The Crate, the Countess, and the Curious Case of Lot 43
Filed from a Lounge Chair at the Splendido, Portofino
PREVIOUSLY…
“Never trust a man with dry hands or still champagne.”
Dearest readers,
A little bird (well, a wildly indiscreet yacht broker who’s slept with half the registry at Cannes) whispered something rather titillating into my Bellini just this morning, and naturally, I felt obliged to pass it on.
You recall, of course, the Habsburg portrait—Lot 43: Portrait of Archduchess Maria-Louise with Lemons—that set tongues wagging and gavel hands twitching at Brothelby’s? It seems this genteel work of alleged 18th-century nobility may have taken a far less noble route to the saleroom.
According to whispers along the Ligurian coast, a shipping container—registered under a now-defunct antiques consortium based in Dubrovnik—was flagged in the Port of Genoa last December. Its manifest listed “linen textiles, two tapestries, and one framed reproduction.” The “reproduction,” I am told, bore an uncanny resemblance to our lemon-laden lady in Habsburg blue. The crate vanished from impound three days later, just before a certain Maximilian Bouvier hosted a “quiet little New Year’s supper” in St. Moritz attended by, among others, Sergei Volkov and a former NATO attaché’s daughter with a fake name and excellent cheekbones.
Now, here’s where things become positively rococo.
On Tuesday, I paid a courtesy call to Count Luca del Mare, currently “serving time” (read: entertaining visitors) in an exclusively posh correctional facility just outside Antibes. Darlings, I’ve seen less luxury in the Four Seasons. His “cell” features a private plunge pool, two Persian greyhounds, and a rotating selection of guest chefs from San Sebastián. He offered me osetra blinis and vintage Krug before insisting—between touches of self-pity and rosewater cologne—that I “have a look at the files in my Portofino office. Under the ice bucket.”
Naturally, I did.
Which is how I ended up yesterday aboard Déjà Booze, the Count’s deeply unfortunate but immaculately staffed yacht moored discreetly in Portofino’s eastern quay. Beneath a stack of unpaid mooring fines and a monogrammed logbook written entirely in rhyming couplets, I found a leather folio marked: “Cultural Threat Dossier 7752 — CONFIDENTIAL — Eyes Only”.
Inside? All the proof I was searching for. A 12-page Interpol memorandum about NK Tactical, the shadowy private security firm that keeps appearing at art fairs dressed like Swiss bankers with bruised knuckles. The sender? Unknown. The recipient? A code name—Red Vestment.
INTERPOL INTERNAL MEMORANDUM — EYES ONLY
Document Code: INT/7752-OFFREC/NKT-6
Date: \[REDACTED]
Status: CONFIDENTIAL – NOT FOR CIRCULATION
Recovered From: DESK OF RED VESTMENT, GENEVA LIAISON OFFICE
Subject: NK TACTICAL OPERATIONS — ART WORLD INVOLVEMENT
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Summary:
NK Tactical (Registered as NKT Global Risk Solutions Ltd.) is a Luxembourg-based private paramilitary and intelligence consulting group, currently active in high-net-worth asset protection, off-market acquisitions, and “sensitive asset recoveries”—namely, illicit artworks. The organization operates through legal front contracts with museums, auction houses, family offices, and occasionally shell foundations under Vatican, Swiss, and Qatari patronage.
---
Key Names:
- Director of Operations: Unknown. Field codename “JANUS.” Alleged to be former MI6, fluent in Russian and Mandarin, known to wear a Hublot with no hands.
- Client Liaison: Aurelia Knox (probable alias) — photographed at TEFAF Maastricht with Percival Blenkinsop III, auctioneer at Brothelby’s.
- Notable Contractor: Nikolopoulou P. Konstantinides — ex-affiliate. Suspiciously resigned after the "Blue Skull" Recovery Op in Saint-Tropez, 2021. No formal debrief.
---
Known Operations:
1. The Megève Affair
- Year: 2019
- Involves artist F. Megève (codename: Ghostbrush). NK Tactical retrieved a forged Cy Twombly from a Saudi villa under a false provenance registered to the Bouvier Collection. Charges suppressed.
- Megève's DNA found on packing materials.
2. Portrait “Habsburg 1776” – ACTIVE CASE
- NK Tactical believed to be investigating the Habsburg portrait prior to its Bonhams appearance.
- Unconfirmed reports link them to a break-in at a Geneva archive containing Austro-Hungarian import records.
- Percival Blenkinsop’s travel patterns match known NKT field sites. Coincidence doubtful.
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Internal Red Flags:
- NK Tactical has “non-hostile embedded assets” in both Interpol and the European Commission's Cultural Heritage Task Force.
- Regular encrypted communications with servers registered in Liechtenstein, Lagos, Doha, and Palm Beach.
- Believed to possess blackmail dossiers on at least 11 major figures in the art world, incl. one known to Lady Victoria Fenwicke-Smythe. Documented in what’s been referred to as “The Green Book.”
---
Recommendation:
RESTRICT ALL COMMUNICATION with suspected NK Tactical intermediaries.
MONITOR activities at upcoming Lake Como Jewels Auction—multiple NKT agents suspected to attend under art foundation credentials.
Secure eyes on Volkov and Bouvier. If compromised, burn route.
---
Filed by:
\[REDACTED]
Senior Cultural Crimes Analyst
INTERPOL HQ, Lyon
As always, my assumptions were correct: NK Tactical was indeed owned by Cosima Vögeli’s ex-husband, Niko Konstantinides. The file contains everything: stolen Klimts, forged Twomblys, even a curious mention of our dear Ferdinand Megève, identified only as Ghostbrush. (Who comes up with these names? He sounds like a Mykonos drag illusionist.)
More intriguing still—my own name appears in a footnote. Redacted, naturally. But I recognize the phrasing: “unnamed informant provided anonymous tip-off during Geneva incident, 1997.” That was not anonymous, darling—I wore a Dior suit and gave them my full title.
The folio also contained a second letter detailing the interception of a suspected arms shipment disguised as antique statuary, set to depart the Port of Genoa. Inside said shipment: The Habsburg portrait. Registered under Dubrovnik Antiquities Ltd. Confirmed links? Sergei Volkov and Max Bouvier.
INTERPOL – INTERNAL MEMORANDUM
Eyes Only – LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Re: SUSPECTED ARMS SHIPMENT - GENOA PORT AUTHORITY
Sender: \[REDACTED]
Recipient: RED VESTMENT – CULTURAL CRIMES DIVISION (LONDON)
Following intelligence received from the Dubrovnik asset, a shipping container registered under DUBROVNIK ANTIQUITIES LTD was flagged in December at the Port of Genoa.
Declared contents:
- Two woven textiles (prob. 17th c. replicas)
- One statuary crate (unlisted dimensions)
- One framed canvas marked “reproduction – value under €5,000”
Initial inspection: The framed canvas bears a near-identical resemblance to a known high-value painting attributed to the Habsburgs of Austria (Archduchess Maria-Louise with Lemons, ref. Lot 43 – Brothelby’s catalogue, April sale).
The shipment was removed from impound under suspicious circumstances on 15.12.24.
Subsequent intelligence links the crate’s disappearance to ongoing operations involving forged European artworks and restricted materials trafficking through the Western Balkans route.
Recommend urgent follow-up.
Additional leads suggest involvement of high-net-worth private collectors and intermediaries operating under diplomatic cover.
END TRANSMISSION.
And how, you ask, did the Count come to possess such files?
Officially, Luca claims they were left behind “by accident” after a security consultation with a retired French intelligence officer he met at a baccarat table in Marrakech. Unofficially, it appears Georgina Baselitz herself brought them to his doorstep right before she drowned, as an attempt to gather hard evidence against Sergei’s empire so they could have him arrested and run away together once and for all.
An emissary from NK Tactical—one of those leathery, mirrored-sunglass types with diplomatic plates and fake Rolexes—visited the Count during his incarceration to “discourage further inquiries” into a missing crate from Genoa. The man left quickly. He also left the wrong briefcase.
The Count, naturally, kept it. Tried to sell the contents to the Marchioness of Mayhem (who declined), then to Chip Vanderwall (who refused to pay), and finally—when all else failed—to me, over blinis and bitter resentment.
The kicker? The statue listed on the manifest matched the exact dimensions of a Bernini once “lost” in a fire at a Roman cardinal’s villa. Suspicious? No. Positively operatic.
And now that I’m involved, the Marchioness of Mayhem is “monitoring the situation”—which, in her case, usually involves binoculars, blackmail, or both.
But the real treat was a third letter, a postcard loosely tucked into the folder, entirely unbound—the way one hides a love note in a ledger. On the front, a romantic sepia photograph of the Schloss Schwarzenberg pigment factory, circa 1890.
Scrawled on the back, in very familiar handwriting:
Darling Mundi,
The lemons are ripening early this season. I took the liberty of placing a little something in the conservatory—you’ll know it when you see the frame.
As for the "yellow problem," tell me you’ve resolved it. You know what I mean. Or at least, you will when the water turns.
Yours in citron and secrecy,
G
P.S. — You always did underestimate the potency of aniline, love.
That’s right. Just when things couldn’t get any more scandalous, Georgina knew this whole time: it was Mundi di Salvator who forged the Habsburg—not Ferdinand Megève. And as for Max and Sergei—well, one moves money, the other moves things that don’t want to be found. Together? A brushstroke away from diplomatic disaster.
Yours in Delicate Peril & Aggressive Sunhats,
Lady Victoria Fenwicke-Smythe
(Fenwicke Manor, etc.)
🕶️ Scene We Weren’t Supposed to See
Port Hercules, Monte Carlo – Midnight, Full Moon, Bad Decisions
Ah, La Vierge Noire — Sergei Volkov’s floating palace of questionable paperwork and exceptional caviar. But last night, it wasn’t the beluga that drew attention. It was Contessa Gigi Fedora de Rossi, draped in vintage Alaïa and something far more dangerous: leverage.
Sources (me) witnessed the pair mid-argument near the stern:
He accused her of rerouting “the Courchevel manifest.”
She accused him of being boring.
Sergei: You’re drawing too much attention. People are asking questions.
Gigi (smiling sweetly, a serpent in silk): Then maybe Max shouldn’t have used the word “shipment” loud enough for the customs officer to hear. I’m not the liability here, Sergei.
And just as Sergei began to puff up like a threatened sturgeon, Gigi allegedly whispered something about: a USB drive, Geneva, and a red-lipsticked Interpol officer. Then, in one fluid motion, she adjusted his cufflink, as if swatting at a petulant billionaire. Sergei said nothing. And that, darling, says everything.
Like a cat pawing its prey, she purred, “Let’s stop pretending I work for you. We both know you’re working for me.”
She downed the rest of her champagne and stepped into the night, leaving Sergei staring after her—unsure whether he wanted to kill her or kiss her.
I took my lorgnette and dashed into a linen-draped cabana, ducking behind a tower of foie gras canapés and compromised diplomats. Yes, dear readers. It turns out this whole time my best friend (or so I thought) has been playing Sergei like a Stradivarius.
Moral of the story? Never underestimate a woman who can smuggle both art and artillery in a Birkin. Especially if she’s already one step ahead—and two microfilms deep.
Follow the Scandalous World of Lady Victoria Fenwick-Smythe, 14¾th Marchioness of the Fenwick-Smythe Manor
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