The Smartness Paradox
How to Fool the Richest Man in the City.
Ethan Cole and Marcus Hale found themselves in the city’s poshest restaurant. Ethan adjusted his sleeves for the third time.
“Do we really belong here?” he muttered.
Marcus did not take his eyes off the alien menu.“It is all about confidence,” he said, beckoning the waiter. He ordered the lobster thermidor and the most expensive Cabernet Sauvignon to go with it.
The waiter nodded and glided backward, as if moonwalking were part of his training — though it would be another hundred years before the world gave that motion a name.
“See? It is that simple.”
“You just ordered three times what we have.”
“Not if everything goes as planned. We are going for the biggest fish in this fish-smelling city.”
“Why do you always go for the bluefin tuna?” Ethan whispered. “There could have been some sardines.”
“A python eats once and rests for a year.”
“I hope it is not in jail. Your confident act may fool the simple-minded,” he added, nodding at the waiter who brought the wine. “Mr. Voss is apparently very smart.”
“No one is 100% smart. There is always a bit of stupidity underneath.”
Ethan wasn’t convinced. But he stopped adjusting his sleeves.
Albrecht Voss arrived without announcement. “Gentlemen. Let’s skip the introductions and get down to business. I already know what I need to know about you two.”
Ethan looked like he might throw up.
“Right down to your little drinking habit,” Voss added, pointing at the wine.
Marcus eased into a smile. “A man drinks what he can stomach. If you know everything, you surely know about our ship — waiting to dock with goods worth three hundred thousand papers. You also know how hard it is to get permission without a local endorsement… and how impossible it will be once the war reaches these parts in a week.”
All of it was true. Except that the real merchant and his brother were passed out drunk in their own ship — floating in a mixture of urine and vomit.
“War starts in two days,” said Voss, sharing a little inside news.
Marcus played along. “Then you understand our urgency. We can deliver the goods to your warehouses by the end of today — for a mere hundred thousand.”
“Thirty,” said Voss. “And you won’t find anyone else who can match even that.”
“Thirty thousand wouldn’t even cover our return journey, Mr. Voss. Though we are fully aware — you are our only option. War has been bad for all businesses.”
“Only for those who didn’t diversify,” Voss teased, leaning back.
Ethan, silent all along, suddenly spoke. “Mr. Voss must be referring to his gun business.”
The deserted restaurant suddenly felt noisy. Marcus closed his eyes in frustration. Voss looked at Ethan long enough to make it uncomfortable.
Then — He laughed. A full, unrestrained laugh.
“I like this guy,” he said, pointing at Ethan.
“Let’s not waste time. Fifty thousand. My final offer. Twenty-five now.”
Marcus stood immediately and shook his hand. Documents appeared. Numbers aligned. The pen was uncapped.
Ethan felt it — the rush. They were about to sign.
“Gentlemen.”
A different voice. Three uniformed officers stood beside the table.
Marcus didn’t move. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” said one of them. “Your faces bear a striking resemblance to two wanted men.” Hands pressed firmly onto their shoulders.
The waiter — who had alerted the authorities — stepped forward. “That man ordered lobster thermidor with a Cabernet Sauvignon,” he said proudly.
“How can he be a nobleman? I asked myself.”
On the way to prison, Marcus sat silent.
For once. Ethan leaned back, calm.
“No one is 100% stupid.”