Codeword Golden Fleece

by Dennis Wheatley

  It was now close on eleven o’clock, and, owing to the late hours that the upper classes in Rumania habitually kept, the noisy crowd in the foyer was still drifting in to dinner, but the Duke hoped that Lucretia might be asleep. In any case, both he and Marie Lou felt far too done up to face her in her grief that night, or to wait up for Simon and Rex, who might quite possibly not return until two or three in the morning. Having left a message for their friends, they escorted Richard upstairs, and after making him comfortable went to their own rooms, where they wearily pulled off their clothes and flopped into bed.

  De Richleau was wakened about nine o’clock by a house-call from Rex, who greeted him with restrained cheerfulness and asked him to come along to breakfast in the suite that he was sharing with Simon and Lucretia. Normally the Duke required very little sleep and, having just had the best part of ten hours, he felt quite recovered from the fatigue which he had been feeling all through the previous day. Slipping on his dressing-gown, he crossed the sitting-room that separated him from the Eatons and gently opened their door to peep in.

  The heavy curtains were still drawn, but bright streaks of sunlight coming through their chinks faintly lit the room. Richard was awake and, raising himself on his elbow, whispered: ‘Hush! She’s still alseep, and the last two days have taken it out of her pretty badly. I want her to sleep as long as possible.’

  ‘That’s right,’ de Richleau whispered back. ‘I’m going along to Rex and Simon.’

  After a wash and shave he joined the others in their private suite. Lucretia was not present, but the two men were overjoyed to see him safe and well, as he was to see them; and it was not until they had given rein to their pleasure in their own reunion that Simon said:

  ‘Not so long ago I’d taken big odds against all six of us getting safely out of Poland. ‘Fraid, though, that you don’t find us in quite the mood for a celebration. As a matter of fact, we’ve got some pretty bad news for you.’

  ‘You mean about Jan? I know; they told me at the Legation last night. Is it really true?’

  ‘Yes. ‘Fraid so. Rex and I didn’t know about it till the following morning. We went round to the hospital, but he had died within an hour of being brought in. A French-speaking doctor told us all about it. Van went right over his body, and he was so badly crushed that he had no chance.’

  ‘Poor Lucretia’s real bad,’ Rex supplemented. ‘She was still all in when we went to collect her from the Legation, and they wanted to keep her there, but we figured that she’d be better with us. We wouldn’t let her attend the funeral, so Simon and I were the only mourners. We bought a burial plot and tidied everything up as well as we could, though it wasn’t all that easy, as neither of us could speak Rumanian, and the French around these parts is a strange dialect.’

  ‘You’ll find German useful with the middle classes,’ remarked the Duke, as they sat down in a decidedly chastened mood to breakfast. ‘But, tell me, what was poor Jan doing in Bucharest? I should have thought he would have remained in Poland as long as the Polish Army was putting up a fight.’

  ‘We’re keeping Lucretia as quiet as possible,’ said Simon. ‘Haven’t liked to question her much. Seems, though, that all that was left of the Polish Air Force was brought down to the Rumanian border to protect the Government’s new H.Q. Then, when the Ruskies decided to walk in, the Poles saw that the game was up and ordered their airmen to fly their planes over into Rumania. Preferred the idea of their being interned, I suppose, to their falling into the hands of the Nazis or the Bolshies.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rex cut in. ‘That was the line they took, and, although Jan wasn’t one hundred per cent, after his crash, he still felt up to flying a plane. Having gotten hold of one, and knowing that Lucretia wanted to join us as soon as possible in Bucharest, he took a chance with the Rumanian flyers that were shepherding the Poles down, foxed their patrols and flew her straight through.’

  ‘Didn’t fancy the idea of Lucretia’s being shut up in an emergency internment camp for several weeks, I expect,’ added Simon.

  ‘Pretty risky, though,’ muttered the Duke through a mouthful of mushroom omelette. ‘They might easily have been shot down.’

  Rex shook his big, curly head. ‘No, slipping through these Rumanian boys would have been dead easy to an ace like Jan. They’ve got a few good pilots, but most of them are only enthusiastic amateurs, and their machines are just old crates. Besides, there would have been plenty more Poles in the sky to keep them busy, and they’d know that Jan would have to come down further on in the interior and be interned just the same. They probably thought he was some dumb duck who didn’t understand their signals. Still, the poor old chap is a gonner now, and it’s Lucretia we’ve to worry about.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Duke. ‘It seems doubly frightful that, having mourned him as dead ten days ago, she should have had him restored to her again, only to lose him now. We must get her back to England as soon as possible. Richard has made a marvellous recovery, thank God, but he will still be out of the game for some time to come, so I want Marie Lou to take him home. If Lucretia goes with them the two girls are experienced enough travellers to manage, and helping Marie Lou to look after Richard will give Lucretia something to occupy her mind, poor darling.’

  ‘I’ll say it was a mighty fine feat your getting him out of Poland,’ said Rex, and we’re dying to hear how you did it.’

  ‘It’s a long story, so do you mind if we leave that till later, and you tell me first what luck you’ve had with the Golden Fleece?’

  ‘Good and bad.’ Simon jerked the narrow shoulders under his silk dressing-gown. ‘Sir Reginald has been very helpful—quite unofficially, of course. We’ve met Teleuescu, chap who owns them, several times. He’s—er—well, a pretty tough customer, but he doesn’t like the Nazis. Got a Jewish wife. Nice woman. Had tea with her the other day, and she’s pushing the boats along in our direction for all she’s worth. It’s boodle that’s the trouble.’

  ‘He’s sticking out for a very big price, eh?’

  ‘Pretty big. About four times what they’re really worth. But that was to be expected. The good news is that he’s prepared to deal at all.’

  ‘What is the hitch, then?’

  ‘Trouble is, when we got here, we found that immediately after Britain’s declaration of war, she froze all her assets, and most other countries followed suit. Consequence is none of us can now lay our hands on any ready cash or get the sort of credit that’s needed to carry through a deal like this.’

  ‘How about an option? One should be able to secure that for a tenth of the capital sum, and once we have it there shouldn’t be any great difficulty in persuading the British Government of the wisdom of taking it over from us.’

  ‘Um. We thought of that. In fact, those are the lines we’re working on at the moment. But even the purchase of a thirty-day option needs a pretty tidy sum—about fifty times what the whole of us could raise by pledging our personal credit here in Bucharest.’

  ‘That’s the devil, isn’t it?’ said the Duke meditatively.

  ‘It certainly is,’ Rex agreed. ‘Simon can’t get a nickel out of England. and I guess Lucretia will find it just the same with Spain. That leaves me as the White Hope at the moment. I’ve cabled my old man, and the wording of that cable was just as strong as they come. But it’s a big wad of dollars to ask for, when I dared not put it in clear over the international wires what I was up to. We can only hope that he comes across, but it’s trying him pretty high.’

  ‘When do you expect to hear from him?’

  ‘Today, with luck. We’ve got another conference with old man Teleuescu this evening, and he’s promised to have the option all drawn up for us to sign. We didn’t dare to put him wise to it that we might not have the money, and he certainly won’t play ball unless we can produce the cheque. So that’s how we’re situated right now.’

  ‘How about your own Legation? If Channock lets us down, would they be prepared to help you at all?’


  ‘Nope. I was not acquainted with the American Minister here, but I got him to see me all the same. Simon and I agreed that no harm could come of my spilling the beans to him, because if he passes the idea on it will only be to the United States Government. If they decided to cash in on it, that would be all to the good. Some of us may not like Franklin D. Roosevelt’s domestic politics, but he’s no friend of the Nazis. Putting the half-Nelson on this barge traffic is just the sort of thing that might appeal to him. It’s such a whale of a chance to give a hand to the British without having to enter into a public argument with all those isolationist diehards in the Senate, who are out gunning for him all the time. Anyhow, the Minister could suggest no line by which we might raise the cash to carry through the deal; and when I asked him to lend me a million bucks on my own personal say-so, he just burst his sides for laughing.’

  ‘One can hardly be surprised,’ smiled the Duke.

  ‘No, I’ve only just stopped laughing myself at the idea of asking him; but you never know your luck.’

  De Richleau nodded. ‘I am hoping to see Sir Reginald this morning, but, of course, he is in exactly the same position as your man, and, however sympathetic he may be to our intentions, I don’t see how he can help us financially. Anyhow, I’d better go and dress now, in case a call comes through from the Legation.’

  While the Duke was bathing a call did come through, to the effect that Sir Reginald would be pleased to see him at twelve o’clock.

  Marie Lou was now getting up, and when they were dressed she and de Richleau went along to see Lucretia, while Simon and Rex came in to talk to Richard.

  Lucretia was up but lying on a sofa in her room. She looked very pale, and there were great circles under her grey eyes. She smiled faintly at her visitors and tried to put them at their ease by saying at once:

  ‘You’ll have heard all there is to hear from Rex and Simon, so don’t let’s talk about it. I know you’d both do anything you could for me, but there’s nothing you can do.’

  In an attempt to take her mind off her grief, the Duke and Marie Lou launched into a description of their own adventures; but after a little they realised that for the time being she no longer had the power to concentrate on anything but her own bereavement and was hardly listening to what they said. When de Richleau suggested that she should return to England with Richard and Marie Lou she roused a little and agreed without protest; so they left it at that, and the Duke went to get ready for his visit to the Legation.

  Bucharest is subject to great extremes of climate—more so than any other capital in Europe; in summer it is as hot as Madrid, and in winter nearly as cold as Moscow. During September it is still beautifully warm, and as it was a lovely morning when he left the hotel, de Richleau took one of the open droshkys, which are such a feature of the city. They are much more numerous than taxis, and both their drivers and horses come of a special breed; the former, who always wear long black velvet caftans, being Russian Skoptzi—a religious sect that emigrated to Rumania many generations ago—and the latter black Orloffs of splendid proportions.

  Arriving at the Legation punctually at midday, the Duke was shown straight up to Sir Reginald’s room, which overlooked a charming little garden. After they had exchanged greetings and the Minister had enquired kindly about Lucretia, the two old friends settled down to an informal chat about the international situation.

  Pacing slowly up and down, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets and his grey head slightly forward, Sir Reginald discoursed quietly and amusingly on the position of Rumania.

  The present régime, he said, was well disposed towards the Allies, and the bulk of the Rumanian people were most strongly opposed to any form of dictatorship. Few countries had a greater variety of foreign minorities included in its population, and these had always been treated with the greatest toleration. The Hungarians in Transylvania would, of course, seize on any excuse to make trouble, but this was due to their comparatively recent absorption. The Russians in Bessarabia showed little desire to place themselves under Soviet rule, and in other parts of the country communities of Turks, Germans, Greeks, Armenians, Tartars and Jews followed their own ways of life without the least interference. Commercially, Rumania was much more dependent on Germany than on Britain and France, but this was mainly the result of her geographical situation, and, Sir Reginald felt, the Rumanians would do anything to retain their independence.

  The danger, of course, lay in the possibility of Hitler going into Hungary and then arrving on the Rumanian border. If the Hungarians decided, or were forced, to throw in their lot with the Germans, they would undoubtedly point out to Hitler the wisdom of securing their genuine goodwill by getting back for them their lost province of Transylvania. The poor Rumanians would then be in a pretty fix, since they could certainly not resist the might of Germany for long, and the Allies were in no position to assist them.

  The permanent retention of Transylvania was the thing nearest every Rumanian heart, but there were two schools of thought as to how this could best be achieved. The great majority, remembering that, although the Germans had overrun their country in the last great war, the Allies had triumphed in the end, and enormously increased Rumania’s territories after their victory, were for fighting their old enemies, if need be, and putting their trust in God and the Allies once again. But a small though powerful political minority were for cutting the ground from under the Hungarians’ feet by going in with Hitler as the price of his allowing them to retain Transylvania.

  This minority was the Rumanian Iron Guard, an association which had risen as the result of the totalitarian doctrine gaining a certain number of converts in the army and the cities. It was mainly composed of discontented young blackguards who admired the Nazis and was rapidly becoming a menace. To achieve their ends these gangsters resorted to intimidation, blackmail and even murder; and it seemed beyond the power of the Government to stop their violent activities; although their original leader, Codreanu, had been arrested more than a year before and shot dead with twelve of his leading adherents during an attempt to escape which they had made while being transferred from one prison to another. In the event of Hitler’s occupying Hungary, the Iron Guard might even attempt a coup d’état, and, if it succeeded, as the Minister put it mildly, his own position might become one not altogether lacking in difficulties.

  The Duke then gave him the latest news out of Poland, and his host congratulated him on the timing of his exit, remarking that he had had news that morning that the Russians and German armies had met the previous day at Brest Litovsk. He added that the Rumanians were behaving extremely well to the defeated Poles and had already given many of their leading personalities sanctuary.

  After listening patiently to all that the Duke had to say about his project of buying up the Danube oil barges, Sir Reginald remarked that he was already endeavouring to interest the British Government in the matter, but it might well be some time before they could reach agreement on the formula to be adopted and secure the necessary funds from the Treasury. There was also the factor that, if the barge traffic were cut off, Rumania would lose a great part of her oil revenues, and her Government might decide to intervene. But Sir Reginald thought it would be time enough to consider that when further progress had been made.

  He warned his visitor that, if the German agents, who were already swarming in the city, or their friends of the Iron Guard got wind of his intentions he and his associates in the deal would find themselves in grave personal danger, and that he feared the police might not be able to afford them adequate protection. He then went on to say that, although he could be of no assistance in the matter of funds, should the Duke succeed in securing the option he would willingly have it sent by a fast bag to London with a personal recommendation as to the advisability of the Government’s considering its purchase as a matter of the utmost urgency; but he added a further warning that the option should on no account be sent by post, but be brought to him personally, as he h
ad reason to suppose that the local mail was at times subject to scrutiny and that the postal authorities were not altogether free from Iron Guard influence.

  While enjoying a glass of fine Amontillado they talked for a little of the war, after which de Richleau thanked the Minister for his valuable if unofficial co-operation, and took his leave.

  Back at the hotel he found a radiant-faced Rex waiting for him in the lounge. The cable from America had arrived, and old Channock van Ryn had come across with the big sum they needed. Rex had already been round to the bank at which the credit had been opened, and had in his pocket a banker’s draft for the option money. It seemed that all was now set for the completion of the deal with Teleuescu that evening, and, having collected Simon, they went out to lunch at a grădină, as the garden restaurants, for which Bucharest is famous, are called.

  Much of Rumania’s wealth lies in her great herds of livestock, and, as her cultivated lands range from temperate to semi-tropical and she has abundant fish from both her many rivers and the Black Sea coast, food is incredibly cheap and of the greatest possible variety. As a result of this, her cuisine is perhaps the best in Europe and rivals that which obtained in the Russia of the Czars.

  The grădină to which Rex and Simon took the Duke was one of the best among the innumerable selection to be found in the tree-lined streets of the outer city, and, as he sat eating his caviare, his ciorbă—a chicken soup made with sour cream—and his sărmala of rice and meatballs wrapped in vine leaves, he thought more than once of the terrible contrast between the happy scene about him and the empty, shattered cafés that he had so recently left in Warsaw.

  Marie Lou had elected to remain with Richard, and Lucretia had made it plain that, for the time being, she preferred to be left alone with her grief; so that afternoon they all subscribed to the Rumanian custom of the siesta, which Simon and Rex had already adopted. In Bucharest the wealthier population keeps hours which would be thought extraordinary in England. They rarely dine before ten o’clock or go to bed before three or four in the morning, and, although the appointment with Teleuescu was not until nine that night, the friends were under no illusion that he had asked them to dinner.