‘What’s happened to him?’ asked Richard sharply.
‘We don’t rightly know. There was a shoot-up outside the British Legation the day after we got back to Bucharest. I wasn’t there, but Simon saw it. He says, well, he says …’
‘Go on!’ said Richard, his voice hard from sudden apprehension.
‘He says those Iron Guard boys gave the Duke the works.’
‘Oh, God!’ Richard groaned. ‘It isn’t true! It can’t be!’
‘I’m hoping so myself,’ Rex tried to console him. ‘But as we don’t know for certain I try not to think about it. If that’s the way it is he left us the legacy of getting the Golden Fleece safely to London. I fell down on the job and had to cache it in a mighty risky place; but I reckon I managed to tip Simon off over a week ago where to pick it up; so by this time he ought to be out of the country with it. That’s what I hope we’ll learn for certain in a few minutes now.’
Richard did not appear to hear. He sat, white-faced and silent, leaning back in his corner of the car. Within a few moments of Rex breaking the awful news to him they pulled up outside the Roebuck.
‘Sit tight,’ said Rex, getting out. ‘I’ll not be long here but I’m hoping to pick up a letter or cable from Simon.’
He found Levinsky in his little office, and the Jew rose at once to greet him with a smile.
‘Did you get my letter?’ Rex asked.
‘Oh yes, sir. The letter it comes,’ replied Levinsky in halting English. ‘Your friend come too, but till yesterday not; no, I mistaken am, he comes Monday; yesterday the day before.’
‘What!’ Rex gasped. ‘He didn’t come until the day before yesterday! Holy Michael help us! I thought he’d have called here first to enquire for me all of a fortnight ago.’
‘No, yesterday the day before, it was, and I tell him the car about. Then for you a message he gives. “Tell my friend,” he says, “good luck. I go my car to find and will to you telegraph so you news give of me to him when he returns, his suitcase to collect.’
‘Have you had any message?’ asked Rex, staring at him.
‘No, sir, not yet.’
‘Hell!’ exclaimed Rex. For some reason as yet unexplained Simon had not succeeded in picking up his trail in Cernauti until two days before, so a whole week had been lost. And even now Simon had not got anywhere, otherwise there would have been a telegram from him saying that he had located the car.
It was now sixteen days since Rex had rammed the option under the back seat of the Ford V8, and during that time there seemed every likelihood that Serzeski had come across it. There were now only nine days left to find him, recover the Golden Fleece and get it to London.
20
Race Against Time
Having asked Levinsky to telephone him at the Royal Bukovina if any message from Simon came in, Rex left the Roebuck and told the driver to take them to the larger hotel. On the way he was furiously wondering what could possibly have kept Simon in Bucharest for a whole fortnight.
Richard, knowing as yet practically nothing of the Odyssey of the Golden Fleece, was not giving it a thought. His mind was still numb from Rex’s terrible news about de Richleau. All of the Indomitable Four would have found it impossible to list his three friends in the order that he loved them best; yet, if forced to lose one of their number, Richard, Rex and Simon would all have agreed that it must not be the Duke. To Richard his loss meant an almost unendurable grief second only to that he would have felt on the death of his beloved Marie Lou.
The hotel was an old-fashioned place but had installed an American Bar as a concession to the modern industrialisation of Cernauti. On their arrival they bought themselves drinks and carried them through to a quiet corner of the raftered lounge.
Richard pulled himself together and strove to bring back his thoughts while for an hour Rex carried on a monologue, giving as full an account as he could of all that had happened to the Duke, Simon and himself since they had left the others on the Bulgarian frontier.
When he had finished Richard stubbed out his cigarette and said:
‘You’re right, Rex. We must try not to think about Greyeyes. His one wish would be that we should carry on with our mission and see it through. But we’ve got so little time. That’s the devil of it. And we haven’t the faintest idea where Simon is, or this Major Serzeski either. What the hell can we do?’
‘You’re asking me,’ Rex groaned. ‘I just hate the thought of sitting still waiting for Simon to send us news.’
‘What alternative is there?’
‘We could light out of here tonight for Bucharest. Serzeski’s an Attaché at the Polish Legation, so they should know where he is.’
‘Simon will have drawn that covert already. He would have taken the night train south on Monday, and been to the Legation yesterday afternoon.’
‘Why the hell hasn’t he wired to me care of Levinsky, then?’
‘When did you send your letter to the Roebuck?’
‘Last Monday week; that was—let’s see—yes, the 2nd.’
‘Well, in it you said you wouldn’t be out of jug for a fortnight, so Simon thinks you wouldn’t get any message he might send till the 15th; that’s three days ahead, and reason enough for his not feeling that there is any urgency about wiring you yet.’
‘That’s about it. I’ll go nuts, though, if we’ve got to kick our heels in this burg for three solid days.’
‘We may not have to. Something might come in from Simon at any time. But if we go haring off to Bucharest we’ve no idea where to pick him up, and by leaving Cernauti we’ll be losing touch with Levinsky, so we won’t get the wire when it does come in.’
‘Your smashed hip hasn’t cost you your common sense,’ Rex grinned. ‘And anyhow, we’ve accepted to dine with Ferari tonight. It would look pretty fishy if we just cut the party and faded out after they’ve held me on suspicion all this time. I guess we’ll give Simon another twenty-four hours anyhow, then, if nothing comes in from him, we’ll talk about going after Serzeski on our own.’
Richard nodded. ‘Ferari won’t mind if you make my excuses, will he? I don’t think I could face a party after what you’ve told me about Greyeyes; and, anyway, my exertions today have already been about as much as I’m up to.’
‘That’ll be okay. He knows about your smash and your having got off a sick-bed to come and pull me out. The thing that might get him all hot and bothered would be my doing a fade-out within a few hours of having shaken off the gyves and manacles. I do hope, though, that you’re not feeling too done up?’
‘No, I’m all right,’ Richard smiled. ‘It’s just that I have to be a bit careful still. I had a private sleeper right through on the train, but today is the first time that I’ve been moving about for anything like as long as six hours at a stretch.’
‘You’re going to bed this moment then,’ said Rex, standing up. ‘We can parlé just as well in your room as we can here, and I’ll fix the best dinner the place can offer to be brought up for you before I go out. I owe you a whole packet on top of that.’
‘Nonsense. If we four had ever paid what we owed one another, we would all have gone broke before now and grown rich again on the spondulics of each other. But we’re only three now, aren’t we? Oh hell, I think I’ll just lie in bed and drink myself stupid tonight.’
There was no reply to that heartrending thought of the awful gap which had been torn in the ranks of their little company, and in silence Rex accompanied him up to his room.
When Richard was in bed they ordered some more drinks to be brought up and fitfully discussed the war news; but Poland was now definitely out, and the Western Front seemed to be entering on a stalemate, so there was little of interest to talk over.
At nine o’clock Rex went out to dine. In the past fortnight he had come to know Ferari well and had found him an intelligent and likable fellow. The evening passed very pleasantly for both of them, and the Rumanian now made it quite clear that he thought Rex had had a hard d
eal in being detained on such insubstantial grounds for so long. They parted a little before one in the morning as the best of friends.
Next day, immediately after breakfast, Rex walked round to see Levinsky. There was still nothing from Simon, but he took the opportunity of collecting his suitcase and used that as an excuse to make the Jew a very handsome present, to consolidate his goodwill.
Richard came downstairs at eleven o’clock, and Rex accompanied him on the short walk that he now took every morning, increasing the distance slightly each day, so as gradually to get back the full use of his legs. On their return they learned that Levinsky had telephoned; consumed with impatience to get news of Simon, Rex jumped into a taxi and drove round to the Roebuck.
A letter had arrived for Levinsky by the ordinary mail, requesting that another enclosed in it should be handed to Rex when he called for his suitcase. With trembling fingers Rex opened the enclosure. It was simply headed Bucharest, 10th Oct., ‘39, and read:
Mon Vieux,
I gather you’ve been in a bit of a muddle, but your letter was reassuring, and I felt sure you’d prefer me to get on with the firm’s business rather than remain in Cernauti until the 15th or thereabouts.
I’ve been in a muddle myself, as the beak took an extremely poor view of the fancy dress I wore at that party where last we met. I don’t think I’m a malicious chap, but when I learned that you had come unstuck, too, I could cheerfully have crucified our landlord upside down, for, to put it mildly, the ‘inconvenience’ resulting from his unfounded and slanderous inferences concerning my moral character. What a lesson for historians that the Fate of Nations may hang upon the imbecile mentality of a fellow like that!
However, on balance the Fates are behaving generously, as the far more serious threat to our business, connected with the gentleman we met at Lubieszow, has not matured; and for that I gather we owe a lot to the previous owners of the Chrysler. Moreover, the new political situation here opens up quite a number of avenues to the firm that were previously closed.
Your letter came as a bit of a shock to me, as I had been comforting myself with the thought that by this time you would have completed our big deal.
Having read it, I gave one gasp and leapt into the first train for Bucharest. Arrived there I hurtled into the office of Lubieszow, Fils, Aîné et Successeurs, but the partner you wanted me to see had left the capital three days before and, I am told, is now in Ploesti.
I am proceeding there in the next train, and will either be, or leave word for you, at the best pub that oil-soaked Rumanian Wigan can boast.
No news, alas, of Greyeyes.
We’ll have to work fast now if we mean to complete that contract.
Yours without frills, or, thank God, petticoats.
‘S’.
Having returned to the Royal Bukovina, Rex went over the letter again with Richard. By ‘the gentleman we met at Lubieszow’ Simon evidently meant von Geisenheim, and by ‘the previous owners of our Chrysler’ the two Communists whom the police believed guilty of the assault; so he, too, was no longer worried on that score, and had also realised that the heavy setback recently sustained by the Iron Guard had removed their gravest danger. ‘Lubieszow, Sons, Elders and Successors’ was an amusing way of referring to the Polish Legation, and it was clear that he had adopted exactly the course that Rex and Richard had forseen when they had discussed the matter the previous evening.
‘It’s cheerful enough on the surface,’ Richard remarked. ‘But reading between the Lines one can see that he’s really worried stiff.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ muttered Rex. ‘Today’s the 12th, and we’ve got only eight days to go.’
‘I know, but Simon’s letter is dated the 10th, and he will have been in Ploesti by yesterday morning, so he should have run Major Serzeski to earth by now.’
‘Well, we’d better hit the trail for Ploesti on the first train out.’
They found that there was a train leaving Cernauti that afternoon which arrived in Bucharest at six o’clock in the morning, calling at Ploesti at 4.45. The head porter at the hotel secured them sleepers on it, and they settled down to the long journey, their anxieties somewhat eased by the comforting thought that they were at last on the move.
On arriving at Ploesti they got a night-hawk taxi at the station and asked him to take them to the best hotel. The man drove them to the Hotel Carol, a new and imposing edifice, but at its desk they drew blank; Simon had not been there. The taxi-man then took them to the Boyar Hotel, an older place, but having an air of expensive comfort, and there the night porter answered their enquiry by producing a letter for Rex, which had been left there that evening.
As he tore it open Richard leaned over, and they read:
Mon Vieux,
That damn’ friend of yours has unconsciously given me the slip, I arrived in Ploesti late on the night of the 10th and located him as staying here, but he had gone out to dine with friends and not yet returned.
I sat up in the lounge waiting for him until four o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t come in, so I went to bed, having left word to be called at eight. The fool of a porter mucked my call, and I didn’t wake till ten. By the time I got downstairs the Major had packed, breakfasted and gone, but not, apparently, to the station.
I questioned scores of servants and garage hands, but it was not until the night porter came on duty last night that I got anywhere. According to him our friend was still in the Ploesti district and had moved from the hotel to stay with friends outside the town, but he couldn’t give me the name of the people or the least idea where they lived; so I had to chuck it for the night.
This morning I tried the head waiter again to see if he could give me the names of anyone our quarry might have entertained while staying here. He then recalled that our friend had given a luncheon party for five men on Sunday last, the 8th.
Two of the guests were strangers in the place, but he gave me the names of the other three, all of whom were locals mixed up in the oil game. I got their addresses and spent the rest of the day chasing them up.
Only one lived outside the town, so I naturally went for him first. With him my luck was out as he had not seen the Major since the luncheon party, but he gave me the name of one of the others that the head waiter did not know; he was a chap named Vimeru, a tanker man who lives in Constanta, so the Major couldn’t be with him.
On getting back here I gatecrashed the two others, and the second one, a Greek called Zimovobodos, told me that the Major had spent the previous night with him at a weekend chalet that he owns up in the mountains to the north of the town. Our friend had, however, left that morning to go up to Cernauti again on some job connected with the Polish airmen who are interned there.
The next train for Cernauti is the night express, so I’ve booked a sleeper on it and am writing this after dinner. As the journey takes longer by road than rail I expect to be in Cernauti within an hour or so of our friend arriving there; so with luck I’ll have good news for you by the time you’re a free man again.
The odds are that you’ll never get this letter, as I shall leave another for you with Levinsky; so, if you’re not out till the 15th, you’ll get this news via him, and I hope more; and of course realise that there’s no point now in your coming to Ploesti. I’ve only written this on the offchance that you might get out earlier than expected and act on a letter I sent you two days ago from Bucharest.
Yours as ever, but quite breathless,
‘s.’
‘Well, thank goodness he did leave a letter here,’ remarked Richard, ‘otherwise, we’d be at a dead end again.’
‘What god-darned awful luck, though,’ Rex muttered. ‘Just to think that old Simon and Serzeski were both sleeping in this caravanserai and that Simon missed him in the morning because he wasn’t called in time.’
‘I know, and d’you realise that we must have been within about ten feet of Simon only about three hours ago? Our trains must have passed each other somewher
e round half past two this morning.’
‘Sure! Still, we’ll catch up on him tomorrow. There should be a morning train that will get us back to Cernauti before midnight.’
It proved that the day express from Bucharest for the north called at Ploesti at 9.25. So, having given the night porter a handsome tip in advance to ensure their being called at 7.30, they went upstairs to get a couple of hours’ sleep in comfortable beds.
This extra two hours and hot baths in the morning did much to refresh them after their wearisome night journey and the always unpleasant business of having to turn out of a sleeper in the small hours of the morning.
After breakfast they listened to a French broadcast and learned that Russia was now exerting pressure on the Finns, who were proving much more stubborn than had been the case with the smaller Baltic States.
At a few minutes after nine a taxi that they had ordered to take them to the station was reported at the door by the head porter. Having distributed the usual tips, they went out to it and drove off, thoroughly glad to be leaving so soon this dreary town in which everything smelt and tasted of petroleum.
The taxi had not covered a quarter of a mile and was still in the main street when Rex sat forward with a jerk.
‘Hi!’ he shouted to the driver, and added in German: ‘Quick! Turn round and go the other way.’
‘What the devil’s the matter?’ exclaimed Richard.
‘That car!’ gasped Rex. ‘The one that just passed us. It was the Ford V8! I saw its number.’
The driver had slowed down and drawn in to the kerb. Tense with excitement, Rex bellowed fresh directions at him, while craning his neck out of the window so as not to lose sight of the Ford, which was now half-hidden in the stream of traffic.
The taxi banged, rattled and coughed as the elderly Rumanian who was at its wheel hove it round regardless of the indignation of the other drivers of vehicles in the crowded street.
‘Go on!’ yelled Rex impatiently. ‘Go on, man! That dark blue, dusty Ford. Triple fare for you if you catch up with it.’
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