Demitri Gerard had been the second customer I ever took on, back when I was young and naive. He owned a modest but successful antiques shop in North London. Demitri's company seemed to be ordinary on paper: he made timely payments to his creditors, had a regular clientele, and generated more revenue annually than he spent on expenses. But Demitri's extraordinary capacity for spotting uncommon findings that few were aware of was what made him really outstanding. Items that, in the proper hands, sold to collectors all around the world for tiny fortunes.
He required money to grow and, as I subsequently discovered, to pay a large number of informants who kept him up to date on where and what was to be found. He had informers who made him very wealthy. Naturally, legally.
In fact, Demitri Gerard had achieved such success that he now possessed twelve warehouses, the biggest of which was at Eleventh and Kent in New York City.
