Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Rachel and Vanessa, now aboard the Grey Falcon, along with the painting, would remain in Nantucket until further notice.
In New York, with Aisha's oversight, staff was working its way through the mountain of paperwork required to create the corporations and blind trusts in foreign countries needed to make Ifty's sale happen. As one would expect when relying on a third world work force manually processing each page at a snail's pace, time was required. The Delaware Freeport account had to be in the name of the shell corporation, those documents had to be in hand and verifiable by the Freeport. Then there was the question of bank accounts for the corporations and trust. Not until all the paperwork was submitted to the respective governments, granted approval, and returned, would the Grey Falcon depart for Wilmington to deliver the painting.
Aisha's four days in Santa Fe had put her in a good mood. On the Santa Fe side, she felt Miguel now understood what he needed to do. The temporary studio was presentable, and with Roger as foreman, the remodeling was on schedule. Her concern with Miguel was that she found it hard to be alone with him. She was attracted; she couldn't deny that any longer. Where was that headed? Nowhere. He was, after all, married.

To keep her mind off Miguel, she controlled the contact between the agents in both the Caymans and Panama and the firm. Designated signers, acting CEOs, and Trust beneficiaries, all discreetly shielded from Hayden by her need to know policy. She made a note to obtain a notarized copy of the Christie's sales receipt to establish the painting's value. The Delaware Freeport's Foreign Trade Zone was to be the painting's new home for Customs purposes. When it was sold, the transaction would take place within the Freeport, never technically entering the USA. The private sale, between two foreign shell companies, in a tax-free zone outside the USA, will never be reported to tax authorities since it is an off book transaction for both parties. If Ifty Kahn owes capital gains taxes on the profit, the responsibility to report that is solely his. Money and paperwork changing hands as one corporation is purchased by another. The new owner avoids sales taxes and duties by shipping the painting to another Freeport, or a different stall in Delaware. Another common tactic, one Aisha suspected Hayden of using involved having a copy of the painting made to hang as home decor. At the same time, the original resides in a Freeport, appreciating, free of taxes, hidden from public view, and subject to minimal legal scrutiny.

Her arrangements were dogged by another problem nagging her. She hadn't heard a peep from Hayden for a week. Not that there was anything she couldn't handle on the business side, in the summer, the art world slows to a crawl. But she needed to find out what Hayden knew about Rachel. Had Chief Jefferson reported to him that she had gotten off a yacht in Nantucket?
"Anne, did Hayden call while I was in Santa Fe?"
"No, but Stacy called twice."
"Did she say what it was about?"
"No, nothing urgent she said."
"Call her back, would you?"
The phone blinked.
"Hi darling, it's Aisha. Anne told me you called while I was in Santa Fe. What can I do for you?"
"Hayden's been out of town, I could use some company.
"Feel like grabbing some lunch and catching up?"
"I'd love to."
"What's best for you?"
"Tomorrow's great if you can squeeze it in."
"I'm open, Gramercy Tavern?"
"Love it, say one p.m.?"
"Perfect, I'll handle it, see you tomorrow."
She got Anne. "Get Gramercy Tavern reservations for one p.m. tomorrow for two, a booth in the back if possible?"
"No problem, I'll call now."

Aisha had known Hayden's wife Stacy as long as she had known Hayden. She was a nice person, very active in the charity circuits of New York and the Hamptons. But, like so many women in Aisha's circle, her husband's success and wealth had led to a drinking problem. Aisha needed Stacy, she was a valuable source of information about Hayden. But handling Stacy correctly — meaning keeping her as sober as possible and agreeing to whatever she said — then, maybe, she could gain helpful information about what Hayden had been up to. Asking Stacy questions or grilling her was useless. Stacy was clever, never giving away more than she wished. But over the years, Aisha had learned that in her haste to gain sympathy, she always ended up making Hayden look bad by confessing his transgressions. Today, Aisha was ready to take notes.
The next day, Aisha set out with slight trepidation. A later lunch was perfect, more privacy and fewer people to bear witness if strong-willed Stacy showed up and went off the deep end.
"Hello, Luv," Aisha met her approaching the front door.
"Hello Aisha,"
They were seated in a booth. Aisha knew to get appetizers on the table as soon as possible, before ordering Stacy's staple, a Bombay martin.
"How have you been?"
"Still recovering from that disaster called the Fourth of July."
"What's the latest news with Rachel? Surely Chief Jefferson keeps Hayden up to date."
"He didn't tell you? The Chief told Hayden that Rachel stepped off a yacht in Nantucket a week after disappearing. Like nothing had happened, can you believe it?"
"No! I'm Gobsmacked."
"I tell you, I think Hayden is, or was, screwing her; there was no other reason for her to show up at the party, you know?"
The drinks and appetizers arrived as Aisha became silent, considering how to answer. "You're probably right. I had no idea she would be there. Now that I think about it, it was a surprise to everyone.".
"Except Hayden."
So Hayden knew Rachel was alive, but he hadn't mentioned it to her. Aisha found that very odd. Why wouldn't he bring it up with her?
"So he hasn't changed, has he? Maybe he's gotten worse?" Aisha asked gently.
"He's the same old dog he's always been. But that's not the worst of it."
"How so?"
"I hear him on the phone, he's been taking a lot of heat from syndicate members who aren't seeing the returns they're used to. Old-time friends, and long-time investors, threatening to pull out of deals, or not willing to join new artist syndicates."
"That's bad for business, especially if they start talking to others. Hayden hasn't mentioned any of this to me."
"I know, so many secrets! What's happened to us, Aisha? This all used to be fun. We used to have fun. Hayden was fun. Now it's all darkness and mystery. He doesn't share anything with me and disappears for days, sometimes weeks at a time.
"He's not sharing everything with me either apparently."
They dropped the conversation when the server appeared with the second round. Aisha suggested the four-course lunch, hoping the food would prolong Stacy's sobriety. Disappears for days at a time?
"Where do you think he's disappearing to?"
"I'm not stupid, I checked the flight log for the jet, Santa Monica is his most frequent trip."
"Interesting." Aisha omitted that Rachel lives there.
"Aisha, he's old. What if he dies tomorrow? That's what I worry about."
"Upon Hayden's death, you'll become trustee of the Rookwood Trust. The trust owns fifty-one percent of SpACE International, you'll be in charge."
"I'd be in charge? I can't run the business."
"Stacy, when Hayden dies, the syndicates will dissolve. Each member will take the paintings he's holding and go home. No more resales between them, that's millions in lost income. The same thing will happen if either of the Goodman's pass away before Hayden. SpACE would probably be liquidated then, with massive taxes due." Aisha pauses for effect. In a way we are both on borrowed time.
"I can't run SpACE, I don't want a job. I just want to enjoy my retirement, I have all the money I need. The very idea is ridiculous."
"For now, just let me know anything you overhear about unhappy investors so I can put out the fires, under the radar of course, we mustn't let them spread. Do that and we'll both be able to enjoy our retirements, I promise. You do trust me, don't you Stacy?"
"I've known you forever, you've never lied to me. Yes I trust you."
"Good. Because to be perfectly blunt, we have to work together to have any chance of saving SpACE Gallery before Hayden causes a scandal or suddenly dies."
"The trust already spells everything out for our possessions," Stacy said.
"I understand, if you'll remember,I drew up the trust. As I mentioned, the syndicates aren't a part of the trust. If investors start leaving the syndicates, they will collapse even sooner. I can't do anything about it while he's alive of course. But I can bring that up with him," Aisha said.
"You would do that?"
"I would for you, because of the way Hayden has treated you. Stacy, you know I've been loyal to the both of you. Other than Hayden, nobody knows SpACE better than I do. I'm his only logical successor, but he refuses to discuss that with me. I'll help you get what you want if you help me get what I want."
Their first course arrived, and Stacy attacked her Waldorf Salad as she usually did her drinks.
"Good, isn't it?"
"Delicious, I'm famished."
Stacy, chewing too fast to talk, they ate their salads in silence.

"For you, Aisha, the child Hayden never let me have." She raised and finished her glass in a toast before waving for another round. Okay, she's starting to feel a buzz. Aisha had said what was necessary; now she just needed to cement it. "Pinky Promise me." "Pinky Promise," They said in unison as they locked pinkies. It wasn't exactly iron clad, but Stacy now knew where Aisha stood, she was her ally. Aisha hoped that was enough.
The conversation was light for the rest of the meal, Aisha humoring Stacy and encouraging her to eat more and drink less. By the end, she'd had her four drinks and eaten every scrap of food on her plate as well as dessert. Aisha waited with her until her Uber arrived to make sure she got home safely. From the car window, Stacy smiled, "I'll keep in touch."
Home was a short walk from the tavern. A two-bedroom, triplex penthouse with two and a half baths and deck, she had bought it as a run-down wreck when she started with Hayden. Over the years, she had renovated it into a jewel. Polished walnut floors, wood-burning fireplace. A spa-inspired en-suite bathroom with chromotherapy rain shower head, built-in steam, heated marble floors, towel warmer, integrated Bose audio, and a self-flushing Toto toilet. She liked her comforts.
Pausing long enough to open a bottle of wine before retreating to her terrace, shedding her clothes, and slipping into the hot tub. Taking in the view, she reflects on her quest for either mastery or independence from Hayden Rookwood. Skating on the edge in business and his personal life. If he went too far, she would be left financially vulnerable, SpACE was her only client. Worse, her impeccable reputation could be irreparably tarnished. What she had just heard from Stacy was causing her to consider the fact that maybe it was time for a Plan B, just in case.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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