Part 18 (2/2)

No, Tom interrupted. Works of art, you know. Rare stuff.

Wright shook his head. ”Not my field. I wouldnt know where to get rid.

Tom made an impatient gesture. Im not doing it on my own. Ill need finance anyway.

Whos in with you?

Well, thats another reason Ive come to you. What about Mandingo?

Wright nodded thoughtfully. Youre splitting it a lot of ways, now. How much is the job worth?

A million, all told.

Wrights sandy eyebrows lifted. I tell you what-if Mandingo backs it, Im in.

Great. Lets go see him.

They left the pub and crossed the road to where a new, mustard-colored Citroen was parked on a double yellow line. As Wright opened the door, a bearded old man in a stained overcoat came up. Wright gave him some money and got in.

He looks after the warden for me, Wright explained as he pulled away. You know what the Bible do say: Do not muzzle the ox that grindeth the corn. Wardens are oxen.

Tom tried to figure out why the quote was relevant as Wright guided the car south and west. He gave up when they stopped in a narrow street in theater-land, near Trafalgar Square.

He lives here? Tom said in surprise.

He does well for himself. 'Lo, how the wicked are raised up! He should be rich, the percentage he takes. Wright got out of the car.

They went down a narrow street and into a nondescript entrance. An elevator took them to the top floor of the building. There was a spyhole in the door Wright knocked on.

It was opened by a dark-skinned young man in matador pants, a loud s.h.i.+rt, and beads.

Wright said: Morning, Mandingo.

”Hey, man, cmon in, said Mandingo. He waved them in with a slim hand from which a long cigarette drooped.

The flat was luxuriously decorated in red and black, and cluttered with expensive furniture. The costly electric toys of a man who has more money than he knows how to spend were scattered around: a spherical transistor radio, one large color TV and another portable one, a digital dock, a ma.s.s of hi-fi equipment, and an incongruous antique telephone. A pale blonde girl wearing sungla.s.ses lounged in a deep armchair, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She nodded at Wright and Tom, and negligently flicked ash on the deep-pile carpet.

”Hey, man, what gives? Mandingo asked as they sat down.

Wright said: ”Tom here would like you to finance a little blagging.

Tom thought how disparate the two men were, and wondered why they worked together.

Mandingo looked at him. ”Tom Copper, aint it? So you fancy yourself as a draftsman. Last I heard you was kiting.

This is a big job, Mandingo. Tom was resentful. He did not like to be reminded of his days as a petty check-forger.

Give, give.

You read in the papers about Lord Cardwells art collection?

Mandingo nodded.

Ive got an in.

Mandingo pointed at him. I am impressed. Maybe youve come a long way, Tom. Where is it kept?

His house in Wimbledon.

I dont know if I can fix the police that far out.

No need, said Tom. There are only thirty paintings. Ill have the whole thing sussed out beforehand. Bill here is working with me. The job will take maybe quarter of an hour.

Mandingo looked thoughtful. A million sobs, in fifteen minutes. I like that. He stroked the blonde girls thigh absently. So whats the deal? Youll want me to supply a van and a couple of laborers; to store the hot stuff; and to find a market for it. He was talking to himself, thinking aloud. Itll go to the States. Ill get maybe half a million for it if I do it slowly. Probably take a couple of years to get rid. He looked up. Okay. Ill take fifty percent: you split the other half between you. Bear in mind itll take a while for the money to come in.

Fifty percent? Tom said. Wright put a restraining hand on his arm.

Leave it, Tom. Mandingos taking the big risk-storage.

Mandingo spoke as if he hadnt heard. ”There's something else. Youre asking me to put my men at risk, lay out money, find storage-even just talking to you I lay myself open to a conspiracy charge. So dont do the job unless youre absolutely certain. If you c.o.c.k it up-well, just leave the country before I get my hands on you. Failures are bad for my reputation.

Wright stood up, and Tom followed suit. Mandingo showed them to the door.

He said: ”Hey, Tom, what's your in to that house?

Im going there to dinner. See you.

Mandingo laughed uproariously as he shut the door.

PART FOUR.

The Varnish

I think I know what it is like to be G.o.d.

PABLO PICa.s.sO,.

dead painter

I.

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