“It’s very charming.” She leaned in for a closer look. “You’re sure it’s genuine?”
“This artifact is from one of the subterranean villas in ancient Bulla Regia. It’s a fine specimen, thought to be from the Hadrianic era.”
Remi studied it for a few more seconds before continuing around the room, admiring other objects, eventually returning to the mosaic. “I do like this the best. I think it would look perfect in my solarium. How much?”
“One hundred thousand.”
“Dinar?” Remi asked.
“Dollars.”
“U.S.?” Sam asked in mock disbelief. “For a handful of stones set in a chunk of plaster?”
“But I want it,” Remi said.
“Will you take fifty?” Sam asked Karim.
“I’m authorized to go as low as seventy-five.”
“Is it stolen?” Remi asked.
“Madame, I assure you the provenance is without question.”
Remi furrowed her brow. “That’s not what I asked. I need to know how to declare this for Customs.”
“What my wife means is that getting things out of one country and into another, as I’m sure you’re aware, can sometimes be problematic.”
“Of course. With the purchase, we’d be willing to provide a receipt with a separate cash value—and, if need be, a letter of authenticity from one of our local artists, declaring it to be an original reproduction.”
“Hmm …” Remi pretended to study it, then looked at Sam. “What do you think?”
First and foremost, that they’d been there far too long. He looked at his watch. “I’m not the one who wants the thing. Whatever you decide, make it quick. We have a plane to catch.”
Remi smiled at the man. “I’ll take it. How soon can you have it boxed up?”
“As soon as we receive payment. Cash or wire transfer only.”
“Wire,” Sam said.
“If you’ll follow me, I can give you the details for the transfer.” He led them to the front of the store, where the young woman pulled a card from the mahogany desk, holding it out.
Sam took it. “I’ll call my banker and have the money wired over.”
The man beamed at them. “We’ll prepare it for shipment. If you’ll wait here, I won’t be but a few minutes.”
As he returned to the back room, he addressed the young woman. “Please see to our guests while I package their purchase.”
While Remi pretended to be absorbed in the various antiques around the store, Sam texted Selma to make the transfer. Not quite fifteen minutes later, Lazlo texted that two men were approaching, one with a black eye. Sam positioned himself at the front of the shop, staring with presumed disinterest out the window, seeing Remi’s would-be kidnappers about to descend on them.
Sam looked over at the young woman seated at her desk. “We’re on a tight schedule. Do you know how much longer?”
“I’ll check,” she said.
The moment she left, Sam walked over to Remi and drew her behind an antique armoire. “Company,” he said quietly, indicating the front window.
She looked that direction. “What do you suppose they’re doing here?”
“I expect we’re about to find out.”