With that he rang off and Ralph sat back pondering if it was possible that whoever had killed Ivan Rabinsky was after that damned report.
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Chapter 6
Ralph received an email from Sergei Manovitch of Roskultural in St Petersburg. As promised, Sergei had compiled a list of the contact details of some wealthy Russian private collectors that regularly invested in art. He explained that a revived interest in Russian art had pushed up the prices paintings were fetching on the world market and that had attracted the oligarchs. He had also identified two or three Russian companies that were looking for links with Universities around the world to help build their international identity. Ralph decided that with the pressure on him to come up with some benefactors for the University, it would be a good time to visit St. Petersburg. An early success would give Granger a chance to get that Pro Vice Chancellor’s job and take a lot of pressure off his own sabbatical. Some quick phone calls, all in English to his relief, enabled him to set up a series of appointments. He was impressed with the efficiency of the people he spoke with in these large corporations. He had visited St. Petersburg when he was a student at Cambridge driven by his interest in Marxism and how socialism was being applied to economies around the world because it was the birthplace of the 1917 uprising, and he had wanted to see where Lenin had made his famous speeches. This trip would provide an opportunity to visit the Hermitage to see the originals of the paintings that Grant was so keen to sell. He spoke to Katie and she was delighted to be included as his research assistant. She said that she was looking forward to practicing the Russian she had learned from her former pal from the Ukraine.
Just before they left for Heathrow Ralph received a phone call from Granger’s secretary. She told him that there had been another attempted break-in at Dorich House the previous evening. Nothing was taken and apparently the security system, which had been recently updated, had frightened the intruders off.
After the four hour flight on Aeroflot, they arrived at Pulkovo International airport. An expensive taxi ride dropped them at the doors of the Hotel Astoria in Isaac Square, or Isaakievskaya Ploshad according to the bronze plaque. The Astoria was renowned for being one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. Built in 1914, it was situated directly opposite the statue of Nicholas I and St. Isaac’s Cathedral with its famous dome gilded with 100 kilos of gold.
“My room is more like a palace,” Katie said as she stepped out of the ornate lift and greeted Ralph in the lobby. “I read in the hotel visitors’ pack that there’s a swimming pool downstairs as well as a gym and sauna. And the view from the balcony is incredible.”
“I’m glad you approve. Fortunately for us the Foundation and the University both realise that we need to impress our clients if we are going to do any deals. The Davidov Restaurant just down that corridor is touted as one of the best,” Ralph explained as he pointed past the reception in the general direction of a hallway. “I’ve invited Sergei Manovitch to have dinner with us there. He’s been very good about setting up contacts and seems a very nice chap.”
“Sounds good to me, I’m starving. I’m looking forward to sampling caviar Russian style, especially now it’s become unaffordable in London because of the limits on harvesting it.”
“It might be quite a culture shock for you,” Ralph said with a deadpan expression.
“You Limeys think you’re the only civilized nation on earth and that Australians live on Kangaroo steaks, Vegemite sandwiches, and witchetty grubs, but we do occasionally delve into more sophisticated fare,” she said with a laugh as she punched him on the arm.
Ralph knew why he liked Katie.
The restaurant was decorated in a style reminiscent of the days of the Great Russian Czars. It had that sensuous smell of dark chocolates and perfume he associated with a night out at the Opera. Ralph sensed that he was mixing with the oligarchs and power holders of modern Russia.
Sergei was waiting for them a few feet away from the concierge desk and came over to greet them before they had a chance to check if he had arrived. Ralph made the introductions before the host led them to a quiet table by the window. Over an excellent meal Sergei regaled them with the history of St. Petersburg. He explained that Peter the Great had selected the site along the Neva in the early 1700s and that some 400,000 people had been conscripted to build the city and 100,000 died in the process due to the cold and disease.
“The city is ‘built on human bones’ as the saying goes,” he told them with a laugh.
“How old is the Hermitage?” Katie asked, obviously captivated by the history of one of Russia’s great cities.
It was built as a winter palace for Peter the Great’s daughter, the Empress Elizabeth, in the 1750s and 60s, although she died before it was completed. But it has been used as the main palace for all the tsars since the time of Catherine the Great,” Sergei explained.
“So where did it get its name?” Katie wanted to know.
“Catherine the Great used it for her private apartments, intending them to be a place of retreat and seclusion, and as a place to house the collection of art she had purchased from Europe. Now everyone knows it as the Hermitage, and it is a major attraction for tourists and lovers of art.”
He paused as the waiters explained the dessert menu.
“What do you recommend?” Ralph asked Sergei. “We tend to eat bread and butter pudding or custard tarts in the UK, but I don’t see either of those mentioned here,” he laughed.
“Definitely the blinis,” Sergei advised and explained that they were little crepes that could be prepared either plain or with a variety of fillings or toppings. “Perhaps we could order several with different fillings so that we can sample the various choices.”
“Well, just make sure that at least one has chocolate,” Katie said as she handed the menu back to the server.
“You know all about the November 1917 revolution, Ralph,” Sergei continued as they tucked into the dessert. “Sorry Katie, of course you may be interested in this bit of history as well. Anyhow, a shell from the battleship Aurora, under the control of the Bolsheviks, fell on the Winter Palace, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“I must admit that so far I am very impressed,” Ralph replied. “Of course when I visited St Petersburg back when I was a student we didn’t spend a lot of time admiring the beauty of the place. We were a bit smitten with the Bolsheviks and Lenin and that was what attracted us to St Petersburg in the first place, but the truth is we were more interested in checking out the bars and girls than in anything too cultural. Typical young men away from home, I suppose. Now I hope to see your beautiful city with what I like to think is a more discerning eye.”
“I hope that you will be able to visit not only the Hermitage and the ornate buildings that comprise the Winter Palace, but the palace at Peterhof just a few miles down the Neva as well as some of the more beautiful buildings and avenues that are our heritage. I also hope that you will get a chance to visit our wonderful Opera House. Boris Gudenov has received excellent reviews. I understand that they are officially sold out, but I am sure I can find some tickets for you. You will find that we have a strong culture in spite of what a lot of Europeans and Americans like to believe.”
“Yes, we look forward to learning as much about your long history and culture as we are able on such a short visit,” Ralph assured him.
“Well, if the food is anything to go by, it has my vote. From now on I’m skipping the main course and going straight for the blinis,” Katie said appreciatively as she scraped the last vestiges of chocolate from her plate. They all laughed in agreement.
Over cognacs they got down to the real purpose of the visit.
Ralph told Sergei what had happened to Ivan Rabinsky and his concerns that the Chechen mafia could be involved. He also explained how having a copy of a painting that was undetectable from the original would provide an ideal cover for them to be swapped with the originals in the H
ermitage collection.
“If the mafia get hold of a good copy then make the swap when the Walpole collection is being shipped to England for the summer exhibition, it would be the perfect crime. My fear is that Grant Richardson’s paintings at Dorich House are involved in some way.” Ralph could see that Sergei, in spite of his inscrutable appearance, was very disturbed by what he had heard.
“I agree that it does look as though some bad people are trying to make some money out of all this. But I must assure you that we at Roskultural are not sleeping on the job, as you say.”
Sergei told them that on occasion when paintings in some museums had been taken down for cleaning and restoration, in the process someone had made a copy and faked the signature; Then the fake was returned to the museum. He explained that it was a trick used by art thieves, including some associated with the Chechen mafia, who would then some time later tell the museum that they had the original and would force a ransom from the curators.
“But if they knew who had them, why didn’t they just have them arrested instead of paying the ransom?” Ralph wanted to know.
“They paid up because they didn’t want a scandal, or in some cases, to lose their jobs. The museums also want to keep this sort of thing quiet because if someone were thinking of loaning or bequeathing their art to museums, they could be frightened off if they were worried about the security of their paintings. In the case of the three paintings that Grant Richardson owns, we are confident that those hanging in the Hermitage are originals and Mr. Richardson has copies, even though I must admit that when I saw them at your Dorich House, I thought they were very good. One way those who are not so honest increase the potential market value of their paintings is to suggest that the ones hanging in the museum are fakes. If someone believed this to be true, then they would pay a lot for the copies, believing they were originals. It is all a matter of perception and persuasion.”
“So you are saying that the only way you could really be certain if a painting was an original would be by the signature and a paint sample or X-ray?” Asked Katie.
“Well it would certainly help. But getting permission to do that would be almost impossible. And if anyone broke in and were caught they would face a long jail sentence – particularly in Russia. We still have those salt mines that you Westerners are always showing in your films,” he said with a wry smile.
“What do you think the chances are that someone would try to do a swap while they were in transit to England?” Ralph was determined to push Sergei on this one, as it seemed to him the most likely option for a criminal.
“The chances of someone stealing or swapping the paintings while in transit is extremely remote. I would say almost impossible. The Hermitage always selects a firm with an impeccable reputation such as Christie’s who would babysit them during the entire journey, generally by air freight. But I heard that a decision had not yet been taken by the museum art curator, Maria Davestkaya. Maybe you should ask her?” Sergei said smiling at Ralph. “She told me that she found you charming after that dinner at Kingston. So you should be able to tease out all of her secrets.” They all laughed, but Ralph could see that Katie was not really amused at Sergei’s comments about him and Maria. Interesting how she always accused him of being the prudish one.
It had been a long day and Ralph thanked Sergei for all the help he had provided. They agreed to stay in touch and Sergei promised to obtain the coveted opera tickets for them as well.
“Don’t forget to see the Feel Yourself Russian performance at the Nikolaevsky Palace as well. I know it is a bit touristy, but I understand it is excellent,” Sergei said before they went out to have the doorman call for his car. Promising to stay in touch, they parted and Ralph and Katie agreed to meet for breakfast at 8 so that they could get an early start. They wanted to pay a visit to The Hermitage and to Maria Davetskaya.
***
It was a beautiful sunny morning with an azure blue sky and a temperature of around 25 degrees Fahrenheit. The air was so clear that the ornate buildings stood out sharply against the skyline as though drawn with a fine pen. With collars turned up, and with their heads and ears protected by faux fur hats purchased at the Hotel shop, Ralph and Katie decided to walk the few blocks to the Hermitage. The city was well prepared for winter and the streets had already been cleared of the 6 inches of fresh snow that had fallen overnight. The ice on the River Neva did not usually melt until late March or early April, and children could be seen walking gingerly along the sides of the wide frozen river. They could see the ancient Peter and Paul Fortress and the palaces lining the Embankment.
Soon they arrived at the Dvortsovoya Ploschad, or Palace Square, with the Hermitage spread out before them. Ralph recalled from his history classes at school that the style of the buildings was known as Russian Baroque. It had always reminded him of the designs that go into making an expensive wedding cake. They were soon inside and ushered into Maria’s office. The deference shown by the staff confirmed his earlier impression that she held a very important position. He could just imagine what it was like in the 19th century when visitors to the Winter Palace had to wear court dress or military uniforms.
It struck Ralph that there were a lot of similarities between Katie and Maria. They were both self confident and appeared determined to be a success at whatever they tackled. He noticed that they were soon swapping experiences over their struggle to reach the top of their professions in a male dominated culture. Ralph suspected that in that aspect Russia was no different from Australia. It was obvious to him that after Sergei’s remarks the previous evening about Maria warming to him that Katie had decided to keep him in the background by conversing with her in Russian.
Ralph managed to interrupt the conversation that Katie was orchestrating. He explained his concerns that Grant Richardson’s paintings might be stolen and swapped for those in the Walpole collection.
“I can put your mind at rest, Ralph. Once you see how we protect our art I am sure you will be able to again to be sleeping at nights.” Ralph just stopped himself correcting her. It always annoyed him when people corrected his attempts to speak their language.
“You see the name of our museum comes from the French and translating is ‘a place of solitude’. The collections are displayed by country of the artist. But better I show you. Come.”
She led them to the 1st floor rooms on the Southern façade of the Winter Palace.
“There you see your Thomas Gainsborough, founding member of your Royal Academy. The only painting by him we have here, ‘The Lady in Blue’. I believe that your friend John Weston recently purchased a copy at Christies recently? Well here is original and would be priceless. It is going to exhibition at Cholmondeley Hall soon. So you will have three chances to see it this year. You will be expert by then, I think,” she said with a smile.
Ralph was taken aback. How did she know about John Weston and that sale at Christies?
“Do not look surprised, Ralph. I speak to Sergei early this morning and I am always following the auction at Christie’s on internet. You know there are no secrets in art world,” she said with a laugh. “To prove how close we being to what you call ‘the action’, we will go now to see originals of three paintings that your Mr. Richardson is putting for auction at Christie’s in Paris,” she smiled as Ralph again showed his surprise. She was right; there seemed to be no secrets in the art world. He wondered what if anything would surprise his charming guide. He followed Maria and Katie as they laughed and joked, in English this time, about the way men always wanted to be in charge and how they never really were. Having admired the originals of Grant’s paintings, they retired to Maria’s office for coffee and cakes.
“A couple of things puzzle me, Maria,” said Ralph.
“Only a couple, Ralph?” Interjected a quizzical Maria.
“Well one thing, really. Why the Chechen mafia?”
“It is hangover from past. The Chechen mafia was largest organized criminal group operating in former
Soviet Union. After 1994 most returned to Chechnya and formed Chechen separatist movement. There are plenty other organized crime groups operating in Russia but name has stuck. They operate all over Europe and in wide world.”
“One other question, Maria. I know you’re confident about the security here, but how easy or difficult would it be for someone to do a swap while the paintings are being shipped to England for that exhibition?”
“Are you sure that you are not what you call ‘pumping of me’ Ralph?” She said with a smile. “No you are right to ask. We are in process of selecting company to do shipping. Sometimes it best picking a smaller company for moving them from museum here to airport and then at other end small company to move them to Norfolk and Marquess of Cholmondeley homes. With small company we avoiding publicity. What you call ‘flying under radars’. They all laughed at her ability to use colloquial expressions.
“I shouldn’t tell you this as it confidential, but I am recently visiting from your Professor Winton from pretty dinner at Dorich House. She is telling me a business called Peter Scott Secure Shipping is interested in putting bid for moving our collection. I told what would be required and she is saying they will put in bid. She is very serious lady. Would make good Russian, I am telling her. Good business woman like you and I, Katie.” Ralph tried to hide his surprise at hearing Sarah’s name coming from the curator of art at the Hermitage. He smiled at how conspiratorial Maria and Katie had become, even if most of their fun came at his expense.
Having finished their coffee and cakes, Ralph and Katie thanked their host before setting out through the now pale yellow skies back to their hotel. The wind was starting to howl along the banks of the Neva and it all looked a bit forbidding. In northern Russia, just across the Gulf of Finland, it got dark very early. They agreed to eat at the hotel as Ralph had arranged to meet with some of the contacts Sergei had arranged for him to meet. Katie agreed to be his interpreter if needed. Over a quick lunch they talked about their visit to the museum.
The Dorich House Mystery (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 3) Page 9