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“And your tech guy?”
“Who do you think’s driving?”
“Just be sure to keep out of harm’s way.”
She snorted. “Think you forget who you’re talking to. I have as much training as you and can sure as hell kick your ass.”
He managed a grim smile. “That you can. All right. Call me when you’re in.”
…
The run-down building surrounded by the stench of manure was the last thing Meredith had expected when the limo pulled down the gravel road. Farmland?
Where were all the high rollers? The clientele who had bank accounts large enough that Peter could spurn her two-million-dollar offer? This didn’t at all fit the opulence she’d envisioned.
Peter held a firm grip on her arm as he pulled her from the car and led her across the dirt path to the entrance. Not that he had to worry about her fleeing. Yet.
They were met by two men at the door, one of whom stayed behind as the other—somewhere in his thirties with a wicked scar that slashed diagonally across his upper lip—walked inside with them.
They were talking so low, the other man whispering in Peter’s ear, that she was having a hard time hearing the conversation, not helped by the loud clacking of her heels on the cement floor as they walked down a brightly lit, narrow hallway.
The building was bare. Spartan. Then they were at another door, waiting.
A moment passed, and there was a beep and then a click, like the door had unlocked, and the other man was pushing it open. This time the hallway was carpeted and dimly lit and far more opulent.
More in line with Peter’s taste.
It looked like a suite of offices with a visiting area outside, with a small couch and even a coffee table. Behind the couch was a wide window, but it was dark on the other side and other than the high ceilings of the warehouse, she couldn’t make anything out. Next to the window was a doorway that led out to the warehouse, but that wasn’t where they directed her. Instead, she was taken to the end office.
“Please, have a seat,” Peter said and waited until she sat on a long leather couch that ran against one wall before taking a seat behind a massive desk. “I’ll only be another minute.” He picked up the phone, leaving her to look around the room.
Classy. Dark cherry furnishings, leather couches and chairs. It was like a fancy home office or den. A home office or den that dealt in selling human beings. Behind the desk was another window, the blinds drawn, with a long credenza underneath. The window was against the same outer wall as the one outside the office. Looking at the same scene. But like the other window, it was too dark to make anything out from her vantage point.
“Is everyone on? Who do we have left?” Peter paused as he waited for the response. “They know the rules. We start promptly on the hour. No exceptions. Particularly tonight.” He waited again nodding. “Good. Oh, and run the feed right away. I want a peek.”
Peter hung up and spoke to the guy still waiting at the door. “Tell everyone to stay sharp. I don’t expect trouble, but the heat’s coming fast on this one. Have the merchandise sent directly to the trucks after each sale has been confirmed. We don’t have time to wait on this one. Especially for number nine. Hell, if we hadn’t already listed it as the last in the lineup, I’d push it first. Stay on that one, okay?”
The other man nodded and left the office. She heard a door open, and for a brief moment she thought she heard crying before the door shut and all was quiet again.
“So pensive and quiet, Meredith. That’s unlike you,” Peter said and leaned comfortably back in his seat. “Tell me, what do you think of the place so far?”
“I’m thinking that so far the whole experience is seriously…underwhelming. It’s as if you’re running a sleazy strip joint, not a high-end auction for select clientele.” Her tone was snotty and confident—not at all reflective of her true horrified emotions—but she sold it well, if the quick anger on Peter’s face was any indication. She smiled. “What kind of clientele comes out to a barn in the middle of nowhere to look at your reputed quality goods?”
Peter drew a cigar from his desk drawer and quickly sliced the end and lit up. He took a draft and stared at her, his eyes still flashing, before he spoke. “You’re thinking too small, Meredith. In this day and age of online video cameras and chats, satellite phones that can reach every corner of the earth, in-person purchases are a thing of the past. Now my clients can sit back in the comfort of their own homes and conveniently watch the show from their computer or television. They place bids directly online. It saves us all the hassle and risk of hosting a larger-scale auction, like we did in the past. Those might be infinitely more fun, but they also draw too much attention with the comings and goings of our higher-profile guests. You know, for tonight’s little presentation we’ll be hosting two sheikhs, a general from a South American country, and European royalty.”
He waited for a response from her, but other than shrugging her shoulders, she was determined to look unimpressed. The thick acrid cigar smoke was almost suffocating, though, and she blinked her eyes. The phone on Peter’s desk rang, and a second later the intercom beeped in. “We’re online.”
“Well, let’s see if we can work on piquing your interest as the show progresses, huh?” Peter said and pushed a button on the desk. A screen descended from the ceiling across from them. He took another pull from his cigar and blew the smoke out. The heavy scent of tobacco became stronger, and she fought nausea.
The screen remained dark for a moment and then flashed on, and she found herself holding her breath, growing anxious, the panic nearly overwhelming her until she realized Peter was watching her. She hated the idea of giving him anything more to get excited about and focused on relaxing, practicing her breathing again.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out Peter and the room and the smell.
Better. When she opened her eyes again, Peter still watched her, amused. He propped his cigar in an ashtray and stood to grab a glass from the credenza behind him. He spilled some bourbon in it and walked over to take a seat next to her.
Right next to her. Close enough she could smell the bourbon on his breath. He took a sip, then offered it to her, but she shook her head.
They returned their gaze to the screen. Lights flashed on in three corners of the screen and she realized that in the center, once standing in the dark, was a covered figure, now lit by the spotlights.
