The subtleties of the international commodities markets may seem a world apart from the cut and thrust of the Glasgow underworld scene but the influence of one on the other has not been lost on those tasked with picking up the pieces after a cool, calculated and lightning-fast act of daylight robbery.
As brokers on the trading floors in the world’s financial centres scrambled to keep pace with demand for gold bullion when prices peaked in the summer of 2011 – rising 70 per cent in the three years up to that point – the knock-on effects began to reverberate in everyday towns and cities the length and breadth of Britain. Stores offering cash for gold popped up on every High Street and adverts were full of offers highlighting just how precious that most precious of metals had become. For those not inclined to leave the comfort of their own home, prepaid envelopes offered a swift and hassle-free route to turn unwanted jewellery into cold hard cash.
Ordinary consumers may have been the targets for the hard sell but, for the less scrupulous, the combination of high prices and a plethora of opportunities to find a willing buyer sparked a fresh interest and, according to experts in the trade, fuelled a crime wave. Never before had there been such a fervent demand – it was a modern-day gold rush and it served to attract speculators. Small-time criminals after a quick buck were one thing but the web was spun wider than that. As one Glasgow collectables specialist and dozens of innocent families discovered to their cost, high stakes led to high-risk strategies.
For auction house McTear’s, the New Year of 2012 brought anything but cheer as a robber succeeded in coolly walking away with a haul of more than 300 pieces of jewellery – with the estimated value of the ill-gotten gains ranging from £400,000 to more than £2 million – all for just 25 minutes work. That is how long it took to clear out hundreds of items which had been entrusted with auctioneers ahead of a sale. The robbery sparked a major operation by Strathclyde Police as officers played catch-up in a mystifying case. The mystery did not revolve around the circumstances of the theft – every detail was captured on CCTV. Instead, the intrigue came in the days, weeks, months and years following the raid as all 300 lots of jewellery appeared to vanish into thin air. Not a single piece has ever been recovered, despite thousands of man-hours being poured into the operation. Consequently, no charges have ever been brought in relation to one of the simplest yet potentially most profitable Scottish criminal enterprises in modern times.
The episode began at 6.55 a.m. on Tuesday, 17 January 2012. That was the time on the clock when cameras captured an individual entering the McTear’s premises on the south side of Glasgow. The unexpected visitor did nothing to blend into the background on a dark winter’s morning – quite the opposite, in fact. Dressed in a high-visibility vest and carrying a black holdall, he looked like any other workman reporting for duty that morning in all corners of the city. But it wasn’t an honest day’s graft that lay ahead – his carefully planned schedule revolved around a short burst of activity. It was bold, brazen and carried out with a sense of confidence which suggested to police that they were not dealing with a first-time offender or an opportunist. This had all the hallmarks of a well-researched and -rehearsed act.
By 7.20 a.m., the ‘workman’ had left the building and been driven from the parking lot in a car whose driver had been patiently waiting and watching after arriving during the course of the incident. Wearing a black woollen hat throughout, offering a degree of protection against the gaze of the surveillance equipment, he carried with him his bag – by now laden with the fruits of his 25 minutes of labour. Then, in a flash, they were gone and had disappeared into the building traffic snaking its way through Govan and out of view. The car had pulled up outside the auction house, headlights blazing, just a few minutes after the individual had made his way into the building in a carefully choreographed early morning waltz.
When McTear’s staff arrived for work soon after, they discovered the door left open and the alarm system deactivated. The defences of the safe had also been rendered useless. The vault was lying open and the precious sale goods gone. Among the inventory were exquisite rings, necklaces, earrings and bracelets. All were part of a catalogue which had been expected to draw admiring glances from collectors and those genuinely wrapped up in the trade but it was a far less scrupulous audience which had, in fact, been paying the closest attention.
Police were alerted and arrived on scene to be faced with a baffling scenario – one notable for its apparent simplicity rather than its complexity. The robbery had, as investigating officers admitted during the flurry of media activity in the wake of the story breaking, appeared far too easy. There was no need for force, no need for violence or any screeching tyres or dramatic chases – just in, out and away in less than half an hour.
The first stage of the investigation revolved around the access to the building. The mere mention of an auction house provokes thoughts of dusty old buildings, creaking floorboards and Dickensian-style side streets. In reality, modern life has enveloped the trade and McTear’s is a shining example. Located not in the west end of Glasgow but in the grittier burgh of Govan, the firm occupies a unit within a new-build business park off the functional but unspectacular Meiklewood Road. Framed by a low, lightly coloured brick wall, the company’s premises adjoin those of a property maintenance provider. The McTear’s complex comprises a two-storey office block alongside an open warehouse-style space which is accessed by roller doors. From the outside, it is a clean and practical base, belying the intricate jewels and treasures it so often plays host to. Behind the scenes are the latest systems, both in terms of security and stock control, and a sense of modern efficiency which are not the usual bedfellows of one of the world’s most traditional professions.
With residential properties nestled opposite the commercial premises, the target was far from isolated but that mattered little given the inconspicuous nature of the attack. In fact, even the presence of Strathclyde’s finest just a stone’s throw from McTear’s was not a concern for the raiders. The fact a packed police vehicle repair yard is just a short drive along Meiklewood Road and a hive of activity from day to day made the robbery all the more audacious and hinted at experienced and hardened criminals rather than opportunists. It takes a brass neck to parade past one of the biggest collections of marked cars in the region, whether those are on duty or not, in a car full of stolen jewellery.
They succeeded in gaining access without any obvious sign of bludgeoning their way in. The alarm system had been deactivated and the specialists responsible for installing the high-tech system were quizzed during the course of the investigation in an attempt to discover how that electronic safety net had been seemingly sidestepped without challenge. Similarly, the safe was opened without the use of explosives or any other crude method – posing more questions than answers. Detectives described the circumstances as ‘deeply suspicious’ but did not elaborate with details of their theory. They tackled the case with the vigour you would expect, given the size of the haul involved and the impact the theft had on so many innocent families.
In many ways it was an unusual one for the Strathclyde force. This was a region which was no stranger to major robberies, from the post-war years onwards, bank raiders had been a curse of the city and appeared to strike with wilful abandon and frustrating frequency. In more recent times, security van heists and ram-raiding had presented a fresh challenge but, in all of those instances, there were usually first-hand accounts from those who had been directly threatened by the gangs responsible. This time, there was nothing in that respect, limiting severely any much-needed leads and information and presenting a new challenge for the detectives at the helm. Questions arising from the situation were directed at employees in the early stages of the probe, with officers admitting the possibility that the thieves had inside help could not be ruled out until every avenue had been explored. That line of questioning drew a blank as dead ends appeared at every turn. There was no flood of information forthcoming from the public either and no clues or tip-offs regarding the incident.
But there were no dead ends for the snatch team when they made their exit, pulling out of the McTear’s car park and on to Meiklewood Road. From there, they had the perfect location to slip away, with easy access to the M8 and the network of feeder roads in the vicinity. The raiders could then have made their way in a plethora of directions, whether east towards Edinburgh or deeper into inner city Glasgow. After the CCTV footage captured the getaway vehicle manoeuvring away from the auction house, the trail went frustratingly cold. Strangely, no details of the getaway car were ever publicised – no registration plate was logged and nor was there any definitive suggestion on the make or model of car used.
Detectives trawled through hours of footage attempting to put flesh on the bones of the action they knew had been played out at the Govan premises but, in truth, there was little more to add. The key details were known but the identity of those responsible remained the key missing piece in the jigsaw.
Police quickly appealed for witnesses, particularly for anyone who had seen a suspicious vehicle leaving the area, and also made contact with jewellers in Glasgow and the surrounding area. The plea was simple – be alert, be vigilant and be wary of any sudden influx of stock being offered for sale. Visits were paid to key contacts in the city and favours called in, particularly among those with their ears close to the ground on the fringes of the underworld. It seemed that, if anyone knew anything, they weren’t talking about it.
To help with the attempts to pinpoint the missing jewellery, detailed images of the items were released and circulated not only to those in the trade but also to the public at large. The pictures had been compiled for use in the auction catalogue – an auction which was destined never to take place after the unexpected intervention. The stunning photographs put the loss in context – the monetary value of the haul only told part of the story of the McTear’s raid. From jewel-encrusted antiquities to chic modern pieces, the inventory was as rich as it was varied. With a host of distinctive designs among those lifted by the brazen thief, hopes were high that somebody somewhere would recognise them when they eventually resurfaced. The tactic was, in part, about trying to trace the collection but also, as police admitted, largely to make it more difficult for the perpetrators to profit by making a quick and unhindered sale. Any jeweller, even the less scrupulous ones, would be forced to think twice if presented with any of those pieces.
From that perspective, it must surely have been an effective plan of attack, with the story and images gaining international exposure. From newspapers to specialist blogs and jewellery industry websites, the McTear’s story was the talk of the trade. There was genuine shock and outrage from those with a keen interest in the collectables sector, as well as the usual level of speculation about the detail of the crime and the eventual destination of the remarkable collection of stolen auction items. The scope and scale of the raid were highlighted in pinpoint sharp colour with that incredible collection of pictures. There were exquisite diamond and emerald rings, stunning gem-set earrings, antique pearl collectors’ items, contemporary silver pieces, watches including a classic Rolex and vintage model by Tiara of Switzerland, distinctive pendants and even a rare coin. It takes more than 10 minutes to take even a cursory glance at each of the items, far longer to make a detailed assessment.
Putting a value to the collection has been a somewhat contentious exercise. The official line was that the thief escaped with items worth in the region of £400,000 – a figure calculated using the anticipated auction values of the items, taking into account the guide prices and the expert opinion garnered prior to the planned sale. But the auctions serve as a vehicle for servicing the trade, frequented not only by collectors but also by dealers and retailers seeking stock to feed their machine. They bid low with the hope of selling high, with mark-ups going as high as five times auction values. On that basis, the estimates of the total value of the haul soared as high as £2 million. Many felt somewhere in between those two extremes would be more accurate, to take into account the breadth of the variety in the assembled pieces and the unpredictability of the market.
Outside of all of those approximations is the figure the raider could have expected to net if the holdall full of goods had been quickly dispersed in criminal circles. In that case, it was claimed a £200,000 combined price tag was realistic. The seller would have been in little position to haggle and would have been looking for a quick and easy deal.
What happened to the jewellery after it left the auction house is the key to how much it was worth. A variety of options were considered by police trying to second-guess their prey. Given the lack of hard and fast lines of inquiry to pursue, there was a great deal of guesswork and intuition called into play. The first option was that it would, indeed, have been rapidly passed into the underground network. The second – and a favourite theory in many quarters – was that the boom in high street and postal precious metal buyers would have provided an instant means of turning the stolen goods into cash. A third possibility was that the items would have been effectively scrapped – stones stripped out and sold on, metals melted down and traded on the back of the high market values. It was a disturbing scenario for many families who had hoped their precious items would find loving new homes, after making the decision to put them on the market. The thought of them being scrapped must not have been palatable. The fourth theory was that the jewellery had in fact been stolen to order – most likely for distribution overseas where the chances of arousing suspicion would be slim and where it could be filtered back on to the open market to enable the maximum return on the time ‘invested’ by those responsible. Detective Inspector Ian Hyland admitted early in the investigation that his team had enlisted the help of international colleagues as they cast their net wide in search of a solution. Like so many lines of enquiry, that trawl overseas did not provide a notable catch.
The hunch that foreign markets may have been involved made perfect sense. Jewellery makes for the perfect smuggler’s friend – unlike drugs and other contraband, there is nothing to fear from the sniffer dogs patrolling the entry points. Just like narcotics, small quantities equated to huge value and that again made it an attractive proposition for transporting. It would not have been difficult to get the McTear’s haul out of the country and that remained prominent in the thoughts of the team trying to track down the missing items.
All of the possibilities were examined by police and floated as potential explanations but the only certainty is that not a single one of the 300 missing auction lots has ever been traced by the authorities. That was not for the want of trying.
Firstly, McTear’s offered a £10,000 reward for anyone who could help trace the stock or those responsible for its unlawful removal. It was a significant cash incentive and considered enough to spark a reaction on the jungle drums of the Glasgow crime scene but there was nothing but deafening silence. Either that particular community had closed ranks or they had been completely bypassed by visiting criminals with a clear remit to get in, get the goods and get out.
Secondly, a flurry of police activity in Glasgow in the weeks following the raid offered the opportunity to flush out information. Although never formally linked with the McTear’s raid, Strathclyde Police mounted a raid on the market at the Barras soon after the robbery and it was theorised that those arrested – on a number of charges ranging from possessing counterfeit goods to selling stolen mobile phones – may have been in a position to shed some light on the recent events in Govan when faced with an impromptu interview panel. Just as the reward failed to provide a breakthrough, the Barras clampdown was equally disappointing in its eventual outcome for those investigating the McTear’s raid. It was the latest brick wall faced by officers, who at least had the consolation of making a number of arrests on matters unrelated to the big-time robbery at the auction house. It was a small crumb of comfort for an increasingly frustrated police team, operating in the full glare of a media spotlight focused on an intriguing raid.
The failed efforts to track down and reclaim the loot were even more devastating for another party in the episode – those who owned the items stolen by the well-drilled thief.
It transpired, in the weeks following the incident, that those who had entrusted their prized possessions with the auctioneer would not be entitled to any compensation for their loss. The auction lots were not covered by any form of insurance proffered by McTear’s – instead, the responsibility lay with the owners rather than the keepers. Household policies, it was suggested, would come into play to offer recompense for the missing goods – but that was cold comfort to many, particularly those who did not have a valid policy covering the missing pieces.
McTear’s managing director Brian Clements said at the time: ‘A number of our clients lost items in the theft and we want to do everything we can to recover the jewellery and return these unique pieces to their rightful owners. We are working closely with Strathclyde Police and the independent charity Crimestoppers as the inquiry continues and we are hopeful that the reward will help to uncover some additional information that will help the authorities to identify and prosecute those involved.’
Slowly owners began to go public with their displeasure, as the realisation struck that cherished possessions had, most likely, vanished forever. It was made all the more painful by the fact that crime had been captured on film, yet there was still no real prospect of identifying or catching the perpetrator.
The proliferation of CCTV cameras in the Meiklewood Road area and the ability to post pictures of the stolen items online made the investigation a very modern affair but the crime itself was nothing new in Glasgow. As long as the city has had auction houses, it has also been home to crimes targeting those establishments. From straightforward break-ins to mysterious incidents bringing claims and counter-claims, Glasgow has seen it all.
One of the most bizarre episodes came in the summer of 1929, when the authorities were alerted to a problem at an auction house on Union Street, in the shadow of Central Station. Police arrived to find the premises had been broken into during the night, along with a neighbouring optician’s, and thieves had made off with a haul of animal furs said to be worth in excess of £7,000 – a huge sum in the 1920s. According to the owner, a London fur trader by the name of Caroline Wisenthal, the collection included more than 2,000 skins in total. Everything from fox fur to the humble musquash – now more commonly known as the muskrat – was among them.
Officers sent to survey the crime scene found skeleton keys and a jemmy abandoned as though the culprits had been disturbed, as well as a selection of goods left behind despite being apparently packed to be lifted. Police considered the raid to be the work of ‘experienced’ thieves and said a motor car – a rarity among the criminal fraternity and certainly among ‘common’ thieves – had been used. That bizarre fur heist brought a disputed insurance claim, with the policy provider reluctant to pay out – so, like auction crime itself, insurance wrangles too are nothing new.
In the aftermath of the 2012 theft, McTear’s spoke openly about subsequent improvements made to security – a sensible attempt to ward off any potential copycat attacks. Despite more than 170 years of experience in the trade, the company was still learning lessons in a line of business which, in many ways, has not changed since its founders first opened the doors of the auction house in central Glasgow in 1842.
William Burrell, founder of the now renowned Burrell Collection, was among the early customers found browsing for a bargain in those formative years. In more recent times, McTear’s has enjoyed a resurgence, with the switch to their modern premises in Govan aiding growth and bringing the auction experience into the 21st century. Fine wines and whisky now have their own place on the annual calendar of events, attracting bidders from across the globe and earning a place among the world’s best auction houses according to observers in the collectables arena. The robbery did little to tarnish a reputation established over more than a century and a half of trading – and nor did it stall the conveyor belt of interesting and enthralling items being offered for sale.
McTear’s has risen to take a large share of the Scottish auction market, seizing the opportunity to expand after Christie’s withdrew from the Glasgow scene. Although world-renowned names such as Christie’s still dominate the sector globally, even the biggest in the business are not immune to falling victim to calculating criminals. Early in 2013 a gang of three, all based in England, were found guilty of obtaining £1-million worth of jewellery and other luxury goods from a string of auction houses – including Christie’s and Bonham’s. Farouk Dougui, Jabey Bathurst and Simohamed Rahmoun used a simple method to fund lavish lifestyles, quickly amassing riches during a seven-month period. The trio used credit card details stolen from overseas to register as telephone bidders for auctions containing high-value lots. Once successfully won, the items were collected before unsuspecting auction houses were aware the buyers or their means of payment were not genuine. It was described in court by prosecutors as a ‘very modern way of stealing’. It was yet another thing for the auctioneers to contend with during the naturally fast-paced spirit of sale days, amid the other security concerns which fit hand in glove in an industry in which any company is only as good as the stock it sells. The better the quality and the higher the value, the greater the risk of an attack by criminals with increasing ingenuity.
Of course, the age-old means are far from extinct – regardless of improvements in surveillance technology. Scottish artist Douglas Gordon, a Turner Prize winner, discovered that to his cost late in 2012 when it was revealed that his solid gold sculpture, entitled The Left Hand and the Right Hand Have Abandoned One Another, vanished from Christie’s storage facility in London – despite the firm’s boasts of being ‘the world’s premier storage provider for fine art, antiques and collectibles’. Stealth and deception had apparently been two of the traditional ingredients used for that particular crime, which was a headline grabber when it became public knowledge.
With fire-proof steel and concrete construction, as well as 24-hour security cover, Christie’s premises were designed to be every thief’s nightmare but, instead, it was the artist who was left gnashing his teeth. Gordon, who learned his trade as a student at the Glasgow School of Art, had traditionally stored his work at a gallery in Paris but the piece had been in London after being on show in England. At the end of that Buckinghamshire exhibition, the piece – which had been available for sale – was carefully transported to the Christie’s storage facility in Westminster for what had been expected to be safe keeping. It proved to be anything but.
Gordon was stunned by the theft and angry that there had been a delay of two weeks in informing him of the incident, commenting at the time: ‘Apparently an employee randomly picked up the box it was in – and discovered it was a bit light. Apart from the fact it’s outrageous that something might get stolen from Christie’s, I still own the work and I am creator of the work. There’s something going on here about value and the way the artist is treated in all of this.’
That feeling of betrayal is common among victims in cases where thefts relate to items of sentimental value. Just as Gordon was attached to his piece through his artistic bond, so too were the families hit by the McTear’s raid. In many cases they had managed to resign themselves to selling on those pieces to a good home, but it was the uncertainty of the theft and not knowing where the jewellery was destined for that nagged away at them. It could, after all, have been melted down.
Just as had been pinpointed in the McTear’s raid in Glasgow, the motivation for the theft of Gordon’s distinctive work was not artistic – it was, according to investigators, most likely based on global economics. With gold prices buoyant and analysts predicting a continued upward trend in the top-line figure, it was a commodity which curried favour as an investment option worldwide. That seemingly unquenchable thirst for the metal was not restricted to canny individuals. Central banks were spending billions on bullion and committing to shipments of tens of tonnes at a time – meaning the Brazilian banking community and the Barras are not so far apart after all.