Stuart Woods - Family Jewels

“Now I need five thousand euros in cash, and I didn’t bring that much. It’s for the man who led me to the drawings, and it’s worth every cent.”

“I’ll call the Arrington and have them give you the cash, then charge my account.”

“Thank you, Stone.”

“When will you be back in New York?”

“In a day or two.”

“Take the weekend. I’ll see you Monday.” Stone hung up. Paul used the men’s room, then went back to the table, which was at a small restaurant across the street from the photographer who was doing the work. He sat down, and his lunch arrived. “Your cash will be available at my hotel when we’re done,” he said.

“I believe we are done,” Randol said. “All we have to do is collect the prints that are being made as we speak.”

“No, we’re not done. We have to go back to the archive and search 1946 to see if Blume made a copy of the necklace, then we have to replace the original designs and glass negatives.”

“That’s unnecessary, I assure you.”

“Randol, what if someone wants to check the authenticity of our prints? What if the originals are needed for that?”

“I could retain them.”

“They don’t belong to you.”

“A small point.”

“A very important point. The originals must be put back into the files where we found them.”

“Oh, all right.”

They finished their lunch in silence, then crossed the street to the photographer’s. Paul examined the copies of the designs and the prints from the glass negatives and pronounced himself satisfied. The photographer handed them over in a stout folder and accepted payment.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the archive room, replacing the designs and negatives in their original wrappings and in their original places.

“Now, for 1946,” he said.

Both of them riffled through the drawers and located the date. They went through every piece of paper and found no reference to Blume’s having copied the necklace.

“That’s it,” Paul said. “Let’s lock up and get out of here.”

They did so and took a cab to the Arrington, where Paul called at the front desk and found a thick envelope waiting for him. He handed it to Randol. “There you are, my friend, not a bad day’s work, eh?”

“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.

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.”