Gambit Page #4

- What's that supposed to mean?

Don't make me say it.

The man is... Well, he's a cad.

He's up to something.

He excluded me from your little date.

Hell, maybe I don't mind being seduced,

chased after by a multi-zillionaire.

I don't know,

that don't sound so terrible.

What a depraved point of view.

The man's money makes him attractive?

Yeah. Momma always called

money and manners

the pork and beans of personality.

- What an odd woman.

- There we are. 344, right?

And I beg you,

do not abuse the minibar.

Is that...

Good God!

- It's a Ming.

- Harry.

Key.

- That's your side.

- This is a real nice car, Lionel.

- It's nicer than my house.

- Indeed.

Would you classify this as a limo?

Well, I suppose you could.

Shabandar.

Yes. Good to see you.

Martin Zaidenweber,

this is PJ Puznowski.

- This is her? It's so nice to meet you.

- It's very nice to see you too.

- Are you excited to be here in London?

- I'm so excited. It's my first time.

No! No, come on.

Now, I have heard about this painting.

I mean, what a story.

Almost incredible. Almost incredible.

I thought it'd be good

for you two to meet.

Martin will be examining your painting.

He's going to curate

my private collection.

Ja.

Wow. I thought that

that's what Harry did.

For the moment,

but the man's a bit of an idiot.

- Don't you think?

- No, no, no, Shabandar.

No. Harry is a good man.

Not much of an eye, but a good man.

I am for five years a director

of the Kunst Museum in Kln.

Und before that I curated the collection

of Baron Thyssen-Bornemisza.

But the Baron's collection is...

heavily Flemish.

Titian, Rubens,

all the women, so saftig und heftig.

I mean, how many years can you spend

looking at the Walloons, huh?

Anyway, now I prefer the Impressionists.

Und I'm now considered

as the top man on Monet.

Say, your English

is pretty darn good there, Martin.

I mean, for someone

from the country of Germany.

Oh, thank you. Well,

I speak eight languages fluently.

Und I'm internet-savvy, but you have

to be these days, don't you think?

I pluck chickens,

so there ain't a lot of call for me

to be traipsing around

tweetin' and bloggin'.

Ja, ja.

I'm unfamiliar with this expression,

"I pluck chickens".

Anyway, tell me this remarkable thing.

This painting was hanging

always in your house,

ever since you can remember,

even as a little kinder?

Yep.

Hmm!

Bloody hell.

- So, Harry's out on his butt, huh?

- Harry is, as you say, out on his butt.

He's a bit of a disappointment, really.

Something a little desperate

about the man.

- I don't know.

- A little shifty, a little weak.

Not that bright.

I like to look a man in the eye,

"Lionel Shabandar, how do you do?"

"This is what I should like. What do

you fancy?" Just have out with it.

It's easier to live up to that when

you're rich and can call all the shots.

Character is tested in many ways.

Money brings its own burdens.

You, I'm certain, will pass every test.

Deane, I don't know.

I think maybe

you're just not looking deep enough.

Like Momma said, if you can't tell the

difference between a pig and a javelina,

well, you could lose a big old chunk

out of your ass.

Indeed.

Mr Deane was a proud man

in a difficult moment.

His credit exhausted,

his coffers near empty,

he was forced to contemplate

desperate measures.

Yet he could allow no chink

to appear in the plan.

And though his accomplice might seem,

shall we say, less than perfect,...

...He would maintain control.

These are the moments

that try men's souls.

So how is His Lordship this evening?

- He's...

- No problems?

- He wasn't rude or bullying, I hope.

- No, he was polite enough.

Hey, Harry, what are you doing

with all your quarters?

These, madam, are pounds and pence,

not quarters.

- Just putting my affairs in order.

- Harry Deane, are you tapped out?

Hardly. I do this periodically

so as to have use of the jar.

I bag the coins

and donate the proceeds to charity.

Uh-huh.

Tea?

So where do we stand with

our little affair, scheme, programme?

You know, hoss,

I don't think it's gonna work out.

What? Nonsense.

Everything's going according to plan.

We have the painting,

or so Shabandar believes.

And I, my dear, have

that credulous boob's confidence.

On plan, don't you understand?

Well, then, I guess it's just me

having second thoughts, then.

Second thoughts? Well,

it's a little late for that, young lady.

- Don't young lady me, hoss.

- Don't you hoss me, young lady.

That is it.

I have invested thousands of pounds

in this little caper of ours,

not to mention the Major, who has

painted his heart, his soul, his guts

into his forgery of Haystacks, Dusk.

You call the Major, tell him about your

second thoughts, your silly little...

What is it anyway?

Cold feet, moral qualms again?

Yeah, that's part of it.

Besides, the man

is a cold-blooded, heartless bully.

- I happen to think he's quite charming.

- Charming?

He's charming in a thoroughly reptilian,

repulsive way. Repulsively charming.

But you fail to see his manners

are completely ersatz.

I knew you were naive and provincial...

And look at you,

trash-talkin' my origins!

I respect your origins,

your entire double-wide way of life,

but it does leave you vulnerable to...

Leaves me vulnerable? I don't know

how to tell you this, Harry.

- But you're fired.

- Oh, I'm fired?

- Yep.

- Very amusing.

Let me remind you who's running

this little enterprise, madam. Moi.

And it is you who are fired!

Except you're not.

In clue course, when I have authenticated

the Major's beautiful work, then,

then we shall discuss

the termination of your employment

and come to some understanding

as to how to bear the onus

of your ridiculous expenses.

Wrong, hoss. Wrong, wrong and wrong.

You are fired, by Lionel,

cos he told me hisself.

He introduced me to some

stuck-up heinie, Martin Zaidenweber,

who's getting your job

and you won't be authenticating

your dumb old hay painting.

So I'm going back to the Savoy

to stay the night

and I might just order up

some surf 'n' turf.

And tomorrow I'm going to Texas,

get my job back at the chicken plant.

It ain't no fault of mine

that your whole cockamamie scheme

just went blooey.

Hmm!

Zaidenweber.

Hmm. It's a little late

to apologise now.

How could he? Zaidenweber.

The man is a... Admittedly he knows

his way around the Walloons.

But when it comes to the Impressionists,

the man is a hopeless ignoramus.

This would be comical

if it weren't actually dangerous.

I refer not just to my nose,

which this time I fear

may be well and truly broken.

Perhaps since our little caper

is far from over,

perhaps we should consider

removing the cartilage.

Don't be an ass. I'm hardly likely

to be hit in the face a third time.

That was the third time, sir.

This isn't a maths class.

What are we going to do about

Zaidenweber who, once hired on,

is not going to authenticate

our dumb old hay painting?

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