The Medici Conspiracy (12 page)

In architecture the invention of cement made all the difference. Toward the end of the third century BC, possibly via Africa, it was found that a mixture of water, lime, and a gritty material like sand would set into a durable substance that could be used either to bond masonry or as a building material in its own right, and up to a point, could be shaped in a mold. This had two immediate consequences. First, it meant that major public buildings, such as baths or theaters, could be constructed in the center of the city. Large boulders did not need to be brought from far away. Instead, the sand and bricks could be brought in smaller, much more manageable loads, and far more complex infrastructures could be erected to accommodate larger numbers of people. Second, because bricks and concrete, when it was wet, could be shaped, they didn't need to be carved, as stone did. Therefore, building could be done by less-skilled workmen, and even slaves could do the job. It was, in consequence, much cheaper. All this meant that monumental architecture could be practiced on a much larger
scale than before, which is one reason Rome is the city of so many classical ruins today, beautiful brickwork bonded by mortar.

There was in Rome immense respect for Greek culture. From the first century BC on, Greek sculpture and copies of Greek sculpture were found in many upper-class homes in Rome. Many of these copies were very good, and today much of Greek sculpture is known only, or mainly, through Roman copies that are, of course, now very valuable in their own right. At first, Roman generals plundered what they could: In 264 BC, a Roman general took 2,000 statues from vanquished Volsinii. Greek artists quickly adjusted, and a thriving art market grew up in Athens (the so-called neo-Attic workshops), catering to the taste of Roman tourists. Later still, Greek artists set up shop along the Tiber River. Rome itself, in a way, was an amalgam of Greek ideas and Latin ambition, but thanks in part to concrete, there is much more left of it than Athens.

The antiquities Giacomo Medici was trading in included some of the finest objects ever produced by humankind—important historically, aesthetically, and intellectually. Many aspects of these important epochs of our past are still clouded in mystery. Virtually half of the history of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman culture in Italy has been stolen from us. The intellectual and artistic damage done by the looters has been immense. And Giacomo Medici played a bigger part in that destruction than anyone else.

I
T TOOK A YEAR TO LINK the two investigations at the Geneva Freeport. The prosecutor, Dr. Ferri, realized that in London there was vital evidence, in his words
proof,
that Medici was a—and perhaps
the
—central figure in the traffic of illicit antiquities out of Italy to the world's markets. He realized that if the internal Sotheby's documents, leaked to us by Hodges, could be matched with the photographs and other documentation in Corridor 17 in the Geneva Freeport, he could demonstrate beyond all doubt that much of the trade in the antiquities department of one of the world's leading auction houses was made up of objects looted from Italian soil. For Conforti, too, the Sotheby's link was all-important. He had hoped that the Melfi theft might unravel the link that led out of Italy into Europe and beyond: The documents Hodges had taken offered exactly that opportunity.

By March 1997, thanks to parallel investigations we carried out into smuggled antiquities from India and old master paintings from Italy (broadcast on television and published as a book), Sotheby's closed down three departments in London—Antiquities, Asian Antiquities, and Asian Art—and several specialists were “let go.” The company also stopped holding antiquities sales in London.

Once Hodges's documents had been used to conclude the London investigations, the originals could be handed over to Conforti and Dr. Ferri. The fact that Sotheby's had stopped selling antiquities in London was perhaps the most powerful acknowledgment of all that this particular trade was suspect and unwholesome.

Certainly, the Italians found a changed attitude in Switzerland, which had been shown up as a staging post in the illicit trade from both Italy and India. In the spring of 1997, after months of prevaricating, and after the
Sotheby's documentation had been passed to Ferri, documentation that proved—in his words—that Medici operated out of Geneva, the Swiss began to talk about a second visit to the sealed warehouses, to Corridor 17.

This second visit eventually took place in July and was very different from the first encounter. The party was led by a Geneva judge, Dr. Bertani, and her assistant. Also present were two of Conforti's men, two Swiss police, and five Italian consultants for the prosecution, including three archaeologists, their assistant, and a document expert. There were two archaeological consultants for the Italian Ministry of Culture, who were civil plaintiffs in the case; a representative of the Freeport; and this time, Giacomo Medici himself, together with his lawyer, Cleto Cucci, an advocate from Rimini who had previously defended many tombaroli, and who doubtless for this reason appeared on Pasquale Camera's organigram. He had an assistant and two archaeological consultants chosen by the defense. That made nineteen people in all.

The meeting was tense, particularly among the archaeologists. In the intervening months, although it may have seemed nothing much was happening on the surface, in fact the photographs of the Geneva warehouse and its contents, taken by the Swiss police photographer, had been passed to Rome. There they had been examined, not just by Ferri and by Conforti's men, but by Daniela Rizzo, the archaeologist at the Villa Giulia Museum, and by the director of the museum, Anna Maria Moretti, who was also the head of the Superintendency (the archaeological administration) for Southern Etruria. Aware of the huge scale of Medici's activities, as they examined the photographs, they also appreciated the superior quality of many of the pieces under seizure. Moretti and Rizzo realized that the archaeological examination of the objects in the Freeport, when it came, had to be carried out by the best authorities available, the very best scholars that Italy could provide. There must be no room for doubt about the status of the objects Medici had. They chose three people whom Daniela Rizzo would later call
“mostri sacri,”
three sacred monsters, extremely distinguished scholars. They were all famous in their profession, all in their fifties or sixties, and therefore well established, all world
authorities on the type of object that had been found in the Freeport, and all of such eminence that their conclusions regarding the material could not be questioned.

The three scholars chosen were Professors Gilda Bartoloni and Giovanni Colonna, both of La Sapienza, Rome's oldest university, founded in the sixteenth century, and both professors of ancient italic antiquities and Etruscology, and thirdly, Professor Fausto Zevi, also from La Sapienza and the foremost specialist in Roman archaeology and Magna Graecia. Of these, Professor Zevi was probably the best known and Professor Bartoloni probably the most experienced, in a forensic sense, because she had been involved before in giving evidence at trials of tombaroli.

That July day, as they all walked through the security checkpoint to enter the Freeport and crossed the small piazza inside, with its black imitation-Botero sculpture, and then rode the elevator to the fourth floor, the tension among the archaeologists was palpable. Appearing for Medici were two specialists, one Swiss, the other Italian. The Swiss archaeologist, Fiorella Angeli-Cottier, was less well known to the Italian scholars. But Medici's other expert, Teresa Amorelli Falconi,
was
known to Bartoloni, Colonna, and Zevi—she had been a professor at Palermo University in Sicily and before that a professor at Rome University—and this was the source of the tension. Amorelli Falconi frequently appeared as an expert for the defense in antiquities-looting cases. On some occasions she gave answers as to the provenance of archaeological objects that were quite at variance with the views of other scholars. Zevi refused to shake hands with Amorelli Falconi, and though Bartoloni did, she found it difficult. Having seen the photographs of the material Medici had in the Freeport—its quality, its extent, and the clear evidence of recent excavation—Bartoloni, Colonna, and Zevi wondered how a reputable archaeologist could even
appear
for the other side. “It was embarrassing,” said Bartoloni. “We kept our eyes averted.”

In Corridor 17, the Swiss judge took the wax seal off the lock and opened the door. Then he stood aside to allow the others to enter, one by one. His own assistant went first, followed by the Swiss police, the Carabinieri, the archaeologists, and the document expert. Eventually, they were all gathered in Medici's showroom.

It was an important moment, psychologically speaking, for Bartoloni
and the other experts. Yes, they had seen the photographs taken by the Swiss police. Their quality was excellent and gave the Italian experts a good idea of what to expect. But seeing the objects in the flesh, so to speak, was different, a much more emotional experience for the three distinguished “sacred monsters.”

The Swiss judge had told Medici that he could be present at the examination, provided that he did not interfere. However, as the experts began to move around inside the warehouse and discuss the objects among themselves, Medici found it hard to keep quiet. Bartoloni gasped when she saw the boxes from a Cerveteri fruit cooperative filled with antiquities wrapped in Italian newspapers. There were other boxes where fragments had been sorted by type and color. “It was like a supermarket in there,” said Bartoloni. “And heartbreaking.”

Medici wouldn't keep quiet. At one point, Bartoloni and her colleagues were discussing where certain objects appeared to have come from, waiting for Amorelli Falconi to agree or disagree. Whereupon Medici turned on the judge, “How can my experts know the provenance of something, if I don't tell them?” He perhaps didn't realize at first what exactly he was saying.

The judge insisted that Medici be silent, at which point the dealer went berserk, shouting words to the effect that “You can't forbid a citizen to reveal the origin of his objects.” He claimed that all his objects in the Freeport had been bought legitimately. This was his idea of provenance. The judge, however, would not be intimidated by Medici and replied coolly, “You are not a citizen of Switzerland.” In other words, Medici did not enjoy all the rights he thought he did.

The mood remained tense throughout the morning and during the lunch break, Medici decided not to return in the afternoon. From then on, Bartoloni and the others were left to themselves, able to inspect the objects in the Freeport without his constant interference.

Bartoloni says she touched every single object in Corridor 17. On their initial visit to Geneva, they stayed for three or four days, but they returned several times over the next months. “We worked like slaves and talked very little,” she remembers. It remained an emotional experience for them all. At times, Bartolini says she felt ill, and she was constantly amazed at the quality of the antiquities Medici had. “My indignation grew . . . some pieces were
so
important, and
so
beautiful.” She even came across some
pieces identical to those she had excavated herself, at Cerveteri in the 1980s. “Where did Medici get these things? We didn't know about them until the dig I worked on. There was no way they could have left the ground before then.”

She went on. “I grew up aware of the plague of tombaroli, but even I had never imagined the clandestine trade dealt in such quantity—and
quality
. From what I could see, Crustumerium was just then being raped, as Cerveteri was raped in the 1970s.” On that first visit, she also noticed a number of fakes, or pastiches. Many genuine objects had fake inscriptions—because they added to the value.