She relished the novelty and thrill
of having been summoned
to this prestigious man's home.
The sheer beauty of the place
far surpassed her expectations.
However, she was becoming suspicious
about the reason for this visit.
Now that she had received
an orientation to his home,
and notwithstanding her first impressions
of the man, she was anxious
to learn why she was here.
What could a mere reporter
do for this rich, influential man?
He began to speak soberly,
contradicting his earlier spontaneity.
“I will tell you a story
you may have difficulty believing,”
he said, softly. “I was
not born into this lifestyle.
It is ironic that there is
such a discrepancy between
what I was and what I am.
My father left the United States
when I was about two years old.
He ran a junk store
in the slums of Winnipeg
when I was a kid.
He was a vulgar man
but he knew how to
fool people into thinking
they were buying something
rare or valuable. It was
under his tutelag that
I learned to be a fraud.”
I decided at an early age
that if there was
a shortcut to success,
I could bypass the complications
of getting there by
the conventional methods. I was
like a hurricane, rushing forward
without consideration for the rules.
If it's any consolation,
I didn't intentionally harm anyone
in the process. I was able
to stay within the parameters
of the law, but just barely.
I bought and sold used furniture
before going into the antique business.
When I bought, I always
paid a fraction of the potential
worth of the goods.
When I sold, I always
made a profit. I was able
to upgrade my stock with
almost every transaction. In time,
I had a warehouse full
of merchandise.I didn't
flatter myself by thinking
I hadn't muddied the waters a bit.
I knew I had probably
stepped on a few toes, but
I was on a roll. I had
the momentum and rejoiced
in my success. As long as
the money kept coming in,
anything was permissible.
One day, I received a visit
from a rather important patron
of the arts. He had an
interesting proposition for me.
He held the patent and trademark
for the prototype of
an innovative way to determine
the age of a painting
using ultraviolet light. He would
sell them to me for
the nominal fee of a nickel
if I would reciprocate by
doing him a favor. I was
to include one of his
personal paintings in my next shipment
of antiques going to New York.
At first, I thought he was
mocking me, but he gave
me his oath that he just
wanted to ensure the painting
would arrive at its destination safely,
and, because it would be
a part of an antique shipment,
it would be exempt from import duty.
It was a provocative offer,
and even though I remained skeptical,
I agreed.A few days later,
a crated painting arrived and
was added to my goods
ready for delivery to New York.
I had always subscribed to
the theory that if something appeared
to be too good to be true,
it probably was. However,
my greed prevailed and
the painting was on its way.
I was unaware at the time
that my fortunes were about
to go into a downward spiral.
My benefactor, it turned out,
was a man with a grudge
against me. Irrespective of the fact
that I felt a deal
we had made years before
had been fair, he felt
I had cheated him.
I was about to be
the recipient of his wrath.
When my agent in New York
went to customs to retrieve
the shipment, he was greeted
by a squad of police waiting
to detain him on
charges of smuggling cocaine.
It appeared there was a bit
of a discrepancy between
what I was told was in
the crate and the actual contents.
The drugs were in
a hidden compartment in the crate.
I admit it was naive
of me to believe
I had no enemies,
but I didn't know anyone
would go to this degree
to prove how much he despised me.
Hitherto, I had gone through
life thinking that when two people
agreed to a deal, if one of
them got the better of the other,
it was fair, because they did agree.
Now I was learning that if
you take advantage of some people,
even with their permission,
you aggravate them to seek revenge.
I can't refute my recklessness.
Almost seven years have
elapsed since that time.
My agent took responsibility
for the crime and went
to jail for five years.
I felt guilty as hell,
but I continued to pay him
by sending the money to his family.
I even withheld extra
in a bonus account to give
to him when he was released.
I also gave up my business
and began to help others
start their businesses. In time,
the guilt I felt subsided.
I put my energies into stepping
into the breach to help
those less fortunate than I.
To my amazement, my luck started
to fluctuate upward and I flourished.
All you see here today,
I have accumulated since that time.
Now, it seems, my enemy
has decided to reclaim
his power over me.
He has reported the crime
and the erroneous imprisonment of my
agent and named me as
the person responsible for the offence.
I had never changed my citizenship,
so the F.B.I. wants me
deported so they can
prosecute me in New York.
I hope I can induce you,
through your column, to tell my story.
Next week I have to appear before
a magistrate for the preliminary hearing.
If I'm not mistaken, public pressure
might enable me to
avoid deportation at least.
I am more likely to get
a fair trial here than there.
My record as a good citizen
may offset the perception that
I may be a criminal.
What do you think? Will you help?
Kate had listened to this synopsis
in silence but her outrage
was building. While his story
seemed plausible, this plea
for her assistance didn't quite fit.
With his financial resources,
he could hire the best
legal team in the country.
She realized she had to
detach herself from her first impressions
and extract fact from fiction.
Why didn't she believe him?
Suddenly, it came to her.
Exposition of this version
of Victor's tale would not only
gain him public sympathy, it would
invalidate any testimony against him.
Nothing could constrain her
when she realized she had literally
been taken in by his story.
“If you were innocent,
why weren't you the defendant?
If you were innocent
all those years ago,
why did your agent
go to prison for you?
Why did it take so long for
your enemy to turn you in?
The statute of limitations
for that offence has expired.
I believe this has been
a pathetic attempt to get me
to mediate your case in the press.
I think you have always been
an integral player in
the criminal world and your past
has caught up with you.
My cardinal sin was allowing myself
to be reeled in by your tales
of what a model citizen you are.”
Kate could feel herself
getting dizzy and light-headed,
surprised by the audacity she had,
talking to anyone in that manner.
Before she lost complete control,
she would have to
get out of there.
She stood, turned, and
marched toward the door.
As she began to open
the front door, she looked back.
Victor stood beside his chair,
pale and shaken. “You admitted
you were a fraud in your youth.
You are still a fraud!
I will write your story...
my version! My guess is that
the eventual verdict will be‘guilty’!” |