13.
At one-thirty Jabar and I leave to the auctioneering firm in his Porsche. Every time I sit in this luxury car I strongly doubt about giving in to Jabar’s offer to buy me a new car. The leather seats sit wonderful and we glide over the street like skaters over ice. I can feel the powerful engine throb under my bottom and it gives a mighty feeling.
Jabar never talks much while driving. He especially wants to focus on the car and the road, so I put a CD in the player. Massive Attack. Sharon has once put forward that she suspects them to be otherkinds. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Jabar pulls a disapproving grin, but doesn’t say anything.
We drive in Ostend. A drizzly rain falls down on the windshield. Shit, I didn’t bring an umbrella with me and with my hair, which curls up easily when it’s wet outside, it’s really a requisite.
‘Can’t you just change the weather?’ I ask. ‘Blow away the clouds or something?’
‘No,’ Jabar reacts utmost seriously. ‘You know elves don’t just do that. Only when it’s highly necessary. It would cause a great uproar if every elf would create his or her own weather when it doesn’t pleases him or her.’
‘Than why do you have a gift,’ I pout.
‘We’re being followed,’ Jabar says in a gentle tone.
‘What?’ I turn around and watch through the back window. Behind us is a grey Audi with dark windows.
Jabar turns left at the following traffic lights. The Audi too.
‘Are you sure?’
‘No.’
We drive through a traffic circle with the Audi still following in our tracks.
‘I can’t see who’s in it,’ I say.
A few minutes later we arrive at Auctioneering Firm White. The Audi slows down and drives strikingly slow past us. Jabar parks the car.
‘Maybe it was a coincidence,’ Jabar suggests.
‘With everything going on recently, I don’t dare to claim that,’ I say.
We both get out of the car and I hurry towards the entrance to avoid the rain. Oded, in a stylish, dark blue Hawaiian shirt with white flowers, is grinningly awaiting us in the doorway. Squeaky, the rat, is sitting on his shoulder instead of in his breast pocket.
‘I don’t know if he can enter.’ I point at Squeaky and give Oded a kiss.
‘It only says that dogs aren’t allowed.’ He winks. ‘But well, damn. Squeaky, pocket,’ he commands and the rat immediately dashes in the breast pocket. ‘Stay still,’ he then says and the little head disappears completely so there’s only a motionless bulge to be seen, which for that matter could also be a hanky. I wonder if Oded uses thought manipulation to do this, so I ask him.
‘No, I don’t have an influence on animals. That’s reserved for the elves. By the way, rats are very clever animals of themselves, just little doggies.’
‘What are just little doggies?’ Jabar hugs Oded. Of course in a male manner accompanied by a pat on the back.
‘Rats.’
‘As far as their intelligence goes, yes, but their train of thought is completely different.’
‘Thank you for your wise advice, oh rat whisperer,’ Oded jokes.
We go inside. Through a hall we directly enter the medium-sized room in which a small podium is located at the front. On the podium stand a table, on which an art object is already displayed, and a platform for the auctioneer. In front of the podium are about a hundred chairs. Several posters of earlier auction days and other publicity are displayed on the walls.
It’s quite busy in there already and we immediately take a seat in the last row. In no time almost every chair is occupied and the auctioneer appears. The buzzing drops dead.
Statues, jewels, silver ware, furniture, glassware and china are auctioned one by one. I don’t really listen to the descriptions, nor to the amount of money for which the items are sold. I particularly like to look at the beautiful items and I make up my own story about them. A candlestick that was used to commit a murder, a statue that stood in a haunted mansion and still spreads death and destructions among its new owners, a ring that stands for an engagement of which the fiancé melted into thin air above the Bermuda triangle, and so on. My imagination knows no limits.
At a sudden moment, quite late, a young, blond lady enters. She looks around uncertain for a while and takes a seat on the only remaining empty chair. She frenetically claps her purse on her lap.
I know Jabar is patiently waiting for the two painting he’s interested in, but meanwhile also following all the offered objects accurately in case there’s something beautiful among them.
Oded is particularly joining us because he finds it pleasant to be with us, he says himself. Art does fascinate him, but not to buy it. He especially collects items from the Second World War, of which he has a priceless, elaborated collection at home.
Next are the two painting of the Italian masters Jabar has set his heart on. I have to admit they are impressive.
‘Girl at the well’ is a fascinating reproduction of a girl combing her hair and gazing dreamily. It’s very sensitively and realistically represented and bordered by a beautiful worked frame.
‘Man with harp and young girl’ is even more beautiful. An old man with grey hair and a long beard plays a harp that rests on his lap and looks at the girl that sits next to him. Their mutual look contains so much love and respect it’s almost perceptible. This oil painting also has a curly golden worked frame.
They start with ‘Girl at the well’ and I find the start bid ridiculously low: five hundred and fifty Euros. I may recognize the great masters or the period in which they painted, but I don’t know the first thing about the value of suchlike works of art. It again shows that Jabar doesn’t give a damn about whether the paintings are a good investment or not.
Jabar lays claim on the bid.
The lady with blond hair that entered lately goes above it with one hundred Euros and hastily looks at Jabar, probing her concurrence. Just wait, I think. She doesn’t know yet that when Jabar has set his sights on something he won’t give up that easily. After all he has got plenty of money and can go on for a while.
Jabar bids one hundred Euros above, which brings the painting to seven hundred and fifty Euros. Of course the blond lady doesn’t give up and goes above with again one hundred Euros. And also know she glances backward, probably searching for Jabar’s reaction.
I can see she’s holding a cell phone in her right hand that she’s continuously pressing against her ear.
I poke Jabar and whisper: ‘She isn’t the actual bidder. That one’s stuck on the telephone.’
Jabar leans forward and now sees the lady is stuck on the telephone.
He nods. ‘Doesn’t matter.’
The bidding continues and they quickly reach fifteen hundred Euros. Oded, who’s sitting on Jabar’s other side, whispers: ‘This isn’t normal. The paining isn’t worth that much.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Jabar only answers and raises his hand in the air again.
Oded gives a sign he wants to talk to me. I turn around and lean behind Jabar’s back.
‘To Jabar it’s valuable because he thinks it’s beautiful. I can’t imagine someone else thinks in the same way.’
‘I agree with you and…’ I cut off my words. I almost said: and certainly because of the past events I don’t trust it.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Manon,’ Jabar says in a gentle tone. ‘But it seems too far-fetched to me.’
‘And what, Manon?’ Oded looks at us one by one. ‘And what, Jabar? Is something else going on?’
I shrug.
‘Later,’ Jabar says.
The bidding goes on. The painting that probably is about one thousand Euros worth at the most, is now brought to the amount of two thousand Euros. Jabar starts to look angrily, but, knowing him, he won’t give up.
I notice the lady is getting nervous too. She doesn’t look so confident anymore and the conversation with her telephone partner is a lot more heated than before.
‘Wouldn’t you better quit,’ Oded suggests. ‘Apparently the other bidder is a fucking great fan.’
The audience becomes restless. There’s whispering and pointing. They look at the event as if they’re watching a tennis game.
‘No,’ Jabar answers. ‘Not yet. ’
The tension in the room is seriously perceptible, it hangs shakily above our heads. Of course everyone wonders what’s so special about that painting.
When the lady’s bid comes to three thousand Euros, Jabar passes up his chance. I breathe relieved, this was getting too serious. Also the lady lowers her stressed shoulders and her facial expressions immediately soften. I think Jabar has finally given up because he’s more interested in the following painting ‘Man with harp and young girl.’
Here too the opening bid starts with five hundred and fifty Euros. And damned, as if it isn’t true. That blond lady joins in again!
Jabar’s hands become clenched fists. I’ve never seen him this way before.
‘I think they’re playing a game with us,’ I whisper to Jabar.
He rapidly looks at me. ‘Maybe.’
‘Ah, come on, really. She bids on nothing but the two painting you’re interested in.’
The bidding again takes an enormous speed and height. In no time the amount reaches four thousand Euros, five thousand Euros, eight thousand Euros.
I can see Oded is blinking surprised. He knows his friend thinks money is unimportant, but he has never seen him give so many for something that clearly isn’t worth that much.
The lady makes an offer that skips a bunch of steps and the entire room to become silent.
‘Twenty thousand Euros!’
‘Twenty five!’ Jabar yells.
For a while the room is as quiet as a mouse. The audience waits with close attention, almost nobody dares to even sigh.
The lady listens to the telephone and then nods. ‘Fifty thousand Euros!’
It seems as if the audience is mutually holding its breath. Even the auctioneer is totally upset. He looks at the lady as if suddenly she has horns and a tail.
Jabar lets it go, his look a mixture of anger and disappointment.
When we go outside with the rest like a herd of sheep, I can’t help to address the lady.
‘Excuse me,’ I say and lay my hand on her arm.
She turns around. She’s a beautiful woman, but the stress is still to be seen on her face.
‘Yes?’
‘May I know in whose name you did the bidding?’
The lady heaves a deep sigh. ‘He already told me someone from the audience would ask that.’
‘Oh?’ I look at her, sincerely surprised. ‘And? Were you allowed to answer?’
‘Yes. I could tell his name, but it sounds rather odd.’
With my look I urge her to tell it.
‘His name is Lex. I. Con.’
‘Lexicon. Well, what do you know. Thanks.’
I want to turn around, but the lady stops me.
‘Do you know him?’
‘No and yes,’ I answer truthfully.
‘He seems a bit weird to me, doesn’t he?’
‘You’ve never seen him?’
‘Never. I got, through the lawyer’s office I work for as a secretary, the offer to do the bidding. I had to be prepared daily and would be warned when I had to come to this auction. Until an hour ago I didn’t know it. Even the lawyers I work for have never seen the client. Only talked to him.’
‘You don’t, by any chance, know the language he speaks?’
‘Yes. He spoke Dutch, but with an English accent.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile at her gratefully. ‘You know you’ve done well.’
She sighs as if there’s a ton of cement on her shoulders. ‘Yes. Luckily, it’s over. I really hate this.’
I walk outside, where Jabar and Oded are awaiting me at the Porsche. With a self-satisfied grin I walk towards them.
‘I suspect you came to know something,’ Jabar says.
‘Sure I did.’
‘Let’s have a drink,’ Oded suggests. ‘My throat feels as if a fucking lucifer has been hold against it. And then you guys can tell me everything about what the hell is going on. Even Squeaky feels the mysteriousness hanging around you guys.’
‘Alright,’ Jabar says.
‘Will you follow me?’ Oded asks. ‘I want to make a stop at a store on the way, ‘The Four Seasons’, it’s on our route. I want to buy a packet of those smoking sticks and say ‘hi’ to that lovely lady.’