Art Heist of Cellini's Saliera: Part IV

In which the thief takes the Vienna Police on a scavenger hunt and makes a major error.

Author’s Note: The following is Part IV of the true story of the theft of Cellini’s Saleria—a $65 million table sculpture—from the Vienna Art History Museum in 2003. I am publishing this extraordinary true story as a summer divertimento for our paid subscribers. Readers who are just now seeing this story should first read Part I, Part II, and Part III.

Please consider becoming a paid subscriber to Focal Points. For just $5 per month, you can support us in our effort to research and report intriguing stories in the realms of public health policy, current affairs, organized crime, and—in this case—high culture. Because the former Vienna Chief of Police, Ernst Geiger, is a close friend, I was able to access information and documents that were not available to other reporters.

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Part IV: In which the thief takes the Vienna Police on a scavenger hunt and makes a major error.

Dozens of preparations were made for the impending Schnitzeljagd (literally “schnitzel hunt,” in English “scavenger hunt”). A command center was set up at headquarters with lines of communication and GPS monitors for Mr. Zed and other men in the field. Chief Geiger figured that Cerveza would probably go for the Vienna Woods, and so he ordered an elite surveillance unit to get ready with camouflage and dogs.

Cerveza’s instruction to “kindly prepare some bathing trunks for your messenger” suggested that he might instruct Mr. Zed to jump into a body of water to make sure that he wasn’t wearing any electronic gear. In January it would have to be an indoor pool—perhaps the Doeblinger Bath in the Vienna Woods.

He would be watching, and the object was to make him think that Mr. Zed was following his instructions without police involvement. If anything spooked him, he would break off the scavenger hunt. Worst case scenario was that he would carry out his threat to melt down the Saliera.

At 7:01 A.M. on November 11, Mr. Zed’s mobile phone received another SMS, this time in German:

Today at exactly 8:00 A.M., be alone with the bicycle and money on the Friedens Bridge, then ride on the bike path along the Brigitenauer Quay to the Doeblinger Foot Bridge, there you will find a message under the tree to the left of the stairs down to the water. If other persons enter the checkpoints, Sally will be melted down. Cerveza.

So the schnitzel hunt was to start on the Friedens Bridge on the Danube Canal, about a quarter mile from police headquarters. At 7:05 A.M., Geiger was riding the subway to work when he got a call from Braunsperger, saying the game was afoot. Exactly one minute later, he got a call from a doctor saying that his mother had just died.

She’d always been a strong woman, so the precipitous decline in her health a few weeks earlier had taken him by surprise. She’d been hospitalized with cardio-pulmonary trouble, and Geiger had known that the end might be near. Still, the call was a shock. An only child whose father had died when he was fourteen, Geiger had always been very close to his mother, and she’d always been so proud of him. He got off at the next stop, crossed over to the line going the opposite direction, and called Braunsperger back.

“I just got a call that my mother has died, so I’m not going to make it to work today. You’re in charge of the operation.”