012. The Golden Ox

Caroline sat with Hattie Redfield in the back of an Austin taxi as they were whisked across London. She had eventually settled on a grey jacket and skirt, finished with a matching purse and beret. She had also brought with her a pair of white silk gloves, a gift from her husband. Hattie was much more colourfully attired, in a red-and-black pinstriped suit of a style not dissimilar to Caroline's.

'Don't you have any nice clothes?' Hattie demanded.

Caroline swallowed her pride and changed the subject, 'So how many people will be at this auction of yours?'

'Oh, only eighty or so.'

'Eighty?'

'Give or take.'

A few minutes later the taxi pulled up outside the Golden Ox, a somewhat unpleasant looking pub. Hattie paid the cabbie his fare and the two women entered the pub as discretely as possible. Through a thick haze of cigarette smoke, Caroline saw that all the tables had been moved and stacked on one side, with the seats remaining in place and organised into rows. The seats were not presently occupied; most of the pub's patrons were gathered together in small groups.

'Hattie, darling!' a boisterous female voice called.

Caroline spied a large woman in a horrendous pink satin frock. Hattie obviously recognised her.

'Bridgette, darling!' Hattie cooed as she approached.

Caroline found herself abandoned. She sighed and eyed the door longingly. She noticed that a man was handing out numbered paddles to everybody. Caroline refused the offer of one. Moments later she felt a hand touch her on her elbow. She spun around to see a tall, brooding man with a thin frame and enormous smile.

'I haven't seen you here before.' the man said.

'I'm here with a friend.' Caroline stammered, searching for Hattie.

'An American, I see.'

He extended a skeletal hand, 'Graham Spalding.'

She accepted it, 'Caroline Carol.'

'It's an honour to meet you,' Spalding continued, pausing as he caught sight of Caroline's wedding band, 'Mrs. Carol.'

'You're the gentleman who organised the codes in the Evening News.' Caroline said.

Spalding seemed somewhat embarrassed, 'Yes, that was my idea.'

'It's very clever, Mr. Spalding.'

'Please, call me Graham.'

Caroline noticed the auctioneer attempting to get the attention of everyone in the room.

'Ladies and gentlemen...' he said in a voice too soft to be heard over the chatter.

Spalding gently took Caroline by the arm.

'Come, Mrs. Carol.' he said.

Caroline spied Hattie sitting down with the pink frocked woman. After everyone had taken their seats, the auction proper began. Two assistants brought items up front to a small table as the auctioneer read off their descriptions. It all held very little interest for Caroline. Among the items being auctioned: a vase believed to have belonged to King Luis XVI – or perhaps a pawnbroker in Wessex – and a Faberge Egg that was either a long-forgotten original or the work of an inexperienced forger. Neither broke the £200 mark.

'Our last item of this evening is something truly special: a clay Sphinx discovered in the southern Sudan some forty years ago. Britain's leading historians have, as yet, been unable to date this one-of-a-kind artefact. The bidding starts at eighty pounds.'

Caroline chuckled as Graham Spalding raised his paddle.

'Ninety pounds from Mr. Spalding,' the auctioneer said, 'Do I hear one hundred?'

A moustachioed gentleman at the rear of the room raised his paddle.

'One hundred pounds from the gentleman up the back. Do I hear one hundred ten?'

Spalding raised his paddle again.

'One hundred and ten pounds; thank you, sir.'

That same gentleman from the back.

'One hundred twenty...'

Spalding again.

'One hundred thirty...'

Caroline heard a familiar voice say, 'One hundred and fifty pounds!'

All eyes turned to Hattie Redfield who was beaming brightly. The auctioneer was aghast.

'One...one hundred and fifty pounds from the young lady in the front row.' he said.

'One hundred seventy-five!' Spalding said.

'Two hundred pounds!' was the response from Hattie.

'Two hundred fifty!'

'Three hundred pounds!'

'Four hundred pounds!'

Hattie paused to count the change in her purse, 'Five hundred, twenty-six pounds and thirty-one pence!'

Spalding sat down. The man was practically fuming.

'Five hundred...twenty...ah...five hundred and twenty pounds from the young lady. Do I hear five hundred thirty?

No response from the crowd.

'Going once...going twice...sold to the young lady for five hundred and twenty pounds.'

============

Caroline waited for Hattie outside of the Golden Ox. Her friend eventually appeared, surrounded by adoring and equally as boisterous women. She barely noticed Caroline at all.

'Have fun?' Caroline asked sarcastically as the crowd dispersed.

'Oh yes! And yourself?' Hattie replied.

Caroline remained silent.

'Oh bother!' Hattie cried, 'I forgot to give the auctioneer a mailing address. Ask the cabbie to wait, will you?'

Caroline entered the back seat of the taxi as Hattie ducked inside the Golden Ox.

'She won't be long.' Caroline assured the cab driver.

The minutes ticked by. Concerned for her friend, Caroline stepped out of the taxi and walked towards the Golden Ox. Suddenly, a black Ford sedan sped out from a nearby alleyway and barrelled down Beak Street at breakneck speed. Caroline saw a young woman being restrained by two men in the back. It was Hattie. She struggled free and stuck her head out of one of Ford's windows.

'Help me, Caroline!' she cried.

As Hattie was drawn back inside, Caroline dashed back to the taxi.

'Follow that car!' she ordered.

TO BE CONTINUED...