Time travel. The subject of science fiction. But for Günter, it was something he often undertook, journeying to far-flung destinations when seeking to add to his collection. A horophile with impeccable taste, but equally, one lacking the means to finance an outrageously expensive obsession, he was the custodian of an unrivalled number of timepieces. Wristwatches and pocket watches with multiple complications, but always one more than originally designed—the means of acquisition.
All but one of his collection, showcased a luxury watchmaker’s craft; each example highly sought after, if not by other collectors, certainly by their owners or the insurance companies that settled the loss. The joker in the pack, a world-war II B-Uhr. A Luftwaffe pilot’s watch. His first timepiece, which despite its modest monetary value, was perhaps the most cherished among his hoard.
Strangely, a supremely confident Günter had once been an anxious adolescent. A nervous tic saw him mocked at school. ‘Tick-Tock’, a nefarious taunt fermented by Bruno, a high school classmate, was especially hurtful. The subsequent disappearance of Bruno’s treasured wristwatch, his grandfather’s, a wartime Heinkel pilot, settled a score and sparked Günter’s horological obsession. Its procurement, a sortie that, even to this day, elicits a buzz, when compared with the far more valuable Patek Philippe, Breguet and Rolex examples he possessed.
Günter amassed his collection, now worth millions of Swiss francs, his home currency, at little financial cost when compared to its present day auction value. Incidental expenses best described his miserly outlay. Finders’ fees paid for inside information, hotel, and transportation costs, the full extent of his limited investment in pursuing the objects he so desired.
Vacheron Constantin was a notable omission from Günter’s collection, an irritation that required soothing. Only one Chronometer Royal 4907 had ever appeared at auction, and both the number produced, or their whereabouts, remain unknown. Günter had received a tip-off about another example, this one belonging to a South American arms dealer based near Bolivia’s constitutional capital, Sucre.
‘Sweet’, he thought. Repatriating a timepiece to the land of its birth was always a rewarding experience, but for it to be liberated from such an unsavoury character made it doubly so.
Bags packed. He’d a plan. Travel time.
All but one of his collection, showcased a luxury watchmaker’s craft; each example highly sought after, if not by other collectors, certainly by their owners or the insurance companies that settled the loss. The joker in the pack, a world-war II B-Uhr. A Luftwaffe pilot’s watch. His first timepiece, which despite its modest monetary value, was perhaps the most cherished among his hoard.
Strangely, a supremely confident Günter had once been an anxious adolescent. A nervous tic saw him mocked at school. ‘Tick-Tock’, a nefarious taunt fermented by Bruno, a high school classmate, was especially hurtful. The subsequent disappearance of Bruno’s treasured wristwatch, his grandfather’s, a wartime Heinkel pilot, settled a score and sparked Günter’s horological obsession. Its procurement, a sortie that, even to this day, elicits a buzz, when compared with the far more valuable Patek Philippe, Breguet and Rolex examples he possessed.
Günter amassed his collection, now worth millions of Swiss francs, his home currency, at little financial cost when compared to its present day auction value. Incidental expenses best described his miserly outlay. Finders’ fees paid for inside information, hotel, and transportation costs, the full extent of his limited investment in pursuing the objects he so desired.
Vacheron Constantin was a notable omission from Günter’s collection, an irritation that required soothing. Only one Chronometer Royal 4907 had ever appeared at auction, and both the number produced, or their whereabouts, remain unknown. Günter had received a tip-off about another example, this one belonging to a South American arms dealer based near Bolivia’s constitutional capital, Sucre.
‘Sweet’, he thought. Repatriating a timepiece to the land of its birth was always a rewarding experience, but for it to be liberated from such an unsavoury character made it doubly so.
Bags packed. He’d a plan. Travel time.
