Chapitre 22: Crown Jewel.
After over an hour, the auctioneer was winding down. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, we have one last highly classified item to offer you this evening. I expect nothing but your highest bids on this military-grade hardware." He presses another button and a grainy photo of a handgun appears.
It looked ordinary at a glance but Ramsey had done his research - this was no ordinary firearm.
A murmur ripples through the people. All eyes were glued to the screen now. "This is the M1911 pistol that some say single-handedly started the Border Conflict of 1980 between the United States, Canada, Mexico and their respective allies."
The room erupts into a cacophony of voices, each bidder vying for the chance to own this remarkable and deadly artifact.
Ramsey remains silent, his eyes fixed on the pistol, his mind whirring with the possibilities it presents.
"As you can see this is no ordinary pistol." he pauses for dramatic effect, "The bidding will start at five hundred thousand dollars," the auctioneer declares, his voice cutting through the air.
Instantly, hands shoot up, the bidding war commencing in earnest. A man at the front climbs to his feet and shouts "Six hundred thousand!"
Another quickly bids six hundred and fifty thousand.
A woman across the aisle raised it to Seven hundred thousand.
Ramsey watched calmly as the bids rapidly escalated, the auctioneer struggling now to keep up.
"Two million!" a man in a dark blue mask bellows, his voice cutting through the din.
"Two point five!" a woman in a shimmering gown counters, her eyes gleaming with determination.
The bids continue to climb, each one more outrageous than the last
At three point five million, another man two
to seats to ramsey's left smirked and said clearly, "Five million."
The room went still at the massive leap.
All eyes turned to the man who had bid three point five million.
Sweat now dotted the man's brow, visible above his yellow mask and he glanced around helplessly, as if expecting someone to help him, until he slumped in defeat on his chair.
The other man grins, clearly thinking he was the winner.
That is, until a hush falls over the room.
A lone figure in the back, clad in a midnight-blue suit, his face covered by a crimson mask, raises his paddle, his voice clear and unwavering.
"Ten million."
Ramsey can't suppress the smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. 'There's the big fish,' he thinks, his gaze locked on the mysterious bidder. He waits a beat, savoring the moment, before raising his own paddle.
"Twenty million."
The room erupts into a chorus of gasps and murmurs, the other bidders turning to stare at Ramsey with a mix of awe and trepidation. The man in the blue suit regards him coolly, his head tilting ever so slightly.
"Thirty million," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ramsey's eyes narrow, a spark of challenge igniting within him. "Thirty five million," he counters, his tone laced with a hint of defiance.
The crowd falls silent, all eyes trained on the two men locked in this high-stakes game of one-upmanship.
The auctioneer clears his throat, his gaze darting between the two bidders.
"Thirty five million?" The auctioneer repeats, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "Do I hear any further bids?"
The tall, imposing figure in a crimson mask, reclines in his seat, his movements slow and deliberate
"Forty million,"
The crowd murmurs in shock as the bidding war for the pistol continues to escalate.
Ramsey smirks, "Fifty million."
Tension fills the air. His slowly opponent raises his paddle once more, his voice cutting through the din.
"Fifty-five million," he declares, his gaze seeming to burn through Ramsey.
He clearly didn't want to lose.
A collective gasp ripples through the room, and Ramsey can feel the weight of the other bidders' stares upon him.
He pauses, his expression betraying no hint of the calculations racing through his mind.
"Sixty million," he responds calmly, his gaze locked on his adversary.
The man in the blue suit narrows his eyes, his lips curving into a slight smile. "Seventy-five million."
Ramsey can feel the tension in the room ratcheting up, the air thick with a palpable sense of anticipation. He leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the arm.
"Eighty million," he says, his voice steady and unwavering.
The crowd erupts into a chorus of murmurs and gasps, the sheer magnitude of the numbers leaving them awestruck.
The man in the blue suit regards Ramsey for a long moment, his expression inscrutable.
"Ninety million," he says at last, his voice sharp, almost daring.
Ramsey can feel the corners of his lips twitching upward in a faint smile.
"Gentlemen," he says, his gaze sweeping the room, "I believe we've reached the limit of our little game."
With a nod, he turns to the auctioneer, his voice clear and authoritative. "You've bested me, congratulations. It's yours."
Polite applause followed as the tension dissipated.
Ramsey walks out of the hall and into the cool underground corridor.
He felt his lips twitch into a shark like grin. Everything was going according to plan.
As he ascended the stairs, the sounds of dispersing reached him.
The other auctions must be over too.
Emerging from the the stairwell, his eyes scan the crowd for any sign of Robin.
He spots her in the distance, her brow furrowed in concern, and he quickens his pace, making his way to her side.
"Hello," he says, his voice laced with mischief. "Did you miss me?"
Robin turns to him, her expression a mix of relief and confusion.
"Where have you been, Ramsey?" she asks, her voice tinged with a hint of worry. "What took you so long?"
Ramsey offers her a reassuring smile, placing a hand on her waist. "There was an emergency," he lies smoothly. "But everything is fine now. Come, let's get you home."
Robin nods, her gaze still searching his face for any sign of deception. "Alright," she says, her voice soft. "Let's go."
As they make their way through the bustling crowd, Ramsey can't help but notice the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.
She cocked her head, curious. "I see you're in good spirits. Care to share what's put you in such a mood?"
Just then, chaos erupts in the auction house as the deafening explosion rocks the building, sending shards of glass and debris raining down upon the panicked crowd.
Ramsey instinctively pulls Robin close, shielding her from the onslaught as the guests begin to flee in all directions.
"Stay close to me, Robin!" Ramsey shouts, his voice barely audible over the din of the screaming crowd.
His grip on her tightens, his eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit.
Robin nods, her fingers clutching the sleeve of Ramsey's jacket as they navigate the maze of bodies.
But in the ensuing panic, they're jostled and separated, and Robin finds herself swept up in the tide of terrified guests.
"Ramsey!" she cries out, her voice laced with fear as she loses sight of him. She ducks and weaves through the throng, her heart pounding in her chest.
The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke, and the sound of shattering glass and frantic footsteps fills her ears.
Ramsey whirls around, his eyes frantically searching the crowd for any sign of Robin.
"Robin!" he calls out, his voice tinged with desperation. But the chaos is overwhelming, and he's quickly swallowed up by the sea of panicked bodies.
"No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching with determination. He pushes forward, his movements swift and agile as he fights his way through the crowd.
But with each passing moment, Robin's silhouette grows more and more elusive, until finally, she disappears from his line of sight.
Ramsey's heart sinks, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.
Robin is out there, alone and vulnerable, and he has to find her.
He can't afford to lose her, not now, not when everything is hanging in the balance.
*******************
Meanwhile as the guests begin to file out of the auction house, the triumphant bidder for the M1911 pistol is escorted by a group of suited men to a secluded room, where he is instructed to claim his prized possession.
The man, his face still obscured by his crimson mask, approaches the ornate box containing the M1911 pistol, his fingers trembling with anticipation.
Just as he reaches for the lid, a deafening explosion rocks the building, sending a shockwave through the room and shattering the windows.
The men guarding the room are thrown off balance, before quickly regaining their footing and turning to their boss.
"Sir! We have to get you out of here!"
At his hurried nod, the masked guards immediately spring into action, ushering the man in the blue suit towards a hidden exit.
*****************
In the main hallway, Robin is jostled and pushed as the guests scramble towards the exits, their cries of fear echoing through the space.
She tries to keep her composure, her eyes searching frantically for Ramsey amidst the throng.
"Ramsey!" she calls out, her voice drowned out by the cacophony of sounds.
Feeling a growing sense of panic, Robin decides to make her way towards the emergency exit.
She forces her way through the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest.
As she reaches the door, she finds it blocked by a group of panicked guests, all desperately trying to escape.
Undeterred, Robin turns and heads for a different emergency stairwell, her dress billowing behind her as she ascends the steps.
She reaches a heavy metal door and pauses, her hand shaking as she grasps the handle.
"Ramsey..." she whispers, her voice trembling. She knows she needs to find a way out, but the thought of leaving Ramsey behind fills her with a sense of dread.
Slowly, she pulls the door open, stepping out into a dimly lit hallway.
She takes a deep breath, her eyes adjusting to the change in lighting, when suddenly, a familiar voice calls out to her.
"Robin?"
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reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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