Free Constantine Legacy (Jake Dillon Adventure Series) by Andrew Towning Page B

declined.
“Yes,” he said, and took a swig from the bottle
before recorking it, “there I was you see, up to my neck
in credit card and mortgage debt, and worrying about
what sort of season the Yankees were likely to have. How
to break out of it? I knew there were jobs for Americans
abroad but I was already to old for the big corporations.
So one day I’m standing in a bar near Grand Central.
Watching all of those sad little commuters walk by outside
and thinking about how I would like to step off this
farcical treadmill that I called a life, and I say to myself;
what are these sharp suited executive nuts looking for
that I could supply them in exchange for money? Well,
what do you imagine I conclude?”
He looked at all of us in turn, his captive audience,
picked up the pot and poured more coffee, enjoying the
pause before answering.
“Wine.” He continued. “Now that handed a laugh
to every low life creep in my home town, because that
kind of booze, ain’t something to put your arms into like
a Hugo Boss suit.”
“But me and a guy named Marcus Cohen, who
was an old buddy of mine from our college days, we
struck it rich with a couple of deals supplying an outlet in
Chicago with as much as we could lay our hands on, he
then sold it on for a good profit. But after a short while
we decided to cut out the guy in Chicago and sell direct
to Mr Average Fella.”
I walked over to the open doors that overlooked
the harbour. There were occasional smacks of warm
raindrops on the balcony tile-work. On the water an
elegant yacht, her crew busy preparing her rigging, glided
by under the power of her inboard motor. The crew
spotted us watching and gave a friendly wave, as sailors
often do.
* * *
It was about 11.30am
    Harry was saying, “Balls to the big time wine guys,
I said, I’m for the little guy every time. So we set up “wine
direct inc.com.”
    “Harry, you really are priceless,” said Fiona.
“Whatever were you selling?”
“Well, we published a one page web site called
‘Wine in your cellar’, see?”
“We sent promotional flyers out to restaurants,
office blocks, bars and joints as well as running a few
small ads here and there. We do all right – our overheads
are small and what we sell is paid for in advance by credit
card.”
“But one day my buddy Marcus Cohen says to me,
‘balls to these average guys, Harry, they’re just a set of
low spenders. What we need is a class angle’.” He comes
up with one there and then; ‘Connoisseur Wine.com,’ he
says.”
Harry Caplin walked across to the bookshelf and
removed a leather folder.
“Did it work out?” Charlie asked, who was
lounging back on the bright red sofa holding an empty
coffee cup on his knee.
Harry flipped open a copy of Time Magazine to a
full-page advertisement.
The caption read Connoisseur Wine.com is proud
to present a selection of fine wines from some of Europe’s
most exclusive vineyards. Buy one case and receive another
free of charge as an introductory offer, all beautifully and
individually presented in hand-made wooden crates and
chosen by a panel of famous growers, accompanied by a
detailed history of each wine by Mr Harry Caplin.
Fiona started to clap her hands; Charlie and I
didn’t join in. Harry didn’t seem to take offence.
“But,” said Charlie, “how come as you live here
in England?”
“Simple. I look through these books…” Harry
grabbed two large reference books on wine from the
shelf, “…and choose one for the ad in Time Magazine.”
When these books were removed they revealed a
smaller one that had fallen down the back of the row of
books.
“But…” said Charlie, “…it says...” Charlie’s face
bloomed red in embarrassment.
I quickly plucked out the book.
“…it says there’s a panel of famous wine growers!”
Harry agreed with a smirk.
The small book, on closer inspection turned out to
be the type reporters keep for jotting quick notes