Tuesday, January 3rd.

Mount’s Auction House.          

Time: 11:15 p.m.

‘You want to do what?’

‘You want to sell The Moon?’

‘Yes.’

‘OMG.’

Time: 8:10 a.m.

Riccardo arrived in his office, closed the door, sat at his desk, and switched on his computer. He planned to spend the next few days thinking about Mount’s future and developing a strategic plan. Since taking over the business last May, Riccardo ran it as Kerem Akbarov did when he owned it. The managing director who had run the business for Kerem was more than happy to take a payoff, move to Australia with his wife, and be with their only son, his wife and their two children. After a handover of a few weeks, he departed for a new life with a generous financial package, and Riccardo was finally in complete control of the business. 

The auction house, and the art world in general, had been transfixed by the arrests of Kerem’s wife, Rosemary, her brother Charles and their accomplices. The subsequent court cases, led by the first one at the Old Bailey, drew international attention similar to that of O.J. Simpson. Despite these distractions, the business had a remarkable year and produced the highest level of profits ever. No matter what was happening in the world or the company, clients still needed to sell items, and when art, antiques and other objects were up for sale, there were always buyers. With the guilty verdict for Rosemary Akbarov last month and her life sentence without parole, it was now time for Riccardo to put the last few months behind him and focus on the future. 

The critical things for Riccardo to concentrate on were the overall business strategy and his team. Mount's strategy needed to develop as the business environment, clients, and market changed constantly. Plus, he had fired the Head of Human Resources, Woody Smith, who thought he could manipulate Riccardo and replaced him with a temporary contract manager, Christopher Bowler, who was not up to the job and would have to be let go in due course. The next few days would be relatively quiet, as most of the art world was still on holiday, either on the ski slopes or in the Caribbean, until at least the middle of the month. 

Riccardo had spent Christmas and New Year with Brad, Stephan, and Cezary in Zurich and London. Christmas had been a magical time in Switzerland, and then before New Year, they had flown back to London, staying in Brad’s house in Chelsea and attending a New Year’s Eve party with Cezary’s friends. 

Brad had driven everybody to work this morning, and each had gone to their respective offices. Brad to his, next door to Riccardo’s, Stephan to the new NFT, or digital art department, and Cezary to the marketing department. Riccardo took an A3 blank pad of paper and was about to pick up his pen to start writing down his thoughts about the future of Mount’s when Brad came into his office. 

‘Riccardo, have you checked your emails?’

‘No, not yet. Why?’

‘We have a special visitor who wants to come and see us today. They are flying into Heathrow, and their cavalcade will arrive at 11 p.m.’

’11 p.m.?’ 

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s a high-profile individual, and he’s bringing his security team along. They have some special requirements for the meeting, which I can sort.’

‘Like what?’ 

‘They want to meet in a room without technology, not even watches. We will be patted down, and they will scan the building and room for listening devices.’

‘That is full-on.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Good. Let me know if you need anything.’

‘Will do.’

Riccardo thought, so much for a quiet day doing some planning; his day was already blown up, and it was not even 8:30 a.m. and on top of that, he had completely forgotten to ask Brad who the visitor was.

Brad arranged for one of the private client meeting rooms on the fourth floor to be stripped entirely of technology. He scanned the room for listening devices and did the same for the rooms on the floors above and below; he found nothing to cause any concern. Eight rooms of various sizes were reserved exclusively for client meetings and entertainment. Each room was decorated in traditional materials with dark wood fittings, woollen carpets, and silk wall coverings or wallpaper. Some rooms had art hanging in them; others were bare, depending on what was coming up for sale at auction. A fully staffed team, including a chef, kitchen and waiting staff, provided an extremely high level of client service. The person in charge of the rooms, Albert Forbes, had worked at Buckingham Palace for 31 years and was accustomed to state dinners, diplomatic receptions, and the more intimate lunches and dinners hosted by members of the Royal family. Albert was grey-haired, 62 years old, and had retired from The Palace three years ago. He now enjoyed providing exquisite service for Mount’s clients. He was always immaculately dressed in a white jacket, black trousers, white shirt, black tie, and black patent leather shoes.

The staff working in the building were instructed to leave by 7 p.m., including the security staff who monitored Mount’s facilities 24/7. By 7:30 p.m., only Riccardo and Brad were left in the building, which had been fully secured. Brad had the security camera feeds from around the globe directed to his iPad so he could monitor them. He went into Riccardo’s office and sat on the black leather sofa. 

‘How’s your planning going?’ 

‘Good, thanks. I’ve made a start, but there is so much to consider, and now we have our mystery guest to entertain. I’ll review it with you in a day or so when I have all my thoughts. Then, hopefully, we can agree on what needs to be done and implement our plans; you and I will do this together.’

Brad smiled and stared at Riccardo without saying a word. Words were unnecessary as they both understood the situation; they had talked for hours over the holidays, and all would become clear in due course. 

‘Anyway, enough of planning; what about our visitor tonight? No doubt a billionaire who thinks they are too precious to come here during business hours.’

‘No. It is Dr Banjo, the Secretary-General of the United Nations.’

‘What does he want with us, I wonder?’ 

‘I have no idea. Let’s order a takeaway and watch that new movie, “Glass Onion,” on Netflix while we wait; his flight is on time, as I have been tracking it.’

Time: 11:00 p.m. 

The cavalcade consisted of three black Mercedes Vito Tourers, the latest people carriers, with dark-tinted windows. It turned off Knightsbridge into the side road next to Mount’s goods entrance and descended the ramp into the basement. Brad was waiting for them, and two security staff emerged from each of the first and third vehicles. The security staff looked like security staff worldwide, dressed in black suits, black shoes, black ties with white shirts, and the obligatory earpieces and sunglasses that completed the look. One of the guards patted Brad down, then the door opened on the second vehicle, and Dr Banjo appeared carrying an old, battered, tan leather briefcase. 

‘Good evening, Dr Banjo. My name is Brad, and I’ll escort you and your team up to the meeting room where Riccardo Hofstadt is waiting.’

‘Good evening, Brad, and thank you.’

Dr Banjo was Singaporean, 67 and had been the Head of the United Nations for four years. He was highly respected and had previously been a significant player in the World Bank, where he focused on debt restructuring for highly indebted countries. He was a small, completely bald man, wearing round black spectacles, a grey suit, a white shirt, and a red tie. Two of his security detachment went ahead of the party, and the other two followed. They entered the lift and went to the fourth floor as Brad explained how their requests had been complied with. Riccardo was waiting for the party as the lift doors opened. 

‘Good evening, Dr Banjo. Welcome at this late hour.’

‘Good evening, and thank you for seeing me. I’m sorry it is so late, but I will explain.’

‘No worries. We often have billionaires or extremely well-known people who want privacy and to look at things in the galleries at night.’

‘I’m sure they do, but I just want to talk to you.’

‘Understood, follow me.’

The security team checked the meeting room, patted Riccardo down, and then nodded to Dr Banjo to enter as they left. Riccardo and Brad followed Dr Banjo, and Brad closed the door.

‘I thought I was meeting with you, Mr Hofstadt?’ 

‘Brad and I do everything together. He is the Chief.’

‘Chief of what? Operations, People, Technology?’

‘No, Chief of Everything. We run Mount’s together.’

‘Ah, okay.’

As Dr Banjo and Brad sat and adjusted their chairs, Riccardo stood by the drinks cabinet. 

‘Would you like something to drink, Dr Banjo? Water, fruit juice, or something a little stronger?’ 

‘Water is fine, thanks.’

Riccardo cracked open a bottle of sparkling water, poured some into three lead crystal tumblers, added ice cubes to each glass from the adjacent ice bucket and handed the drinks out as Dr Banjo kicked off the meeting. 

‘Let me get straight to the point. I’m well aware of the events of the last few months and the horrible publicity that Mount’s has experienced. Now that the court cases are over and the accused are behind bars, I wanted to approach you with a proposition.’ 

Riccardo interrupted Dr Banjo. 

‘Are you not put off by the recent issues?’ 

‘Believe me, a few murders are nothing compared to what I must deal with, defend, or promote. I note from your recent press release that you have had a successful year, which is a testament to the strength of the business. Yes, you have had a few challenging months, but Mount’s has existed for over 350 years longer than most countries, including the United States. The other two auction houses seem to have lost the plot. One focused on selling second-hand shoes and handbags; the other is obsessed with recycling and is now known for Gocce D’Morte, Death Drops. Mount’s is the only auction house in the world to pull off what I want to do.’

‘What do you want to do?’ asked Riccardo. 

‘I want you to sell The Moon,’ replied Dr Banjo.

Riccardo and Brad were stunned, and Riccardo spluttered. 

‘You want to do what? You want to sell The Moon?’

‘Yes.’

‘OMG,’ Brad and Riccardo said in unison.

     ‘Dr Banjo, I think we should have something a little stronger than water,’ Riccardo suggested as he stood up, went to the drinks cabinet, and retrieved a 30-year-old bottle of whisky and three more lead crystal glasses. 

‘Well, just a small one, Mr Hofstadt.’

‘Please, call me Riccardo. And one for you, Brad?’

‘You bet.’

Riccardo poured the whisky, added three ice cubes into each glass, and gave a toast.

‘To The Moon.’

They all raised their glasses into the air. 

‘To The Moon.’

Dr Banjo took a sip of whisky and continued. 

‘Let me explain where I’m coming from. This is my final year as Secretary-General of the United Nations, and I want to leave a lasting legacy to protect The Moon.’

Riccardo interrupted.

‘Why do we, or you, want to protect The Moon?’ 

‘It might be a useful analogy to think about the Arctic and the Antarctic. The Arctic consists of the Arctic Ocean and territories belonging to the various countries with land within the Arctic Circle. No one owns the North Pole, but each country is rightly concerned with sovereignty, military defence, resource development, shipping routes, environmental protection, and tourism. In particular, there are abundant resources: oil, gas, minerals, freshwater, and fish. As human activity encroaches step by step into this wilderness, it is increasingly difficult to preserve it; the pressures are too great. There are treaties and agreements, but almost everyone keeps pushing the envelope.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean, Dr Banjo. I was a US Navy SEAL before coming to Mount’s, and I saw this jockeying for position firsthand. One suspects that when scientists are drilling the ice core to understand climate change, they are drilling for mineral deposits. Please carry on.’

‘If you look at Antarctica, which, as you know, is the world’s fifth largest continent, surrounded by the Southern Ocean, within the Antarctic Circle, the situation is similar. About 30 countries govern Antarctica, all party to the 1959 Antarctic Treaty System. According to the treaty's terms, military activity, mining, nuclear explosions, and nuclear waste disposal are all prohibited. Only tourism, fishing, and research are allowed. There are more than 220 known minerals in Antarctica. The temptation of these resources, will I fear, prove too much for humans to resist. Despite all the virtuous talk, the human race continues to plunder The Earth of its natural resources at an ever-increasing rate. All we can do is hope that the agreements and protocols will protect the Arctic and Antarctica.’

‘What has this got to do with The Moon?’ Riccardo asked as Dr Banjo took another sip of whisky. 

‘Many treaties aim to protect The Moon, which does not belong to anybody, despite people trying. In 1996, a German citizen, Martin Juergens, declared that The Moon belonged to his family, claiming that it had been presented to his ancestors in 1756 by the Prussian King, Frederick the Great, as a gift for royal service. Private companies have been selling plots of land on The Moon since at least the 1950s. One of the most publicised examples is Dennis Hope's Moon real estate company, Lunar Embassy. Believing he had found a loophole in the Outer Space Treaty, Hope started selling plots on The Moon for $19.99 per acre. Since the 1980s, he claims he has sold more than 600 million acres of land on The Moon, but nothing is legally binding.’

Dr Banjo took another sip of whisky.

‘This whisky is exceptional; anyway, let me carry on. The Moon is barren of organic material; there are no deposits of coal, gas, or oil, but there are abundant metals, for example, silicon, iron, magnesium, calcium, aluminium, manganese, and titanium. Frozen water is known to exist on the dark side of The Moon and could be used to create rocket fuel or a breathable atmosphere on a moon base, as getting water into space is almost impossible because it is so heavy. What is not known is whether there are any deposits of rare earth elements under The Moon’s surface, which are critical to the future of humanity and the technologies that we now rely on. You might know that Sweden recently discovered a huge deposit of one million tonnes of rare earth elements in the far north of the country. I passionately want to prevent the exploitation of The Moon, which I fear will be a forgone conclusion unless something is done about it. It will be almost impossible to prevent any country, or more likely a large corporation or company, from landing on The Moon, setting up a base and mining operations. With today’s technology, they will likely employ 3D printers using moon dust to create buildings, and the cost will be more than justified if they find rare earth elements. It is a multi-quadrillion-dollar financial opportunity. The Moon could be ravaged, and it may affect the lunar cycle, which will have a devastating impact here on Earth, as the tides could be altered and  as The Moon affects the movement of The Earth's molten core, there is a real risk that The Earth could be destroyed.’

Brad raised his hand slightly to halt Dr Banjo in his tracks. 

‘Can I ask how selling The Moon will prevent this from happening?’ 

‘I want to sell plots on The Moon with inalienable rights and record them in a blockchain. I’ll create a new Moon Treaty that will confer legal rights on the owners of the plots that can be enforced in The International Court of Justice in The Hague. If any country or company wants to exploit The Moon, they must deal with each owner and contend with a myriad of litigation here on Earth. Lawyers will love this, as it will keep them in business for a long time. If we structure the rights correctly, the costs to any company or organisation trying to mine on The Moon would be astronomical and far outweigh any benefits.’

Riccardo interrupted Dr Banjo. 

‘What sort of inalienable rights are you thinking of?’ 

‘Firstly, permission to land on The Moon’s surface, payment of annual rent to stay there, consent to build any infrastructure and fees for mining rights down to the core of The Moon. The owners of each plot will be able to demand payment for any or all of the above at any price they choose. If companies or countries do not pay, they will face litigation here on earth for damages by each lot owner. If the plots are small enough, there will be multiple cases, and the operators’ lives will be hell, to the point where they will give up.’

Riccardo smiled. 

‘That makes sense. Would you like a top-up?’

Everyone nodded, and as Riccardo poured out the whisky, Brad turned to Dr Banjo. 

‘How many lots do you think will make up the sale?’ 

Dr Banjo took a quick sip of his freshly topped-up glass, opened his leather briefcase, and continued. 

‘The Moon’s surface is 37,940,000 square kilometres. I propose we break it down into different sizes and charge $1,000 per square kilometre, payable in cryptocurrency. That will raise just shy of $38 billion that the UN can use to alleviate poverty; this schedule shows the figures.’

Riccardo perused the schedule for a moment, then raised his head. 

‘Dr Banjo, you realise there will be a secondary market once the first sale occurs, and the price per lot could go up or down. What is to stop a major player from buying up all the lots?’ 

‘Yes, I realise that Riccardo. But if there are over three-quarters of a million owners, it will be nigh on impossible to get them all to agree to sell. Fragmenting ownership across so many owners will protect The Moon. Plus, by using the blockchain, we will insist that each owner must be unique, so no one person can own more than one lot.’ 

‘That’s smart,’ acknowledged Riccardo. 

Brad decided to move the conversation on. 

‘Dr Banjo, when do you want the auction to take place?’ 

‘I would like the auction to conclude on July 26th, when there is a solar eclipse.’

Riccardo responded. 

‘Cool. We will have to check with our tech guys about how to hold an auction on such a scale. I imagine we would have to conduct it over several days, or more likely weeks, releasing several lots daily so we could manage the bidding.’ 

Dr Banjo smiled. 

‘Yes, Riccardo, that makes perfect sense. We can announce the forthcoming sale once you have the tech plan in place, and there will no doubt be a huge reaction, but I believe that most people will understand that this is the best way to protect The Moon against national or corporate greed.’

‘Well, at least we will not have to put the lot on display, as everybody on Earth can view The Moon,’ Brad added as Dr Banjo laughed. 

‘Agreed. I want Mount’s to create the biggest marketing campaign, with total global saturation across multiple channels. And as I mentioned, I want the sale recorded on a blockchain so there is no argument over who the owners are.’

Riccardo continued. 

‘Yes. We have created a new department focused on new tech.’

Dr Banjo raised his hands in the air as if celebrating. 

‘Perfect. I knew Mount’s was the only organisation to pull this off.’

It was now nearly midnight, and they were all tired but excited. Dr Banjo pushed his chair back and stood up. 

‘I need to return to Heathrow and continue my flight to New York for tomorrow morning's UN Assembly meeting. Let me know when you have your plans in place, and we can meet somewhere discreetly so as not to attract attention.’

Dr Banjo shook hands with Brad and Riccardo, and then Riccardo guided him to the door.

‘Thank you for having confidence in us, and we will charge a lower buyer‘s premium than usual, as this is such a unique opportunity, but it will be costly to pull off.’

‘Agreed.’

Dr Banjo was joined by his security staff, who had waited patiently outside the meeting room. The party entered the lift, followed by Brad, and when they were back in their vehicles, they left the building and joined the A4 for the return journey to the section of Heathrow Airport where private jets parked. Brad went back upstairs to join Riccardo, pacing around the room. He looked at Brad as he entered. 

‘Brad, that was mind-blowing, and I’m not sure where we start.’

‘Well, the first thing to do is lock up here, go home, and sleep; we can put a plan together in the morning.’

‘You are right as always, Brad, but we agreed to do this on the blockchain, and honestly, I know nothing about it, what it is, or what it does.’

‘Relax. We will sort this, and it is a good job we have Stephan around who can use his contacts from his cryptocurrency days to help us.’

‘Perfect, but to be honest, I’m starting to panic. We have been asked to manage the world’s largest and most high-profile sale, using some technology we know little about, and we need to develop and execute the world’s largest marketing campaign. I have not had time to think about the business strategy properly; the staff are clamouring for huge bonuses and promotions, and the HR contract manager is a disaster.’

‘Hey, come here. We will sort this.’ Brad wrapped his arms around Riccardo and held him tightly. ‘In the morning, we will create a Red Team dedicated to this sale. We can have a kick-off meeting first thing and get them working on the various workstreams that will be needed.’

‘Brad, will you drive this project?’ 

‘Yes, and I suggest we go to Surrey for the weekend to work on the business strategy. I’ll find somewhere to stay.’

‘Great.’

‘Come on, home,’ Brad ordered as he switched off the lights and put his arm around Riccardo’s shoulder as they walked to the lift.