Codeword Golden Fleece

by Dennis Wheatley

  He thought for a moment, then went on: ‘As for accommodation, I think we will make our headquarters some little hotel in the Dambovita; that is, at the far end of the city among the wharves down by the river. It is very unlikely that we shall run into anyone who knows us there.’

  They hailed a passing droshky and half an hour later had installed themselves at a clean, unpretentious-looking hotel called the Peppercorn.

  While they were upstairs unpacking their solitary bag, Simon remarked: ‘How are we off for boodle to buy a car?’

  They all produced their wallets, and a check-up showed that, while a luxury car was out of the question, they had ample to buy a moderately priced model in good secondhand condition.

  Leaving the hotel they went in search of a car-dealer and found a big garage in an adjacent street that had cars for sale. As Rumania was not yet involved in the war, secondhand cars were still plentiful and their prices at pre-war level. Having selected a Chrysler that the proprietor said he had bought only that morning from two Frenchmen, Rex drove with him in it round half a dozen blocks and then spent a quarter of an hour inspecting its engine. After a little bargaining they closed the deal, had their purchase filled up to capacity with petrol and drove away in it.

  ‘Clothes are the next thing,’ said the Duke. ‘So many people are mixed up in this Iron Guard business, and unfortunately there are scores of them that we don’t know but who might recognise us. Most of the servants at the Athenée Palace must have tumbled to it that we were run out of town by the Iron Guard this morning, and if any one of them happened to catch sight of us he might put them on our trail; so we ought to alter our appearance as far as we can.’

  Rex pulled up at a large secondhand clothes shop a few blocks further on and they went inside. Simon’s beaky face lent itself so naturally to his posing as a Jew from the Bukovina that he at once selected one of the tall hats trimmed with red fox fur that they had worn as a distinguishing mark of their caste for centuries, and a rather threadbare black coat to go with it. Rex bought a long caftan and a shiny peaked cap in which he could easily pass as the driver of a hired car, and de Richleau contented himself with a cheap gaberdine suit in which he would look as much like an underpaid clerk as was possible for him.

  Having carried their purchases out to the car they drove up a deserted dockside cul de sac between two warehouses and changed, packing their own clothes into the boot. It was now half past six and, not knowing when they might have another chance to get a meal, they decided to feed before going out to Teleuescu’s.

  After driving round for a little they selected a fish restaurant in which the unadorned marble-topped tables looked suitable to the clothes they were now wearing. The choice proved a good one as they dined off deliciously fresh écrevisses, those miniature lobsters found in the Danube which are almost all claws, and Black Sea sturgeon stewed in a paprika sauce, and finished up with big plates of wild strawberries; so that even the epicurean Duke declared that they could not have fared better had they dined at Prunier’s in Paris.

  According to Rumanian habits their meal had been a high tea rather than dinner, and as most of the restaurant staff were off duty the service had been slow. By the time they had settled their bill it was getting on for eight o’clock, and dusk having fallen they decided to delay their visit to Teleuescu no longer.

  On their arrival at his mansion the servant who opened the door at first displayed some reluctance to let them in; but recognising them after a moment, despite their shoddy clothes, as visitors to his master of the night before, he took their hats and left them in the colonnaded vestibule while he went to ask if Teleuescu would receive them.

  A few anxious minutes elapsed, then he returned and ushered them into the millionaire’s private sanctum.

  Teleuescu was seated behind his table, but he made only a show of rising to greet them. He looked much older than he had on the previous night, and tired and depressed. As he took in their shabby raiment his eyebrows lifted, and he exclaimed:

  ‘My poor friends! I see from your clothes that you are on the run. I was informed that you would receive a visit from the Iron Guard. Oh, what a day it has been! You find me plunged in grief. I have lost a dear friend, and I fear too that my country may now fall into the clutches of this gang of murderers.’

  For a few moments they condoled with him and Rex described how, after the Iron Guard had attempted to deport them, they had managed to get back to Bucharest.

  The Rumanian nodded gloomily. ‘You have shown much courage as well as resource in returning here, because you will receive short shrift now if the Iron Guard catch you. I will not conceal from you that your visit tonight has placed me also in danger. Some of them came to see me first thing this morning. They told me that they meant to deport you and warned me that, should you succeed in evading them and come here, if I receive you I should pay for it with my life. I only hope that the men who have been on watch in the street outside most of the day have gone now.’

  ‘May have been someone on the other side of the road,’ Simon volunteered, ‘but there was no one loitering near enough to recognise us—especially dressed as we are.’

  ‘Let us hope you are right,’ Teleuescu sighed. ‘Yesterday I would have laughed at such a threat, as the play-acting of a lot of blustering young fools. But not today—no, not today. If they are bold enough to kill the Prime Minister they are capable of killing anyone.’

  ‘We all regret most sincerely that we may unwittingly be the cause of bringing you into danger,’ said the Duke. ‘But it was imperative that we should return to pay you your money and collect the option.’ He added the question the answer to which they were all on tenterhooks to hear. ‘Did the Prime Minister countersign it this morning before he met his tragic end?’

  Teleuescu nodded. ‘Oh, yes, he signed it. He had just left me and was on his way to his office when that gang of brigands set upon him.’

  Not a muscle of de Richleau’s face moved, but his grey eyes lit up. Rex’s huge shoulders straightened slightly as though a load had been taken off them, and Simon’s nails, which he had been gently digging into his clenched palms, relaxed their pressure. Terrible as was the event which had so soon followed the countersigning of the option, it was no personal concern of theirs. The task they had set themselves was to deal a mighty blow at Hitler by securing the Danube barges for Britain, and it seemed that through fantastic luck—by a bare half-hour and the thoughtlessness of the Iron Guard in not sending an escort to see them over the frontier—they had succeeded.

  Carefully as their reactions were concealed, Teleuescu’s sharp eyes caught them, and he spoke again with a sad shake of his head.

  ‘I am sorry, my friends, to disappoint you; but the fact that poor Calinesco signed before he died will not now do you any good.’

  ‘But hang it all, the deal’s still on!’ exclaimed Rex.

  ‘No, it is not. It ceased to be on at midday today.’

  ‘What the hell d’you mean?’ snapped Simon in a most unusual display of anger.

  The Rumanian ignored the remark and continued to address himself to Rex. ‘Much has happened on this most unfortunate of days. Let us start at the beginning. While I am still having my breakfast two of the Iron Guard arrive and demand to see me. I come downstairs in my dressing-gown, and they tell me that their leaders have given orders for you to be deported, and that, should you elude your escorts and come here, I must refuse to see you or face the consequences. I tell them that this is my house and that I shall receive whom I like in it and that they can go to the devil. Naturally, I am very worried on your account, and, Iron Guard or no Iron Guard, I hope that you will somehow manage to keep our appointment. An hour or so later I am rung up by the German Legation. A certain General who has come from Berlin specially to negotiate with me about the barges on behalf of the German General Staff.’

  ‘Von Geisenheim,’ broke in de Richleau quietly.

  ‘All right then, since you know him, the General
Count von Geisenheim asks me if I am prepared to reconsider my decision of last night. Well, I will be frank, I hedged. In view of the visit of the Iron Guard, there was now at least a strong probability that you would be prevented from completing your purchase of the option. I have to find a large sum of money by tomorrow. This is no fairy story concocted on the spur of the moment because I wish to excuse myself from wriggling out of my bargain with you….’

  ‘Ner,’ Simon grunted. ‘You told us so yesterday.’

  ‘Did I? So I did. I am glad of that. Well, I tell the General Count that in certain eventualities I might yet be prepared to accept an offer from him. He wishes to come round to see me at once to discuss the matter. But no! I refuse even to see him until this afternoon. In due course the Prime Minister arrives. He countersigns the option, and as he does so he says: “I do this for Rumania. It is right that we who have always loved freedom and won our own freedom from the Turks should bear our share in freeing the world from an even greater tyranny. When this transaction becomes public it may cause the premature fall of my Government, but that is of small consequence if at the same time it shortens this war by a year. The eventual good of the country must always be placed before party politics, and, even if this act of mine results in our having to fight, I shall not regret it, because I am convinced that only by an Allied victory can Rumania hope to retain her independence and full sovereignty over her present territories.”’

  As Teleuescu paused there were tears in his dark eyes, and the three friends were deeply moved. Overcoming his emotion, the Rumanian went on: ‘We agreed that the affair should be kept secret as long as possible. It was for that reason that he came here to sign rather than have me take the document to his office. My presence there might have aroused unwelcome speculation, and all our talks upon the matter have been held in private either at his house or mine. Well, poor Armand left me. You know what happened then. Ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour perhaps, after he had gone my servant rushed in to me with the terrible news. I am thunder-struck! I am heartbroken! What to do now I do not know. The man who is most likely to be the new Prime Minister is no friend of mine. If the Iron Guard decides to go after me he will give me no protection. I say to myself, why should I sell the damn’ barges at all? After poor Calinesco’s last words to me how can I sell them to the Germans, anyway, even if you do not turn up? And, if you do turn up, why should I risk my life to sell them to you? Somehow I must find the money I need another way; but that will not be easy.’

  Teleuescu wiped his drawn face quickly with a silk handkerchief, then spoke again. ‘I am, as the English say, between the devil and the deep sea. But the principles of a lifetime come to my aid. I say to myself, never yet have you broken your word. If Mr. van Ryn or either of his friends arrives in this room by twelve o’clock they must have their option and be damned to the consequences. But all the same I hope very much that you will not manage to get here. Twelve o’clock strikes, and I heave a great sigh of relief. All the same I force myself to give you another half-hour. It is for me a very long half-hour, but at last the clock strikes again. I get up and go to my club for lunch to hear from my friends the details of the great tragedy that has occurred. From that point, as far as I am concerned, the deal between us is off—finished—as though it had never even been discussed.’

  ‘I fully understand your attitude,’ said the Duke slowly, ‘And, of course, it was entirely our responsibility to be here at the time arranged. In view of the way in which you were threatened, we all appreciate your courage in determining to go through with the business if we had turned up; and even extending to us half an hour’s grace. Nevertheless, the very words of the late Prime Minister surely stress the immense importance of this deal being carried through, not only for the Allies but also, in the long run, for Rumania. Can we not…’

  ‘No, I refuse to reopen the matter. In any case it is now too late.’

  ‘D’you mean you’ve already sold out to the Germans?’ asked Rex.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then for the sake of your dead friend,’ de Richleau pleaded, ‘for the sake of the great patriot that Rumania has lost today—if for no other reason—let us at least…’

  ‘No, no!’ Teleuescu violently shook his head. ‘I tell you I can discuss the matter no further with you. I am now committed elsewhere.’

  ‘Thought you said you’d made up your mind that you wouldn’t sell to the Germans in any case?’ Simon interjected.

  ‘What does it matter if I sell to Germans now or not? Since I cannot sell to you the barge traffic will go on just the same whether the Germans gain control of the combine or I retain it.’

  ‘But if you haven’t closed with them you’re still free to deal,’ Rex protested. ‘After all, we were first in the field. I know the fact that we are several hours late for our appointment lets you out. But…’

  ‘Wait. You do not understand,’ Teleuescu cut in. ‘I have not yet told you all. When I got back from my lunch the Germans were here. I could not refuse to see them, but thinking still of poor Armand’s words, I had made up my mind not to sell. I told them that I had decided to retain my interest in the barge combine. But they were not satisfied. They say that, although you are out of the game, that may not be the end of the matter. Even the Iron Guard is not yet powerful enough to expel the British Legation from Bucharest. They know that you have been in touch with Sir Reginald Kent. They think that, although they have succeeded in expelling you from the country, as soon as you reach Turkey you will get in touch with him through your Ambassador at the Porte and ask him to complete the transaction on your behalf. Or even, perhaps, that you have only been acting as his agents all along and that he will quickly replace you with the others. They say that their Fuehrer has given a personal instruction that the barges are to be brought under German control. No chances whatever are to be taken of the Allies interfering with the traffic either now or in the future. Therefore, the sooner I make up my mind to sell, the better. Hitler is not a man who can be kept waiting, and he is expecting a report that the matter has been settled, by tonight. I say that Hitler is not my master—yet, and that for once he will be disappointed. The barges are not for sale.’

  ‘Well done,’ murmured the Duke. ‘Well done.’

  Teleuescu shrugged wearily. ‘Yes, I did my best; but that is not all. The Germans departed, very stiff, very correct, but much annoyed. I rest on my bed for a little and try to sleep; but sleep does not come. At six o’clock I have more visitors; the Iron Guards are back again. They say, “Our leaders have good information that France is rotten. They do not believe that the masses in the United States can be made sufficiently aware of what is at stake to allow their Government to intervene before it is too late; and Britain is no longer powerful enough to resist the might of Hitler alone. Therefore, his victory is assured. Once he has defeated the Western Democracies his word will be law in South-eastern Europe, and our only hope of permanently retaining Transylvania lies in our securing his goodwill now, while our friendship is still of some value to him. He regards it as imperative that he should safeguard his oil supplies from Rumania, and, in consequence, it has been decided that you must sell your barges to him. If you refuse… Well, we killed Calinesco this morning and we are quite prepared to come here and kill you tonight.”’ Teleuescu spread out his hands. ‘Now you have the whole situation. What could I do but agree?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t blame you in the least,’ said de Richleau quietly. ‘You still have the document, though?’

  The Rumanian gave a faint smile and shook his head. ‘Yes, I still have the document, and I know what you are thinking, but it is no good. You three are saying to yourselves: “There is a war on. Plenty of people are dying these days. Poor Teleuescu is in a mess and we are sorry for him, but we cannot let his life stand in the way of this thing which would do so much to assure an Allied victory. If the Germans come here later on tonight and, finding the document gone, call in the Iron Guard, they may kill him, w
hich would be very sad. But we are three to one, and we have our duty to do as we see it. Why should we not take the option from him by force and leave him to get out of his trouble as best he can?”’

  Those were in fact the very thoughts that had been simmering in the minds of his visitors, and they all looked slightly guilty as he went on:

  ‘But it is no good, my friends; I like my life and I yet have much to do. I do not mean to die, if I can help it, for a long time to come. The option is no longer in the drawer of my table here. When my servant announced that you were here I foresaw that in your disappointment you might be tempted to resort to desperate measures; so I transferred the option to a wall-safe of which I alone have the combination. I have a concealed bell which I should press the moment any of you made a move to attack me, and, even if you succeeded in stunning me before I could raise an alarm, you would be found and arrested hours before you could get the safe open.’

  ‘I give you full marks,’ grinned Rex. ‘But, say, what time are you expecting the Germans here?’

  Teleuescu’s smile deepened. ‘Ah, that is a different matter. The place where the name of the person to whom the option is granted should appear still remains blank. What happens to it after I have handed it to the General Count is no affair of mine. They have made an appointment for the same time as last night. A quarter of an hour or twenty minutes should see the business through. I expect they will leave the house about ten minutes to eleven.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the Duke. ‘Have you any idea how many of them there will be?’ ‘On their previous visits there have been just two of them: the General Count and the Commercial Attaché from their Legation. I see no reason why there should be more than those two tonight.’

  De Richleau stood up, and his friends rose with him as he said: ‘Then we will not detain you further. I am only sorry that we have not been able to secure the option by orthodox means.’

  The Rumanian had risen too. ‘The transaction I am about to enter into with the Germans is not an orthodox one, either. Had it been I should certainly not have given you the information that I have just supplied. I am forced to make the sale against my will, so I do not feel in any way responsible for doing my best to see that Hitler gets what he is paying for. But whatever may happen later on tonight I trust that none of you will attempt to seek refuge here or come to the house again. I should not like to have to give you up to the police or to the Iron Guard, and my life would almost certainly be forfeit if I failed to do so.’