* * *
The store was inundated with every imaginable kind of luggage. Luggage was not only hung from the ceiling and stacked against the walls, but also piled everywhere across the floor. Still, it only took Redding thirty seconds to home in on the same garment bag that Joran had just purchased. He unzipped the bag half way down the center to expose the interior. It contained a wide, soft-net sleeve that extended nearly half the length of the bag, thus allowing the garment bag to be folded at the center without creasing whatever was held in the sleeve.
“You should buy. They are selling fast and soon all gone,” the storeowner anxiously offered.
Redding paid for the bag and then headed directly to his hotel. Aside from needing to offload the twenty-five thousand in the document pouch, he required some additional information. If the first few elements fell into place, then he wouldn’t be dissuaded by the long-shot odds. The whole venture was fairly risky, but it was his last chance to get control of the painting.
* * *
Redding dumped the contents of the document pouch on to the bed, gathered up the currency, and locked it in the room safe. Then he spent a few minutes rethinking the whole process needed to recover the painting. The garment bag was a clear indication that Joran was preparing to leave China. So the first order of business was to find out when exactly he planned to leave. Redding turned his attention to the collection of papers, maps, and brochures that had accumulated since his arrival. Joran’s hotel card was one of the critical elements, and hopefully neither he nor housekeeping had arbitrarily discarded it. He carefully sifted through a pile of tourist brochures and found the business card under a map of Suzhou. Then he called the Meridian Plaza reception desk and asked when room sixteen-thirty was scheduled to check out.
“Sixteen-thirty will check out tomorrow morning.”
Acquiring that one piece of information turned out to be far easier than he had expected and with that single piece of data, he was ready for the next phase of his plan. He made several attempts to reach Sam by phone before Sam finally answered. He said something about tutoring students and not being able to talk, so they arranged to meet at the teahouse at seven-thirty.
* * *
Redding was already seated at the rear table when Sam arrived. As Ting came from behind the counter with tea and an assortment of Chinese snacks, Sam caught her by the arm. Standing within a whisper of each other, they spoke quietly as if they needed to reach an agreement. Then they came to the table and sat down across from Redding.
“Yeah, I want to ask you about …” Redding started, but Sam interrupted.
“Stop! This isn’t about Lin Ming, is it? She’s a close friend, and we’re not going to play referee.”
That was exactly the question Redding was about to ask, but it wasn’t the answer he expected. Nevertheless, it was understandable. He let the subject of Lin Ming pass. She wasn’t the real reason he had asked for the meeting.
“Actually, there’s something else,” Redding said as he started to sample the snacks. “I need a favor, a big favor.”
“Exactly what kind of a favor?” Sam’s question just hung in the air.
Redding knew right away that Sam was setting the stage for some quid-pro-quo that would likely land him back in a classroom. At any other time he would have objected, but if it meant getting his hands on the painting, it was a reasonable sacrifice. He dismissed Sam’s question and took control of the conversation. As they sipped their tea, he detailed the events that led to the meeting.
“So you are not here on vacation, you’re here to find a painting?” Sam asked.
“Actually, both.”
“You made an offer to buy the painting yesterday, and this morning you find out that it was stolen last night?”
“That’s right!”
“And you are absolutely sure that this New York art dealer is the one who stole it?”
“One hundred percent!”
“So why not call the police?”
“That’s a problem! The painting belongs to another country, so to speak, and it might cause some embarrassment. Maybe the police find the painting or maybe it just disappears. Either way, we won’t be a party to the finder’s fee.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“It’s all fairly simple,” Redding said. Then he briefly explained what would be involved in recovering the painting while he continued to eat. “What are these? They’re delicious.”
“Dumplings, pork!” Ting said impatiently. “So how much do we get?”
“How about twenty-five-thousand dollars?”
When Redding mentioned the money, he purposely watched for their reaction. They instantly shot a glance at each other that had the hallmark of desperation. Their need for money was transparent enough, but Sam still wasn’t ready to commit. He questioned nearly every aspect of the plan before adamantly expressing his reservations. He called the whole idea sheer idiocy. Then he started spouting off about the consequences of getting caught, and that’s when Ting leaned on him hard. She wasn’t about to let him throw the opportunity away. As a means to break the stalemate, Redding offered up some time in the classroom.
“A few hours reading? Big deal! You’re making a lot more on this than we are, aren’t you?” Sam asked.
Suddenly it became clear that Sam was fishing for a larger cut, but just the fact that he had asked the question pretty much sealed his commitment in the scheme.
“Yeah, but I’m taking a lot more of the risk,” Redding said. “There’s also the problem of getting the painting out of China, and then there are issues about authentication that have to be considered.”
“What’s this about authentication?” Ting asked.
“That means that some expert curators will determine if the painting is genuine. If not, we’re screwed, and it could easily take a year for final determination. Then there is one more final consideration, and it is a big one. It’s unlikely that the museum is going to pay a finder’s fee for a painting if they have reason to believe that it was stolen.”
“Yeah, but we weren’t the ones who stole it. Technically speaking, it was that art dealer,” Sam offered in defense.
“That won’t make any difference. We won’t have any means to show how we came into possession of the painting, which leaves us with nothing. So, here’s the deal! You get twenty-five thousand, win, lose, or draw, or you take fifty thousand after the finder’s fee is paid, if and when it’s paid. There’s one more thing you need to consider. By my estimate, there’s maybe a fifty percent chance that we’ll successfully get a hold of the painting.”
“That art dealer has to know how difficult it’s going to be to collect the finder’s fee,” Sam said, still trying to apply some leverage.
“He couldn’t care less about the finder’s fee. He’s going to sell the painting to some private art collector for a lot more than any museum is willing to pay.”
Sam let out a sigh and then turned to Ting and, without saying a word, she indicated her approval.
“All right then, our best chances are to keep it simple,” Redding said. Then he methodically revealed the last details of his plan.
The plan was relatively simple and it produced only minor objections until he arrived at the exit strategy. That part of the plan clearly made both Sam and Ting nervous.
“It is absolutely necessary,” Redding insisted. “We’re not just doing this to create an illusion, we’re buying valuable time.”
He understood their concerns, but he wasn’t about to concede any changes. He had asked them for a favor and they were being well paid. There was still one other element of his plan that he hadn’t mentioned and had no intention of disclosing.
“So we’re not just going to grab the painting and run?” Sam asked, somewhat confused by the intended objective.
“No! We want to create the impression that the painting is still in the hotel.”
“Sort of insurance that we don’t get stopped leaving the hotel? Is th
at the idea?” Sam sounded a little unsure.
“Exactly! Besides, win, lose, or draw, you’re covered for the twenty-five thousand.” Redding said.
Every time he mentioned their cut they seemed to settle down. Understanding what motivated people was important to Redding, and he knew Sam and Ting were only in it for the money. They spent the next hour reviewing the plan and hammering out all of the details, and once everything was set, they said goodbye.
* * *
On the way back to his hotel, Redding stopped off to get a few necessary items. He needed some cheap clothing and the style and color weren’t important. The clothing was only to serve as filler. The other two items he purchased were a large designer’s portfolio with leather handles and one precision knife.
Back in his hotel room, he removed the portfolio from its cardboard box and laid it on the bed. Then he set the cardboard box on the floor. Using the precision blade, he cut a piece out of the cardboard box approximately the size of the painting. Using the hangers inside the garment bag, he hung half of the clothing that he had purchased. He placed the cutout piece of cardboard into the net insert and reaffixed the net inside the bag. Then he hung the other half of the clothing over the insert and zipped the garment bag closed.
Chapter Twenty
The passing clouds had partially obscured the sun, which added to the chill of the early morning air. In the park across from the Meridian Plaza Hotel, Redding waited for Sam and Ting. He held the portfolio in one hand and the folded garment bag in the other. He stared upward at the cumulus clouds and watched as they slowly changed shape. They were large and billowy, and there wasn’t a cello anywhere in sight. His plan was simple enough, but he still worried about the unknown variables. He had to take care not to convey even the slightest degree of doubt to Sam and Ting.
Sam had already expressed his fears, but a scathing rebuke from Ting realigned his priorities. If the decision had been left to him, he would have passed on the whole scam, but it was Ting who held the power of persuasion in their marriage. As long as they received the twenty-five-thousand dollars, she couldn’t have cared less if he suffered a little inconvenience.
Buried deep in Redding’s gut was a nervousness that he held at bay. It seemed perfectly understandable and yet outwardly, he was the picture of calm. Even with unfavorable odds, he wasn’t about to be dissuaded. However, the strategy lacked one major component. It needed to be rehearsed and perfectly timed, but that wasn’t an option.
When Sam and Ting arrived they were nearly unrecognizable. Sam’s dark-gray suit and red tie yielded a distinctly conservative look, and Ting was properly dressed in a white blouse with a dark-blue skirt and heels. They were business professionals through and through, and no one would give them a second glance.
As they crossed the park, they each recited their respective roles and any variations that might be required. Then they threaded their way through the traffic of Jing Men Road toward the Meridian Plaza Hotel.
* * *
A porter in a regal uniform complete with gloves held the door as they entered the hotel. Once inside, Redding carefully gave the lobby a quick but thorough inspection. It held pretty much to his expectations. On one side was a cocktail lounge elevated two steps above the lobby. Although the lounge wasn’t necessarily dark, the lighting was somewhat dimmer than in the rest of the reception area. Once inside the lounge, they selected a cluster of high-backed upholstered chairs that were in close proximity to the entrance. From that position they had a clear view of the lobby, but more importantly, they had an unobstructed view of the elevator foyer on the other side of the grand staircase.
The general activity in the lobby was no different than at any other hotel, consisting mainly of the arrival and departure of guests. Bellboys smartly dressed in white uniforms shuffled luggage with the aid of trolleys. Between the guests, bellboys, and trolleys, the lobby was in a constant state of motion. Redding had counted on the activity to provide a minor level of distraction, if not outright confusion. It wasn’t exactly necessary, but even the slightest distraction would dramatically increase their chances of success.
They ordered coffee and settled into the upholstered chairs. They had intentionally arrived very early to ensure that they wouldn’t miss Joran. They didn’t know exactly when he would be checking out so they had no choice other than to sit and wait.
* * *
Two hours and eleven minutes later, Joran came out of the elevator pulling a large suitcase on wheels behind him. Over one shoulder hung a small canvas bag and over the other he held the dark-blue garment bag with orange handle and trim. He headed toward the far side of the lobby and directly to the cashier’s counter. He set the small canvas bag on the floor next to his suitcase and then handed his plastic keycard to the cashier.
The cashier started the process by recalling his invoice on the computer, after which she made a series of adjustments. As she input the adjustments, a bellboy arrived with a trolley to assist Joran with his luggage. He loaded both the suitcase and the canvas bag onto the trolley before turning to Joran.
“Sir, may I carry for you?” he said, motioning towards the garment bag.
“I think I can handle…” Joran stopped in mid-sentence while struggling to retrieve a credit card from his wallet.
“He will help you,” the cashier insisted, motioning for the bellboy to step forward and take the garment bag.
Joran hesitated, but still struggling with his wallet, he reluctantly handed the garment bag to the bellboy and in turn the bellboy hung the garment bag on the trolley.
“We send housekeeping to check room. Please wait a moment,” the cashier said as she reached for the phone.
In just those few moments that the cashier had held Joran’s attention, the bellboy had pushed the trolley across the lobby to an area adjoining the concierge station. Completely incensed, Joran snapped his fingers at the bellboy several times, but failed to catch his attention. He cussed under his breath and mumbled something about certain people needing to ask permission. He tried to hurry the cashier, but she simply explained away the delay with some placating excuse. The process of checking out seemed to have stalled and would likely take longer than it should, only because he had depleted the mini bar. He turned and anxiously stared across the lobby, all the while muttering foul expletives with restraint, but there was some relief in seeing the bellboy still standing attentively next to the trolley holding his luggage.
* * *
One of the key unknown variables that had concerned Redding had just revealed itself. He had worried that Joran would’ve held onto the garment bag and the whole plan would have been for nothing, but that was not the case. The garment bag was hanging on a trolley next to the concierge station and Joran was stymied in the process of checking out. This was the opportunity that Redding had hoped for. It was just sheer luck that the trolleys were parked no more than a half dozen paces from the lounge entrance. Redding nodded and Sam was on his way. His job was to distract the concierge and bellboy by supposedly asking for directions. Ting followed on Sam’s heels with the portfolio in hand. She made a beeline across the lobby to the elevator foyer.
Redding held the faux garment bag extended over his back as he positioned himself on the steps of the lounge. He glanced around the lobby and everything was as it should have been, except for a security guard standing between the grand staircase and the elevator foyer. The presence of a security guard wasn’t necessarily a problem, except that the guard seemed to have taken a keen interest in him. He acknowledged the guard with a nod, but that didn’t end the guard’s curiosity. He kept right on staring. This was a glitch that Redding hadn’t anticipated, and time was running out. As long as he was being watched, he couldn’t make his move and his window of opportunity might collapse at any moment. Joran was still at the cashier’s window, but constantly turning around to check on his luggage. Initially, that hadn’t been a problem, but Redding was now standing in full view and the checking-out p
rocess had to be nearing completion.
Ting had an unobstructed view of Redding, and her body language clearly revealed her concern. Sam had the concierge and bellboy locked in a conversation and Redding was in position, but nothing was happening. She slowly drifted back into the lobby. When she caught sight of the hotel security, she immediately understood the delay. She headed straight for the guard, waving her arm towards the elevator as if some emergency had just occurred. He tried to calm her by raising and lowering his hands to her. When she quieted down, he quickly ushered her back into the foyer to determine the problem.
Redding glanced around the lobby and again at the reception counter where Joran was still waiting. He stepped down from the lounge in the direction of the waiting trolleys. Sam had already exhausted the concierge’s patience and the bellboy was nowhere in sight. He had likely slipped away to assist another guest. Redding shot a glance through the lobby to make sure he wasn’t being watched. He set his garment bag on the trolley, removed Joran’s, and then returned to the steps of the lounge. Another glance around the lobby confirmed that his actions had gone unnoticed. He nodded to Sam, and Sam abruptly broke off the conversation and headed for the elevator foyer.
When the security guard returned to his post, his focus was again on Redding, but this time Redding just ignored him. He stepped down from the bar and causally strode across the lobby toward the foyer. Halfway across the lobby, he glanced in the direction of the reception counter. Joran had started toward the concierge station, but he was preoccupied with his receipt and credit card, so Redding managed to slip by unnoticed.