The case of the stolen tooth whorl
Helicoprion bessonowi is one of the world's great enigmas. When it was found in the Russian Ural Mountains in 1899 it aroused great curiosity in the world of natural history. It was a single, curled row of shark's teeth, some 125 in all, which looked more like an ammonite than a shark's jaw. Each tooth was serrated and overlapped the front of its predecessor. Helicoprion whorls indicate that the whole shark must have been a monster, perhaps 8-12 metres in length. We can only hypothesise that the lower jaw tooth whorls hung out of the shark's mouth and were used to snag fish as the huge predator charged into densely-packed schools of ray-finned fishes. The holotype (the original specimen from which the scientific description is made) of Helicoprion bessonowi was described by Karpinsky and then deposited in the Natural History Museum in St Petersburg, Russia. It remained there for all to examine and study, in the locked vaults, for almost a century, until it was brazenly stolen.
In November 1998, a good friend of David's, Vinny, told him he'd just been offered a specimen of Helicoprion by a reputable Russian dealer. Vinny had been told that the specimen came with all the requisite paperwork to allow its export. Russian fossils are rare and very marketable, so a price of US$2500 was agreed, based on a photograph of the specimen, which was then dispatched. Pondering his purchase, Vinny turned to David's famous guidebook, Fossils (Walker &Ward 1992, p. 198), to find out more about it. The illustration in the book seemed very similar to the photo of the Russian specimen he had just bought but, as he rotated the photo, it changed from being similar to being identical—it was the same fossil! A somewhat perplexed Vinny immediately rang David and asked him about the specimen. Almost all the photographs in David's book were of specimens in the Natural History Museum in London, so a very worried David lost no time in visiting the Museum where, to his great relief, he found the Helicoprion specimen, safe in its drawer. To his surprise, however, he found that the specimen was, and always had been, a plaster replica. A note on the label said that the original was in the CNIGR Museum in St Petersburg. David emailed a Russian friend, Sasha Averianov, a palaeontologist at St Petersburg University. Sasha replied promptly: 'Thanks for your message. The holotype of Helicoprion bessonowi should be in the CNIGR Museum (St Petersburg) collection. I saw it there a year ago—I will check again. The museum does not sell fossils'.
On hearing this, and thinking of the previous fossil theft from the Russian Palaeontological Institute in Moscow, David phoned his friend Sasha Ivanov at St Petersburg Museum, and asked him to check on the holotype of Helicoprion bessonowi.
Two weeks passed, then the following announcement was posted on the Web.
To everybody whom it can concern. From St Petersburg (Russia)
Museum of Geological Research (name Chernishova) was stolen
Very important sample of Helicoprion bessonowi 'holotipe' sample.
(Photo available) If some one now anything ore here ore something Please help us to return it to museum ore to us personal. Address of museum Central Scientific Research Museum name Chernishova 199178 Sredniy prospect Vasilevskiy ostrov 74 St Petersburg Russia Please help museum if you now something, confidential is guaranteed. Thank for attention Arkadiy
PPL. St Petersburg Russia
A precious specimen which was kept locked up in the type room vault somehow had been stolen. David phoned Vinny in Florida, and told him to cancel his cheque. Luckily, it hadn't yet been presented. David then phoned his colleague, Gordon Hubbell, another sharks' teeth expert, and asked him to examine Vinny's purchase when it arrived and confirm that it was the missing holotype. Sure enough, the specimen arrived in Florida, having been shipped from Finland. Gordon confirmed that it was indeed the original holotype. David rang the Director of the St Petersburg Museum to let him know that the holotype was safe and in good condition. He vowed to return it personally to the Museum. (By chance, David had already arranged to visit St Petersburg in a few months, to photograph specimens from the very same collection.)
It didn't take much persuading for Vinny to agree to return the specimen: as soon as it was confirmed that it was 'hot' he couldn't get rid of it fast enough. He agreed to ship it to a friend of David's who lived in California, who then met David in Paris at New Year. The Helicoprion spent the late winter and early spring in a hatbox in the corner of David's study.
When the time came for David to return the Helicoprion to St Petersburg, the idea of carrying a stolen fossil back into Russia seemed increasingly unwise. Should he declare it or keep quiet? On the advice of his colleague Dr David Unwin, who had spent much time in Russia, he took some precautions.
First, he wrote to the Director of the Museum and requested a formal six-month loan of the holotype specimen, with permission to be written in both Russian and English. Director Karpunin was most cooperative and furnished a suitably impressive document with the obligatory signature over an official museum stamp. Next, David asked a translator to draw up a document, in Russian, confirming that he was returning the fossil at the expiry of the loan agreement.
The big day came and David set off for St Petersburg, with the Helicoprion, in his briefcase, as hand baggage. Despite being one of the first off the plane, David found himself near the end of the line as he approached the customs desk. Almost immediately he was singled out and taken to a private room for further questioning. He started to sweat, thinking that he might have been set up by someone with a vested interest in the specimen. Perhaps the dealer who had had it stolen. Some of these dealers, he had been warned, had powerful underground connections. The customs official asked him why he had no luggage, and told him that he would have to fill out another form. She didn't even ask to see inside the briefcase containing the Helicoprion specimen. After he had filled out the correct form, she waved him through the line.
Outside, the Director of the St Petersburg Museum and David's friend Sasha were waiting for him. When they arrived at the museum David officially handed over the specimen. There was a ceremonial unwrapping of the specimen before it was gently placed back in its drawer in the vault, to which new locks had been fitted. The Helicoprion s return was toasted with special German brandy and celebrated with coffee and cakes. For his dedicated work in returning the priceless specimen, David received a certificate and medal of honour from the board of directors of the museum.
We still don't know who orchestrated the theft, but they must have relied on help from within the museum, someone who had access to the keys of the vault. At the same time as news of the theft broke to the world, a German dealer, Joachim Wordemann, was arrested in St Petersburg with a Mercedes van full of Russian fossils (Abbott 1999; see Chapter 6). He was questioned over the Helicoprion theft, but claimed he knew nothing about it.
David and his friends had T-shirts made up to commemorate the event, and he gave me one (the T-shirts are available from Paleoworks). On the front is a colour photograph of the specimen with Helicoprion written underneath. The legend on the back of the shirt reads:
Helicoprion
Grand World Tour.
Permian to 1899 Ural Mountains, Krasnoutismk, Diva-Cora, Russia.
1899 to 1998 St Petersburg, Russia.
November 1998 Finland-Florida, USA.
December 1998 California, USA.
December 1998 Paris, France.
January 1999, London, UK.
May 1999, St Petersburg, CNIGR Museum, Russia.
Let's all hope it stays there!
The following case is one example which involved specimens taken from Britain and sold in Germany. The specimens were fossil fish and invertebrates which have been found at only one locality in the world, so it was relatively easy to trace their provenance.
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