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- Herausgeber: Clink Street Publishing
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
The art world is full of pitfalls, mysteries and risk. It is a place where paintings can be bought and sold for millions of pounds. Fortunes can be made... and lost. For those whose ambition is to accumulate wealth beyond their wildest dreams, expert knowledge, confidence, bravery and deep pockets are certainly needed. Ian Caxton is being tested by fake paintings, a financial gamble on the artwork of a black slave, his wife's life-changing news and a series of mysterious emails that suggest he's being watched. More dramatic events, mental conflicts and soul searching decisions. How will Ian cope with all these extra demands? This is the big question, that is The Challenge.
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Seitenzahl: 426
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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THE CHALLENGE
Robert Cort
To Bob Trinder for your friendship and encouragement.
Contents
Chapter 1
When Emma heard the telephone ring she was in the kitchen preparing her evening meal. She turned down the heat on the hob to reduce the simmering pan, wiped her hands and looked down at the telephone base unit’s display screen. She immediately recognised the number. It was her husband’s mobile, so she picked up the receiver. “Hello Ian, where are you?”
Ian’s reply began, “Emma, you are just not going to believe this…”
“You sound excited, what’s going on?”
“I’m in Monaco, in Andrei’s apartment. He’s left me a letter. He’s… well he’s gone… and left it to us!”
Ian’s mind was still a mixture of excitement and bewilderment as a result of Andrei’s totally unexpected surprise.
“Ian, you are talking in riddles, where has Andrei gone? What has he left?”
Ian was standing by the large panoramic glass doors which gave access to the outside balcony area of the penthouse apartment, with views looking down to the harbour and out towards the Mediterranean Sea. However, he realised that he needed to compose himself and explain properly. He moved away from the view and sat down on the white leather settee just in front of him. After taking a deep breath he slowly and more precisely tried to summarise what had happened over the last hour. Emma listened without interrupting or making any comment, however, if Ian could have seen her face he would have witnessed an extremely astonished expression.
After Ian had finished talking there was a short period of silence and then Emma said, “Well… I’m not really sure what to say. Are you saying Andrei has moved out and left the apartment to you? It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that? Are you sure you have read his letter correctly?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve read it three times now. Besides, there are lots of documents on the table all signed by Andrei.”
“And you don’t know where Andrei is? It all sounds very odd… and a bit worrying! What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. My flight back to the UK is not until tomorrow. I suppose I will stay here tonight, have a good look around and… well, just have a long think. There’s such a lot to take in.” For the first time since he had opened Andrei’s letter, Ian’s was finally beginning to calm down.
“Do you want me to do anything?” asked Emma. She couldn’t think of anything else to say and also needed some time to think for herself.
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll give you another ring if anything comes to mind.”
“Okay. Look after yourself and I’ll see you tomorrow. What time does your flight arrive?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, about 5.30.”
“I’ll come and collect you.”
“Thank you. Love you.”
“I love you too. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“Will do. Bye.” Ian pressed the disconnect button and took a deep breath. He looked up from the phone and around the room. So, he thought, where do I start?
For the next 30 minutes Ian unpacked his overnight bag in the main guest bedroom, the room he and Emma had used on their first visit. He decided he wouldn’t just move into the main bedroom, Andrei’s bedroom, so quickly on this visit. That would be a step too far. He then wandered through each room, but this time investigating more thoroughly. Although the beds were made and ready for use, the wardrobes were all empty. The kitchen cupboards contained all the usual cooking equipment, pots and pans, but the fridge and freezer were also empty and switched off. He was now seriously wondering if Andrei’s gift was really going to work.
Having not eaten since a snack on the aeroplane, Ian was now feeling distinctly hungry and decided to try one of the bars or restaurants alongside the harbour.
As he left the apartment block, the sun was just beginning to go down, nevertheless, the air temperature was still warm. He walked along the harbourside and considered the various eating and drinking options. He decided that what he really needed first, was a cold beer, or two! Eventually he settled on Oliver’s Bar.
There were a few drinkers in the inside air-conditioned bar area, but after Ian had obtained a cold glass of Peroni beer he wandered outside onto the veranda area where the only other occupants were two women. The women were sitting with their backs towards him and they were chatting in French. He sat at a table that overlooked two large yachts with the Harbour Heights apartment building in the background. He sipped his beer and looked up at the top floor of the Harbour Heights building, where he could see the black metal railings of the balcony. It was an unbelievable location.
The final rays of sunshine were still warming his face and he switched his attention to watching the variety of people as they strolled past along the harbourside. He sipped his beer and tried to reflect back on what had been a very strange and certainly an amazing day.
“Hello Ian,” said a female voice, with just a hint of a French accent.
Ian looked behind him and then up to the face he instantly recognised. He stood up, smiled and kissed Marie on both cheeks. Marie was one of Andrei’s lady friends, who he and Emma had met when they had both first stayed at Andrei’s apartment several months ago.
“Hello Marie, and how are you?”
“I’m fine, but a little sad with the loss of my friend Andrei. However, I am also angry that he did not invite me to join him on his long vacation.”
Ian smiled and remembered the comments Andrei had made in his letter. Obviously, Marie was not party to this information! “Please, would you join me for a drink… and maybe a meal later?”
“A drink, yes, but I am already committed to meeting friends for a meal this evening. Is Emma not with you this time?”
Ian spotted a waiter and called him over. Marie said she would like a glass of Chablis. When the waiter arrived, Ian decided he would have the same, and ordered two glasses. “No, I’m only here for one night and well, I thought I was meeting Andrei to discuss a business proposition.”
“So you knew nothing of his plans?”
“No, nothing. I’m only now beginning to recover from the surprise.”
“So you didn’t know about the apartment?”
“Andrei had left a letter for me at reception. That was the first I knew about it. It was all quite a shock.”
The waiter returned with the two glasses of Chablis and placed them on the table. Ian finished the last drops of his beer and the waiter collected the empty glass.
“Andrei thought a lot about you, Ian, and talked about you often. He saw in you a lot of similarities to himself at your age.”
“I like Andrei a lot too. He’s always exciting company.”
“He’d been complaining for a while of being tired and concerned that work was the main driving force in his life. He wanted a complete change of lifestyle, and was determined to improve the quality of his life. In his own words… ‘Whilst I am still fit enough’.”
“I see. He did complain sometimes to me about his health, but I didn’t think he was serious.”
“He was very shocked and sad about the death of some friends in Moscow. That seemed to finally make his mind up.”
Ian nodded and reflected back to when he had first broken the sad news to Andrei about his colleagues who had been shot in the tunnels underneath the Kremlin in Moscow.
“Did Andrei tell you about his new plans?”
“Oh yes. I also knew Andrei had other lady friends but we were both still very close. He discussed much with me and valued my opinions.”
Again Ian nodded and wondered to what extent Andrei would have explained everything to Marie. In the short time he had known Andrei, he’d realised that he could be a very secretive person when he wanted to be. It was doubtful, he thought, that Andrei would have explained the details of why and how the Moscow friends’ deaths had occurred. “Do you know where he is now?”
“No, except I did receive an email from him to say he had arrived in Mexico, but he would only be staying there for about five days. He did not say any more about his plans after that. He told me before he left that he just wanted to travel for enjoyment instead of business. He needed time and space to enjoy a different lifestyle. To be honest, I don’t think he had any definite agenda.”
“I see. He does like to make things complicated.”
“Why do you say that? Did he not fully explain in the letter he left at the apartment for you?”
“Well yes, maybe, but it would have been so much nicer to have been able to discuss everything with him face to face.”
“He knew you would have objected to his ideas so by putting his decision in letter form and signing all the relevant documents, you would find it more difficult to object or refuse. He also thought that Emma might take a lot more convincing and thought the explanation would be better coming from you.”
Both Ian and Marie sipped their wine and Ian considered Marie’s comments.
“It is fabulously generous of Andrei to do what he has done, Marie, but it puts me in a very difficult position. Emma and I both have our careers and our lovely home in England. I know Emma will not want to give them up and move to Monaco.”
“You do not have to change those choices in the short term. Just use the apartment for holidays, or rent it out. Andrei thought you enjoyed working with him on his business projects.”
“Oh yes, I do… did. They were exciting times, but I never envisaged being involved with his projects as a change of career, just something that was very part-time and an exciting add-on.”
“He wanted to give you a helping hand or, more precisely, an opportunity to make a lot of money and improve the quality of your two lives.” Marie was surprised that Ian was not grasping this wonderful gift with both hands.
“I would have loved to have had this conversation with Andrei directly because, if I’m not careful, this could all blow up in my face… and I may lose Emma. I would do anything to avoid that!”
Marie drank the remains of her wine and stood up and put her hand in her handbag. After a couple of seconds, she produced a card and handed it to Ian. Ian also stood up.
“Here are my contact details. I would love to meet Emma again. Please email or telephone me to let me know when you will be next in Monaco. I will make sure I’m available for you both to visit for a meal.”
Ian took hold of the card and briefly read the details before putting it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you, Marie, it’s been great talking to you again. I know Emma would love the opportunity to meet up with you again.”
“Excellent. I must go now, my friend, Chantal, is waiting for me.” Marie pointed to where she and Chantal had been sitting two metres away.
Ian now realised that Marie and Chantal were the two women sitting with their backs to him when he first arrived on the veranda.
Marie continued, “Please give my regards to Emma.” Marie closed her handbag and leaned across towards Ian and gently kissed him on the cheek.
Whilst Ian was registering this affection, Marie and Chantal made their exit. Ian sat down again on his seat and sipped his wine. He gazed out into the harbour and thought back to the opening line of Andrei’s letter:
‘Hello my good friend and welcome to your new world!’
Chapter 2
It was just before 10 pm when Ian re-entered the apartment. After he had finished his wine at Oliver’s Bar and paid the bill, he’d walked back along the harbourside to the nice-looking restaurant that he’d spotted earlier. It had been reasonably busy but the waiter said he could fit him in. Ian had ordered red snapper and another glass of Chablis and spent most of the evening watching the other customers whilst they were eating and chatting. Everyone seemed to be in couples or groups, and he definitely felt jealous. He didn’t enjoy eating alone and was definitely missing Emma’s company.
Ian awoke the next morning just before seven o’clock local time. The sun was already streaming through the gap in the bedroom curtains. He got up, shaved, showered and was dressed before eight o’clock. He entered the kitchen and switched on the kettle. After his meal the previous evening he’d called at a late-night grocery store and purchased a few items for his breakfast. He made himself a mug of tea and a large bowl of muesli, which he carried over towards the large glass doors. After opening one of the doors he stepped outside and onto the balcony. He placed his meal on the metal table, sat down and watched the activity in the harbour below. He immediately began to feel the warming early morning rays of sunshine on his face and arms. However, he still had mixed feelings towards Andrei’s gift.
Whilst he ate his meal, he continued to watch the activity below. He identified Oliver’s Bar and the veranda where he had a drink with Marie. He had to admit this was still a stunning view and a fabulous setting. He could see for many miles out into the calm blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. His eyes shifted and focused on a large white yacht that was slowly emerging from its mooring at the harbourside. He was very impressed with the manoeuvrability of the yacht and the skill of the captain to exit from such a tight area of space, especially as it was surrounded by a number of other boats and large luxury ships. Five minutes later the yacht was heading out of the harbour and away towards where? Ian pondered, yet another warm and sunny destination possibly? Certainly on a journey that only the mega-rich could afford to take! This was definitely, most definitely, a different world!
Ian planned his morning activities and hoped he could achieve them before his taxi was due to arrive at 12.30 pm. He firstly washed, dried and returned all the breakfast items he’d used and then telephoned security. It was Bates who answered the call and Ian explained that he wanted to enter Andrei’s… no his… security vault. Bates agreed to meet him at his apartment in ten minutes. Just enough time, thought Ian, to pack my bag ready for my departure later.
True to his word Bates arrived at the Penthouse suite apartment just ten minutes later and pressed the doorbell. Ian opened the door and invited the uniformed security guard into the apartment. When he had first introduced himself to Ian yesterday, Ian thought Bates’ size and appearance was probably the epitome of what a security guard should look like. Tall and strongly built, certainly not the sort of person one would choose to have an argument with!
“Good morning, Mr Caxton. I hope you have settled in well.”
“Good morning, Mr Bates. I’m just beginning to find my way around the apartment, but I would now like to visit the security vault.”
“It’s just Bates, sir. All the security guards are just known to the residents by their surname. Now to get you into the vault I need to inform you of some of the security procedures.”
“Okay.”
“We have your hand prints on file from yesterday, so we don’t need to do that again. The vaults, as you probably remember from your earlier visit there with Mr Petrov, are situated in the lower basement, which is the lowest floor within the building. That is two floors below the car parking area.”
Ian nodded and was trying to remember some of the other security requirements he had experienced with Andrei.
Bates continued, “When the lower basement floor button in the elevator is pressed, this also notifies our security team in the vault area that a keyholder is arriving shortly. You will hear an extra buzz in the elevator when this button is pressed. When you arrive at the lower basement floor and step out of the elevator, you will be met by two uniformed guards who will not let you proceed further until you produce your personalised keycard pass.” Bates put his hand into his pocket and produced a plastic pass key which was about the size of an average credit card. “This is your keycard, sir.” Bates handed it over to Ian. “It has all been uploaded with all the required security information I obtained from you yesterday and you will notice your photograph also appears on it.”
Ian looked at the card and commented, “Not overly flattering, is it?”
Bates ignored Ian’s joke and continued.
“Although the guards usually know each of the vault keyholders by sight, this procedure has to be followed every time! All activity is recorded 24 hours a day on several hidden security cameras. When we get down to the vaults, I will show you how to use your card. Are you ready to go now, sir?”
Ian placed the pass keycard into his jacket pocket and replied. “Yes, let’s go.”
The two men left the apartment and walked towards the elevator where Bates pressed the request button. The down arrow lit up. A few seconds later the door opened and the two men were greeted by the elevator attendant.
“Good morning, Mr Caxton,” said the uniformed lady.
“Hello, Louise. It’s nice to meet you again,” replied Ian. Although Louise was not on duty yesterday, he remembered her from his previous visit.
“Lower ground floor,” said Bates, and Louise duly pressed the required button. Immediately Ian heard a distant buzz and he looked at Bates and nodded.
When the elevator arrived at the lower ground floor the doors opened and Louise stepped out, allowing the two men to pass by her. Ian once again noticed the long corridor with 12 strongroom doors along each side. There were no windows, but the air was still cool and fresh, just as he had remembered. Two large, uniformed guards blocked their way. Ian didn’t think he remembered these two particular individuals from before. They appeared to ignore Bates and Ian produced his newly acquired pass keycard. They both viewed the card and waved Ian and Bates through.
“Thank you,” said Ian, and the guards both nodded.
Bates pointed down the corridor and the two men walked on. As they proceeded Ian looked at each door, which he decided were identical except for a different number printed at roughly eye level. Bates stopped outside number 14. There were no handles on the door, just a metal plate and a small horizontal slot.
Bates pointed to the horizontal slot. “Insert your card in here, sir, with the photograph this way up.” Bates now had his own card in his hand and pointed to it.
Ian followed Bates’ instructions and inserted his card into the slot. Immediately a green light flashed above the door. Ian turned and smiled at Bates.
“Now, sir, put your left palm on the metal plate.” Ian duly followed instructions and the green light flashed again.
“Okay, nearly there. One of the guards now has to place their hand on the metal plate. The door will not open without this last task,” said Bates, and he duly placed the palm of his hand on the metal plate. The green light flashed for a third time and Ian looked at Bates and wondered why the door had not opened.
“It usually takes about ten seconds for the door to…”
Suddenly the door clicked and slowly began to move. As the door opened, three internal lights automatically came on.
“The guards are not usually allowed into the vaults unless invited by the keyholder or there is an emergency. At this point the guard normally goes back to his station near the elevators. Do you want me to come into the vault with you and explain all the other measures or do you want me to explain it out here?”
“Please, do come in. I certainly don’t want to lock myself in!” Ian smiled but Bates kept the serious expression on his face.
“You can’t do that, sir. I’ll explain.”
The two men entered the vault and Ian stared around the room. The vault was about 4 x 4 x 3 metres in size. Ian remembered at the far end of the vault there was a group of individual safes of varying sizes, all with their doors slightly ajar. Against one of the bare concrete walls there were stacked, Ian counted, six framed paintings. A lot less now than when he had first visited with Andrei. He was eager to see what the pictures were, but waited until Bates had finished his instructions.
“Now, to close the door, sir, you press that yellow button next to the door.” Ian walked over and pressed the yellow button. Gradually the thick metal door quietly closed, but there was no click.
“Okay, so the door is now closed but not locked. The guards check every ten minutes. When they put a hand on the outside metal door plate, that white light flashes.” Bates now pointed to an LED light bulb near the door. “You then press the blue button, over there next to the yellow button. You have to press the blue button within 20 seconds.” Bates pointed again. “The guards will then go away for another ten minutes. If you do not press the blue button, within 20 seconds, they will enter to investigate.”
“Okay.” Ian shook his head in disbelief. He wondered if he was really going to remember all this.
Bates continued. “Now, the safes are the easy bit. Due to all the other security measures here, each safe is secured by just a four-digit number. You can use the same number for each safe, but we would not recommend that.”
Ian wandered over and looked inside three safes at random where their doors were slightly ajar. All were empty.
“We suggest that any safe not being used should have its door left slightly ajar. That way they will remind you which safes are actually being used.”
Ian nodded and thought that made sense.
“Now, to exit and lock your vault, all you have to do is the same as the entrance procedure but in reverse. You firstly press the yellow button and the door will slowly open. Once outside you put the palm of your hand on the metal plate and the door will close. You then insert your keycard into the slot and you will hear a click noting the door is locked. At the same time the green light above the door will flash. If the green light does not flash the door is not locked and you should call one of the guards.”
As Ian was about to reply to Bates the white LED light flashed. Without instruction, Ian walked over to the door and pressed the blue button. The LED light immediately went out.
“Good,” said Bates. “Do you want some more time on your own? I’ll wait outside and check with you when you are finished.”
“Thank you. Yes, I would appreciate that.”
“Okay, so I will press the yellow button to exit and then you press it again to close the door.” Ian nodded and Bates pressed the yellow button. Slowly the vault door opened and Bates stepped out and into the corridor. Ian pressed the yellow button and watched as the door slowly closed. Once this was completed he looked into the other safes and checked that they were all empty. Which they were. He then walked across to the stack of six paintings and picked them up, one at a time. For the next few minutes, he inspected each picture very carefully. As he picked up the fifth picture he saw the white LED light flash above the door and so walked over and pressed the blue button. The white light, once again, went out and he continued his inspection. Once he had finally looked at all six paintings and replaced them back against the wall, he stood back and whispered under his breath. ‘Thank you, Andrei, you are so full of surprises.’
Ian pressed the yellow button once again and the vault door slowly opened. When he stepped out, Bates was waiting for him and watched whilst Ian placed the palm of his left hand on the metal plate. The door slowly closed. Once it was fully closed, Ian inserted the keycard and heard a click. The green light flashed for about two seconds.
“Okay, sir. All locked again. Our computer has now registered both your entry and your exit. Any time you want to check our records, just contact security and this can be arranged. Similarly, if you forget any of these procedures that I have shown you this morning, please check with one of the guards, but you must have your pass keycard with you first. If you do happen to lose the card then we will immediately invalidate that card and issue you with a new one.”
“Thank you very much, Bates. That was all very useful and much appreciated.” Ian inserted the keycard into his pocket and wondered where he was going to keep it securely in the apartment.
“No problem, sir. That’s what we’re here for.”
The two men walked back towards the elevator. When they arrived at the door, Ian pressed the request button but Bates announced he needed to speak with his colleagues. So when the elevator door opened, it was just Ian who stepped in.
“Top floor, please, Louise.”
“Penthouse suite, Mr Caxton,” she reminded him with a smile and pressed the button marked ‘Penthouse Suite’.
Back in his apartment, Ian checked his wristwatch. Ten minutes before 12 o’clock. Okay, he thought, I’ve not got time to do the couple of the jobs I’d planned but I can do them once I get home. He walked over to the dining room table, sat down and decided to go through the paperwork and documents Andrei had left. He started by splitting them up into two piles. One pile he would take back to England to read more thoroughly and discuss with his solicitor. The other pile was just useful details and information, which he decided could be left in the apartment and dealt with at a later date.
Ian then walked over to the office and found an empty cardboard folder which was just big enough for the documents he wanted to take home. Back at the dining table, he inserted the files and papers into the new folder and then placed the folder into his overnight bag.
Suddenly, he remembered his security pass keycard for the vaults was still in his pocket. He picked it out and wondered where would be a safe enough place to hide it… and not to forget it! He wandered back into the office and looked under the desk, behind pictures and in cupboards, but he could not find a home safe. But why would Andrei need one, he pondered, because he already had Fort Knox downstairs in the vaults!
He was just about to give up when he had one final thought and quickly went through to Andrei’s bedroom and opened the three cupboard doors in the walk-in wardrobe. Hidden at the back, on the bottom shelf, he spotted a small safe similar to those often installed in the bedrooms of the better-quality hotels. Without intentionally looking for it, he would never have spotted it tucked away, especially if shoes or similar clothing were hiding it from immediate view. He lay on the floor and saw that the door was slightly ajar. On the front of the door was a keypad. Ah, ha, he thought. I just wonder. He pushed the door into the closed position with one hand, then typed in the numbers of the day and month of Emma’s birthday and then pressed ‘enter’. The safe pinged and briefly displayed back the same code before disappearing. The safe was locked. He then re-entered the same code again. The safe pinged once more and the door swung open. “Jackpot,” shouted Ian, to himself. He quickly removed the keycard from his pocket, placed it in the safe and locked it again with the same code. As he got back to his feet he checked his wristwatch. ‘Five minutes, I’d better check everything else is locked and all okay’. Once this was all done, he picked up his overnight bag and took one final look around the lounge area and walked towards the door. Suddenly the telephone rang.
When Ian picked up the receiver and answered the call, he listened to the receptionist advising him that his taxi had arrived. He opened the door and stepped outside pulling the door to. When he heard the initial click, he placed his left palm on the metal door plate. The door made a final click and was secured in the fully locked position.
So, he thought to himself, it’s now back to Emma… and the real world!
Chapter 3
Ian’s plane landed at London Heathrow airport and once in the main terminal building, he rang Emma’s mobile phone. After three rings she answered his call.
“Hi Emma. I’ve just arrived at Terminal 5. I should be through passport and customs in about 20 minutes.”
“Okay,” replied Emma. “I’m on the M25 and should be with you in about 30 minutes. See you then.”
It actually took a little longer than Ian had anticipated to finally emerge into the daylight outside the terminal building. Although he only had his overnight cabin bag, the delay in passport control was much longer than he had anticipated. Apparently two large groups of passengers, one from the USA and another from Mallorca, had arrived just before him. As a result the ‘snake’ of human beings trying to get to the passport control desks was longer than usual. Still, he had now emerged from the building and looked amongst the rows of taxis and cars for Emma’s red BMW. He wandered past travellers getting into vehicles and exiting from others, but no sign of Emma. When he got to the end of the row of parked vehicles, he turned and started to walk back, suddenly he spotted Emma’s car approaching. He waved and the car pulled in. He threw his bag onto the back seat, quickly climbed into the front passenger’s side and sat down. He immediately leaned across and they both kissed before Emma put the car into first gear and they were away. Ian clipped on his seat belt, sat back and gave a long sigh.
It was Emma who was the first to speak. “So who’s had a surprising weekend?”
“It was incredible, Emma. It was all such a shock, so unbelievable. I still don’t really know what it’s all about!”
“So, what have you decided?”
“Decided? Well nothing at the moment. We need to have a long conversation.”
“We certainly do.”
The rest of the journey was spent with Ian talking about what he had been doing in the apartment, arranging his security pass, visiting the vault, the chance meeting with Marie and their subsequent discussions about Andrei.
As Emma’s car exited the M25 motorway at junction 10, she was still thinking about Ian’s comment on the ‘chance meeting’ with Marie. She was not as convinced as Ian was that it was just a chance meeting.
It was later that evening when they agreed to discuss the Monaco apartment and Andrei’s ‘opportunity’. They had just finished their meal and were still enjoying the remains of a very nice bottle of New Zealand chardonnay.
“What are your thoughts on the apartment then?” It was Ian who began the discussion. He was eager to know Emma’s initial thoughts.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since you telephoned. I really don’t understand why Andrei has, well, almost abandoned such a valuable asset. It doesn’t really make too much sense… but, of course, it’s still a fabulous gesture! But we can’t really afford the upkeep costs, can we?”
Ian was certainly pleased that Emma had not thrown the whole idea out of the window at the first opportunity. “Andrei said in his letter that he will be providing some money each year towards the upkeep.”
“But will that be enough?”
“Three million Swiss francs a year for the next ten years.”
“What?!” cried Emma in surprise. “Wow, this is all so mind-blowing.”
“Yes I know. You had better read his letter.” Ian had already brought his Monaco folder of papers and documents into the dining room in preparation for this discussion. He picked it up, pulled out Andrei’s letter and handed it across for Emma to read.
Whilst Emma put on her reading glasses and began reading, Ian topped up their wine glasses until the bottle was empty. Four minutes later Emma put the letter down. “He doesn’t really trust me, does he?”
“I think he knows that you have never fully been in favour of our business dealings.”
“Well that’s certainly true, but only because I saw it as a potential threat to your career, your wellbeing and ultimately our relationship.”
“I never saw it as a threat to any of those things but, gradually, I did realise that I was getting sucked in deeper and deeper. But the truth is, I still found it exciting and ultimately it’s been financially very rewarding. I never saw the activities taking over my life, just something extra to everything else.”
“That’s not Andrei’s understanding from the tone of his letter. He’s saying he is giving you, or us, a big opportunity to change everything.”
“Mmm. I know and deep down I’m not sure I want to do that. Do you know what Somerset Maugham said about Monaco?”
“No,” replied Emma, surprised by Ian’s question.
“He said Monaco was a sunny place for shady people!”
Emma smiled and thought Andrei probably fitted that description. “Well, we do not need to make any massive decisions today,” she replied. “Let’s keep talking about it and discuss it in more detail again later. We also need to find out what our solicitor thinks.”
“We’ve suddenly become very rich, Emma. The apartment is still not technically ours but the paintings in both the apartment and in the vault are ours. I estimate their market value to be close to £6 million!”
“Ian, what have you got us into? I’m really quite afraid now!”
It was 8.30 the next morning when Ian sat down at his desk at Sotheby’s. Although it was only about 60 hours since he had last sat there, so much had happened in those hours. He felt he’d been away for a whole week!
Penny, Ian’s PA, had requested a day’s holiday and so his outer office area was very quiet for a Monday morning. Just as Ian was going to get himself a cup of coffee, he had a surprise visit from his boss, Michael Hopkins. It was very rare for Michael to do this. It was usually Ian who was summoned to Michael’s office. Ian sat back down in his chair as his boss walked over and sat on the chair opposite.
“Good morning, Ian. Did you have a good weekend?”
“Yes, thank you, Michael. Busy catching up on things.” Although Ian’s answer was somewhat vague and he tried to keep the smile from his face, he knew he could not even begin to explain exactly what he’d really been up to. “And you?”
“That’s what I would like to have a chat with you about. We went to a small dinner party on Saturday night at our neighbour’s house. Nice people, John and Anne Baldwin, new to the village, so we did a lot of exchanging of information about each other. Anyway, when I mentioned my role at Sotheby’s, John and Anne immediately looked at each other. They both had surprised looks on their faces. For a few seconds, I wondered what I had said to offend them. However, it transpired that John got in touch with Sotheby’s some months ago when we were promoting the Turner and Constable paintings joint auction. He telephoned us to say that he had two Turner paintings and would we be interested in including them in our auction. It seems as though John might have spoken with young Vic from how he was describing the person he discussed the matter with on the telephone. John gave Vic the titles of the two paintings, outline descriptions and details of their provenances. Vic apparently suggested that Sotheby’s could be interested but he would have to investigate further and get back to him. Two days later Vic telephoned John back with the bad news.”
Ian sat up in his seat and was wondering where Michael was going with this story and also, if Vic had been involved, why had he not mentioned it to him. “Bad news?” asked Ian.
“Yes,” continued Michael. “Vic had checked the picture descriptions in the Turner catalogue raisonné and found that both pictures had been removed and reclassified as not genuine Turners in 1956.”
“Ah. That can happen sometimes, especially if the provenance is challenged or the picture is proved to be a copy or a fake,” replied Ian, pleased that Vic had followed the correct procedure. “Expert opinion can change with often catastrophic consequences to the value of a painting.”
“I know and apparently that’s what Vic explained to John. The interesting point that John raised with me at the weekend was that he understood both these paintings had been in his family’s ownership right back to the time when they were purchased directly from Turner when the artist was living in Margate. John said he had no idea that the paintings had been delisted in 1956 and therefore both now rejected as being original pieces of Turner’s work.”
“Mmm. Interesting. Obviously something does not quite stack up here. What are you suggesting?”
“Speak to Vic, would you, Ian? Find out his side of the story and maybe get him to delve a bit deeper. Ask him to investigate what happened in 1956. If we can prove that the 1956 decision was flawed and the pictures are subsequently reinstated as genuine Turners, then John has promised us two paintings to sell. He’s a bit upset and untrusting about the art world!”
“Okay. I have a meeting with Vic this afternoon, so I’ll raise it with him then. We’ll keep you informed of his findings.”
“Good.” At that Michael rose from his seat and started to walk towards the door. However, before leaving, he stopped, turned around and continued, “Any developments on that flat you were talking about some weeks ago?”
Suddenly Ian briefly stopped breathing with shock. He knew he had not mentioned the Monaco apartment to Michael. In fact, nobody at Sotheby’s knew anything, except the small amount that Vic knew and it was extremely unlikely that he would have said anything to Michael.
Michael was confused with Ian’s queried look, “You told me that you might have to look for something closer to the office during the week, remember?”
“Oh yes, sorry, Michael. I’d forgotten that we’d had that conversation.” Ian was relieved and started to breathe again. He remembered that he had told Michael he was pondering on the possibility of buying or renting a weekday flat to reduce the time spent commuting. “No. I did look a little into the possibility, but the prices are out of my league and, when I suggested it to Emma, she was not that keen. So it’s the daily commuting life still for me.”
Michael smiled. “The women like to know where their men are, Ian. Probably a wise decision.” At this, Michael left Ian’s office.
Ian leaned back in his chair and gave a deep sigh. He then said to himself, ‘So Vic, what have you been up to?’
Ian’s and Vic’s meeting was scheduled for two o’clock. They were meeting to discuss a forthcoming private sale of three of Sir Alfred Munnings paintings. Viktor explained that the sale would be completed later this week and the buyer, who was from Saudi Arabia, had agreed to pay the asking price for all three paintings.
“Okay, Vic, that’s good news and well done. Good call of yours to remember the Saudi client’s interest in any quality painting depicting horses. Now, moving on. Michael Hopkins came to my office this morning and mentioned to me that you may have spoken to Mr John Baldwin. Mr Baldwin apparently wanted Sotheby’s to include his two paintings in the Constable and Turner auction we had some months ago.”
Viktor wrinkled his brow in thought. The name did not immediately mean anything to him.
Ian continued, “You discovered that both paintings had been removed and reclassified as not genuine Turners in 1956.”
“Oh yes, I remember now,” replied Viktor. The incident was all coming back to him. “Yes, that was a strange one. According to the Turner catalogue raisonné, the two paintings had both been deemed no longer to be genuine works by Turner. I explained all this to Mr Baldwin at the time. He was extremely surprised and said he would investigate further himself. I never heard any more from him again. I think it was when you were in Moscow, otherwise I would have mentioned it to you at the time. Have there been some new developments?”
Ian repeated the story that Michael had told him. After Ian had finished, Viktor looked across at his boss and said, “When do you want me to start?”
“Finish off dealing with the Munnings sale first and then do a bit of delving, would you? I’ve got a feeling we are going to find out some very interesting details. Turner was quite a character and a controversial figure in his day so it’s my bet that not everyone is going to come out of this smelling of roses!”
Chapter 4
Later that same day, Ian telephoned his former university, the London Courtauld Institute of Art, where he had obtained his Master’s degree. He left a message saying that he would like to speak with Professor Jackson. Professor Jackson was Ian’s former tutor and is recognised as one of the foremost experts on the life and paintings of Joseph Mallord William Turner.
It was just after Ian and Emma had finished their dinner that Emma answered a telephone call. It was Professor Jackson and he said he was returning Ian’s call.
Ian smiled as Emma announced the caller’s name and he was quick and eager to take the receiver. “Richard. It’s great to hear from you. Thanks for returning my message.”
“Hello Ian. It’s been such a long time. How are you doing? Are you still at Sotheby’s?” replied a strong authoritative voice. Nobody would be in any doubt that this was the voice of a confident and well-educated man.
“I’m doing very well, thank you and still at Sotheby’s, but in London now. And you? I see you are still a very important part of the Institute.”
“Not for very much longer, Ian. I’ve been offered a fabulous research opportunity at Yale, in America, so I am moving there for three years until my retirement.”
“That sounds very interesting, Richard. I was hoping we could meet up before you disappear from our shores.”
“I’m not moving until the end of the year, so yes, it would be lovely to meet up again.”
“That’s good. There are two reasons I would like us to get together again. Firstly, it would be nice just to catch up again but, secondly, I would like to bring one of my graduate trainees along so that he can pick your brain about Turner.”
“Okay. How much detail do you want me to provide?”
“We all know about Turner’s famous paintings, but I would like you to tell us more about the controversies and problems that both his life and work has caused in the art world.”
“Interesting. That will take longer than a lunch break.”
Ian laughed, he knew what the professor was hinting at. “What about dinner at a restaurant of your choice?”
“That sounds excellent. When were you thinking of?”
“To fit in with you, Richard. I know how busy you are, but as soon as possible please.”
“Just a moment.” Ian could hear paper being rustled at the other end of the line and assumed Richard was checking his diary. “I can do next Thursday. Is that okay?”
“Yes, that would be excellent.”
“Good. I’ll book a table for three at the Bistro2 in Covent Garden, for 7 pm. I’m sure you will both enjoy it. It’s a favourite of mine.”
“Thank you, Richard. It should be a good evening.”
Both men said their goodbyes.
The next morning when Ian arrived at his office desk, he telephoned Viktor’s extension. When Viktor answered, Ian told him about the dinner meeting arrangements. He also suggested that in the meantime, Viktor should do as much swotting up on Turner as possible. It would be unprofessional not to respect such an opportunity with the eminent professor.
After finalising the sale of the three Munnings paintings to the Saudi client, Viktor set about trying to understand just why Turner was considered such a controversial figure. He knew a lot more about Turner’s paintings following his earlier involvement with Sotheby’s Constable and Turner auction and he was especially aware of the high prices that could be demanded and achieved, for some of Turner’s more famous works. In particular, the paintings completed during the earlier part of Turner’s career always seemed to generate the largest amount of interest in the art world, even to this day. But, Viktor wondered, why was that so?!
Viktor accessed the internet and found that there were many websites devoted to Turner’s life and works. He established that from quite a relatively young age, Turner had gained the reputation of being one of Britain’s greatest landscape painters of his day, especially through his special ability to be able to capture the drama of wild sea storms and ships in distress. He had a unique talent for mixing paints and producing almost surreal, atmospheric seas and skies, long before some of the 20th century artists such as Dali, Picasso and Miro made Surrealism a cultural movement.
Viktor gradually realised that Turner was obviously well ahead of his time. However, despite the artist’s special talents, Turner didn’t appear to be able to command the respect these abilities evidently deserved. Why, he wondered, was Turner not always fully accepted by his peers or indeed, by those in higher authority, during his lifetime?
What he really needed to do now, he decided, was to get a much better understanding of why, during the last 200 years, such a range of different opinions of Turner’s work existed. It was obviously a more complex subject than he had originally thought and, whilst he was eagerly looking forward to hearing what the professor would have to say, he needed to try and find out for himself some of the basic reasons for all the controversy. Indeed, he wondered if any of these reasons had contributed to the 1956 decision with regard to the two Baldwin paintings.
Ian and Viktor arrived by taxi just before seven o’clock for their meeting at the Bistro2 restaurant. When they entered through the main entrance, they found a cosy and welcoming atmosphere. They were quickly spotted by a waiter and, after Ian announced they were expected by Professor Jackson, the waiter led them into the main restaurant area and towards a small side alcove. Professor Jackson was already seated and was reading a copy of the menu. As Ian and Viktor approached, the professor rose from his chair, gave Ian a big smile and held out his hand. The two men shook hands firmly and greeted each other warmly.
“It’s so good to see you again, Ian. It’s been what, eight years?” Professor Richard Jackson was 60 years old, with a thick mop of grey wavy hair.
“Yes, I think it must be,” replied Ian, trying to remember. “That was at the last reunion meeting that I could attend. I missed the others because I was either in Hong Kong or New York.”
“Poor excuse,” said Richard, and both men laughed.
“Let me introduce you to my colleague, Viktor Kuznetsov. Viktor, this gentleman is my favourite tutor from many years ago, Professor Richard Jackson.”
Both men shook hands and Viktor announced, “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Now, first things first. I’m Richard. Please, gentlemen, sit down.”
During the next 30 minutes, the three men ordered their drinks and selected their food. Ian and Richard discussed what had been happening in their lives since they had last met and Richard was very pleased to hear that Ian was now married. Viktor sat quietly and listened to the conversation.
When they had all finished their main course, Richard raised the subject of Turner. “So, Viktor, I gather you want to know about Mr JMW Turner, warts and all, so to speak, with the emphasis on the warts!”
“I understand his career was somewhat shrouded in controversy and this has carried on until the present day,” replied Viktor, wanting to demonstrate he had at least a little knowledge.
“I will give you a potted summary and will then point you in the direction of some useful reading.”
“Thank you.”
