A Matter of Honor

“So what happened to them?”

“Hitler ordered them to be destroyed. Among those works condemned to death by burning were such masters as Van Gogh, Manet, Monet—and especially the young Picasso, who was considered unworthy of the blue-blooded Aryan race. Hitler was grooming to rule the world.”

“You are not suggesting Goering could have stolen the Czar’s icon,” asked Romanov staring up at the ceiling, “only then to burn it?”

“No, no. Goering was not that stupid. As we now know, he didn’t always obey the Führer’s every word.”

“Goering failed to carry out Hitler’s orders?” said Romanov in disbelief.

“Depends from which standpoint you view it,” Petrova replied. “Was he to behave as his lunatic master demanded or turn a blind eye and use his own common sense?”

“Stick to the facts,” said Romanov, his voice suddenly sharp.

“Yes, Comrade Major,” said the young researcher in a tone that suggested she believed herself to be indispensable, at least for the time being.

“When it came to it,” Petrova continued, “Goering did not destroy any of the denounced masterpieces. He held some public burnings in Berlin and Düsseldorf of lesser-known German artists, who would never have fetched more than a few hundred marks on the open market in the first place. But the masterpieces, the real works of genius, were moved discreetly over the border and deposited in the vaults of Swiss banks.”

“So there’s

still an outside chance that having found the icon …”

“He then had it placed in a Swiss bank,” added Petrova. “I wish it were that simple, Comrade Major,” said the researcher, “but unfortunately Goering wasn’t quite as naive as the newspaper cartoonists of the time made him out to be. I think he deposited the paintings and antiques in several Swiss banks, and to date no one has ever been able to discover which banks or the aliases he used.”

“Then we shall have to do so,” said Romanov. “Where do you suggest we start?”

“Well, since the end of the war many of the paintings have been found and restored to their rightful owners, including the galleries of the German Democratic Republic. Others, however, have appeared on walls as far-flung as the Getty Museum in California and the Gotoh in Tokyo, sometimes without a fully satisfactory explanation. In fact, one of Renoir’s major works can currently be seen hanging on the walls of the Metropolitan Museum in New York. It undoubtedly passed through Goering’s hands, although the curator of the Museum has never been willing to explain how the gallery came into possession of it.”

“Have all the missing pictures now been found?” asked Romanov anxiously.

“Over seventy percent, but there are still many more to be accounted for. Some may even have been lost or destroyed, but my guess is that there are still a large number that remain lodged in Swiss banks.”

“How can you be so certain?” demanded Romanov, fearful that his last avenue might be closing.

“Because the Swiss banks always return valuables when they can be certain of a nation’s or individual’s right of possession. In the case of the Grand Duke of Hesse and the Czar’s icon there was no proof of ownership, as the last official owner was Czar Nikolai II, and he, as every good Russian knows, Comrade, had no successors.”

“Then I must do exactly what Goering did and retrace his steps by going direct to the banks. What has been their policy to date?” asked Romanov.

“That differs from establishment to establishment,” said Petrova. “Some banks wait for twenty years or more and then try either by extensive research or advertising to contact the owner or their next of kin. In the case of the Jews who lost their lives under the Nazi regime, it has often proved impossible to trace a legitimate owner. Although I have been unable to prove it, I suspect they kept the rewards and split the proceeds among themselves,” said Petrova. “Typical capitalists.”

“That is neither fair nor accurate, Comrade,” said Romanov, glad to show that he had also been doing some research. “Because that is another of the great myths perpetrated by the poor. In fact, when the banks have been unable to discover the rightful owner of any treasures left with them they have handed them over to the Swiss Red Cross to auction.”

“But if the Czar’s icon had ever been auctioned wouldn’t we have heard about it through one of our agents?”

“Precisely,” said Romanov. “And we’ve already checked through the inventory of the Red Cross: four icons have been disposed of but none of them is of Saint George and the dragon.”

“Then that can only mean some unscrupulous bankers have disposed of the icon privately once they felt sure no one was going to make a claim.”

“Another false premise, I suspect, Comrade Petrova.”

“How can you be so certain?” the young researcher asked.

“For one simple reason, Comrade. The Swiss banking families all know each other intimately and have never shown in the past any propensity for breaking the law. Swiss justice, in our experience, is as tough on corrupt bankers as it is on murderers, which is precisely why the Mafia was never happy about laundering its money through the established banks. The truth is that Swiss bankers make so much money dealing with honest people that it has never been in their best interests to become involved with crooks. There are remarkably few exceptions to this rule, which is the reason so many people are willing to do business with the Swiss.”

“So if Goering stole the Czar’s icon and deposited it in a Swiss bank vault, it could be anywhere in the world by now,” said Petrova.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?” sighed Petrova, a little peeved that her deductions were now proving wide of the mark.