Paradise Gold: The Mafia and Nazis battle for the biggest prize of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 2)

by Robbie, Vic

  Paradiso reached over and topped up his glass with the rum and offered the bottle to Raymond, who shook his head. ‘Just run it by me again.’

  Raymond sighed as if it were unnecessary but continued. ‘We hate Vichy almost as much as we do the Nazis. They’ve repressed us. The ordinary people of Martinique are no longer free, and every week the numbers of Nazis are increasing. Before long, we’ll be an occupied country, no matter what they think back in France.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you done something about it before, eh?’

  ‘We’re still French and at first we followed the law of the land. It soon became apparent things had changed.’

  ‘Okay, so you don’t like the bastards. How will that help us, eh?’

  ‘Admiral Robert believes he’s following the orders of the Vichy Government although, perhaps unwittingly, he’s becoming the tool of the Nazi regime. Around him, he has a cadre of senior officers who are pro-Vichy. The Nazis’ presence on the island is more sinister than first thought. They’re Wehrmacht, but they don’t wear uniforms, although you can always tell who they are, and they are reinforced by a number of Gestapo, who are the real evil bastards. They’re supposed to be here as advisers, but they’re much more than that. In recent weeks, U-boats have been coming into the harbour at Fort-de-France. We believe they’re attempting to remove the gold using their U-boats.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ He was beginning to enjoy the rum.

  ‘Many of the younger officers and the majority of the men, the soldiers and the sailors, support a free France. If you asked the islanders, were they able to answer freely, they’d tell you they wanted to be rid of the Nazis and their sympathisers.’

  ‘So they’re on our side, eh?’

  ‘Yes. It’s pretty relaxed at the Fort. There’s only a core of soldiers on duty at any time. Others are in their barracks and unarmed, or in town visiting bordellos, unlike the Nazis who are always there and fully armed all the time. Our friendly officers and their men will ensure those who are pro-Vichy will be held under guard when we strike. They won’t raise arms against us and will look the other way while we carry out our business. Those of us targeting the General will use a side gate and the soldiers on guard will be withdrawn so we’ll have unimpeded access.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ he said, seeing more holes in the plan than in a fishing net. ‘We’ll need backup from your boys.’

  ‘Once we’re inside the Fort, the front gate will be opened and the main body of our men will enter and take control. Remember, the French soldiers are our brothers in arms; they mustn’t be harmed. No shooting. Do what you will with the Nazis, eliminate them by all means, and let us deal with the Admiral.’

  ‘What’ve you in store for him, eh?’

  ‘He’ll be our hostage and will be useful in our negotiations with the Vichy. It’s imperative he’s not harmed in any way.’

  ‘What about the Germans on the U-boats in the harbour, eh? They’re not going to take this lying down.’

  ‘A squad of men will have been despatched to neutralise them as soon as the operation begins.’

  ‘And there’s the two French warships in the harbour. With their firepower, they could blow us out of the water?’

  ‘Apart from certain officers, their commanders are with us and not one sailor will move a muscle without their order.’

  He weighed it all up. He had heard this before, but he wanted to make certain there were no deviations from the plan. The possibilities for a fuck-up were multiple. What if some of the soldiers got their loyalties screwed up at the last moment and started firing or didn’t open the gate? Taking out the Nazis he could handle; he’d done it with rival gangs. A garrison of soldiers was another matter. That’s why, whatever Raymond thought, he had added a few other factors to the plan to ensure should something go wrong he and his men would have an escape route. Never enter a room, somebody once told him, without knowing the way out.

  ‘This way it’ll look as if the Free French have effected the coup,’ Raymond interrupted his thoughts. ‘Martinique will be free again and we’ll keep the gold.’

  ‘Don’t forget our share, buddy?’

  ‘And America won’t be involved, just some mercenaries who happen to be from Puerto Rico.

  He scowled at him. ‘What bugs me about all this is it was dreamt up by that dumbfuck Durant. Then some of his bosses got involved and they brought in my people. Couldn’t you have done all this on your own without us, eh? You say you’ve got the soldiers and the sailors onside, what’s stopping you, eh?’

  ‘You’re the vital ingredient,’ Raymond said with a broad smile. ‘America’s involvement was crucial. If we did it alone and we failed, everyone who’d been involved would be punished by the Vichy and the Nazis. They now believe this is the first step to America entering the war, and there is tacit support for the Free French.’

  ‘You know the American people don’t want to be involved in the war?’

  ‘Exactly, that’s why you and your men are here. No one knows the background to all this – the payment in gold to the Cosa Nostra, the arrangement with your boss – the islanders will believe you’re Marines working undercover, not mercenaries.’

  He didn’t like the term mercenaries but was enjoying the rum too much to protest.

  ‘So you have your cake and get to eat it, eh?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s better for people not to be told the whole truth.’ Raymond was smiling wryly.

  ‘And if it goes wrong, Vichy and the Nazis will blame America anyway and probably declare war on us.’

  ‘Then there will be nothing to stop America stepping in to save the gold. I know you have Marines standing by for such an operation if necessary.’

  For some reason, he had a flash of the big blonde spreadeagled across her bed. He shook his head. ‘Okay, okay, I can buy that for now. When do we go, eh?’

  Raymond poured himself another drink and got up, cradling the glass in his hands. ‘There’s been a slight delay.’

  ‘Whadya mean, eh?’ Paradiso put down his glass.

  ‘We’ve not had the order from Durant to proceed.’

  ‘For Christsakes, the dumbfuck.’ He jumped to his feet and the chair fell backwards. ‘Haven’t you contacted him, eh?’

  ‘Not been able to. Don’t know what the problem is.’

  The gold was now just moving out of reach as though drifting on the tide and he felt his dreams fading. ‘For Christsakes.’ He slammed a fist on the table, sending the half-empty bottle of rum crashing onto the floor. ‘We can’t wait any longer.’

  Hearing the noise, a Resistance fighter entered the room, his rifle at the ready, but was waved away.

  What the fuck’s going on, he wondered. Was Durant getting cold feet? Had his contacts in Washington pulled the rug from under them? Did his people know about this? Were they trying to screw more out of the deal? He hadn’t received any communications ordering him to halt proceedings. He couldn’t delay things any longer. The Nazis would be looking for their missing men and he would fall under suspicion and it would be better to hit them before they hit him. Anyway, the men and their arms were all in place so what was stopping them unless the Resistance refused to move without Washington’s backing.

  ‘What’s your take on this, eh?’

  Raymond walked away so he couldn’t see his face. ‘I don’t want to upset you Americans, but I’ve heard the Nazis want to bring in troops to the island and I need to strike before that happens.’

  ‘Good man.’ He beamed.

  ‘It’s bound to get out there’s a group of Americans on Dominica and we’d lose the element of surprise,’ Raymond said. ‘As it is, the Nazis have already got the American, Peters, locked up and he may know something about this.’

  ‘Take it from me, the dumbfuck doesn’t. They can barbecue his balls, but he can’t tell them anything unless he gives them some of his fiction.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, this is our only chance, Tony. If you’ve to await orde
rs from your people…’

  He kept getting flashes of gold bars stacked up from the floor to the ceiling. His bosses expected him to show initiative. He was the commander on the ground and it was up to him to grasp the moment otherwise he would never make it to the top, and perhaps once and for all he could bury the memory of his brother-in-law. If they delayed, he’d wind up dead instead of eating off plates of gold.

  ‘I’ve heard nothing. I don’t take orders from no government, the dumbfuck Durant, or anyone else.’

  Raymond smiled.

  ‘Right, we go,’ Paradiso said. ‘You wanted assassins. You got ‘em.’ He walked over to the door. ‘Now just get me off this fuckin boat.’

  40

  Fort-de-France, Martinique: Sunday, November 16th, 1941

  ‘What have you done with Ronnie?’ Ben heard himself asking the question before his eyes opened. ‘Where is she?’

  The room gradually came into focus. Grey granite walls. And it felt cold, a damp cold eating into his bones. One of the Nazis stood by the door and another hovered. He recognised Horst, but he wasn’t the one doing the talking.

  ‘Herr Peters, let me introduce myself. My name is Otto von Bayerstein, General von Bayerstein.’ He waited for a reaction and, getting none, continued: ‘You must answer my questions.’

  ‘Thought I recognised you,’ Ben said and made to get up from the chair.

  ‘I would not do that.’ Von Bayerstein put out a restraining hand. ‘Sudden movements make Horst nervous.’

  ‘Not your usual hangout, can’t see any dancing girls around.’

  He hit Ben with the back of his hand, a ring catching his cheek causing blood to stream down into his mouth. ‘We can be civilised about this if you cooperate.’

  ‘Not quite my definition of civilised.’

  The General ignored that. ‘Time is pressing. We’ve already wasted too much. My men were rather too enthusiastic with the chloroform and it took us some time to get you conscious.’

  He almost wished they hadn’t succeeded.

  Von Bayerstein looked agitated and fiddled with his monocle putting it in his eye and taking it out as though it didn’t fit properly.

  He marvelled at the German’s perfect, clipped English and wondered if he had attended an English public school. ‘Why do you want to ask me questions?’

  ‘Just answer them and you can go.’

  ‘You still haven’t answered mine.’

  Von Bayerstein cocked his head, failing to understand.

  ‘Where’s my driver, the girl?’

  The General appeared confused and glanced at Horst for an answer, and he shook his head. ‘I am afraid she did not make it,’ he said with false sincerity and paused, about to add something, then thought better of it.

  His head slumped onto his chest and from somewhere deep inside he growled: ‘You bastards, you don’t care for human life.’ He felt a greater loss than he could have imagined and it was overtaken by guilt for getting her involved. It was his business; she shouldn’t have suffered.

  ‘It’s war,’ von Bayerstein shrugged, ‘bad things happen when you are on the wrong side.’

  ‘I’m not going to answer any questions.’ He struggled to get up. ‘As a neutral American, I demand to be freed immediately.’

  Horst stepped forward and put out a hand to stop him. ‘Answer the questions and you can go.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Let us not play games, it would not be good for you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘We could make you disappear.’

  ‘Magic, huh?’

  ‘Not quite, but as effective,’ von Bayerstein said. ‘No one will know, not even your masters if you are, as we suspect, an agent. They will not care about you; it is always more convenient to forget your failures. And your loved ones, if you have any, will never find out what happened to you.’

  ‘You’re mad...’ He managed a hollow laugh.

  ‘I know your cover story. Don’t you think we check everyone coming onto the island?’ He pulled over a seat, placing it only feet from his face, and sat astride it, his chin resting on its back. ‘It is pointless to resist. It only causes unnecessary suffering and wastes my time. Germany is winning the war in Europe. Our U-boats rule the Atlantic, soon Martinique will become our base to strike at America. We have the firepower, and the gold here will be transported back to finance the rest of our war plans.’

  ‘You can’t get the gold off the island.’ He realised they weren’t going to let him walk out alive even if he answered all their questions.

  ‘I already said our U-boats rule the Atlantic. They visit the harbour under cover of darkness and will slip out again carrying a load of gold before transferring it to our ships far out at sea.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘That’s enough, tell me what you have done with my men.’

  He shook his head and tried to look bewildered.

  ‘The two men who were talking to you at the club.’

  ‘Oh, those two. Nice guys. When they finished hitting me, one was intent on carving lumps out of my face.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So that’s what you call conversation in Germany?’

  Von Bayerstein waved an arm at him. ‘What happened to them?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well, I asked them to give me the knife so no one would get hurt, banged their heads together and sent them on their way.’

  Horst stepped forward, failing to disguise his desire to get his hands on him.

  ‘What did you do with them?’ Von Bayerstein waved him back, and the livid scar on the side of the German’s face was now bright red.

  ‘They beat me up.’ He pointed to his cuts and bruises. ‘Where do you think I got these, they’re not duelling scars.’

  He stared at him, encouraging Ben to elaborate.

  ‘One of them hit me with something hard; I presume it was his gun and I passed out. Don’t know whether they thought they’d killed me or got bored. When I woke up, I was alone. The club had closed and I managed to get a taxi back to my hotel. That was my night. I guess you had a more exciting one with your dancer, quite a mover that girl.’

  ‘Who is your contact?’

  ‘Don’t have one.’ He screwed up his face.

  ‘Presumably, you are working with someone else on the island?’

  ‘The only person helping me was Ronnie, who was nothing more than a driver. She’s no use to you now.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘There’s no one; I’m here to write a book.’

  ‘Well, did anyone come to your rescue?’

  ‘I’ve told you what happened.’

  ‘It does not solve the mystery of my men who have disappeared.’

  ‘Maybe it’s more of your magic.’

  The General lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke into his face. ‘We know something is about to happen on this island. You Americans and the British are very interested in what happens here. Then two of my men disappear and you were the last to see them. I guess that puts you in the, how do you Americans say it, the frame.’

  It was pointless, but he shook his head vigorously.

  ‘Just tell me who your contact is. No one need ever know you have been here, let alone revealed his name. Otherwise–‘

  ‘Otherwise what?’

  ‘Otherwise, you may have to stay here until my men are found.’ And he smiled. ‘When we find them, you will be free to go.’

  He thought that might take a long time. ‘And if you don’t find them?’

  ‘I’m going to let Horst take care of you,’ he said like a specialist passing along a patient to a junior doctor. ‘As you can see, he is eager to make your acquaintance. After that, you will be put in a cell and left. Nobody will know you are here and no one will be able to hear you. It will be interesting to see what happens. We have done experiments in the camps where we have left prisoners on their own without food for some time. And do you know that without food their hunger beco
mes too great to bear and after a time they start eating themselves.’

  Von Bayerstein got back to his feet and looked at his watch. ‘Must go now, got an important meeting.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  The General ignored the remark. ‘Do not worry, Horst will take good care of you.’ He strode over to the door and paused. ‘Remember, we need just one name and you could be free.’ And he turned to Horst ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Just one name, Herr General,’ Horst replied with a lop-sided smile. ‘Just one name.’

  41

  She put a hand to the source of the throbbing pain in her forehead and felt a large lump that was even more painful to the touch. Nausea deep in her stomach made Ronnie want to throw up yet she managed to pick herself up. She rubbed her eyes. She had double vision and although she blinked hard, it wouldn’t clear. Her car stood forlornly about ten yards away, slewed across the roadway and half on the grass verge. She remembered nothing. At some time, she guessed she’d got out of the car and wandered into the brush before collapsing. Her mouth had a strange metallic taste and she ran her tongue over her teeth checking if they were still all there and then spat on the grass to test for the presence of blood. Relieved there was none, she called out: ‘Ben, Ben.’

  The only response came from a startled bird calling in the treetops. She staggered over to the car and every step increased the pain inside her head and it was like walking on a ship’s deck in a storm. There was no sign of Ben. Now she remembered the black Citroen that had attempted to force them off the road and their path blocked by another car. Everything afterwards was a blank. What had happened to Ben? But already she feared for him.

  She circled the car looking for damage. There was a dent in the back, but to her relief it still had four wheels and four inflated tyres. Almost on the point of collapse, she pitched forward and was forced to sit down on the verge. Apart from the bang on the head, she seemed to be in reasonable shape – no cuts and, as far as she could tell, no broken bones. She couldn’t determine if she had an injury inside her head, and she worried she might pass out at any moment.