Every Last Cent

'And to think Dad doesn't trust him!'

I looked at her in the gloaming thinking, eh? Lanny was going on, a master of timing.

Doubtless all that bird-watching.

'Four selected individuals – Tina is the leader – will face a range of items. They will each unerringly identify the priceless antiques from the fake. Now,' he smiled disarmingly, 'this could be a set-up. But you know the auction houses I'm associated with. I guarantee this little interlude is unflawed.

'Can I introduce Tina ... ?'

Applause began, politely interested, as Tina led Wilhelmina, Larch the tree hugger, and Jules the ex-con on stage. They stood in line. The backdrop rose revealing an array of antiques on stands, on benches, maybe thirty or so in all. I felt one chime, a lone belling in my chest, from one direction but nothing much else. This scam was the goldie, the one deception that convinces when all else fails. So called from an old con trick that evolved back when people were easily hoodwinked. You'd show a seemingly gold statue, then allow the mark – the buyer you're tricking – to examine it, scrape off a sample for analysis. It's pure gold (of course). But it's only gold leaf, put there minutes before on the corner of the statue that you allowed the mark to touch, feel, use a microscope on.

'Look, love,' I whispered to Maud. 'I'll be back in a sec.'

'Now? Can't it wait?'

'I said I'd meet Florence. She's late.'

'Be sharp, then.'

Below, Lanny was describing the supposed antiques. His actors stayed gravely listening, occasionally glancing thoughtfully at the items. I eeled out, hissing apologies like you do, and hurried down to the main entrance. The commissionaires were having a smoke, cigarettes cupped in fingers.

Tinker was nowhere. I whispered his name into the dark. Nothing. I'd throttle the idle old soak. I'd distinctly told him to be here. You can't depend on anybody. Okay, so I'd not paid him for a few months. Was that a reason to let me down?

'Good evening, Lovejoy.'

I jumped. 'Evening, Countess. Seen Tinker?'

'Yes.' She gave a throaty laugh. 'He had to leave.' Her suited hulk who'd chucked me out of her Antiques Emporiana gave a snuffle of mirth. I could see their features only in the sheen of the theatre's foyer lights. Funny how still and quiet it was outside, when from inside there came the roaring of the audience. My actors, re-enacting my feeble scam with which I'd tried to please Susanne Eggers.

'Is Tinker okay?'

'Temporarily.' She moved. 'Come, Lovejoy. Stroll with me.'

'Countess, any other time—'

The hulk shoved me. Obediently I strolled. The Countess moved through a slice of silver light. She looked lovely. Other women would say she was too florid, tarty even. But what's wrong with tarty? Glamour's sensible when it's aimed in my direction. I call that real logic.

'Jules was mine once, Lovejoy.'

'I heard.'

'Like you, Lovejoy. Except, unlike you he leaped at my offer of... renewal.'

'I've had problems, Countess.'

She gave her throaty laugh. A bloke doesn't stand much chance. My resolve faded.

'Poor helpless Lovejoy. Your own scam is being used against you. You know that?'

'I'm guessing as I go.'

She sighed. 'It's my poor Russia. It always is poor Russia. You know, Lovejoy, Russia wounds herself. Tranquillity? Pshah! We Russians abhor it!'

'Look, er ...'

'You know how to find tragedy? Follow the nearest Russian. With the instinct of a moth, he will dive into the flame with a cry of bliss.'

I'd heard her speak like this before. After we'd made smiles, she would become so morose that you became sad too. I found it hard to take. I knew her next line. No good explaining—

'—to the moth that it need only wait until morning, then it can enjoy all the light it desires. It simply seeks its catastrophic fate. All—'

'Moths are Russian?'

'You remember!' She gave a cry of delight.

'What do you want me for?'

'I want a little betrayal, Lovejoy. You and I will rescue a fragment of civilization from those barbarians!'

'Who?'

'Those in there,' she said with detestation. The hulk walked behind, feet going crunch crunch when we were on the greensward. Why did his steps go crunch? Mine didn't.

The Countess's didn't. 'They will buy anything from those Muskovites. You know all Muskovites are oafs?'

'Not from St Petersburg?'

'Hah! You remembered!'

She turned. We were about two hundred yards along the riverbank, the theatre glowing like hot embers in the distance, lights reflecting in the water, the great gold swan barge still shimmering. The hulk stepped round us so he was behind.

'Moscow will sell anything. War loot. Rubbish. Dross from China. Among its shipments of garbage there will be some exquisite antiques. These they will sell without compunction. Icons. Furniture. Jewels. Porcelain. Holiness,' she added unexpectedly.

'The sanctity of generations, Lovejoy. And these idiots will buy them, to save their miserable skins.'

Wary of the hulk, I didn't heave a sigh of dismay. She wasn't speaking of merely one antique, or even of a trickle. She was talking of a tide, a great unstoppable flood. Out of control.

'Look, Countess. That syndicate has sources beyond imagination. The world is awash with money looking for a home – investments, antiques, securities. Russia has access to valuables. When unlimited money meets countless antiques, a deal is inevitable. That syndicate is nasty, so it's invincible.'

'Yes, Lovejoy.' She went calm. 'But we can betray!' Her face was in shadow as we began to retrace our steps towards the theatre. I could hear the smile in her voice. 'Our tactic!'

I can't believe these national characteristics. I once met a Yank who wasn't a millionaire. Unbelievable, but true.

'Got an idea how?'

'What were you and Tinker going to do, Lovejoy? Something truly pathetic, like try to upset the syndicate's first auction? Use your divvying talent to expose those infantile actors who're in there pretending they have the same unique gift?'

She made her explosive sound of scorn. It sounded an audible pout.

'Well, yes.' I was narked. 'It might have come off.'

'You think like a midget, Lovejoy! For true perfidy, you need my breeding, my genius.'

I'd thought I'd been really brainy, working out where the syndicate's first auctions would be held. They would do it in secret, of course, for a very specialized clientele of shady buyers. These things are easily arranged. They go on all the time, stolen stuff from country houses and auction rooms.

For something this big, though, all their items would have to be passed off as possibly tainted wartime loot, or antiques stolen from Asia Minor or India, the Persian Gulf states, the Far East, all those countries where embargoes had been placed on antiques.

That would only be the start. Central and South America would come next within a twelvemonth, then West and Central African states would be denuded of their heritages. It was happening now, but disorganized. On the dripfeed, so to speak. This syndicate would establish regular channels.

She trilled a laugh. I wanted to see her face, her mouth. I always like to watch. Women have such mobile features, so expressive in laughter or dismay. And their eyes ... What on earth was I thinking?

'You don't mean tell the Customs and Excise?'

'Silly!' I liked her arm through mine. 'I mean us! You and I! Not contemptible clerks.'

Her old accent had come back to accompany her rage. Contemp-teebell clerrr-kkess.

'Safely?'

She laughed. 'Safety is silly, Lovejoy. You know the Tsar's definition of safety? Safety is when you see the guns before they fire.'

Fat chance for me, then. I never even know what's happened afterwards.

'Who'll set it up?'

'You. Your skill is well known. Enough to be trusted by buyers.'

'Well, yes. If I know the buyers, and they know me.'

'I already have lists.'

The theatre music suddenly played. Doors opened sending huge swathes of light through the darkness. People spilled out onto balconies. Lights came on. Interval time, with celebration in the air. I could see the Countess's goon's silhouette. God, he was enormous. I was glad I hadn't made a run for it. Was I was better off taking the Countess's offer than trying to bubble the syndicate on my own? Maybe I'd save somebody's life. I'd not done too well so far.