Page 272 of Double or Nothing

“Tuesday morning,” he says. “Don’t start without me.”

Then he leaves.

I stay in the empty boardroom, staring at his abandoned glass of water on the table.

Cunt.

The urge to throw it at the wall is surprisingly powerful, but I keep my breaths steady.

That bastard doesn’t deserve the pleasure of increasing my blood pressure.

My phone vibrates at my desk at three forty-five.

A message from Jack.

The Mercer woman is back in. She’s been scoping out the triptych again. Wants a private viewing.

That’s great news.

Jack has been excellent at getting in with Camilla Stour. He’s got her eating out of his polished art buying hand.

I minimise the Landia figures and open The Gilded Table file instead.

We’ve been working on the auction every night. Right through until the early hours.

Jack understands appetite. Buyers. The reckless desire that overcomes people when something they want is up for grabs.

I understand structure.

Together, we’re becoming a force to be reckoned with.

The Gilded Table now has valid buying history, and is showing enough interest in other emerging artists to stop Alice’s triptych looking like its sole reason for existing.

We’ve done it proud. Jack jokingly gave me an offer of official stakeholder last night.

It’s becoming a great process, and we’ve acquired three works of our own already. One at an auction that took place in Portsmouth last night. We bid online, and got ourselves a very respectable outcome.

I can’t wait to see it, even though Jack thinks it’s a pile of shit.

I’m the one that combs through catalogues and private galleries, seeking out pieces that should attract our attention. Work from emerging talents and artists with similar bold colourings to Alice.

I assess the prices and the risks, while Jack studies the buyers.

I track what they’ve bought before and how much they’ve been willing to spend.

He knows who wants to win, with Spider-Man senses. He can see it in their eyes, in their hand movements, watching auction videos and speeches in the aftermath over and over again.

The Mercer woman that Jack is referring to is one of the triptych’s strongest prospects. Helena Mercer is founder of a European software group, going through a high-profile divorce and buying contemporary art at a rate that suggests a middle finger to her ex. Apparently, he was never a fan of it.

His bank account certainly won’t be.

She owns three triptychs already. Two feature gold leaf. One explores inherited identity.

Alice’s work fits her collection so perfectly it might as well have been commissioned.

She bought another one yesterday, Jack messages. Something called After the City Fell by Giovanni Vescari. Looks shit to me, so I think she must fancy him.

I look up Giovanni Vescari. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did fancy him. He’s an Italian stunner in his early twenties.