TEDDY HAD NO problem buying the black rhino. He easily outbid the Germans, who talked a good game but dropped out after three hundred thousand. Only an Italian nobleman put up much of a fight. Teddy shut him up by jumping the bid up to five hundred thousand. In retrospect, he probably could have gotten it for four, but he figured Lance wouldn’t mind.
A winner’s boastful bravado was right in Floyd Maitland’s wheelhouse. Teddy marched up to the Syrians waving his drink and declared in a loud voice, “So! Did you see who took the black rhino? I have to tell you, it’s been one beautiful day. Have a drink on me. That’s how it is back home. Losers lick their wounds, and the winners buy drinks. Hey, barkeep! Another round for my buddies.”
Fahd grabbed his elbow. “You will keep your voice down,” he said tersely. “You will not talk about the panel outside the panel, or I will report you. And there will be consequences.”
Teddy waved it away. “Oh, sure, sure. Quiet as a mouse.” He draped his arm around Fahd’s shoulders as if they were best friends, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “When can we buy the dog?”
“You cannot buy the dog.”
“Of course I can. If you have money, you can buy anything. So when can we bid on him?”
“Did you not hear me? The dog is not for sale.”
“I know. The dog is only for special people. People with money. That would be me. That would be you. You couldn’t outbid me for the rhino. Think you can outbid me for the dog?”
“You are drunk. You make no sense,” Fahd said. He deliberately turned his back.
Teddy gave up without learning when the dog would be sold, but Fahd’s answers had told him two things: there was such an auction, and Fahd didn’t want him at it.