Where's the Scam? — Edit 2

Where's the Scam?

by John D. Boyden

"The more we realize our minuteness and our impotence in the face of cosmic forces, the more amazing becomes what human beings have achieved." - Bertrand Russell

" Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."- Proverbs 16:8

"If it works, don't fix it."

****

Introduction

It was black. Everything screamed absence, absence of light, absence of life. It was a void of nothingness, empty, unforgiving, and cold. Warmth did not exist. Perhaps nothing truly existed. And perhaps it did. For, somehow a man stood in that void... a fleeting flair of presence, for sure. Standing alone, invisible in the darkness, surrounded a pristine mess of emptiness, this place of nothingness existed. Was it a paradox of nothingness somehow filled with something? With it all, feelings radiating from somewhere: want, frustration, anguish, desire, love, and hate. Where did they come from? The location of those feelings seemed to flow into the void. The overwhelming sense was one of impatient waiting. Waiting for the man? Waiting for...

"Who are you?" I asked my voice echoing, yet filling the darkness.

"You will find out." came back like a mocking echo of my own voice.

I shivered in the darkness, imagining a warm room, fire, whiskey, and a comfortable chair.

****

Chapter 1

Home at Lumley Castle

The room was spacious, early 19th century. The chair was indeed quite comfortable as I sat before the raging fire, sipping from the bonded whiskey and watching the flames crackle around the two large logs in the stone fireplace. It appeared that I was in an old English castle, dreaming or not. The chair was new leather, stuffed, luxurious, and eased my poor cold bones, while the cold night lurked outside my windows. My windows? I looked around, taking in the wall to wall bookshelves filled with leather volumes. The large, stained cherry wood glass top desk to my left and a rather large ladder on wheels to my right were all antiques. The desk had a high back black leather chair behind the desk and faced two visitor chairs that did not look any too comfortable, with no armrests and flat cushions. However, beside me were four more large stuffed, comfortable chairs facing the delightful warm blaze of the fireplace, two on each side of me.

I jerked slightly when she entered the room, calling my name from the doorway to the left of the fireplace. She interrupted my wandering wonder, the satisfaction of silence, and the crackling fire. Statuesque, she called to me from the door. Her voice was firm and clear, "Charlie, dinner is waiting. Our guests will arrive in an hour for the meeting. Did you find those documents we need to review?"

I turned and studied her. One hand resting against the door jam, auburn hair sleek and long, down her back. I couldn't see how far down it went. Her blue eyes quizzical shining with both depth and humor, eyebrows raised in an expectant question.. Ah those blue eyes. She was well worth the study.

I nodded and smiled, "yes, dear. They are lying on my desk." I gestured towards the desk with my right hand and part of me was unsurprised to discover that there actually was a stack of papers lying on the desk, beside the computer. Dear? Who is she? Where did those come from? I continued to look at her hiding the awe. She wore a designer gown that sparkled with sequins and jewels on a deep burgundy background of curves and lush places any guy worth his salt would love to explore.

"What's for dinner, love?" Love?

"Frederick has outdone himself tonight," she smiled. Lips quirked with a touch of satisfaction. We have roast duck l'orange and an amazing variety of sides. When I asked him about it, he blushed and said he had a glorious day of planning and playing in the kitchen..."

I laughed, a full, joyous sound, echoing her own satisfaction. "Good, I look forward to it. Would you please have Miriam call everyone together?" Miriam? Dear? Love? How do I know these people? Who are they?

"Sure, no problem. Is this going to be one of those nights?"

"Yes," I chuckled. "I suspect that it will indeed be one of those nights." I rose, gathered up the papers from the desk and returned to stand in front of my favorite chair.

As she turned from the door, I saw that wonderful long hair flowing deliciously down to her beautiful butt, smiling, I turned from her to sit again. Part of me knew exactly where this was headed. Another part of me kept saying "what?" over and over again. Bemusement, wonder, and awe did battle with puzzlement. Puzzlement won.

I strolled out of the den, turned right in the hall and stopped before the mirror and table. It was a gold gilt mirror at least five feet high, and three feet wide. I saw black serious eyes, a full beard, a full head of hair all of that surprised me. The roman family nose protruded above lips that quirked with humor . Family nose!? The Edwardian suit somehow fitted the 5'10" athletic frame. I judged myself to be in my early thirties. "Thirty-two," a voice quietly whispered in my ear. I looked around. Of course, no one was there. I set that puzzle aside with all the others for later. Perhaps with the brandy, I thought. I hurried along the stone patterned floor to the dining room, suddenly feeling time pressure. The long deeply grained oak table sat like a monolith awaiting worshippers. The damask tablecloth covering the table gleamed in sharp white. The ancient family place settings were neatly arranged for the 20 people who would be joining Sarah and I this evening. More and more puzzles to think about! We only had an hour for dinner, then the stage would be set for the meeting, and what was to follow. The servants were bringing in platters of food and setting them on the huge buffet table to the right. It did indeed look like a scrumptious feed.

The others began to trickle in. My secretary, Avram, was first, glancing at me with a grin of expectation, receiving my nod in return. Sarah's personal secretary, Miriam followed closely, with a mischievous quirk to her lips and hips. George, Fred, Urik, Nigel, François, Mindy, Jenna, Jade, and the bubbly Jadzia quickly followed.

The cooking staff, a multi-task group, if ever there was one, continued to bring in the food. There was pretty little Linda carrying that huge bowl of mashed potatoes, Argus, the second cook, was bringing in the forth duck. Wing-ho was hauling in the salad niçoise, Rupert the two trays of hors d'oeuvre. Derek, the steaming, buttered vegetables I so dearly loved. All doubts evaporated. My mouth was watering.

As we sat down, I noticed that Abdul was missing. I asked Jadzia to go get him. "Tell Abdul to put the system on surveillance and get his butt down here." Jadzia grinned, nodded, and bounced out the door. François came in and sat down with an expression of sublime satisfaction. The small smile said it all.

Abdul followed Jadzia into the room. At 6'7", Abdul was an enormous man. He weighed 350 pounds, was fit and yet somehow, a computer geek. I wondered, as usual, how did he keep fit! Then I realized, also as usual, he might be brainy, but he was head of security and with a past littered with quasi-legal experiences. He looked grumpy, mouth down turned, as he eyed me.

"Surveillance is set, and our five guards should be enough, but I really hate to take the time." He glowered at me. "If anything happens..."

"I understand," I laughed easily." You will certainly not be blamed, if anything happens. I reassured him as best I could, knowing nothing I could say would work.. I mused over that one again for the umpteenth time, how could anyone so smart and so able could have so many self-protective needs?

Abdul sat down, my wife and I looked at each other, she nodded and I said grace for us all. We proceeded to serve ourselves and we all ate with gusto. It was indeed a glorious feast. The compliments to the cook and his helper rolled trippingly off the tongues of all those present, often with the incomprehensible garbled noise of those speaking with their mouths full. François and Argus both responded to the praise with glowing smiles and sparkling eyes. François blushed a nice rosy hue. I smiled behind my linen dinner napkin as I wiped off some over zealous mashed potatoes. I watched closely the various short exchanges around the table. People were nervous, knowing it was almost show time. So was I.

After dinner-our time was sadly short. We only took 37 minutes to greedily gobble down the meal, then we got down to the serious business of our new clients. Although we had reviewed and practiced quite a bit, last minute changes do happen. We were professionals. We ran through the checklist one last time.

Everything seemed right. Then Jadzia interjected one of her patented "what ifs..." and we discussed it for a few minutes. The potential gaff, and it was a big one, was disposed of neatly, thanks to a suggestion by François and we moved to stage one. As planned everyone was at his or her appropriate position within three minutes. The house smelled lovely from all the food and that would linger in the air just long enough. Sometimes, it is fun to stage the setting.

I returned to the study, looking carefully all around as I slowly returned to sit in front of the fire once again, seated in the study in that comfortable chair, smoking my pipe. I smoke a pipe? Then the questions piled one on top of another. The thoughts drifted through my mind as the smoke lazily wandered towards the ceiling. My trained mind began to explore them. Then the checklist was in my mind, clear as if someone else wanted me to focus too. I reached for the brandy...

I found myself adrift in blackness and a stern voice was telling me "FOCUS!" I mumbled an "Ok," and found myself seated once again before the fire trying to comprehend what had just happened. It was clear that an adventure was in the making. What kind , I wondered. The voice had sounded like my own, only a bit stronger than I ever speak. I am by nature, a quiet, gentle spoken man who avoids confrontations, well most times, if I must be strictly honest. "Later," the voice said. I focused, as I puffed semi-contentedly on my pipe. Enjoying the mixed odors of apple and cherry, I clinically reviewed the checklist one last time before our adventure began. I laughed as I thought about the short-term effects expected and the long-term gains that could-no would- accrue, if things went anywhere close to the plan. I shuddered as those deep negative thoughts sliding like slimy worms into my mind occurred to me. Ah those "what ifs...." So many things could go wrong, so many things... I braced myself with the thought that nothing is ever easy.

Knowing that this was a battle of wills and planning did not seem to ease my thoughts as much as it should. I recognized that my confidence level was not close to any peak. However my performance had to be. No doubts could be allowed, once our play began. I would not allow them. Fortunately, I do tend to rise to the occasion, and indeed, this was THE occasion! The brandy remained untouched. "Later ," echoed in my mind.

The doorbell rang. Its tinkling sound rising and falling with the preprogrammed notes of the fifth symphony by Beethoven, a rather nice, if plebeian touch , I thought.

Lumley Castle dates back to the 14th century. It was built in 1389 first as a manor house then in 1392 it was converted into a castle. In 1972 it was falling down, and then changed once again. This time it became a hotel. Magnificently restored this castle offered us an amazing blend of ancient history and modern convenience, subdued lighting and oh my, those fantastic hidden corridors, which enhanced and entranced, providing the specific, desired atmosphere that pervades our beloved castle.

We found Chester-le-Street, County Durham to be a rather wonderful locale too. Although it has proven to be a tad nippy, come winter. This castle, we had actually purchased some years ago, resides amid the gently rolling hills of Durham in Northeastern England. Lumley castle is indeed a lovely property. We bought it from the third group that had been running it as a hotel. In fact that is how we discovered it. We had some mining business in Ferryhill and in looking around for a nice place to stay, we happened upon this fantastic site. We immediately understood what it could provide for us as the proper atmosphere and setting for any number of intrigues we already had in the planning stages. With the features of a Norman Castle, over eight centuries old and with more than 60 sleeping rooms, banquet rooms, restaurants, meeting rooms, it was a delightful find.

George caught the door, with that classic British manner that I could see in my mind's eye as I listened to the mumbled exchanges, hearing the words scripted in that deep, lovely, sonorous voice. George had the sound of an old servant to royalty. There was just that gentle touch of formal disdain, suggesting that no one could really be worthy to enter. The hint of frost and distance almost made me chuckle. Ah, I thought. The games afoot! Rather trite, but truth often is.

George came to the half-open den door and melodiously spoke, "The guests have arrived, sir." The voice gently carried the suggestion that he really wanted to show them the servant's exit and be done with this.

"Excellent George," I spoke my lines carefully. "Please show them into the formal meeting room, serve them as they desire and I will be with them in a few moments." I said this in a rather haughty tone. I carefully injected it with the underlying steel of one who simply will be obeyed in all respects. Incidentally, I spoke just loud enough so my guests could also hear my response.

I heard our guests shuffle into the meeting room, accessible from my den by the door on the left. The door was centered within the bookcase filled with the classics. I rose, rather reluctantly, and gathered up the necessary papers for this...meeting. I sauntered over to the bookcase and gazed at titles for a few minutes. I had read many of them. I prepared for my entrance. Entrances and exits are very important to people like me. We need to convey just the right expectations, presentation, spark the senses, yet creating and maintaining the proper atmosphere as well as our dignity, …and control, of course. We crafted it ever so carefully, over weeks of planning.

I clicked the panel next to the closed door, punched the button and surveyed the screen that appeared. Everyone was in place. I saw the seven chairs arrayed around the fireplace in the meeting room. The fire was cheerful and hopefully a relaxing message to my guests. All the guests sat quietly with glasses in their hands. No one was talking, all were gazing around the room or the fire place. None were drinking coffee, which resided in a silver coffeepot located beside the wet bar. Neither were there any tea drinkers. A shame.

I opened the door and stepped through.

Adam was the self-appointed ringleader of this er... professional group who had asked my assistance on a rather dicey matter. He appeared younger than his 48 years. An excellent surgeon , I thought, recalling his dossier. The matter in question will become clearer as we go on. I would simply hate to disclose too much, too soon. The group sitting somewhat on edge, included José Arguentos de Silva y Ortullo, Jason Smythers Havingstone IV, Lord Haverford, Gerald Michele Sans-Soiu, Xui Han Fu, and one retired US Senator Albert Sissal.

They waited with ill-concealed impatience. I looked around the group nodding a greeting to all, before I spoke. "I trust everyone is comfortable and you do have what you need?" I inquired. Several mumbled "yes, thanks" and nodded agreement. I went to the bar and poured myself a nice cup of coffee, black, straight, no additions. I took my seat, in the center, noting that the setting, style, and differences had served my guests as clearly my own. I wondered if the first wrinkle to the plan might be that first expected attempt to wrest control of the meeting from my hands. I was most gratified that such efforts were to be delayed until later. I knew Adam would try.

All right, gentlemen, let's get started. "Avram, distribute the folders please," I said mildly. Avram silently appeared from the den with seven folders, handing one to each man present. He put the last one on the table in front of me. I left mine closed. "If you turn to page one, you can see," I began…

***

Chapter 2

An interlude

Angelo Pulamoni sat in the upper tower watching the meeting room telecast in silence, a lingering smile on his countenance. Angelo is a tall thin, almost cadaverous man. His age seems indeterminate, although with silver hair and eyebrows against a swarthy Sicilian face, he is striking. His black eyes can be bland…or scary. They can sparkle with warmth too. He swirled his Napoleon in the cut glass brandy snifter, after pouring a half glass from the decanter. His eyes never left the screen. An errant thought crossed his mind. How DID they get the sound so clear? I can hear their breathing. He chuckled. And , he contemplated with joy, we have this little tête a tête is all nicely recorded for posterity…and gain.

He recalled one of his favorite writers, Pope, as he focused on the images on the large RCA flat screen.

"Of all the causes that conspire to blind

Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,

What the weak head with strongest bias rules,

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools."

"Yes," he told Kofu and Glynnis, "We certainly have the right people." He sat back to look closely at the people in the play, recalling the valuable details in their dossiers.

"These are all men of means and ability, " pointed out Kofu. "They are used to being in charge and getting their way. "

"Yes, they are, agreed Angelo, his silver hair shifting with the firm agreement he shared with his two compatriots.

"So far Charlie is leading them down the rose path like a gentle shepherd guiding his flock home, added Glynnis, lightly dusting cookie crumbs from her frock.

Angelo nodded at each, "Yes, soon it will become apparent that this meeting is not going to go the way that our guests had hoped and expected."

These three all knew that there would be satisfactory resolution for all. However, Angelo snorted to himself, they won't all feel immediately satisfied with the result . Although , he chuckled, they will certainly feel satisfied for a while. And they will pay.

***

I waited until they all were on page one, then proceeded. "Here you see on page one, the original proposal that you six created. I believe you are all quite familiar with that, so keeping in mind the goals you proposed, the succeeding pages outline in some detail how we shall achieve it. There are breakdown sections detailing the steps and resources we have determined are necessary to the success of this endeavor. Allow me take you through it, one step at a time. I will ask you if there are any questions after each section. Please do hold interruptions to a minimum. Are we clear? Two of the group nodded and said "yes sir." The other three, just nodded. Adam looked at me sideways with a little smile as he nodded. I smiled back, knowing that I was going to have problems with him. Well… plan A never works, so why should I expect this time to be different.

We reviewed the plan, which called for the theft of a number of masterpieces from several museums around the world. These gentlemen, were all wealthy collectors who long ago determined the art of the world belonged to them. That art just had not been promptly turned over to them, as they desired. Each was interested in different kinds of art, but appreciated most of the art forms. They had come to us, because of reputation and expertise. Perhaps I should explain that a bit…

Our group is rather specialized. We have cultivated an extensive expertise in the arts, identifying, locating and obtaining works of art for our clientele. We have a success record of er evading the authorities that is envied in a number of the shadier parts of the world. We have our own form of magic to do this.

Through careful connivance, we actually reacquired the complete, original library of Lumley castle, which is now openly ensconced in the den. We have even added some volumes to it. The original Lumley Library had been the largest and one of the most important donations to the Old Royal Library before it was given to the nation by George II to serve as the basis of the British Library. In fact, it gets rather complicated. Lumley acquired much of Cranmer's Library and Nonesuch Palace itself from his father-in-law, Henry. The Earl of Arundel, in his turn received them from Queen Mary. Lord Lumley and his wife Lady Jane then added substantially to it. Lumley held many portraits and other famous art, which we also acquired. Now, Lord Lumley, already possessing fine collections of books and pictures here at Lumley Castle, inherited an additional 400 or so titles Arundel had gathered. The signatures and stamps of Arundel and both of the Lumleys still grace many of the volumes in our collection. Sadly, there are a few reproductions, albeit expensive ones. Very expensive reproductions. And the British Library is convinced that they have the originals. The library, the largest private library of the Elizabethan period, contained 3,000 books and 400 manuscripts is strong in historical volumes of science and medicine. We have since increased and updated the library with both historically important and other valuable rare tomes. In addition we have expanded into the sciences with modern and historical research that has proved a positive impact for our business. Our modern research section includes many sources that have allowed our team to flourish.

Lady Jane Lumley had been noted for her learning, extensive for her day. The library actually came into the possession of Henry Prince of Wales on Lumley's death. Then it fell into the British Library for a long period of time, finally and most satisfactorily, coming into our hands.

Chapter 3

Plan A

I finished reviewing the multiple steps of our general plan, then referred each "buyer" to their specific plan which had been carefully developed for each of them to suit their individual quirks and desires. That planning was located at the back of their booklet. Adam gave a small smile as he flipped to the back of his booklet. I knew he would not be impressed. Results were the only thing that gave him any pause. He had been scammed and deceived too often in the past.

Even so, that presented plan was only formulated to show the items, those easily checked identifiable and verifiable problems, possible delivery options, recommendations, etc. With the vital sales focus, it was designed toward showing them how we might deliver the goods to each buyer, given their different locations and specific needs to preserve privacy and safety.

It did look complete and reasonable. It was supposed to look that way. And of course, our plan celebrated how nicely and cleverly our customers would safely receive their stolen goods. The presentation was quite lovely, including those three-dimensional holographic pictures of the objects d'art, their current location, and a brief descriptions of the security features that we would need to overcome. This nice personal touch was, of course, was cheerfully followed by a discrete bill for 250 Million lbs., Sterling, from each buyer. I smiled to myself in anticipation. I knew there would be challenges, questions and quibbles. I waited to see if I had planned correctly. The moment to close the sale had arrived. Would it work? Would the alternate planning have to be brought to bear? Two of the men immediately pulled out their checkbooks and pens. I winced internally. Amateurs! One man sat unnaturally quiet and still, a dreamy smile reposed on his face.

The next to the last man reached under his seat and pulled out his briefcase. That looked really promising. He had it on his lap and was opening it… Then, Adam unfurled his six-foot length to lithely arise from his chair, and calmly, yet deliberately, stated, "I'll pay on delivery."

It was the kind of marvelous performance I had expected. We had gotten through the entire proposal with only an occasional skeptical look from Adam. No quibbles, no disputes, no what ifs. The pure professional in me rejoiced at the excellence of his timing. The two checkbook rookies quickly put their pen and checks back in their pocket. Two clicks announced the closing of the briefcase, and presumably that anticipated, beautiful pile of cash. The dreamy eyed man continued his dream and paid no attention, not even moving. I wondered where he might be. Naturally, everyone else looked at Adam and then the stared at me to see what I would say…what I would do.

Chapter 4

The Pony Before the Cart

"I'm sorry, Adam, I said with simple sadness. "That won’t be possible. However as a gesture of good will, we do have one item that without the money, we can only show it to you." I called to Avram; he came, a Johnny-on-the- spot.

"Yes Sir?"

"Bring me the Cellini"

"Certainly sir."

With in moments I was holding the small uncompleted chalice originally intended for Clement VII in my hands. Although considered lost to the ages, rumors of it's existence had come to our attention.

"Here, Adam. Please look this over. I believe this was one of the pieces you desired, if we could find it." Adam was stunned. He looked blankly at the Cellini, then the full steam of his avarice took hold and he reached out with shaking hands. I carefully placed the statue in his hands, clasping both of his around it. The others looked on in awe. They had no doubts of what they were seeing. The daydreamer, however, continued to ignore everything. I would make sure he was the last to leave, especially if there were problems. Adam gingerly sat the statue down most carefully on the table. He just stared at the object. After two minutes of silence, he slowly reached into his briefcase and pulled out a magnifying glass. I noticed that there were bonds in the briefcase too, but continued to gaze at Adam with my most concerned sad expression, letting none of the jubilation show. I have practiced that expression time and time again. I think it is nearly perfect now.

Adam looked up after his examination. He was jubilant, euphoric even. "Yes," he crowed excitedly, "Yes! I must have it!"

"No problem," I replied generously. "We just need your first 250 million lbs. Sterling…the deposit."

"Excellent," he enthused, opening his briefcase. "I expect bearer bonds will be acceptable?"

"Yes," I drawled, "they should do very well."

Chapter 5

Benvenuto Cellini

Benvenuto Cellini lived from 1500-1562. He was an Italian Sculptor, Soldier, Goldsmith, Musician and Painter of the Renaissance.

Benvenuto was born in Florence, where his family, originally landowners in the Val d'Ambra, had remained for three generations. His father, Giovanni Cellini, was a musician who made musical instruments. Giovanni married Maria Lisabetta Granacci. It was eighteen years before they had any children.

Benvenuto, (meaning "Welcome" in Italian) their third child was destined for the same profession as himself. Giovanni blocked Benevuto's inclination for design and metal work several times. When Benvenuto Cellini reached the age of fifteen his youthful desires overwhelmed his father. And so, his father reluctantly allowed him to apprentice to the goldsmith, Antonio di Sandro, known as Marcone.

Benevuto had already attracted unpleasant notice in Florence, which likely encouraged the apprenticeship. After a fight with companions, he was banished for six months to Siena, where he went to work for Francesco Castoro, another goldsmith. He next moved to Bologna, where he became an accomplished flute-player and made rather good progress in the art of goldsmithing.

After visiting Pisa, and twice resettling briefly in Florence, he jumped off to Rome, at the tender age of nineteen. His first attempt there was a silver casket, followed by some silver candlesticks, and a vase for the bishop of Salamanca. The vase brought him to the notice of Pope Clement VII. One of his celebrated works, the gold medallion of "Leda and the Swan" — the head and torso of Leda cut in hard stone — executed for the Gonfaloniere Gabbriello Cesarino is now residing in the Vienna museum. He also took time for his music. His flute playing led to an appointment as one of the pope's court-musicians.

In the Rennaissance, people did have to be good at many things. In an attack upon Rome by the constable de Bourbon, the style, bravery , and willingness to fight demonstrated by Cellini proved to be of some service to the pontiff. Of course, we do then have to believe his own accounts. It is possible he was embellishing…at least slightly. According to his account, he shot and killed the Bourbon dead. Later he even killed Philibert, prince of Orange. Bold people, artists.

At any rate, Benevuto's efforts led to reconciliation with the Florentine magistrates, and his own return to Florence. Once home he devoted his time to the execution of medals. His most famous are "Hercules and the Nemean Lion", in gold repoussé work, and "Atlas supporting the Sphere", in what is called chased gold.

The Atlas would later fall into the grasping hands of Francis I.

From Florence he traveled o the court of the duke of Mantua, back to Florence and once again to Rome. In Rome he began working on jewelry, then making dies for private medals and even creating for the papal mint. In 1529 he avenged his brother's death. Afterwards he fled to Naples, to evade the consequences of an dustup with a wounded notary Ser Benedetto. All in all it is typical Italian history. Honors came and went. Travel was frequent.

During a war with Siena, Cellini received an appointment to improve and strengthen the defences of Florence., While treated harshly by his ducal patrons, he did gain admiration from his fellow citizens through the magnificent works he produced. He died in his beloved home city of Florence in 1571, He was unmarried, had no legitimate children and was buried with all the pomp and circummstance he might have desired. He left a widowed sister and her six daughters and a good number of friends and enemies.

His art too, he left. Perseus with the Head of Medusa, completed between 1545-54, is in the Loggia dei Lanzi, Florence Cellini executed several pieces of sculpture on a grand scale. Most precious is the bronze group of "Perseus holding the head of Medusa", (first suggested by Duke Cosimo I de Medici) now in the Loggia dei Lanzi at Florence. This Perseus is full of his fire, his genius and shows an awesome grandeur of a terrible beauty. It is both one of the most typical and one of the most unforgettable monuments of the Italian Renaissance.

Simply casting this great work provided Cellini untold troubles and anxiety. It's completion drew homage from all parts of Italy. The original relief from the foot of the pedestal — Perseus and Andromeda — is in the Bargello, and was replaced by a cast.

He also composed his autobiography beginning his tale in Florence in 1558. This racy animationdiscusses his loves, hatreds, passions and delights. He glories in the sumptuous and the exquisite in art. His self-applause and self-assertion, running now and again into impossible to believe make this one of the most singular and fascinating books in existence. It is of course in our Library. I read, of the strange adventures and devout complacency with which Cellini achieved homicide. I laughed at the legion of devils which he and a conjurer evoked in the Coliseum and the marvelous halo of light which he found surrounding his head at dawn and twilight after his Roman imprisonment,. His supernatural visions and angelic protection his being poisoned twice were all fascinating. The autobiography has been translated into English by Thomas Roscoe, by John Addington Symonds, and by A. Macdonald. Cellini also wrote treatises on the goldsmith's art, on sculpture, and on design (translated by C. R. Ashbee, 1899).

Among his works of art not already mentioned, many of which have perished, were a colossal Mars for a fountain at Fontainebleau and the bronzes of the doorway, coins for the Papal and Florentine states, a Jupiter in silver of life size, and a bronze bust of Bindo Altoviti. The works of decorative art are not quiet and merely respectful.

The works of art still in existence today are:

the celebrated salt-cellar made for Francis I at Vienna. a medallion of Clement VII in commemoration of the peace between the Christian princes, 1530, with a bust of the pope on the reverse and a figure of Peace setting fire to a heap of arms in front of the temple of Janus, signed with the artist's name,. a medal of Francis I with his portrait, also signed. a medal of Cardinal Pietro Bembo. a forty-soldi medal with a bust of Alessandro de Medici, first duke of Florence, on one side and standing figures of the saints Cosma and Damian on the other, cast in 1535. Several other plaques are attributed to him, "Jupiter crushing the Giants", "Fight between Perseus and Phinaeus", a Dog, etc.

Important works have perished including the uncompleted chalice intended for Clement VII which we acquired. A gold cover for a prayer book. a gift from Pope Paul III to Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor both are described in his autobiography. The large silver statues of Jupiter, Vulcan and Mars were wrought for Francis I during his Paris stay. There were so many: A bust of Julius Caesar. A silver cup for the cardinal of Ferrara. A gold "button" or morse, made by Cellini for the cape of Clement VII. The competition is graphically described in his autobiography. This latter was sacrificed by Pope Pius VI, with many other priceless specimens of the goldsmith's art, to pay the indemnity of 30,000,000 francs demanded by Napoleon after the campaign against the States of the Church in 1797.

According to the terms of that treaty, the pope was permitted to pay one-third in plate and jewels. There are three watercolour drawings by F. Bertoli of this splendid morse in the print room of the British Museum. The obverse and reverse, as well as the rim, are drawn full size, the precious stones set therein. The drawing includes a diamond then considered the second largest in the world. These pictures allowed us to add to our collection.

I followed Adam's counting of the bearer bonds with a well hidden, secret glee . Catch the leader and the others will fall in line, like dominos. Indeed they did. That is what happened. Adam left immediately after that exchange, calling his driver and followed by our security team. We spare no expense to keep our customers happy. Later, perhaps we might approach it differently. The others watched on and made their own decisions. Sure they did. Adam had decided for all, but the dreamy eyed man.

Chapter 6

José, A Dangerous Spaniard

José was next. José Arguentos de Silva y Ortullo is a Spanish billionaire land baron owning 20 percent of Madrid, heavily invested in Argentina, Brazil and the US, through the usual number of multi-tiered corporations. He is also fascinated by Picasso, although he hates the entire history of the person.. José's father, Francisco, fought with the Nazis as one of the liaison trainees during the German practicum for World War II. He was a pilot, and eventually became a businessman who served the escaping Nazis well and profitably. That gave the family fortune a jump-start. Pater flew at Guernica. The painting Picasso made of Guernica is one of the most powerful pieces to come out of Spain. But that power was uninteresting to José.

José was brought up with wealth, education, and long term planning by his father. His mother taught him warmth, social skills, and the power of silence. His Father taught him to be ruthless in the pursuit of success. He combines them all, gracefully. José studied at Harvard for his MBA and then earned his Doctorate in Marketing Trends. While he was still in University, he created six corporations that are still profitable today. It is and was an amazing success story. A couple of his businesses are similar to some of the fanciful businesses of the late 19th century, such as that one that sold airplanes, before they were invented! He created the first companies in cryogenics, DNA Mapping & Pharmacology, spaceflight bookings, Internet names, Selling degrees on the Internet, and interplanetary real estate.

His Planetary Investments Inc., sells land on the sun of all places as well other locations. And he has some other intriguing operations as you might expect. He has art houses, auction houses, Real estate corporations, science research groups, and others. The list is endless. By the way, You can still buy a patch of molten sky on or above the sun for only 10 quid. You get a lovely framed certificate, a land title ready for filing, and loads of promotional mailings that make you shake your head several times a month. For extra cash you can also purchase T-shirts, sweaters, moon rocks, etc. Your individual title may be processed whenever land office opens that can record it. Legality is another issue. Two people run that office out of another of José's major corporations and it continues to bring in a profit annually. PT Barnum always said "A sucker is born every minute."

Avram gave me one for Christmas a few years ago. I laugh every time I look at it. I got even with Avram, though. I purchased Avram his ordination papers. I discovered by happenstance that it is also one of José's groups. We did have to do some in-depth research on this wily character. Avram was enchanted with the certificate. He blushed and then blessed me. When I am feeling particularly in the mood I call him Reverend Avram.

José is a small man at 5' 8" with the red hair you often find in Spain. His warm coffee eyes and generous lips smile a little too often. He has mastered lying with his eyes. They don't ever remain cold like some peoples' eyes do. With José, the eyes do not mirror the soul. However he does like kids and dogs. He has 10 of each. Wives are another story. He has married 8 briefly, about 10 months each. He prefers his servants and now shops in Asia.

Chapter 7

Van Gogh

He told us from the beginning that van Gogh and Picasso were his favorites. Now Vincent van Gogh was born on March 30, 1853 and suicided on July 29, 1890. He is considered the greatest Dutch painter after Rembrandt, although he had little success during his lifetime.

Van Gogh produced all of his work completing some 900 paintings and 1100 drawings during only a 10 year span before yielding to bipolar mental illness. Yes, he committed suicide. His fame grew rapidly after his death especially following a showing of 71 of van Gogh's paintings in Paris on March 17, 1901. Only 11 years after his death. People had trouble pronouncing his name. Properly done, the name rhymes with loch, but it is also pronounced 'goph', 'go' and 'goe'.

Van Gogh's influence on expressionism, fauvism, and early abstraction was enormous, and may be seen in many other aspects of 20th-century art. The Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam is dedicated to his work and that of his contemporaries. The Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo, is located in The Netherlands, and rather nice collection of Vincent van Gogh paintings. Several Van Gogh paintings rank among the most expensive paintings in the world. On March 30, 1987 Van Gogh's painting Irises was sold for a record $53.9 million at Southeby's, New York. On May 15, 1990 his Portrait of Doctor Gachet was sold for $82.5 million at Christie's. Naturally José wanted both.

Vincent was born in Zundert, The Netherlands. His father was a Protestant minister, Vincent found that appealing and would be drawn to it later in his life. His sister described him as a serious and introspective child.

At age 16 Vincent worked for an art dealer, Goupil & Co., in The Hague. His four years younger brother Theo, shared a life long friendship and joined the company later. Their friendship is documented in the letters they sent each other. These letters were preserved and published in 1914. They provide the insight so many write as they explore the life of the painter. The letters show Picasso as a talented writer with a sharp mind. Theo supported Vincent financially throughout his life. Mental illness truly destroys life.