You can decide for yourself when you meet him. Uncle Moe once told me that it was the best bar story that he ever had. He drank for free in pubs all over the world for years on that tale alone."
We get kidnapped
They came at 3:00am.
Someone was wiggling my big toe. "Have to get up, laddie. They'll be here in just a few minutes."
Huh? I shouldn't have been able to feel that.
"They'll be hurtin' the dog. Hide her." To Uncle Moe, all dogs were female.
I gave Kelly a shove to wake up. Rolled out of bed and took three large steps across the room. Opened the door to the dumb waiter, snapped my fingers and pointed. Kato jumped in, sat and looked me in the eyes expectantly. "Stay! Not a word," and lowered the contraption into the basement.
"What the hell?" Kelly jumped out of bed sensing my urgency.