The Samaritans-Brief Look
FutureWonder
Allen Riggs stepped up to the podium and stared out into the sea of people.
They were eagerly waiting for their first glimpse of the original Picasso
painting. The painting sat on an easel on the center on the stage covered by
a large silk cloth. Allen Riggs was a local art historian who had a special
interest in Picasso's work. Jake Reads, an internationally known art
historian, was unable to make it at the last moment. Allen was a chubby
man with a full beard. He had impeccable manners and quickly gained the
respect of the museum officials as he charmed them with his knowledge.
The Petersburg Fine Arts Museum purchased the painting for seventy million
dollars. The value of the painting spread through town and the museum
officials thought this might bring about an attempted theft. There was a
larger crowd than the museum had anticipated. Extra security had been hired
for the event. The crowd grew silent as Allen began his speech.
"Before we unveil the painting I would like to take this opportunity to
tell you the history of the painting and its artist. Pablo Picasso was born
in 1881 in Malaga Spain. Picasso is acknowledged by many to be the most
important artist of the twentieth century."
Darkness overcame the auditorium. The electricity was out throughout the
entire museum. The emergency lighting lit every room of the museum except
the auditorium. The construction of the new wing had been rushed to
accommodate the event. The emergency lighting had not been installed yet.
The light returned and Allen stepped back up to the podium.
"During Picasso long career as a painter he experimented with many styles.
One of which is Cubism that can be seen in this painting."
Allen babbled on for a good half and hour and then stepped back so the
painting could be uncovered. One of the museum officials walked over to the
painting and carefully removed the cloth from the painting. The crowd
cheered as they drifted off into a trance mesmerized by the work of art.
Allen shook hand with Elizabeth Mayton, the museum's owner, and was escorted
out of the building by the museum's security guards. Allen waved goodbye
thanked the guards for their hospitality and got in the back seat of his
car.
"It's in the trunk," said Tate
"Off to meet our client" said Allen
"Not bad, 1,250,000 a piece for less than a day's work" said Jessica
The Mercedes Benz cruised a couple of blocks and pulled into the parking
lot of The Brickyard Run. The Brickyard Run was an eloquent British pub
serving a fine array of British specialties. John Rivers, their client, was
already waiting inside. John loved to show off his money. He was sporting an
Armani suite and had ordered a multi-hundred dollar bottle of wine. He was
in the real estate business and hugely successful. A question on everyone's
mind was how much of his money was actually clean? He was also into drugs
trafficking. His money could buy the best private jets and other modes of
transportation to aid in the trafficking process.
Allen scratched his beard and got a firm grip. He pulled his beard off and
threw it in the back window. He did the same with his hair. Allen was
really Preston, a clean-shaven man in his mid-twenties with dirty blonde
hair. Ella, the owner of the restaurant, sat Tate, Preston, and Jessica down
at John's table.
"Were you successful?"
"As always" answered Preston
"Whom should I make the check out to?"
"Cash Only"
"Who are you all?"
"Just call us the Samaritans"
"The Samaritans? I didn't know theft was so religious."
"I didn't know real estate was so profitable. Do you have the cash?"
"Briefcase under the table. Hungry it's on me?"
"No."
"There is a limo outside. The backdoor is unlocked. Place the painting in
there."
"No problem"
John had developed a taste for fine art long before his criminal days. His
first job as a teenager was a janitor at the museum. He would sit for hours
before and after work gazing at the work of the greats. Picasso, Monet, and
Rembrandt it didn't matter he loved them all. Twenty years later browsing at
these works of art was no longer enough. He needed to touch them to wake up
and see them hanging over his mantle. The Samaritans didn't care. He could
do whatever he wanted with them as long as he had the cash. Tate quickly
placed the painting in the back seat of John's limo and ran back to the
Mercedes and drove away.
Larry Lawson looked at the stack of bills on his desk. How was he going to
pay them? He had three mortgages on his home and two on his car. He had
three loans all of which he couldn't pay. He was over two hundred thousand
in debt without a chance in hell of pulling himself out anytime soon. The
collection agencies rung his phone twenty-four seven. He kept waiting for
the moment someone came to repo his entire home and everything in it. He
knew he should file for bankruptcy but wouldn't give Melinda the
satisfaction. Melinda was his ex-wife who took everything she could and then
some during the nasty court battle that preceded their divorce.
"Is something bugging you?" asked Sarah his secretary
"No. Get back to work"
Larry worked for Taylor Real-estate. He made a hefty salary each year but
with the debt it amounted to nothing. His performance in the sales
department had dropped dramatically within the last three months. Life was
kicking the shit out of him. He'd even contemplated suicide but couldn't
find the guts to go through with it. He had two children who he also lost in
the court battle.
"Sir, you have a telephone call on line 2"
"Who is it?"
"Its her"
"I don't want to talk her"
"She says it's about the kids"
"Fine, I'll take it"
"Yes, what do you want? Are they all right?"
"They're fine. I'm cutting your visits down to once a month."
"You can't do that"
"I am their mother and legal guardian. I can do anything I damn well
please"
"But."
"But nothing. They need some stability, Larry. Being hoisted from one place
to another is not doing a damn thing for them emotionally. Do you
understand?"
"No. You can't do this. I'll take you to court"
"Do what you want. I know what's best. Bye"
Larry hung up the phone in disbelief. He wasn't sure if he was sad or
angry. Melinda had taken almost everything he owned away from him and now
she took everything he cared about. He wanted to fight to get them back. He
would have to go to court. She had money and could afford great attorneys.
He couldn't pay even the sleaziest lawyer. For now he would have to waddle
in his misery.
"Larry, he wants to see you in his office."
Great. Now his boss wanted to see him to probably to give him a verbal
thrashing or even worse, to fire him. Why not? Every thing else had gone
wrong in his life, what's one more thing? Larry knocked on the door of his
boss's office and quietly entered after a voice from inside told him to do
so. His boss's desk was filled with paper work. A gold plague displayed his
name, John Rivers. Larry scanned Larry's face for signs of anger. He found
none.
"Larry, you're a good agent, but your sales record has fallen off recently"
"I know, I've been having some problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"Personal"
"I can help"
"I doubt it"
"Give me a try. Tell me what's wrong"
"Just home life. Drowning in debt and now my wife has destroyed my
visitation rights"
Larry went over the details of his problems with John with a fine toothcomb
for twenty long minuets. Larry came to the point of tears every few minutes
but managed to fight them back.
"Larry, I want you to take the rest of the day off"
"Sir, I can do better, I know it. Give me another chance."
"I know you will, but your not being fired. Don't worry." Started John
"Take this card."
"What is this?"
"No questions. Email them. They'll know what to do."
Larry left the office and the building slightly confused. The card had THE
SAMARITANS in bold print and an email address under it. Who in the hell were
the Samaritans? How could he afford to pay them?
Wendy Chatley Green
"FutureWonder" <future...@yahoo.com> wrote:
:A Look from THE SAMARITANS by Jason Bickings
Yes, I told this guy that this isn't the newsgroup to which to
post work. He even responded politely.
Oh, well. . . .
--
Wendy Chatley Green
wcg...@cris.com
Alan Hope
programme, like this one from Wendy Chatley Green, calling from
misc.writing:
>On Mon, 11 Jun 2001 04:58:26 GMT, for some inexplicable reasons,
>"FutureWonder" <future...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>:A Look from THE SAMARITANS by Jason Bickings
>Yes, I told this guy that this isn't the newsgroup to which to
>post work. He even responded politely.
Maybe he just needed someone to listen to him for a few minutes.
The title itself is a cry for help.
--
AH