Chapter Twenty One

Alex woke up the following morning on Megan’s couch, under a scratchy army surplus blanket, to discover Malcolm laying down, but alert, staring at him.

“Well, good morning Malcolm,” Alex said.  He did his best not to give away his many, many concerns about what Malcolm might do next.  He wasn’t sure if cats were like dogs and could smell fear, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

He wondered for a moment if actually it was dogs that could smell fear, or cats, or, like, bears. 

After a couple of seconds, Malcolm looked away, apparently disinterested now.

“Good morning, Mr. Minor,” Megan said, then, as she walked into the room.  “I see that Malcolm has already greeted you today.”

Malcolm got up from where he was, and rubbed up against Megan’s leg.

“He has, he’s quite the charmer,” Alex said.

Megan went into the kitchen, and Alex heard her start to make coffee.  She said, “Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up.  I’m done and ready to go whenever you are.”

When Alex came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, even if he was wearing the same clothes as the day before, he found an insulated mug of coffee and an open box of donuts waiting for him in the kitchen.

“I figured since you just watched the little bit of stuff you had in the farm house go up in flames, you could probably use a donut.  Don’t get used to it,” Megan said.

“Thanks,” Alex said.

“So, did you have any clothes left back at your apartment?  Do we need to run over there?” Megan said.

“I don’t really have anything left there that I could wear in decent company.  There’s probably a pair of sweatpants and a Steve Urkel t-shirt, and that’s about it.  I grabbed everything good the last time I was there,” Alex said.

“So you need clothes,” Megan said.  “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, we get paid pretty well and you’ve been working a fair amount.  You didn’t have all of the cash in the house, did you?”

Alex hung his head.

“All of it?” Megan said.

“Well, I’ve got about two thousand in the bank.  I hear financial institutions look at you kind of funny when you start making enormous cash deposits, so I’ve been trying to deposit it a little bit at a time,” Alex said.

“How much did you lose?” Megan said, then, “Wait, don’t tell me, that’s none of my business.  Anyway, you need clothes, and you’re light on funds for now.  No problem, we’ll get you sorted out.  For now, let’s get in to the office.  Sounds like you need to get back to work as soon as possible.”

As the two of them walked out to Megan’s car, she took out her phone and called someone.  Alex heard her say, “Alex needs new clothes,” a pause, “All of them, I think.” 

She asked him what his measurements were, and repeated them to whoever she was talking to on the phone.  Another pause, and she said, “Well, as soon as you can manage.  OK, thanks.”

Megan turned to Alex after she got off of the phone, and said, “We’ll have your clothes problem sorted out shortly.”

“Wow, thanks,” Alex said.  “How much am I going to be spending, though?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Megan said.  “Mr. Darcy will just take it out of your next payment.”

When they arrived at the office, Mr. Darcy’s door was shut.  Megan told Alex to just take a seat and get comfortable, then sat down behind her desk and started to work on her computer.

An hour had passed, and Alex was just about ready to nod off in his chair when Mr. Darcy’s door opened.

“Mr. Minor,” he said.  “Come in, I’ve got some work for you.”

Alex followed Mr. Darcy into his office, and sat down in his usual chair.  Mr. Darcy’s desk already had a folder on it, which he pushed over to Alex. Alex took it and opened it up.  There was an address, and a photo of a painting in a gold frame.  The painting was kind of grotesque, in Alex’s opinion – people fleeing and being tormented by a variety of other-worldly creatures.

“Do you know much about art, Mr. Minor,” Mr. Darcy asked him.

“I can’t say that I do,” Alex said.  “I know what I like, I guess, but that’s about it.”

“In your spare time, I think you’ll find it’s worth your while to learn more about it.  There is fascinating history attached to much of it, and of course, fascinating stories and theories about the art itself.  But that’s beside the point.  This particular painting was stolen some time ago, and was considered lost and gone forever.  It recently came to light that not only is it still in wonderful condition, but that there is going to be an underground auction of a variety of art acquired through less than legal means, and this particular painting is going to be the grand finale,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Wow, I didn’t realize there could be such a thing.  I’d always thought stolen art changed hands in back room deals between rich criminals,” Alex said.

“A lot of it does,” Mr. Darcy said, “However, there are also a lot of rich collectors who are, shall we say, bored by the typical art deal and are looking for a thrill.  This is going to be a very exclusive event, the guest list has been thoroughly and carefully vetted, and the amounts of money that are going to be thrown around will be huge.”

“Cool,” Alex said.  “So do you want me to find a way to grab the painting and sneak it out of there?”

Mr. Darcy laughed. 

“No, Mr. Minor.  I don’t think you’re going to be able to sneak this painting out of a room full of art thieves.  You have a great many useful talents, but cat burglary isn’t one of them,” he said.

Alex was tempted to argue, because damn it, he was so stealthy, but Mr. Darcy continued.

“What I want you to do, Mr. Minor, is go to the auction and purchase that painting,” Mr. Darcy said.

Alex wasn’t certain that he hear Mr. Darcy correctly.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“I want you to go, and keep bidding until you’ve won the painting.  I’d suggest also bidding on some of the other art, but do your best not to win those items,” Mr. Darcy said.

“This painting is the centerpiece of the whole show?  Aren’t people going to be a little curious about who I am?  Especially when I outbid all of them on that one painting? The main event, in fact?” Alex said.

“Incredibly curious, I’m sure.  On the other hand, if anyone asks, tell them your company just IPO’d.  You’re in the tech industry, and you have a brilliant business matching people who want to sell t-shirts with people who want to buy t-shirts.  Use the words “Social media” and “Synergize” and “Crowd-source” liberally, and everyone will believe you, don’t worry,” Mr. Darcy said.

“I don’t even know what those words mean,” Alex said.

“They won’t either.  I told you not to worry about it,” Mr. Darcy said.

“OK, what’s this company called?” Alex said.

“UberShirt,” Mr. Darcy said. “Dot com.”

“UberShirt.  Synergize.  Got it,” Alex said.  “My next question is, how am I going to pay for this?  Doesn’t art go for millions?”

“It can, though you understand this is all stolen art.  It will be difficult for the new owners to get rid of it again if they want to sell it, and that fact is going to keep the prices a bit lower than you might expect.  Anyway, the payment details have all been arranged.  Interestingly enough, most of the people attending this event aren’t looking for the kind of thrill that is showing up to a party hosted by a bunch of people known to be criminals, with a briefcase full of cash.  There is a bookkeeper who has already been paid who keeping everyone’s money safe for a small fee.  Call it an escrow.  Anyway, funding won’t be an issue. You will be completely covered however much you have to spend, I assure you,” Mr. Darcy said.

Alex’s mind reeled a bit.  “Who the heck is our client?”

“The rightful owner of the painting, who has the desire and the means to get it back safely whatever the cost.  So let’s make sure it does get back safely,” Mr. Darcy said.

Alex shrugged and said, “OK.  When is this auction?”

“Tonight.  Wear a tuxedo, by the way,” Mr. Darcy said.

Alex paused for a second, trying to wrap his head around that for a second before he said, “I don’t have a tuxedo.  I don’t even have a clean t-shirt at the moment.”

“Well, if you need a t-shirt, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of them in stock at UberShirt.  As for a tuxedo, you have one now,” Mr. Darcy said.

Alex wondered what that meant, as Mr. Darcy picked up his desk phone, pressed a button, and said, “Ms. Megan, would you please send Mr. Bleckley in.”

Moments later, an impeccably dressed man with perfectly coiffed silver hair hurried in to Mr. Darcy’s office.  He was pulling a rolling rack of some sort behind him, with several suit bags hanging from it.  Another man, younger, followed him pushing a cart with what looked like two sewing machines on it.

“Mr. Minor, this is Mr. Bleckley and his assistant.  They’ll be fitting your tuxedo for you today,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Bleckley said.  “Please step over here and we’ll get started right away.”

Mr. Bleckley’s assistant had produced a small platform from the lower shelf of the cart he’d been pushing, which he set up on the floor in the middle of Mr. Darcy’s office.

“Please step up here, Mr. Minor,” he said.

Alex did, and the two tailors immediately set to work measuring him.  Alex had no idea one could have his measurements taken so quickly, but they were done measuring him scant seconds after they’d begun. 

Mr. Bleckley stood back for a second, and said, “Please just stand normally.”

Alex did his best to stand normally, whatever that meant.  Mr. Bleckley nodded, and went over to the rack.  He opened one of the bags, and pulled out a navy blue tuxedo and a white shirt.  He handed the shirt to Alex first. 

“Try this on, please,” Mr. Bleckley said.

Alex did, and Mr. Bleckley immediately handed him the tuxedo pants.  “And these, if you will,” he said.

Mr. Bleckley and his assistant got to work around right away, marking, measuring, tucking and pinning things.  A few minutes later, Mr. Bleckley’s assistant brought Alex the jacket for the Tuxedo.  Alex tried it on, and they got to work again. 

All told, it took the two of them about fifteen minutes to get him measured and fitted before they set to work altering the tux, right there in Mr. Darcy’s office.  It was so fast, it took a moment for Alex to consider how strange it was to be getting fitted for a tuxedo while Mr. Darcy sat ten feet away, apparently reviewing documents and making notes.

Alex couldn’t believe it when about twenty minutes after that, they asked him to try everything on again.   They made a few more measurements, and stuck a couple of pins in, then had him change again and wait while they finished up.

When they were done, Alex couldn’t believe he’d been fitted for a tuxedo, and had it altered, within two hours of even finding out he was going to need one.

“You understand, of course, this isn’t our best work, due to the rush” Mr. Bleckley said apologetically as he held up a long mirror for Alex to inspect their work.

Alex couldn’t believe how good he looked.  He felt like James Bond.

Mr. Darcy took a glance and Alex and said, “It will be perfect, thank you Mr. Bleckley.  He needs to look like a young businessman with more money than taste.  The kind of man who wouldn’t know how a tuxedo is supposed to fit.  This will be perfect.  I’ve seen your work, and I know what you can do normally.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it looks pretty damn good,” Alex said.

Mr. Bleckley raised an eyebrow, and Mr. Darcy said, “Perfect.”