“Always set to work
without misgivings on the score of imprudence. Fear of failure in the mind of a
performer is, for an onlooker, already evidence of failure… Actions are
dangerous when there is doubt as to their wisdom: it would be safer to do nothing.”
Baltasar Gracian 1601 - 1658
The man was old. So old in fact, that as he boarded the
train at King’s Cross Station, people seemed determined to keep a half-metre
radius around him almost as if afraid he would collapse. He didn’t mind though.
Fewer people meant less of the pleasantries, less of the aimless chit-chat,
more time to clear his head and decide exactly what this trip to France would
entail. He settled into a seat in the first class carriage, safe in the
knowledge that no-one would have the heart to make an old man move from a place
where he looked so comfortable. He took in his surrounding s with genuine
appreciation. Trains had changed so much since his last visit to Paris. They
were sleek, quiet and who would have believed there was actually a tunnel
connecting Great Britain to Europe? Mr Lustig shook his head, still amazed at
how far transport had come over the years. As the train began its journey, a
pretty young employee set a selection of newspapers down on the table, smiling fondly
at him. He probably reminded her of her granddad, Mr Lustig thought with an
ironic smile. Back in the day, he could have probably had her head over heels
in love with him. But those days were gone now and he didn’t care to dwell on
them. He’d moved further on in life and despite his age, the opportunities available
to him were plentiful as ever. So maybe he wasn’t destined to be as successful
as he’d previously been in France, but still, money-making prospects were
widely available. He picked up one of the newspapers in front of him and opened
it. Of course, his success in Paris had begun in the same way, a simple
newspaper headline which had caught his eye…
***
It had been May 1925, and by happy chance Mr Lustig found
himself in Paris, just as a glorious summer promised to break out. The Great
War had been over for some time now and the historic city was, in a financial
sense, booming. However, not all parts of the capital were deemed to be as
desirable as they had once been. ‘The
Expensive yet Useless Eiffel!’ one newspaper headline proclaimed
indignantly, above an article which went on to explain what a costly structure
the Tower had become. Mr Lustig read through the report with interest, taking
in how high the maintenance costs of the Eiffel had become, and how it was
becoming little more than a nuisance to some of the government elite. This, he
realised, as he folded up the newspaper and took a contemplative walk past the
cafes lining the street, was an opportunity not to be missed. The money he’d
pocketed from his latest venture had almost completely dried up, in fact, he
had little more than the clothes on his back and the couple of hundred francs
in his jacket pocket. He needed a cash injection, a quick fix to set him up for
wherever he decided to go next, the only question was ; how would he get his
hands on the money? He studied the newspaper article in great detail, bought as
many similar reports as he could over the next few days and visited the Tower
itself as often as five times a day. And then one warm evening, as the
ice-cream parlours shut up for the day, as the clerks took stock of their day’s
takings and the scrap metal dealers closed their gates, it came to him. The
golden idea.
The plan was audacious, of course it was, but the idea of
success, the thought of the money his scheme could produce, outweighed the
potential risks. He had to be confident, he had to be bold and he had to pull
this one off with style.
The very next day, Mr Lustig contacted one of the few reliable
forgers he had come to strike up a mutual understanding with and placed his
order for a fair sized amount of government stationary, making sure he was
generous with his payment. As soon as the order was delivered, Mr Lustig set to
work, writing to the six most affluent scrap metal dealers in the city,
inviting them to a highly confidential meeting at the Hotel Crillon to discuss
a business deal. The Crillon was one of the grandest hotels in Paris, a
historic building, constructed in 1758 at the foot of the Champs-Elysees, a
structure which was the epitome of luxury. Booking the top floor suite couldn’t
have been more expensive and after remunerating the counterfeiter, buying a new
suit and fine-tuning all the added extras, Lustig was very nearly out of
pocket, a situation which made him all the more determined to succeed.
The six scrap metal dealers arrived at the hotel, almost
bursting with curiosity, clearly realising that this was going to be a very
important and possibly very profitable meeting. After giving them time to take
in the luxurious surroundings, Mr Lustig introduced himself as the deputy
director-general of the Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs and took a moment to
offer them drinks, all the while telling them that they had been invited to
this top-secret meeting due to their reputations as honest and hardworking
businessmen. Once all were comfortably seated, he slowly began to disclose his
carefully researched study of the Eiffel Tower. The Tower was only meant as a
temporary structure, he explained, to celebrate the Exposition in 1889. These
days, it was becoming little more than a nuisance, an expensive landmark which
many Parisians viewed as an eyesore. And so, Lustig gravely explained, the
government had decided, after lengthy discussions, that the Tower would be dismantled
and sold as scrap metal. Sensing the air of surprise, he explained, with a
touch of regret, that even the cost of painting the Tower was an issue and
besides France had many more important and historical landmarks which could now
be easily preserved without the Eiffel taking a large cut of the budget. After
delving into his briefcase, he handed each of the men sheets of government
stationary detailing the tonnage of the towers metal and sat back to watch
their astounded expressions unfold. As inexperienced as he was in the scrap
metal trade, it didn’t take an expert to realise that the proposal presented a
huge opportunity for profit. Indeed, he could almost see the figures
multiplying behind the six men’s’ amazed expressions.
Before they had time to dwell on the matter for too long, he
led them to a waiting limousine outside the hotel by which they were whisked
away to see the Eiffel itself. Flashing an official badge (another of his forger
friend’s creations) Lustig led the businessmen on a tour around the tower,
showing them exactly how much maintenance the great structure was in need of.
Soon enough, the men were completely at ease with him, laughing at his
anecdotes, and telling their own stories about this and that. Behind his
amiable exterior however, Lustig was silently assessing each of them in turn, considering
which one seemed most gullible, which one would be least likely to suspect any dishonesty.
Finally, he decided on one of the dealers in particular; Andre Possion.
Monsieur Possion laughed the loudest at the others’ jokes, seemed to be insecure,
desperately trying to fit into the inner circle of the other five businessmen.
Yes, Lustig decided, Monsieur Possion would be very eager to win the contract,
to place himself in the ‘big league’ and go down in history as the man who tore
down the infamous landmark. After further pleasantries the tour came to an end
and Lustig asked the six men to submit their bids for the Eiffel Tower within
the next four days.
All men did as asked but despite the fact that some offered
more money than Monsieur Possion, Lustig was adamant that Possion would be
strictly low-risk compared to some of the other dealers and would therefore be
the one who ‘won’ the bid. In due time, he contacted the ecstatic businessman,
congratulating him and asking him to return to the suite at the Hotel Crillon
with a certified check for 250 000 francs in order to secure the sale. After
receiving the money, Lustig explained, Possion would be given the necessary
documents which would confirm his ownership of the Tower.
However, after meeting Andre Possion for the second time,
Lustig could sense the shift in the man’s attitude. The businessman wasn’t
stupid and Lustig could almost hear his suspicions. Why was the meeting in a hotel instead of an official government
building? Why was there just one man, and no other government representatives?
Could this all be a hoax? Lustig however, retained his poise as he calmly
discussed the arrangements for the taking down of the Tower. As Possion
hesitated he realised his plan was close to slipping away and speaking in the
same voice, began to discuss other matters; his low salary, how
underappreciated he was by the government, how his wife kept asking for a fur
coat. Lustig knew that government officials were largely corrupt in this day
and age and he knew that Andre Possion would be very well aware of this fact.
By asking for a bribe, he was doing exactly what Possion would expect of a government
official, thereby affirming his position. As he rambled on about his children’s
schooling, Lustig watched the relief dawn on Possion’s face and a few minutes
later, the scrap metal dealer slipped him a few thousand francs. Most people
would have been outraged at the thought of a French bureaucrat asking for a
bribe but for Possion, requests like these were the norm and he gladly handed
over the generous bribe, before parting with the quarter of a million franc
check, receiving in return the promised documents and an impressive looking
bill of sale. The men bid their farewells, Possion leaving with dreams of
profits and fame, Lustig with a soon to be cashed check and a bribe on top of
it. He wasted no time in leaving Paris and boarding a train to Vienna with a
suitcase full of cash.
***
Mr Lustig recalled the con with a satisfied smile; it had
truly been the highlight of his colourful career. The Eiffel Tower had earned
him 250 000 francs and looking at it today he could hardly believe he’d had the
nerve to carry out such a bold scheme. Of course, the demolition of the Tower
had been a more realistic prospect in those days; it was out of place amongst
the Gothic cathedrals and historic museums, nowhere near as iconic as it had
become in recent times.
And now, back in Paris for the first time, he decided this
would be a visit more for pleasure rather than work. It was a wonderful summer,
the sun was out and the city was buzzing with activity. There were plenty of
opportunities for enjoyment and he decided to make full use of them all. Maybe
some shopping, a cruise on the Seine, ice-cream at Maison Berthillon but that
could all wait. First, he had some sightseeing to do.
A few hours later, Mr Lustig reached the top of Tour
Montparnasse; the tallest skyscraper in Paris. He smiled to himself. From up
here he had a true panoramic view of the entire city, including, he realised
with a slight smirk, a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower itself. He had of
course stopped off at the Tower first but had been politely informed that the
structure was closed for maintenance and would re-open shortly. The irony made
him laugh out loud.
The END
