Fortunately, due to the nature of the Trevor businesses and the fragility of some pieces, the building housing the company was equipped with Mr. Willis Carrier's new invention, the air conditioner, an extremely expensive and cumbersome addition, which artificially cooled the workplace.

David was thrilled being at work, enjoying the cooler air in spite of the thrumming noise of the bulky units . . . and the meeting. Roland Royce's office was dark and cool with closed blinds defending from a hostile that sun began a slow arc across the sky.

"Well, what's the assessment, yes or no, and I don't want your opinion."

"Rolly, my assessment is it can work but is extremely risky not to mention criminal. Hagen is a known criminal."

"What risky? I said I didn't want your opinion."

"The assessment is my opinion!"

"And who's Hagen?" Roland sounded miffed, ignoring David.

"Hagen is a mobster, a very dangerous mobster."

"I don't know any Hagen. I'm dealing with a Dennis Creighton. He's a very intelligent and co-operative gentleman."

"Rolly, he represents Hagen! Don't you ever read the paper?"

Forcing himself to be calm, David began again. "You are pretending to offer for sale items from the auction for large amounts of dirty money that these criminals post as phony deposits."

"They aren't phony, they do make a deposit."

"Yes, and then you blithely accept their sudden change of mind to purchase and write them a cheque from our bank in the amount of that deposit, less your percentage."

"Beautiful isn't it? They withdraw their deposit, we keep the item and nothing actually changes hands, except we move it through our bank, and we pocket an easy profit.

"Rolly, it's against the law!"

"We aren't breaking any laws. We can make deals under a hundred thousand dollars without reporting anything. Buyers are anonymous as are sellers - if we choose to say."

"But it's dirty money! Don't you care that it might be from drugs, human trafficking or prostitution?"

"What I care about, Ashby is making the Trevor companies successful and this is a great way to do just that."

"We are already successful but now Hagen will own you, Rolly."

"Fiddlesticks. He wouldn't be in any position to threaten me. The meeting is this afternoon with Mildred and Garber and I want you there to support my proposal - understood?"

From the hopeless meeting with his boss, David returned to his office, his mind miles away picturing mobsters and prison, when he rounded a corner and collided with Ellie Stillman, his friend from the Art Gallery side of the firm.

"Uuff, oh, sorry El. You okay?"

"You're looking at the new personal assistant to Mildred Emanuel!" The collision seemed to burst the news out in an excited shriek.

"Congratulations, El, I know what this means to you and it's been a while coming."

"I am so excited. I need today to shop for a new wardrobe."

"Uh huh."

"David, I need an opinion."

"Buy something nice."

"DAVID!"

"El get one of your girlfriends to advise you."

"I need a man's opinion; this is Mildred Emanuel were talking about here."

"Right." He sighed and shrugged, "I wish Rolly felt that way."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. If you are going you'd better hurry, there's a meeting this afternoon for both houses."

She looked stricken. "Oh, my God do you think I will have to be there?"

David stared with affection at his friend. Ellie was a profusion of perplexing emotions. "Well, I will be and I'm Rolly's advisor, and Mildred will be there with Garber so having a new assistant there seems reasonable."

"What will I wear?"

"Something nice."

"But my shopping?"

"Ellie you don't need my opinion on your wardrobe. You know what Mildred prefers. If you want to impress her then use what you know.

"It's just that it's such a big move for me, I want everything to be perfect."

"It will be fine, El, you must know Mildred wouldn't have promoted you if she hadn't vetted you thoroughly."

Back in his office David leaned back, closing tired eyes. Saturday night with Portia had morphed into a tireless number of stops with introductions to her endless parade of acquaintances, leaving the rest of his weekend aimed at sleeping. Instead, it left him tossing worriedly, dog tired and dreading today - now more than ever.

Mildred turned her gold pen end for end and tapped it on the boardroom table as she read the notes Ellie had taken concerning Roland's proposal, one eye scanning the fashion choice of her new assistant.

"And this plan of yours will net us ten percent."

"No, eight percent is the deal." He said, averting her gaze.

"David said ten percent."

"That's what Rolly told–"

"I had to negotiate." The look shut David down.

Ellie fussed with the bow on her new blouse and shook her head with a nonchalance designed to convey her concern along with her boss.

"You don't like the idea, David?"

"Aside from its being illegal? No. I don't."

"But being in the art world we really aren't required to reveal identities. Buyers, sellers and bidders can remain anonymous. You know this often happens and we don't have to report any sources."

"That doesn't make it legal to launder dirty money, just opportune, and right now it is all being looked at - hard - by governments worldwide."

Mildred glanced at Ellie. "What do you think, Miss Stillman?"

"Me?" Ellie's look held pure terror.

Mildred enjoyed her little ambushes for no other reason than pure mischievousness. "Thank you. So, to be clear. Client X puts a dirty cash deposit bid on a piece of art, in either house, which we deposit in our bank and then after a short period, client X withdraws from the bidding or purchase and receives the deposit back as a clean money cheque from the bank less our eight per cent."

"I don't classify it as clean or dirty money." Rolly pouted.

"Simply put then, deposit in refund out, for a fee."

"Precisely, Mildred! I knew you'd get it!" Rolly clapped his hands.

"It is a bad idea." David said, shaking his head worriedly.

Rolly slammed back in his chair and raised his hands. "I think it's a great idea and I want to know right now who is with me. No more farting around!"

"I'm on board, Roland," Garber, who contributed nothing to the entire debate, polished his nails on his lapel.

David held up a hand stop sign. "I'm sorry, Rolly I can't–"

"I'm in, Roland." Mildred sniffed, clicking her pen shut and tugging at the crease in her trousers.

"Good, settled then. I'll call the client make the arrangements. Ashby, you can sit this one out"

"Are you firing me?"

"Don't be an ass, I still need you to handle the business affairs."

"These are business affairs!"

"Meeting adjourned, people."

David stood from his chair, wearing a sad face, gathered his notes and left.

Karl Hagen absently stroked the head of Sanford, his pet Wolfhound, as he listened to his man's report. The hound kept ducking, finally lying down out of reach; Karl made a face and thumb dusted his fingers.

"They are holding their meeting as we speak and I expect Roland will happily comply. Our meeting revealed a definite avarice in his character."

"The others?"

"The others don't matter, only Emanuel and she is too competitive with Royce to let him get a step on her."

"She's that butch broad?"

"Crudely put, Karl but yes, Mildred Emanuel is member of that community."

"I don't care which way she swings as long as it's ours."

"We should know soon. The funds are already to move and Devereaux is ready to accommodate the transfer."

"Call me after you hear their decision."

Karl moved his chair to get up and the hound growled ominously.

A few hours later Dennis was on the phone, chuckling.

"Royce called, they're on board. One little wrinkle, he told his partners eight per cent. He wants two kept separate for him, and I quote, 'If you know what I mean', unquote.

"I think we found our man, Dennis. Let Devereaux know."

"Done . . . and the two per cent?"

"Tell him he can have it in his personal account that way he is definitely ours."

"If he balks?"

Then it's the eight he told his partners or nothing."

"I doubt he'd go for nothing."

"Then he can go for broke." Karl grinned smugly at his rare attempt at humour.

Rolly swirled the remainder of the whisky in his glass and swallowed it down. He and Mildred held a private celebration and a discussion of tactics in his office.

"The principal guy is somebody remaining anonymous." He didn't think repeating what David said would be productive. "I'll be dealing with a fella named Creighton, Dennis Creighton."

Mildred snapped the ash off her cigarette and took another puff, then spoke through a mighty exhalation.

"What about David, he seemed pretty firm in his opposition - and he is your financial advisor? Is he going to be a problem?"

"Don't you worry about Ashby."

Rolly frowned and shuffled some papers on his desk. This was his deal and he would be the one making the decisions. "I already have a piece in mind. It's a Marsden and the opening bid is sixty thousand. Dennis said he would put up eighty-four as a deposit . . . that's a nice sixty-seven hundred or so for us."

"I hope you have thought this through, Rolly. We both know that we can refund deposits, but flags will be going up if there are too many."

"The only flags that will be going up, Millie, are the flags we'll be waving as our assets increase."

Mildred ejected her cigarette into the ashtray and stood, adjusting her pants. "It's our assets that will be on the line if this turns bad . . . Roland."