“Not bad.”
“Be sure to return that key to its lawful owner,” Paul said. “And please understand, it may be necessary to find the originals we copied, and if they are not there, the police will be looking for you.”
“Paul, you offend me.”
“I don’t intend to, just to impress upon you the importance of acting properly in this case.”
“I understand.” They embraced, kissed on both cheeks, and Randol disappeared into a cab.
Paul went upstairs to see his wife.
“Is it done?” she asked.
“It is done. And mark my words, when we get back, all hell is going to break loose.”
On Monday morning Stone greeted Paul in his office. “You look jet-lagged,” he said.
“And I feel jet-lagged.” He placed a large envelope on Stone’s desk and explained what he had found in Paris.
Stone removed the contents of the envelope and looked at the prints, then he went to his safe and brought back the necklace. “Let’s compare it to the photographs,” he said, shaking the choker into his hand. He laid the choker facedown on his desk and set the photograph next to it, then handed Paul a magnifying glass. “You first.”
Paul went carefully over the photos. “First, the name and date are in exactly the same place,” he said. “In fact, every detail of your necklace is identical to the photograph. Stone, you have the original Adele Bloch-Bauer necklace. There is no disputing it. The original drawings and plates have been returned to the archive, and if there is ever any doubt cast on the authenticity of this piece, they are there for inspection.”
“What about 1946?”
“Blume made no copy of the necklace in that year, and we checked 1945 and 1947, too. If they had made a copy, it would have been in the file.”
Stone sat down, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Now what?” he said, half to himself.
“I gave this a great deal of thought on the way home,” Paul said. “Will you need to sell the necklace for the benefit of the estate?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I’m obligated to get the most for it that I can.”
“Do you have any discretion in the disposition of the estate?”
“To a degree. There is a list of organizations and charities that will benefit.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“When the news breaks of the existence of this necklace, it is going to become the most famous piece of jewelry in the world, at least for a time. When that happens, people, perhaps distant relatives of the former owner, might well appear to claim it.”
“That had occurred to me.”
“Do any of the organizations mentioned in the will have a Jewish orientation?”
“Yes, the Holocaust Museum, in Washington.”
“You might think of making that museum the beneficiary of the auction.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Stone said. “It would certainly simplify my life.”
“Are you acquainted with anyone at the big auction houses?”
“I know Jamie Niven, at Sotheby’s.”
“You might ask him to conduct the auction and waive the house’s fees in favor of the museum. They would get an enormous amount of publicity from the sale.”
“I’ll call Jamie today.”
“Sotheby’s would organize a publicity campaign around the sale, in order to drum up bidders. Be sure you have all your ducks in a row before you make this public. You don’t want to be overwhelmed.”
“Paul, I can’t thank you enough for that advice.”
“Now, as to the rest of the estate. In a week or so we will have completed our cataloging and appraisal of the three residences, and I’ll give you a written report. At that time, we can talk about what you might want to sell for the estate and what you might include in the sale of the houses. In the meantime, you might want to be sure that everything is insured.”
“I’ve already done that — Steele is the insurer, and I sit on their board. The necklace is insured for a million dollars, but in light of what you discovered in Paris, perhaps I should increase that. What value should I put on the necklace?”
“I should think ten million dollars.”
“I’ll do that today.”
The two men shook hands; Paul left, and Stone returned the necklace to his safe.
42
Stone sat in a comfortable chair in the office of Jamie Niven, the chairman of Sotheby’s. He took him through the history of the past few weeks, and showed him the photographs of the designs and the necklace.
“Where is the necklace now? Do you have access to it?” Niven asked.
Stone took the velvet bag from his pocket and shook out the choker into Niven’s hand.
“Good God,” Niven said, examining the piece carefully. “Excuse me for a moment.” He went to his desk, picked up a phone, and issued some orders, then hung up. “Come with me, Stone.” He walked next door to a conference room, where someone was setting up a microscope. He handed a woman the drawings and the necklace.
She looked at the designs with a magnifying glass. “These look good,” she said. “They are typical of Blume’s work at the turn of the last century. I’ve no reason to doubt their authenticity.”
“The originals are available in Paris,” Stone said, “if they need to be seen.”
“Let’s hear from Pierre,” Niven said, nodding toward the man at the microscope, who was inspecting the necklace under it, while consulting the photographs. “The stones are genuine — top quality in both the diamonds and the rubies. The piece is a perfect representation of the designs and photographs.”
“It’s not a copy?” Niven asked.
“In my opinion, it is undoubtedly the original.”
Stone took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Niven. “I found this in Carrie Fiske’s jewelry safe,” he said. “I believe the piece was stolen when the U.S. Army ransacked Hermann Goering’s alpine retreat in 1945, and the grandson of the soldier who stole it had that letter, ostensibly from Blume, forged when he gave the piece to Carrie Fiske as a wedding gift. The people who found the designs and photographs in the Paris archive also searched the years 1945, 1946, and 1947. They found no reference to Blume having copied the necklace.”
“Who searched the archive for you?” Niven asked.
“Paul Eckstein and Randol Cohn-Blume, the great-grandson of the designer François Blume.”
“Paul is a good man,” Niven said. “Does anybody have the slightest doubt that this piece is the original as depicted in the drawings and photographs?” His two colleagues shook their heads.
“Then that settles it for me. Stone, let’s go back to my office.”
When they were settled, Niven said, “How can we help?”
“I’d like you to auction the necklace, with the proceeds to go to the National Holocaust Museum, in Washington, D.C., and to waive your fees.”
“We have a fifteen percent buyer’s fee that we’d need to collect. Our expenses will be considerable.”
“That’s reasonable. I will be selecting items from the estate — American antique furniture, artwork, and jewelry for sale. By way of thanks, I’ll assign those to Sotheby’s at your usual rates.”
“Thank you, we accept. When would you like to sell the necklace?”
“As soon as planning and publicity will allow,” Stone said.
“I’d like you to leave the necklace with us,” Niven said, “for cleaning and any necessary repairs, which, I assure you, will be carried out with the greatest care.”
“Then I’ll need a receipt, of course, with a value of ten million.”
“Of course. Is the piece insured?”
“Yes, for that amount.”
“Good.” Niven took a sheet of stationery from his desk, handwrote a receipt, and handed it to Stone. “Good enough?”