Page 14 of End Game
Mikailov nodded. ‘He will not be able to resist the opportunity to get one up on his old enemy, while at the same time adding a masterpiece to his collection.’
‘This man will need to see the painting before he can be tempted,’ said Sun Anqi, frowning. ‘I suppose that’s what tonight’s gala reception is all about?’
‘Precisely,’ replied Mikailov. ‘Officially, tonight is a celebration of the upcoming Hermitage exhibition, which is being held at the Fitzmolean Museum at the time of the Olympics. However, it’s also a trap for our chosen candidate, and the bait will be the Van Gogh.’
‘But what I still don’t understand,’ said Sun Anqi, ‘is why we need this man in the first place.’
‘He is a fair-haired Anglo-Saxon, who was educated at Harrow and could stroll around the House of Lords or his local pub without anyone giving him a second look,’ said the Russian Ambassador, ‘which I fear none of us could do.’
‘He also has a lawyer who appears to be at his beck and call,’ added Petrov, ‘who, I’m assured, is every bit as crooked as his master, so in truth we’ll be getting two for the price of one.’
‘I’d rather hold on to the Van Gogh,’ said Sun Anqi, ‘than trust an Englishman.’
•••
Miles arrived fashionably late at the embassy. When he’d first received an invitation from the Russian Ambassador to attend a gala reception, he had assumed it must be a mistake, until he discovered that it was to celebrateThe Hermitage Comes to the Fitzmoleanexhibition, which would be held at the museum as part of the official Olympic programme. Miles had decided to come, if for no other reason than to annoy his ex-wife, currently the chair of the Fitzmolean board.
He was greeted with a long queue of people waiting to be introduced to Ambassador Mikailov. Miles didn’t do queues. He decided his time would be better spent enjoying the remarkable collection of paintings that adorned everywall: Rembrandt, van Ruisdael and Steen – but when his eyes settled on a Van Gogh hanging above the mantelpiece, it quite literally took his breath away.
He continued to stare at the self-portrait until a voice behind him said, ‘Being aware of your reputation, Mr Faulkner, I suspect you can put a date on the work.’
‘Circa 1889. About a year before he died,’ said Miles, ‘by which time the only painting the artist had ever sold was to his doctor, Paul Gachet.’
‘In exchange for his fee, if I remember correctly,’ said the Ambassador.
Miles turned around, gave his host a slight bow and said, ‘Good evening, Your Excellency.’
‘Anatoly, please,’ said the Ambassador, pretending to take an interest in the Van Gogh, ‘and you are right, 1889.’
Ambassador Mikailov was standing at Miles’s side when Miles turned to see if anyone was taking an interest in them. He spotted a man gazing down from the balcony above. One of the Ambassador’s bodyguards, perhaps, thought Miles.
‘I last saw this painting in St Petersburg,’ said Miles, turning back once more to admire the Van Gogh.
‘Right again, Mr Faulkner.’ Mikailov paused, then said conspiratorially, ‘Some people would give a great deal to own such a masterpiece.’
Miles glanced at him suspiciously. This was clearly no chance meeting. He was beginning to understand why he had been invited tonight. ‘Would they indeed?’ he replied.
‘But surely, Mr Faulkner,’ said Mikailov, ‘a connoisseur such as yourself must appreciate that. You would no doubt give a great deal, hypothetically, to add such a unique work to your collection.’
‘Hypothetically,’ responded Miles, ‘I might.’
‘Would you, for example, kill your own grandmother?’ asked the Ambassador.
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Miles, ‘but only because she died some years ago.’
Both men laughed.
‘I think we can do business together, Mr Faulkner,’ said Mikailov. ‘However, now is neither the time nor the place to continue this conversation. I’ll be in touch.’ He smiled, before leaving to play host with some of his less important guests.
Miles gazed at the Van Gogh, trying to interpret the Ambassador’s words, while Petrov continued to stare down from the gallery above. He was confident that he’d identified the right man to assist his cause and that they wouldn’t have to bargain over the payment.
•••
‘I wonder who invited him,’ said Beth, looking across the crowded room at Miles. ‘I can assure you, Christina, that your ex was not on the list of names I submitted to the embassy as guests.’
Christina looked more closely at her ex-husband. The Russian Ambassador had left him moments before, and he was now standing alone, admiring the Van Gogh. ‘Miles, like a bad penny, always turns up when he’s least expected,’ said Christina, ‘but even I can’t fault his artistic taste.’
‘The Van Gogh self-portrait,’ said Beth, ‘was acquired by Hermann Göring from a prominent Jewish businessman in 1938, in exchange for three one-way tickets to New York.’
