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Ian Caxton is a senior manager at Sotheby's. After successful career moves to Sotheby's branches in New York and Hong Kong, Ian is now based in London and earmarked for the top position. However, following a chance meeting with Andrei, a very rich Russian art dealer based in Monaco, Ian suddenly reassesses all his plans and ambitions. Even his marriage is under threat. The Opportunity charts the tumultuous life and career of Ian Caxton as he navigates the underbelly of the art world, one of serious wealth, heart-stopping adventure and a dark side. The big question is, will Ian take The Opportunity? And if he does, what will the consequences be, not only for him, but also for his wife and colleagues?
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Robert Cort
To Anita, for your patience and support
Ian Caxton is a senior manager at Sotheby’s, the world-renowned auction house in London. After successful career moves to Sotheby’s branches in New York and Hong Kong, Ian is now based in London and earmarked for the top position.
However, following a chance meeting with Andrei, a very rich Russian art dealer, based in Monaco, suddenly Ian is seriously reassessing all his plans and ambitions. Even his marriage is potentially being threatened!
‘The Opportunity’, is the first in a collection of five books, charting the life, adventures and career of Ian Caxton. In this first book, Ian is introduced to a new side of the art world. A world of serious wealth, heart pumping adventures and the dark side of the fine art business.
The big question is, will Ian take ‘The Opportunity’? And if he does, what will the consequences be, not only for him, but also for his wife and colleagues as well?!
Andrei Petrov had been looking forward to this meeting as he wanted to change people’s lives … forever!
He looked out, through the large bay window, into Maddox Street. This was the first time Andrei had visited The Grapes public house. As he continued to stare through the window he watched the hurrying and scurrying of the London commuters making their way home. Some of them were trying to shelter under their umbrellas from the cold, biting November rain. He lifted up the pint glass and sipped his cold beer. Thoughts drifted back to his former home, Moscow, and how cold it would be there at this moment. If people thought England felt chilly this time of the year, then they ought to experience Moscow in late November. He knew it would be about 20 degrees colder and shuddered at the thought.
A small grin slowly appeared on his tanned face when his thinking returned to the meeting in a few minutes time. He was excited, very excited. Could this man, the man who he was about to meet for the very first time, be the final link in his unique plan? A plan that when accomplished would nett him many millions of extra euros!
From early in his adult life, Andrei had been a chancer, a gambler, but not in the sense of casinos or betting on horses, no, his passion in the early days was investing at the right time in the Russian oil and gas industry. But over the last 20 years his new gambling passion, which he had slowly developed into his personal business, had centred around art and in particular, buying and selling of mostly post 1700 European paintings, both genuine … and fakes!
Andrei had not returned to Russia for 15 years, certainly not since Putin had decreed the oligarchs were no longer welcome. Whilst he’d made a significant amount of money in the early days from his successful investing in the Russian gas and oil industry, he was not a billionaire. However, he was still very wealthy and quicker than most to notice that the good times were slowly coming to an end in Russia. He timely managed to get his many millions of roubles, euros and dollars out of Russia and into a newly set up Swiss bank account before it was all too late. But of course, he also knew that he could never really relax, or indeed, ever feel totally safe! It was never too late. Any day the Kremlin or the Russian Mafia, might finally decide on revenge. Then for certain, his days in this life would be numbered. His dealings in the art world too had not been without their own risks and a few of his dealings had resulted in a small number of jealous enemies.
His home was now in the Mediterranean playground of Monaco, the paradise for the very rich and the ultimate tax evader. Despite this favoured situation he still spent more days in aeroplanes and visiting clients around the world, than he did in his own home. He usually only came to Britain to meet with his two Russian London based friends and three other very wealthy and important clients. But tonight, he waited patiently and hoped that another UK resident would shortly become a key member of his very select team. A new addition who would make a significant impact on his future.
Andrei looked into the wood panelled room. Some of the city workers were beginning to line the bar and the noise level was slowly increasing. He listened to two suited men standing near to where he was sitting. They were discussing today’s events on the stock-market. Evidently the stock market was still as volatile as ever. He wondered why people invested their money there. Art, for those people who knew what they were doing, was much more rewarding.
He enjoyed the English language and had been keen to learn to speak it at school and then college in Moscow. Now, and for the last 15 years, this has been his main conversational language used around the world. He also spoke French, when in Monaco and France and a little Portuguese and Spanish. But it was only with a few Russian friends and colleagues that he had any need to speak his home language any more.
He had first met his two London based Russian friends, Sergei and Boris, during his early stocks and share dealings with Gazprom and Transneft, the giant oil and gas companies. Sergei had worked for Gazprom and Boris for Transneft. Although all three men left Russia at different times, they still kept in touch and have been good friends ever since. Neither Sergei nor Boris have been back to Russia either since Putin had come to power and whilst these two friends do not have the same level of wealth as Andrei, they are rich enough to be able to live quiet, anonymous and very comfortable lives in London.
Andrei continued to watch the people outside and sip his beer. Now in his early 70s he thought his eyesight was still as good as it was in his younger days. He didn’t need to wear spectacles and had made deliberate efforts to keep himself generally fit and lean.
He noticed that the rain had now eased and he could catch glimpses of people’s faces when they were exposed to the light emitting through the window. He looked at his watch, 6.55 pm, just another five minutes. Again, a grin slowly appeared on his face.
Three weeks earlier in the fine art and private sales offices of Sotheby’s in New Bond Street, Viktor Kuznetsov was sitting in the library surrounded by art books and catalogues. Since leaving school Viktor had decided to anglicise his first name and whilst still known as Viktor to his parents, he had dropped the ‘k’ and replaced it with a ‘c’ for everybody else. Now to friends and work colleagues he was simply ‘Vic’. Although born in Moscow, to Sergei and Ludmilla, Viktor remembered very little of his life there. He and his mother had moved to England when he was four years of age and his father had joined them two years later. Viktor was now 24 years of age and had joined Sotheby’s two years ago from Pembroke College, Oxford where he had obtained a First Class Honours degree in Russian History and History of Art.
He was currently two parts through Sotheby’s three-year graduate trainee programme and was working in the ‘European Pictures 1750–1914’ department. Here he was currently researching paintings that had disappeared during the Second World War. When over dinner one evening, he mentioned his work, his father suddenly became very interested and asked lots of questions about what exactly he was doing and what were his findings so far. Such interest surprised Viktor as he didn’t know his father was that interested in art that had been lost during the Second World War. Nevertheless, Viktor explained in some detail his current findings and answered his father’s subsequent questions. Eventually, however, Viktor became curious and decided to ask a question of his own.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sipping his wine and looking at his father suspiciously.
Sergei sat back in his chair and looked at his son. He was quite a big man and still looked somewhat younger than his 64 years.
“Cannot a father be interested in the career of his only child?” His voice was deep and still contained a slight Russian accent, despite the years living in England.
Whilst all the family could speak fluent Russian, it had always been Sergei’s insistence that only English should be spoken in the home, unless of course, any of their guests could only speak Russian. As Viktor could not remember any such guests coming to their home, he similarly could not remember any Russian ever being spoken here either.
“Father,” said Viktor, “I have been employed at Sotheby’s for two years now and this is the first time you have shown such a deep interest.”
“I am interested,” responded Sergei without further explanation. Viktor knew that this type of blunt response meant his father was not going to expand any further, so he concentrated on eating his dinner.
It was two days later when Sergei began typing an email to his friend Andrei. As he, Andrei and Boris, had always been careful with their communications when living in Russia, they had devised a special cryptic language for written communications which they continued to use to this day.
Translated Sergei wrote:
‘Hello my friend,
Are you still interested in possible additions for your art collection?
If yes, when are you next coming to Britain?
Best wishes.’
Three hours later Sergei received a reply which he translated:
‘Good to hear from you, my friend.
Yes and I am coming to London on the 25th.
Dinner on the 26th, 8 pm. Usual place?
Keep smiling.’
Sergei responded immediately:
‘Good.
Will make the usual reservation.
Keep smiling yourself!’
When Viktor arrived home from work that evening, his father called him in to his study and told Viktor to close the door. This he did and stood in front of his father’s desk. Both his features and his build were very similar to his father’s. Indeed, old photographs of Sergei at Viktor’s age, showed a striking resemblance. Sergei sat down behind the desk onto a deep seated, high back leather chair and began to speak. “I have been talking with my friend Andrei and he is coming to London in a week’s time. I want you to meet him and tell him about the work you are currently doing.”
“Do you mean at Sotheby’s?” queried Viktor, wondering where this conversation was leading.
“Of course,” responded Sergei. “My friend is an avid art collector and I am sure you could help him.”
“Help him! What do you mean?” replied Viktor. He was now very concerned as to what was required of him.
Sergei leaned forward and put his arms on the desk. He looked up to Viktor and said, “Now listen. This meeting could be very advantageous for you and … possibly financially, very rewarding as well!”
Sergei leaned back in his chair once again and pointed to the empty seat next to his desk. “Sit down and I will explain.”
For two days Viktor could think of nothing else other than the conversation he had had with his father. After much thought, he decided he needed to get someone else’s opinion and from someone who was far more knowledgeable than he was on this matter. He considered friends and other colleagues in the office, but decided that those who he knew well were largely at his level and therefore had little or no more knowledge on the subject than he did. But then suddenly he had an inspirational idea. But of course, he thought, and it might just work! But the problem now is, how do I approach him?
The ‘European Pictures 1750–1914’ department at Sotheby’s was the responsibility of 35-year-old Ian Caxton. Ian had recently been promoted to Assistant Director, UK. He had already been singled out by senior management as a strong contender for the very top job!
He was fluent in German and Russian and had obtained a First Class Honours degree in Modern Languages from St John’s College, Oxford and a Masters degree with Distinction, in Art History from the London Courtauld Institute of Art. Following promotion, he had recently returned to London after spending time at Sotheby’s New York and Hong Kong locations.
Ian’s lifestyle had always been somewhat extravagant and he was now finding the cost of living back in London challenging. Whilst his promotion was an excellent career move, he now realised that losing some of the ‘expat’ benefits was a serious issue and he was now considering all his future options. He knew he was well thought of by senior management at Sotheby’s and that greater earning opportunities would potentially be there for him in the years to come, but Ian was looking more to the present and not to the years to come. He had married Emma two years ago and her financial demands had exacerbated the situation. Emma had been born into a well-respected and wealthy Cotswold family and she was certainly not prepared to compromise her living standards just because she was now married.
Ian sat in the company’s board room and was discussing an upcoming auction of Constable and Turner paintings and sketches with his boss, Michael Hopkins.
“So, Ian, all in all we ought to get the top prices. The advertising seems to have gone well and there’s a great deal of interest,” said Michael, looking over his reading glasses at Ian. He passed the file back to Ian. “Excellent, we need this one to be a great success.”
Ian collected the file and put it in his folder. “Yes, I am really confident this is going to be the biggest so far this year. Could gross over a 100 million.”
Michael stood up and as he did so spoke in a more relaxed manner. “So how are you settling back into the London scene once again?”
Ian also rose from the table and picked up his folder. “Takes a bit of getting used to,” he replied, “I’d forgotten all about the poor commuter train service and even by Hong Kong standards, London seems more crowded than ever. I may have to look for a flat nearby.” Ian was careful not to be too negative to his boss. He followed Michael to the door. Although just under six feet in height, Ian still stood above his boss by about four inches.
“Have you discussed the flat situation with Emma?”
“No, it’s just a thought at the moment, I also need to investigate the costs involved.”
“Changing the subject, I was talking to your young trainee, Vic the other day. Seems to be a bright prospect.”
“Yes, he is.” replied Ian. “He’s working on a project trying to identify paintings that went missing during the Second World War. I have a meeting with him tomorrow morning so I will find out more about what he has found out then.”
The two men went their separate ways and whilst walking back to his office Ian thought about what he had just said to his boss and also about the possibility of obtaining a flat closer to New Bond Street. Buying would be out of the question, especially as the mortgage on his existing house in Esher had many years still to run, but renting might just be a possibility. Whilst this move would certainly save money on train fares and travelling time, overall it would be yet another expense that he would struggle to justify, although if it was closer to Harrods, Emma just might be a little more receptive to the idea.
When Ian returned to his desk he found two telephone messages left by Penny Harmer, his PA. One could wait, he thought, but the other was from Oscar Ding, a former colleague in Hong Kong. Ian looked at his watch and decided it would be late evening in Hong Kong so he’d ring him later. He leant back in his chair and folded his hands together behind the back of his head and unconsciously began to caress some of the strands of his light brown hair. He looked across the room to a large photograph on the wall of Hong Kong harbour at night. He had taken many photographs of this view from Kowloon, looking across the water to Hong Kong island, but decided this one had particularly captured the mood he remembered so well. All the high-rise buildings were lit up in a multitude of colourful lights and lasers, reflecting almost a perfect image in the harbour water. Two Star Ferries were silhouetted in the foreground, their green and white colouring almost disappearing into the grey of the darkness. Even now Ian could still smell the atmosphere, the excitement and vibrancy of the place. He seriously wondered if he had made the right decision to come back to the UK.
Ian’s meeting with Viktor was arranged for 10 am. It was now 9.50 and he was just finishing reading Viktor’s report. It was well researched and quite detailed on the paintings that had gone missing, but lacked depth of background information and some suggestive thought as to what Sotheby’s should do with this information. Ian made some notes until there was a knock on his door. The door was usually open and Ian called, “Come in Vic and sit down.” He pointed to the chair opposite him. This was the first report Viktor had completed for his boss in the brief time he had been in this department and he was nervous as to how he would react.
“I’ve just finished reading your report. It’s a very interesting read,” said Ian, flicking through the pages.
“Thank you,” replied Viktor. He slowly began to relax.
“I’ve made a few notes for us to discuss.”
“Okay”
“Firstly, can you tell me a bit more about how these pictures became lost in the first place.”
Viktor put down his notes and settled in his chair and began to explain his findings.
“Well, during the Second World War the German Nazis not only occupied many countries on the mainland of Europe causing terror and mass exterminations, but they were also responsible for one of the largest acts of art theft and lootings in the century. During the late 1930s and the first half of the 1940s, they plundered and confiscated well over 500,000 paintings and various other works of art from private collections, churches and museums all across the face of Europe. It was highly organised, largely carried out by the Gestapo and supported by Hitler. He in particular craved many of the Old Masters classical paintings, but also some of the 18th and 19th century artists too. He hated so-called modern, abstract art, which he called ‘degenerate art’. These paintings were either swapped for the more classical masters paintings, sold for cash to fund the expanding Nazi regime, or just destroyed.” Viktor shifted in his seat and picked up his notes, glancing down to refresh his memory, he continued. “Hitler also planned a special museum in Linz, where after the war these paintings would be displayed. Goering too, was apparently an avid collector and at the outbreak of the war a special team was assembled in France and he took personal command. Their aim was to identify and loot as much of this art as was possible. Lorries, trains and even the Luftwaffe were commandeered to transport the fruits of their plundering to Germany. Gradually more paintings were identified in other European countries and so the thefts continued. In Britain orders were sent out from the government and many collections of paintings in the UK were packed and moved to secret hiding locations, just in case.”
Penny arrived with two cups of coffee and placed them on Ian’s desk. Penny had joined Sotheby’s direct from university at the same time as Ian had arrived from Hong Kong. Ian had liked her straight the way and they now worked well together. She was attractive, ambitious and very bright, all qualities Ian respected. “Thank you,” he said, with a smile.
After Penny had left Viktor continued. “It is estimated that there are still well over 100,000 stolen paintings from this period, but in reality, nobody knows for sure what the total is. Some reports say it could be twice this figure. What is more certain is that lots of these paintings are now in Russia. When the Soviets left Germany, it is widely thought that Stalin ordered many of these paintings to be recovered, but once they arrived in the Soviet Union they were never repatriated. Similarly, in America and anywhere else where art is bought and sold, paintings from this era are to this day, hanging on the walls of private collectors or just lost in the basements of museums and art galleries.”
Viktor stopped talking to sip his coffee. “In many cases records of the original owners have disappeared and provenances have been falsified and completely rewritten. Switzerland became a notorious clearing house for stolen art and during the war many Swiss dealers cooperated with the Nazis in selling the plundered modern art. These dealers turned a blind eye to where the paintings would have come from and spent much time creating new provenances. Existing provenances, some easier to fake than others, were obliterated. Labels on the back of paintings could be changed. There grew a network of dealers and so-called experts and they were able to provide new authentication – which as we know, is critical for all paintings’ valuations.” Viktor sipped another mouthful of his coffee. This gave Ian a chance to speak.
“Okay, so what’s happened since?” Ian was keen to hear the depth of Viktor’s investigations.
Viktor flicked through his notes and continued. “In 1999 the ‘Commission for Looted Art in Europe’ was established with the prime aim of recovering and achieving restitution of the lost artwork. It has had some success recovering more than 3000 items. However, for any organisation or individual to be successful in claiming back their stolen painting, it is necessary for the Commission to firstly authenticate the painting, establish it’s correct provenance and then be satisfied that the claimant is in fact fully entitled to the work.”
“Yes,” interrupted Ian, “About ten years ago Sotheby’s were asked to help one of our clients. From our records going back to the 1920s were able to assist them achieve restitution of two paintings. One was a Van Gogh and the other, I think, was a Matisse. If I remember correctly, both had been sold by the Nazis to a Swiss dealer, because they were considered ‘degenerate’. Any paintings that had anything synonymous with Jewish painters or Jewish subject matter, were also thrown out of the Nazi collection and sold.” Ian gave Viktor a chance to continue and sipped his own coffee.
“Interesting,” replied Viktor. “So, Sotheby’s have been involved with some of the earlier restitutions.”
“Oh yes, our auction records go back many years showing who bought what painting and for what price. Invaluable information when trying to re-track ownership and true provenance.”
“Of course,” continued Viktor, “but there are still many tens of thousands of paintings that are still unaccounted for and even if they did come to light the original owners may well have died by now and their families, if they had any, could be completely unaware of their potential inheritance.”
“That’s true, but the really valuable paintings are well known within the industry, so there would still be records of some sort.” replied Ian. He then finished the last of his coffee before continuing. “So where does that leave us? Any ideas as to what we should be doing with the list of all these paintings that you have identified?”
“Actually, I have. Do you mind if I close the door as there are some questions I would like to ask you in private.”
Ian was somewhat surprised. “No go ahead, I’m intrigued.”
Viktor closed the door and returned to his seat. He explained to his boss about the conversation he’d had with his father and the doubts and concerns he had due to his own inexperience. At this stage of his career it would be way out of his depth.
Ian looked at his watch and said, “Look it’s lunchtime, let’s go to The Grapes and I will buy you a sandwich. We can carry on our discussion there.”
The two men left their notes on Ian’s desk and exited the building. On emerging into New Bond Street, they turned right. A hazy sunshine tried to break through the grey clouds. It was still warm for early November, but rain had been forecast for later.
“Have you been to The Grapes before?” asked Ian.
“Yes, but the last time was a few weeks ago now. A couple of us called in for a pint one evening after work.”
“They do a good pint and nice sandwiches too.”
The two men arrived at the junction with Maddox Street and turned right again. The Grapes was about another 100 metres on the left-hand side. They entered the wooden panelled saloon and walked up to the bar. It was still early, but there were a number of customers sitting at the tables and standing at the bar. Ian picked up a sandwich menu and gave it to Viktor. “What do you fancy to drink?”
Viktor was conscious he had a busy afternoon ahead of him so said he better just have a Diet Coke. Ian decided he needed a pint of beer.
The two men selected and ordered their sandwiches and picked up their drinks. They saw a table free in the corner and walked over. After sitting down Ian reopened the conversation they were having in the office. “So, let me see if I’ve got this right. Your father’s friend, Andrei, is Russian, but lives in Monaco and collects and trades paintings mainly from the 18th and 19th century. When he lived in Russia, he and a friend Boris had a number of connections with the art underworld and were able to acquire some of the paintings that were formerly part of the Nazi haul.” Ian stopped talking as the sandwiches were delivered.
Both men took bites from their food and after emptying his mouth, Ian leaned back in his chair and continued. “Andrei now trades some of his collection on the black market, buying and selling paintings to other known dubious collectors. Your father has told Andrei of your employment at Sotheby’s and the work you have been researching and he is now very keen to learn about the pictures you have found and wants to meet with you.” Ian picked up his sandwich and started to eat again.
“Yes,” said Viktor. “That’s about it. But I am doubtful Sotheby’s would want to be involved in what could well be illegal trading. In fact, I’m not sure I want to be involved either.”
Ian finished his sandwich and after taking sips of his beer he said in a low voice. “Do you want me to have a word with your father?”
“That would be great,” replied Viktor. He quickly saw the benefits for himself. It would also take some of the pressure off his shoulders. “But why would you do that?”
Ian took another sip of his beer and leant back in his seat. Since Viktor had first mentioned his problem in his office, he had been thinking that maybe, just maybe, it could be an opportunity not to be ignored or dismissed at first hand. Indeed it may be just the sort of opportunity that could generate the level of additional income he was looking for. However, he needed to discuss many more details with the Russians and in particular, what would be required of him, before he could make any final decisions. It was certainly worth progressing at this stage.
After a short pause Ian replied, “Well, it may just solve your problem with your father and I am very intrigued to know what exactly your father and this Andrei are getting up to.”
“I do not want to get my father into trouble.” replied Viktor. He was now wondering if it had been a wise decision to involve his boss, and indeed Sotheby’s.
“Let’s just say this would all be very unofficial,” whispered Ian. “Nothing to do with Sotheby’s.”
That evening Viktor met with his father in his office and explained that he was not really qualified or experienced enough to be involved in Andrei’s project. He also told him about the conversation he’d had with Ian and the interest his boss had shown in the situation. He explained how Ian was far more qualified and experienced than him and Ian’s knowledge of 18th and 19th century paintings was probably the best at Sotheby’s.
Sergei leaned back in his chair and listened patiently to his son’s explanation without interruption. Once Viktor had finished talking Sergei thought about his suggestion. He stood up from his seat, stretched his large frame and walked around his office in silence.
He returned to Viktor’s side and looking down, he began to speak. “I doubt Andrei would want to deal directly with Sotheby’s. He does not work in the ‘official’ way, otherwise he would have dealt with the likes of Sotheby’s or Christie’s himself. I will have to speak to him and see what he says.”
Next morning Viktor went to Ian’s office and gave him a resume of his conversation with his father. Ian listened and then said he would look forward to hearing more in due course.
On the evening of the 26th Sergei left his house in Eaton Square, Belgravia and hailed a taxi. His destination was the Cipriani London restaurant. This had been a regular meeting place for Sergei, Andrei, Boris plus one or two other Russian colleagues for many years. Although the restaurant had to change its name to C London because of a High Court decision, to most patrons it was still known unofficially as the Cipriani. The restaurant over the years had become a melting pot for the good, the great, and the nouveau riche. It was not only a very popular venue for a number of international celebrities, but a location where some of the most wealthy, mysterious and influential Russians could also be found dining.
Andrei was sitting at their usual table in a corner away from the glare that the celebrities favoured. When he spotted Sergei walking towards him, he stood up and gave a huge smile. “My friend, it has been too long”. The two men shook hands and gave each other a manly hug.
“Yes indeed,” replied Sergei. “You are looking very fit and tanned as usual!”
“The climate in Monaco, my friend, is excellent. So good for my skin.” replied Andrei with a big smile and rubbing the side of his face. “So how is that lovely wife of yours, Ludmilla, and young Viktor, he is progressing well? He must be, what, 20 now?”
“Ludmilla is fine and sends her regards. Viktor is actually 24!”
“My, my,” replied Andrei. “How time flies.”
“And you my friend, how are you keeping?”
“Keeping very well thank you. Lots of lovely rich widows in Monaco you know!”
“You do not change Andrei.”
“No, I do not and I also still enjoy dabbling in my paintings too.”
“Interesting you should say that because Viktor is working at Sotheby’s.”
“Ah, so that is what you were hinting at in your email?” said Andrei, pouring a glass of red wine for Sergei. The wine was Sergei’s favourite claret and the group’s usual drink when dining at this restaurant.
“Yes, but the situation I was thinking about has changed slightly.” Sergei paused, took a sip of his wine and let the flavour develop on his palate before continuing. “I had thought that Viktor, with his Sotheby’s connections, might be useful helping you to enlarge your collection.”
“I see, so what happened to change this thought?”
“Let’s order our food and I will then tell you of a new possible opportunity”
The two men selected their food from the table d’hote menu and after giving their orders to the waiter, Sergei took another sip of his wine before continuing and explaining the details to Andrei of his conversation with Viktor. When he had finished Andrei pondered on this information and then asked, “But we do not know this Caxton man. Can he be trusted?”
“Viktor thinks he can be. He also thinks his boss is very keen to explore any opportunity to increase his income. However, he did say to Viktor that he was not keen to involve, or be seen to be involving, his employers.” Sergei stopped talking to let Andrei consider the proposal. After a short time he then continued, “It might be a good idea if you both had a meeting and you could then make your own decision.”
Both men sat in silence and drank their wine. Eventually Andrei said, “You know my friend, it may just work. I will meet up with this Caxton man and see what he says he can offer.”
Andrei and Sergei enjoyed their food and changed the discussion to each other’s lives and events. Finally, at the end of the meal, the two men walked towards the exit. As they left the building Sergei said, “I will ask Viktor to speak with Caxton and arrange a meeting for you both.”
“Excellent my friend and thank you. I’m in London for the next four days.”
Over breakfast the next morning Sergei told Viktor the details of his meeting with Andrei and Viktor agreed to speak with his boss.
Next day, as Viktor was leaving the Sotheby’s offices for lunch, he saw Ian just ahead of him in New Bond Street. He quickly caught up and told him of his father’s meeting with Andrei Petrov and that Andrei would be interested in meeting with him. He also said that Andrei was leaving London and going back to Monaco in three days’ time.
Ian told Viktor that he was free both early evenings tomorrow or the next day. He suggested meeting at The Grapes at about 7 pm, but if Mr Petrov wanted to meet somewhere else, then that was fine with him.
Viktor promised to tell his father. His father would then get in touch with Mr Petrov this evening.
Sergei telephoned Andrei and the meeting was agreed. Sergei would meet Viktor and Ian Caxton at Sotheby’s and the three of them would walk the short distance to The Grapes.
At 6.45 pm the following evening, Viktor and Sergei were in the reception area of Sotheby’s talking when Ian joined them. Viktor introduced his father to Ian and after exchanging pleasantries the three men left the building and exited into New Bond Street. It had just stopped raining and the air, whilst cooler, was also a little fresher. They walked side by side. Ian was speaking with Viktor whilst Sergei watched the pedestrians passing by him and also took particular attention to the traffic. For most of his adult life Sergei had been alert, and wary of strangers. He had heard about fellow Russians who had been bungled into passing cars and never to be seen again or poisoned ‘accidentally’ by a jab from an innocent umbrella. He was keen for his name not to be added to this list of casualties. Whilst in business in Russia he had made a few enemies, but hoped that most of these had now forgotten all about him or better still, were dead. But he never could be totally sure and therefore remained careful.
Just before 7 pm the three men entered The Grapes and Sergei spotted Andrei sitting at a table next to the large bay window. Andrei rose from his seat and greeted his old friend. Sergei introduced Ian and pointed to Viktor. “As you can see, my son is a little bigger now.”
“Yes, indeed.” said Andrei. “He must have grown 50 centimetres since I last saw him!”
Viktor felt somewhat embarrassed and when he looked at Ian, his boss was giving him a knowing smile. Viktor volunteered to get some drinks and quickly disappeared to the bar. Until he returned Andrei asked Ian about his career and Ian gave a summary of his time at Sotheby’s.
Once Viktor had returned to his seat, Andrei wanted to know more details about Ian’s experience and in particular his knowledge of 18th and 19th century paintings. Ian explained his involvement with clients and in particular his experience of assessing whether the pictures were genuine or fakes. He also described how he handles valuations, acquisitions, de-accessions and promotions for auctions and private sales.
Andrei was impressed with Ian’s confidence and knowledge, but wanted to know if he would be prepared to work wider than just under the remit of what services Sotheby’s had to offer.
“That depends,” replied Ian, “on what exactly will be required of me, the time involved and what would be my financial gain.”
“And what about legality?” queried Andrei. “Would you be prepared to break the law?”
“Again, it would depend,” replied Ian. “It would be determined on whether I thought there would be a good chance of being caught … and the financial gain. Without knowing specifics, I can’t give you a more definite answer.”
“That’s fair.” replied Andrei. “Okay, I’ll tell you of my plan and the proposition. You can then decide.”
Over the next 20 minutes Andrei explained in some detail his plan and where he saw Ian’s involvement. The three men listened without interruption.
When Andrei had finished talking Ian drank the remains of his beer and stood up. The three others looked up thinking Ian was about to leave. However, Ian surprised them all. “Let me get some more drinks,” he said. “This all sounds very interesting.”
The meeting went well and all four men agreed their immediate roles. Andrei would be flying back to Monaco and contact his colleagues in Moscow. Sergei would provide a focal point of reference in the UK and Viktor the link between his father and Ian. Ian’s immediate task would be to speak with his wife.
On the commute home later that evening, Ian pondered on his decision and what he was going to say to Emma. If he told her the whole truth then it would almost certainly cause a problem as he knew Emma would be very worried and would certainly try to talk him out of such a venture. But on the other hand, he now felt committed and indeed, wanted to be involved with Andrei’s plans. Besides if all went well, he and Emma would be more financially secure for the future. He had no intention of telling Emma deliberate lies, but after more thought, decided maybe just one small ‘white’ lie may solve his immediate predicament. Also, as it was now much later than he usually arrived home from work, he decided not to raise the subject until over dinner the following evening. It would also, he concluded, buy him some more thinking time.
The next morning Ian did not go into London as he had an appointment with a large financial company in Reading, Baxter & Co. Their CEO, Sir Paul Broadway, was looking to raise extra capital to fund his business expansion plans. One option he was considering was to sell a number of the company’s paintings. The number of paintings in the collection had steadily increased during the past 50 years. Several previous chairmen had made purchases out of the strong profits during the good times. Now Sir Paul, with the backing of the current chairman, had decided it was time to realise their financial worth. Also, the insurance premiums and additional security requirement costs were ever increasing and needed to be redressed.
A number of fine art sales companies were considered and contacted, but after outlining their specialist skills, expertise and experience, Sotheby’s were one of just two companies invited to provide their opinions and proposals.
As Baxter & Co’s collection of 53 pictures were all painted during the 1750–1920 period, the original request landed on Ian’s desk. His department had put together their presentation report and Ian signed off the final draft. A week later Ian received a telephone call asking if he would visit Baxter & Co’s offices and meet with the company’s CEO.
As Ian drove his 7 series BMW along the M4, he once again began to think about what he would say to Emma later over dinner. Last evening, he had suggested they eat out and he’d proposed the Two Swans restaurant overlooking the River Thames, on the outskirts of Marlow. Emma was working that day in Marlow and it was on the way home for Ian, so it was a convenient, albeit expensive option.
Ian arrived at Baxter & Co’s modern and somewhat palatial offices, for his 10 am appointment. He was met in reception by the CEO’s PA, John Chambers, who welcomed Ian and introduced himself. John was about 25, Ian guessed, tall, confident and well dressed in a three-piece navy suit. Ian was escorted to the boardroom where Sir Paul was already waiting. Ian had not met Sir Paul before but he was aware that he was 55 years old. Penny had put together a comprehensive report of the firm for Ian and he’d noted that Sir Paul had been CEO for just over a year, having previously been Baxter & Co’s finance director.
The two men shook hands and Ian noted that the PA still remained. The three men all sat down at the table and Ian retrieved a file from his briefcase.
Sir Paul began by opening a weighty folder and said, “We are looking to sell most of the company’s art collection and this folder has all the files relating to each picture. John will discuss these details with you, show you around the office and point out the relevant paintings. I will meet with you back here at three o’clock. You can then tell me your initial thoughts.”
Ian nodded to Sir Paul and then looked across to John. Sir Paul left the room and John picked up the thick folder left by Sir Paul and sat next to Ian.
Over the next two hours the two men went through the folder and Ian made notes and asked a number of questions.
When Ian was happy with the information obtained, John suggested they have lunch. He would then give Ian the guided tour.
Just before three o’clock John and Ian returned to the boardroom and three minutes later Sir Paul joined them.
“So, what do you think?” asked Sir Paul as he walked towards his chair.
For the first time Ian noticed that Sir Paul had a slight limp. “It’s an interesting collection. Do you have any preference as to how you want the pictures sold? We can put together a special catalogue for an auction or maybe you would like us to find private buyers?”
“The Directors are not very keen on a publicised auction. Our competitors may think we are in financial difficulties – which of course we are not. We still want the best price but … I’m sure you can achieve that anyway via private buyers.”
Ian looked at his notes. “There are about 25 of your pictures which I am sure we can sell privately and quite quickly, but the rest, whilst they do have their attractions, require a more specialist market, which may mean a longer time span and more work on our behalf.”
Sir Paul looked at John who had remained silent so far. “What’s your view John?”