Page 61 - Three Adventures

The Nazarene Foreskin

The odds of coincidence made themselves known to Scoop’s sixth
sense of journalistic relevance. He went instantly and imperceptibly
from sourpuss to poker face.
“What might that be, sir—and why do you think I have it for
sale?”
Ofidian spread open palms, indicating his openness to Scoop and
his unwillingness to order to the finally-approaching waiter. “Because
it is not in your room, and we are prepared to make you a generous
offer.”
“My room! How did you get in—ah, never mind. A child with a
skeleton key and a credit card could get into these rooms when the
safety chain is not attached. After such an admission, Mr. Ofidian,
you cannot seriously believe I would entertain doing any sort of
business with you.”
“Perhaps, Mr. Reedle, if the price were right, your outrage would
be assuaged. Shall we say, ten thousand dollars, deposited in your
Swiss account?”
“How did you know I have a—yes, been through my room, I
know. Well, why don’t you write your telephone number on the back
of your card and I’ll get back to you after I see what else you’ve
taken.”
Ofidian seized the card and began writing. “Then you do have the
sacred jar!”
“Did I say that?” Scoop took back the card. “Now get of here
before I call the hotel guard and tell him a sneak thief is on the
premises.”
Ofidian involuntarily jerked his head to the left, surveying the exit
and disarranging slightly his coiffure.
“I will go, Mr. Reedle. But let me advise you: my client has much
more money than patience. Please do not attempt to contact the
authorities or find another buyer. We will give you until noon to
decide.”
He pushed back the chair, stood up, bowed stiffly and left in a
conflict of haste and dignity.
Scoop finished eating. Now who had the advantage? The answer
would be found with Miss Cohn-Diaz. Or was that gut feeling merely
gastrointestinal distress?
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