“Is everyone on? Who do we have left?” Peter paused as he waited for the response. “They know the rules. We start promptly on the hour. No exceptions. Particularly tonight.” He waited again nodding. “Good. Oh, and run the feed right away. I want a peek.”
Peter hung up and spoke to the guy still waiting at the door. “Tell everyone to stay sharp. I don’t expect trouble, but the heat’s coming fast on this one. Have the merchandise sent directly to the trucks after each sale has been confirmed. We don’t have time to wait on this one. Especially for number nine. Hell, if we hadn’t already listed it as the last in the lineup, I’d push it first. Stay on that one, okay?”
The other man nodded and left the office. She heard a door open, and for a brief moment she thought she heard crying before the door shut and all was quiet again.
“So pensive and quiet, Meredith. That’s unlike you,” Peter said and leaned comfortably back in his seat. “Tell me, what do you think of the place so far?”#p#分页标题#e#
“I’m thinking that so far the whole experience is seriously…underwhelming. It’s as if you’re running a sleazy strip joint, not a high-end auction for select clientele.” Her tone was snotty and confident—not at all reflective of her true horrified emotions—but she sold it well, if the quick anger on Peter’s face was any indication. She smiled. “What kind of clientele comes out to a barn in the middle of nowhere to look at your reputed quality goods?”
Peter drew a cigar from his desk drawer and quickly sliced the end and lit up. He took a draft and stared at her, his eyes still flashing, before he spoke. “You’re thinking too small, Meredith. In this day and age of online video cameras and chats, satellite phones that can reach every corner of the earth, in-person purchases are a thing of the past. Now my clients can sit back in the comfort of their own homes and conveniently watch the show from their computer or television. They place bids directly online. It saves us all the hassle and risk of hosting a larger-scale auction, like we did in the past. Those might be infinitely more fun, but they also draw too much attention with the comings and goings of our higher-profile guests. You know, for tonight’s little presentation we’ll be hosting two sheikhs, a general from a South American country, and European royalty.”
He waited for a response from her, but other than shrugging her shoulders, she was determined to look unimpressed. The thick acrid cigar smoke was almost suffocating, though, and she blinked her eyes. The phone on Peter’s desk rang, and a second later the intercom beeped in. “We’re online.”
“Well, let’s see if we can work on piquing your interest as the show progresses, huh?” Peter said and pushed a button on the desk. A screen descended from the ceiling across from them. He took another pull from his cigar and blew the smoke out. The heavy scent of tobacco became stronger, and she fought nausea.
The screen remained dark for a moment and then flashed on, and she found herself holding her breath, growing anxious, the panic nearly overwhelming her until she realized Peter was watching her. She hated the idea of giving him anything more to get excited about and focused on relaxing, practicing her breathing again.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out Peter and the room and the smell.
Better. When she opened her eyes again, Peter still watched her, amused. He propped his cigar in an ashtray and stood to grab a glass from the credenza behind him. He spilled some bourbon in it and walked over to take a seat next to her.
Right next to her. Close enough she could smell the bourbon on his breath. He took a sip, then offered it to her, but she shook her head.
They returned their gaze to the screen. Lights flashed on in three corners of the screen and she realized that in the center, once standing in the dark, was a covered figure, now lit by the spotlights.
A man entered the frame and in a quick movement pulled the long covering from the figure and swept back out. Meredith gasped, forgetting about practiced indifference when she realized it was a young girl who stood under the lights. Her eyes were vacant and glassy as she looked about her, her feet unsteady in four-inch heels.
And she was completely naked.
“On behalf of your host,” a man announced in a clipped British accent, “I’d like to thank you all for participating in our event tonight and hope you’ll find the wait well worth it. Without further delay, we’ll start with item number one from your catalog. A seventeen-year-old certified pure with dark chestnut hair and brown eyes. English-speaking with some Spanish. The bidding starts at fifty thousand.”