Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 231:

231

Crime and Punishment (7)

[UK Sotheby’s, the hotbed of money laundering]

[The sponsors who bought Damien Carter’s works through ghost companies exposed]

[UK Sotheby’s, charging up to 300% interest rate]

[Is the UK Consumer Credit Act okay as it is?]

[Damien Carter suspected of tax evasion]

For the past month, Arsene Leblanc and Maurice Sholmes had been thoroughly preparing to bring down the cartel formed by UK Sotheby’s, Damon, and Damien Carter.

They released new information sequentially, using the article written by Kim Ji-woo as a flare.

And when the chairman of SNBA, Chevalson Simon, and the director of New Tate Modern Gallery, Marcus Allen, came forward as witnesses.

The art world, which had been shocked by the first news, could not regain its senses from the successive reports.

“Is this fucking bullshit?”

Alex Wood exploded.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, but he couldn’t deny it when he saw the evidence that kept coming up.

└This is really shocking.

└I don’t get it. Why did Damien Carter help with money laundering? What did he lack?

└It was a manipulation from the start.

└This is a crazy world. Really. What should I believe?

└Can you explain what’s going on?

└This is crazy. Crazy. How much is UK Sotheby’s turnover?

Alex Wood’s viewers were also confused and angry.

“I’ll make a separate video later to summarize the situation, so check it out.”

Alex Wood sighed deeply as he continued.

He didn’t know how to accept this situation.

“You know how many people have literally shed blood and sweat to secure the market until now.”

Alex’s voice was tearful, and the chat window slowed down.

“They went through all that trouble to sell one painting. To attract one more person to the exhibition. You know that, right? Contemporary art was honestly nothing but a joke. No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t, but to the general public, contemporary art was still a backward concept art. They said it was because of the frustrating people who imitated Duchamp. You know how many people tried to get rid of that image.”

Alex Wood wiped his tears.

“Thanks to Ferdinand Gonzalez, who passed away last year, conceptual art was no longer just difficult and strange. What about Bernard Buffet? Basquiat? The culture that was graffiti became art and comfort thanks to their efforts. You were like that too. You asked the people around you to go to the exhibition with you. Those words, those words made it possible for the Art Nouveau competition last year to be so successful.”

Alex Wood showed the articles related to UK Sotheby’s and Damien Carter on the screen.

“But. But these bastards ruined it. Who’s going to believe it now? The market where you can sell works for millions, tens of millions of dollars if the auction house and critics collude and praise one person as a master? Even if you’re moved by it, won’t you doubt if it’s real or fake?”

Alex Wood zoomed in on Damien Carter’s photo.

“I think I know why Henri Marso did that to this guy. A person of character? This bastard made even the people who were moved by his works idiots. It’s not just a tax evasion case. It’s not a personal deviation. How much did he laugh inside? Huh?”

└Oh, now that you think about it, that’s right.

└Henri seemed to know already.

└There’s no way he wouldn’t. If you look at the news right after the master’s exhibition, you can tell that the people who knew already knew.

└That’s really true. I honestly liked Damien Carter’s works too, lol. What did I like?

└I’m speechless.

└Yeah. I thought it wouldn’t matter much even if he evaded taxes, and I didn’t care much about the unfair profits he made, but that’s right. It mattered.

Unable to contain his anger, Alex Wood logged into his YouTube channel and searched for videos related to Damien Carter.

There were five videos, each about 10 minutes long.

The views ranged from at least 80,000 to a maximum of 470,000.

There were also tens of thousands of comments saying that they found their direction thanks to his appreciation of Damien Carter’s works.

He remembered how he had spent a long time thinking and wanting to share his understanding of him, organizing the data, writing the script, verifying the evidence, recording, and editing.

“That’s it for today.”

Alex Wood deleted the five videos.

Public opinion was boiling.

The UK government, aware of the seriousness of the case, promised a strict and swift investigation, and the UK tax office and the police moved immediately.

UK Sotheby’s was raided at an unprecedented speed, and arrest warrants were issued for Damien Carter and Jay Jopling.

Jay Jopling was caught in a situation where he could neither do this nor that.

“Fuck!”

Jay Jopling threw a glass.

He didn’t know if he could turn back if he entered the country with so much evidence released.

Jay Jopling clenched his fist and called a senator he had a business relationship with.

But only the ringing sound came back.

He also called the people he had been with at the London City Council, but no one answered.

They were only interested in their own benefits, so they would never take Jay Jopling’s outstretched hand.

“Mr. Chairman!”

“What now?”

“Your bank accounts have been frozen.”

Jay Jopling clenched his eyes shut.

“Which ones?”

“HSBC, Barclays, RBS. All of them.”

The court had issued a freeze order.

According to British law, accounts suspected of money laundering could be frozen without notice.

‘This is too fast.’

It all happened in just two days.

If it had been like usual, he could have secured some escape funds somehow, but the court, the tax office, the police, and the media were all after him as if they had planned it.

He felt reluctant to disarm completely and return to his country.

Outside the hotel, reporters were swarming, and he didn’t even have the option of fleeing to a third country.

‘No way.’

Jay Jopling wondered if this was also something that Henri Marso had prepared.

It felt like a repeat of the experience he had at the Boijmans Van Beuningen Masterpiece Exhibition, where he had no chance to intervene.

‘No way. That idiot couldn’t do that.’

Jay Jopling tried to ignore the truth. He didn’t think that someone who grew up as an orphan and couldn’t even keep the manners of a noble had the brains to do that.

He barely held on to his reason and looked for a way to overcome the situation.

It was impossible to sneak away somewhere while the reporters were making a fuss.

But the media’s interest was only momentary.

Jay Jopling decided to wait until the public opinion in Rotterdam subsided and then seek asylum in a non-European country.

He didn’t like it, but he thought he could turn the situation around as long as he had time.

His British accounts were frozen, but he had enough assets distributed in various countries, including Switzerland.

‘Philippines? Brazil?’

As he was thinking of a country to escape to, his smartphone rang.

He thought it was one of the people he had contacted and quickly checked the number.

‘I’ve never seen this before.’

Jay Jopling frowned and answered the phone. He was on high alert, and he heard laughter.

-You should say something when you answer the phone. Are you scared?

“Marceau…”

Jay Jopling shook his fist in hatred.

“How did you get this number?”

-Is that really what you’re curious about?

Henri Marso sneered.

It was pathetic that the only thing he could say was how he got his phone number.

A vein popped on Jay Jopling’s forehead.

“If you just wanted to mock me, you made a big mistake.”

-You’re so stupid. Use your imagination a little more.

“What do you want?”

Henri Marso didn’t answer.

Jay Jopling couldn’t figure out what the arrogant French brat wanted.

He had no reason to call him after picking a fight.

‘No way.’

Jay Jopling smirked.

Most of the current reports were about Sotheby’s and Damian Carter.

If Henri Marso wanted something, it would probably be information about the Daemon members.

Jay Jopling thought it would be a good idea to sell out the Daemon members if that was the condition for unfreezing his British accounts.

“You seem to be more reasonable now.”

-Really?

“Let me hear your terms.”

-Ha. Hahahahaha!

Henri Marso laughed out loud for a rare occasion.

He couldn’t find anything more ridiculous than him putting terms in his mouth when he didn’t even know he was cornered.

He laughed for a while and then spoke.

-That was brilliant. A very entertaining comedy.

“What did you say?”

-You don’t seem to know what to do. It’s frustrating to watch a stupid human.

Henri Marso chuckled.

-You were going to wait until it quieted down and run away, weren’t you?

Jay Jopling was caught off guard and pretended to be surprised.

-That’s a very stupid choice. Do you think you can survive from the criminals who deceived you while living in exile? Oh, Interpol will be involved too.

I swallowed my saliva.

As Henri Marso said, it was urgent to confront the crime syndicate that had been laundering illegal funds through him.

There was a limit to how long I could keep moving from place to place.

“Tell me.”

Henri Marso said kindly.

“The best thing you can do is go back to England quietly. You’ll face trial and go to prison, where you’ll wait to die painlessly. You’ll regret what you did for the rest of your life, eating baked beans and broccoli.”

His voice sharpened.

“You have no other choice.”

His tone sounded like he was sentencing me to death. I was furious.

“Shut up! I’ll tear you apart and kill you. No one who messes with me, Jay Jopling, gets away with it!”

“Hahaha!”

Henri Marso laughed loudly.

He was grateful.

If I had admitted my guilt quietly, I would have waited for the day to die in prison peacefully. But thankfully, I resisted.

He couldn’t be happier.

“Good luck.”

As soon as the call ended, I couldn’t control my anger.

I couldn’t stand being mocked by a brat who was only twenty years old.

‘He thinks he won. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. I can do anything if I want to.’

I clenched and unclenched my fist, thinking that I had to wait for the right opportunity.

“What? Oh. That…”

I was pondering how to get revenge on Henri Marso, when the voice of my secretary, who sounded troubled, annoyed me.

“What is it!”

I shouted, and she came closer.

“The hotel manager just left.”

Jay Jopling narrowed his eyes.

“And?”

“He said we have to vacate the room by tomorrow…”

“What? Why?”

“He said they need to do some repairs inside.”

“That’s nonsense. How can they do repairs when there are people staying here?”

“I was puzzled too, so I asked him why, but he was very stubborn and…”

Jay Jopling had no patience for trivial matters in the face of consecutive misfortunes.

“Find somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

My secretary called every hotel in Rotterdam, and heard that all the rooms were booked.

It was true that there were many tourists because of the Boyman van Beuningen exhibition, but that was already two days ago.

There was no way that could happen.

She finally realized that her employer was completely isolated.

‘Do I need to stay with that guy?’

The doubt that crossed her mind once.

‘What if I get into trouble because of him?’

Turned into a sense of crisis.

‘I haven’t even received this month’s salary.’

And then she heard Jay Jopling’s wallet ringing.

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