Book of Souls

Toby spoke about the book wistfully, as if sorry to see it go. “Lot 113 is a rather unique item, a hand-inscribed journal, dated 1527, beautifully bound in calf hide, over a thousand pages of finest-quality vellum. There is, perhaps, an endpaper that has been replaced at some distant point. The book appears to be an extensive ledger of births and deaths, possessing an international flair, with multiple European and oriental languages represented. The volume has been in the family collection of Lord Cantwell perhaps since the sixteenth century, but its provenance cannot be otherwise ascertained. We have consulted with academic colleagues at Oxford and Cambridge, and there is no consensus as to its origin or purpose. It remains, if I may say, an enigma wrapped in mystery, but it is an outstanding curiosity piece which I now offer at a starting bid of £2,000.”

Frazier raised his paddle so obviously it almost made Toby jump. It was the first significant physical movement the large man had made in almost two hours.

“Thank you,” Toby said, “may I hear £2500?”

From their tinny speaker, Will heard Stein offering 2500, and Spence said, “Yes, that’s fine.”

Stein nodded to Toby who said, “There is a telephone bidder at 2500, may I hear 3,000?”

Frazier shifted uncomfortably. He’d hoped there wouldn’t be any competition. He raised his paddle.

“I have 3,000, looking for 3500,” then a quick “Thank you,” as he pointed to the rear. Frazier turned to see the heavy man with the ascot nodding. “Now looking for 4,000,” Toby said quickly.

Stein relayed the bid. “This is horseshit,” Spence whispered to his companions. “I bid 5,000.”

“I have 5,000 here,” Stein called out to the podium.

“Very well, then,” Toby continued smoothly. “Do we have a bid for 6,000?”

Frazier felt a spasm of anxiety. He had plenty of dry powder, but he wanted this to be a cakewalk. He raised his paddle again.

“I have 6,000, may I hear 7,000?”

The man in the ascot shook his head, and Toby turned to the phone desk. Stein was speaking, then listening, then speaking again until he announced rather grandly, “I have £10,000!”

“Let me take the liberty of asking for £12,000,” Toby said boldly.

Frazier swore under his breath and lifted his hand.

Spence’s palms were moist. Will watched him rub them on his shirt. “I don’t have time to play games,” he said.

“It’s your money,” Will observed, sipping his coffee.

“I’m jacking this up to 20,000, Mr. Stein.”

The announcement set the room buzzing. Frazier blinked in disbelief. He felt for the bulge of his cell phone in his pants pocket, but it was premature to reach for it. He still had plenty of room.

Toby’s moustache moved upward ever so slightly as his lip curled in obvious excitement. “Well, then, shall we say 30,000?”

Frazier didn’t hesitate. Of course he was in.

After several moments, the response came from the telephone desk. Stein announced, in a daze, “The bid has been raised to £50,000!”

The murmuring from the audience crescendoed. Stein and Toby looked at each other in disbelief, but Toby was able to maintain his indomitable composure, and simply said, “I have 50,000, may I ask for 60,000?” He beckoned Peter Nieve to his side and whispered for the lad to fetch the Managing Director.

Frazier could feel his heart pounding in his barrel chest. He was authorized to go up to $200,000, about £125,000 which his masters had assumed would be an absurdly ample cushion given the upper estimate of £3,000. There wasn’t a penny more in the Pierce & Whyte escrow account that had been established for him. They were almost halfway there. Who the fuck is bidding against me, he thought angrily. He raised his paddle emphatically.

Spence hit the mute button on his phone and loudly complained, “I wish I could look the son of a bitch who’s bidding against us in the face. Who in hell would pay that kind of money for something that looks like an old census book?”

“Maybe someone else who knows what it is,” Will said ominously.

“Not very likely,” Spence sniffed, “unless…Alf, what do you think?”

Kenyon shrugged, “It’s possible, Henry, it’s always possible.”

“What are you talking about?” Will asked.

“The watchers. The goons from Area 51 could have gotten wind of it, I suppose. I hope not.” Then he declared, “I’m going to take this up a notch.”

“Just how much money does he have?” Will asked Kenyon.

“A lot.”

“And you can’t take it with you,” Spence said. He unmuted the phone. “Stein, you go ahead and bid £100,000 for me. I don’t have the patience for this.”

“Can I just confirm that you said £100,000?” Stein asked, his voice brittle.

“That’s correct.”

Stein shook his head, and announced loudly, “The telephone bid is now £100,000!”

Frazier saw that Toby’s demeanor had turned from excitement to suspicion. He thought, this guy must have just figured out there’s more to the book than he bargained for.

“Well, then,” Toby said evenly, looking straight into Frazier’s pugnacious face. “I wonder if sir would like to go to £125,000?”