by Graham Adams
He had to decide, and quickly where to start to look for the hidden treasure. Would he take all the paintings apart? He thought about Lewi again, what would he do? Louis picked up the small bronze; it depicted ‘The Stag at bay’. It was obviously a copy, but quite an accomplished one, so with his torch he looked more closely. One of the stag’s front legs was bent sharply at the knee, and as he traced the leg up towards the body. The sculptor, having taken account of the bending, had caused the skin where the front leg joined to its body to fold. Holding on to the bent leg with one hand and putting his flashlight under his chin he held the body with the other hand. Slowly but with some force he twisted the leg. Suddenly the leg moved away from the body. As he twisted further, he could see the machining appear between the leg and the body. He turned the sculpture upside down and screwed the leg off with a few more turns.
He placed the separated leg in his pocket and looked at the small cavity that remained in the trunk. It was quite beautifully machined and he shone the torch into the little hole. There was some blue raffia paper lining the bottom of the cavity, only about an inch deep, so he poked at the paper with a ball point pen, and it easily gave way, allowing him to hook the contents out. Louis opened one of the folds of the paper and it revealed a ring of sorts with a blue stone mounting. He quickly folded the paper back and slipped the little parcel into his inside pocket which was conveniently zipped.
He then carefully replaced the stag’s front leg to its body taking care not to force it. The statue had been cleaned so there was no point in adding any dirt to the join, but the folds in the skin were good enough to hide any screw mark to the untrained eye. Louis did not intend to search any further, and he carefully placed the little bronze on the ground. Throughout the operation, he wore thin plastic surgeon style gloves keeping them on after he had secured the lock-up. He walked down a couple of side streets towards a bus stop and then he popped the disposable gloves into a public waste bin.
It had been nearly two weeks since the ‘robbery’, and each day he diligently scoured the Paris papers for any ‘lost and found’ items in the classified sections, especially with box number addresses. He hit the jackpot with Le Monde; he spotted an advert which read ‘Valuable artefacts taken from warehouse in Paris 10.000Euro reward on recovery. Apply box number A152’. That particular classified ad appeared on four consecutive days in the same newspaper.
Back at his hotel he took a quick look at the ring again, and it was indeed a beauty, but he didn’t look too closely, as he had other things to do before he left Paris. So he replaced it into his zipped pocket, and then planned his final act.
The next day he purchased an A5 manila self sealable envelope and wrote on a single white sheet of paper: ‘Artefacts for Box number A152 are to be found at this address’. He wrote the lock-up address code at the bottom of the note, and then popped the message and the lockup keys in the envelope. He finally headed the envelope ‘Le Monde, Blvd August –Blanqui, Box no. A152’ He packed his small belongings together and checked out of his hotel, which just happened to be three blocks away. The reception of the newspaper was easy to find through the large glass doors of the seven story building designed like a giant wedge on the corner of two busy streets. The receptionist took the envelope and thanked him. He asked for Louis’s name, and he answered saying that the box number owner will get everything he needs inside the envelope, please deliver to the box number and none other. He then turned and headed out into the street. Just after he had left the building he saw a city bus headed ‘Gare de l’Est’ and got on it.
The TGV to Strasbourg was comfortable and fast and he noted that he would be in the city of Alsace in just less than two and a half hours. He rang Ethan to ask if he could pick him up at the station in Strasbourg, but was told he was out for the day. Leah came to the phone and said she would meet him at the station. Louis was overjoyed, as she was the person he wanted to see anyway. He spent the first part of the train journey assessing the traceability of his actions in Paris, particularly any clues left at the warehouse or the lock-up. He hoped that the owners would retrieve the whole amount of the items, and he hoped that without having to cough up any reward, it would remove any need to carry on with their search. Louis was aware that if they did continue to pursue him, the connection to Leah-May might just be a lead for them, but he sincerely hoped not.
The second half of the journey was spent looking out of the train, and imagining how his great grandfather Lewi must have travelled in the same direction, on foot. He saw him running in the same fields trying to avoid the patrols, begging or stealing food to keep alive, and knowing what the consequences would have been if he was caught. He was filled with admiration for the man’s fortitude, a hero among a million heroes, refugees trying to escape the vicious mindless tyranny that was Nazi Germany.
The TGV pulled smoothly into Strasbourg. He alighted from the train onto a deserted platform and his heart sank. Did she know which train to meet? He hadn’t told her. He trudged along the platform feeling a little dejected. There was no sign of her. He noticed a trackside café flashing a red beer sign and he was tempted to go in to get his head together. As he walked towards the door, it flew open and there she was.
‘I came here early Louis, yours was the third train to arrive, and thank goodness you are here.’ She hugged him gratefully and he returned the hug in relief. ‘Your message seemed a bit cloak and dagger, has something happened to you Louis?’ she asked.
‘Can we go back to your home Leah? I have something to show you that only one other person in this world has seen, for at least sixty years.’ Suddenly Louis felt and looked very tired, and Leah took his bag and put her other arm through his as they went on the escalator heading for the street. To any outsider they probably looked like brother and sister, instead of aunt and great nephew. The two members of the great Hebrew tribe of Levi sat arm in arm in the back of the Mercedes limousine, the same one that he had driven to them from Southampton all those years ago. The same butler Roger was in the driving seat, and Louis noticed that there was a hint of grey in the hair protruding below his hat.
They approached the tall iron gates that bore the name of Khan on them both, and they slowly opened. Roger then drove the car through the familiar jungle-bordered drive. The car pulled up outside the marble portico that was the entrance to their mansion. Louis was the first to step out of the car, and as he stood up straight, he breathed in the heavily scented air surrounding the huge house. He just had to give her another hug. ‘I just love being here Leah.’ His eyes were glinting, full of tears.
She answered him in Hebrew. ‘We love to welcome you to our house, blood of my blood.’ Louis had never understood the Hebrew tongue, but he knew there was no need for interpretation. As she opened one of the massive front doors she asked, ‘is what you have to show me in your case Louis?’ He answered with a smile and gently tapped his coat breast pocket. Roger the butler had called ahead and told the staff to arrange some food for his passengers. As Louis and Leah entered the dining room, a sumptuous banquet fit for King Solomon was laid out before them. Louis was completely bowled over with. As they ate their fill he could not hide his surprise that Leah did not ask about his treasure, she just held her tongue so pleased to see him enjoying his food.
She led him out of the room and headed for her private study. He looked back for a moment to see the silent servant clearing away. He picked up his jacket, opened the breast pocket and pulled out the small envelope and dropped the jacket on the back of a chair. Roger had followed them into the study. He picked up Louis’s coat and backed out of the room closing the door. The study was light and airy, with two rows of books that covered a whole wall, and the whole ambiance was one of peaceful quietness. Louis passed her the small sealed envelope, on which, for effect, he had signed over the seal: ‘Lewi Levi’. Leah looked at the seal and smiled at him as she gently prised it open, and the little blue parcel fell out of the envelope into her hand.
‘Just r
emember that the wrapping paper you are holding was last touched by your father all those years ago,’ Louis said as a caution. Gently she unfolded the delicate blue paper and examined the fine ring that was nestling there. Firstly, on the inside of the band of white metal, it was distinctly hall marked, and on each side of the hallmark was a tiny inscription too small to read with the naked eye. She turned the band around and looked at the jewelled mounting. As she brought it closer to her eyes Leah gave out a resounding sigh and placed her other hand over her heart in amazement.
Louis came up close to share the sight. It was a jeweller’s triumph. At the centre of the mounting sat a large modestly cut sapphire, basically round in shape. Two rows of three identically cut diamonds formed outer lines into an elliptical shape like an eye. The closest line of diamonds to the sapphire were black, the middle lines were of white diamonds and the outer lines of pink diamonds. Neither Leah nor Louis had any experience in jewellery however, for the uniqueness alone they knew they were in the presence of a craftsman’s masterpiece.
Leah spent some time, just looking at the ring, letting the light play on the centre blue sapphire which seemed to change colour as she moved it. She imagined what her father Lewi must have thought as he looked at the same ring over sixty years before. Then having to leave it in his little shop in Rue des Ouiseau in Paris, not knowing if he would live long enough to let anyone know where it was. Leah finally replaced the ring in the wrapping paper and envelope and locked into the floor safe. Ethan was expected home very late, and she told Louis that he would see it in the morning.
Louis was awoken by one of the maids, who told him that the master would like to see him when he was ready. Ethan greeted Louis with a huge hug that took his breath away for a moment. The ring was lying on the table on top of the blue raffia paper. Louis asked Ethan if he could get the ring checked out without too much fuss, if he knew what he meant. Ethan as ever, knew what Louis meant, having said that he knew one of the leading jewellers in the world who would visit him at the house if invited. That would keep everything secret.
‘I can imagine, Louis, what it has cost you to finally uncover Lewi’s secret treasure, and we shall keep that secret in the family.’ Ethan said.
Much to the disappointment of his hosts, Louis told them that he could not stay, and would have to leave the next day. He asked if Roger could take him to the station, and that he would explain everything to them on his next visit. The journey to the station was weird; Louis had the feeling that they were being followed, and he let Roger know his fear.
‘Leave this to me sir. Just hold on to your hat.’ Instead of taking the road to the station, he turned sharply out of town and sped into the country. ‘I am going to drive to Nancy; you can get the train to Paris from there. He put his foot down and must have been driving at over one hundred miles an hour. About half way to Nancy he stopped in a lay-by and waited. Two trucks went by, but nothing suspicious, so they went on. Louis shook Roger’s hand as he left the limousine at Nancy station, and watched him drive away. He felt much better as he boarded the train to Paris. From the TGV, right at the last moment, he transferred to Gare de Lyon deciding at the last minute, to visit his father, whom he realised was advancing in years. He had heard little from him for quite some time.
20 Parting of the ways
Burley Moor
Victor had made love to his beautiful colleague for the last time, how fitting that it should be in a Paris hotel, albeit close to the rail station. He knew that the real spark of love was missing, and they would always be friends, but sadly only that. Leah-May had told him about her complicated life, and somehow he wished that he had never challenged her in the first place on the station concourse. He now felt that he had been drawn into a web of danger, with her father as the spider. This new situation had now brought to the surface again, the phobia of being followed with all the stress that it brought to his mind. They had both been rewarded well for their efforts. Each had a numbered account in Switzerland with the princely sum of eighty eight thousand pounds in it. But now with the robbery incident at the warehouse deep down, he felt that this was not the end of the matter.
As Leah disappeared into the disembarking crowds on the Channel Tunnel platform at Waterloo, there was no kiss goodbye, no keep in touch, just a wave and then she was gone. She was now out of his life. He wondered if they would ever meet again. Before he purchased his ticket for Brockenhurst, he rang his father to ask him to pick him up at the station. He was still looking for any suspicious characters as he passed through the gate, and as he walked along the platform, he looked in each carriage for seats. As usual it was a full train, so he decided on a carriage. He sat on one of the small seats near the exit door, he felt a little safer at last. As the train jolted, two large men jumped on at the last minute, one carriage away, but he didn’t see them again.
Victor got out at his station, looking around to see if the big men did too, but there was no sign of them. He ran up the staircase of the little wooden bridge, crossed the track and could see his father waiting alongside his car. Harry shook his sons hand and noticed how thin he was. He also noticed how much he had changed in other ways. The outgoing, full of fun nature had been replaced by an inward brooding character and when Henry asked if he was alright, Victor looked vacantly into the windscreen and nodded without speaking.
In the following weeks Fay and Henry did their best to support their son in his obvious unease with himself, and were scared that if they pressed him for answers they might drive him away again. Their patience with him sadly was not rewarded as he disappeared again, but this time suspiciously. They were then left only with more unanswered questions.
Within view of his home he walked through the mist on the moor. At that time it was just about knee height, but as he and Sally, his faithful long suffering border collie, walked deeper into the moorland the mist became fog. It soon became thicker and higher; shoulder height now, every shape that he passed looked menacing, as if it was a crouching black giant waiting to pounce on them. At last they were heading towards higher ground where the fog had dispersed. He could hear the distant hiss of the traffic on the A31 heading for Ringwood and the coast, but he could hear no other sound, but soon his thoughts were shattered by a familiar voice.
‘Hello my dear Victor. How nice it is to see you my boy.’ Mikhail appeared out of the mist, blocking his path. Sally began to bark at him but Victor gently patted her head and she calmed down. ‘I would be very happy if you could accompany us Victor to the car, I have something to tell you.’ Mikhail did not look as if Victor had any choice but to go with him. ‘Not the dog Victor if you don’t mind.’
Victor sighed and told Sally to sit and stay, showing her his flat hand. She obeyed automatically, but gave a little whine as if to say be careful to her master. Reluctantly he walked alongside the big Russian Ambassador, followed by two even bigger companions who seemed to appear from nowhere. They soon reached a large black BMW seven series and he sat in the back with Mikhail.
‘You’ll be pleased to know that the stolen artefacts, all of them, have been recovered.’ Surprisingly, Mikhail did not seem too happy about that. ‘What I need to know though, is why someone should go to all the trouble to steal them and then give us the information so that we could find them again, not waiting for his reward? What do you think Victor?’
Victor tried to swallow but found it difficult with a dry throat. ‘Look, Mikhail, how do I know why someone does that? All I can say is that you have got the damn things back, so what’s the bloody big deal Mikhail?’ he hoped that he would be satisfied with his answer.
By this time they were cruising along the A31 towards Southampton as they were talking, and soon speeding on the M27. Mikhail tapped the shoulder of the huge co-driver who turned around to face the two of them in the back seat. Not the sort of man he would like to meet on a dark night, Victor thought. Mikhail just nodded to the man, and he pointed to the exit onto the M271, and then immediately drove up the
slip road to a trading estate. Mikhail roughly got hold of Victor’s hand and with a small hypodermic syringe, administered something in a vein. In ten seconds Victor was unconscious.
21 Strange happenings
The best of friends
Thankfully Collette had met Louis at Saint Charles station in Marseilles, noticing that he looked world weary, but he had the courtesy not to mention it as they drove back to the vineyard. Henry met them at the front door, and Louis was saddened at how old he looked, He was nearly eighty though, a good age. André could not be there to greet him as he was at a marketing convention in Vichy. Louis was proud that his step brother had carried on the family business allowing his parents to enjoy their retirement. Currently they were in between pruning and harvest so it was a welcome respite for all of them. Henry and Collette wanted to ask Louis about his life, but he was tired, having come all the way from Strasbourg with only a nap on the train. However he promised them chapter and verse after breakfast the next day. Louis kissed his father’s head and gave Collette a hug and retired for the night.
He had a wonderful night’s sleep, the country air was certainly doing him good already, the sun was already streaming its yellow light through the open shutters of his window, and everything seemed well with the world. Collette however, came into his room looking none too pleased.
‘Louis, can you come downstairs a moment, your father has got something to show you darling.’ She turned so he couldn’t see her face. He grabbed a shirt and trousers and followed her downstairs into the great kitchen. There was an English newspaper on the big pine table fully spread out, and his father was looking up at him expressionless.
‘What is it dad, it can’t be that bad can it?’
Henry turned the open newspaper around and Louis looked closer. Henry pointed to a small picture and he looked closer at it. The picture was a little grainy and not too clear, but there was no mistaking her, it was Leah-May Owen. The headlines read: ‘Talented art historian found dead in the Thames. The police are looking for three men last seen accompanying her from a bar in Soho. They have no other leads as yet, but are treating her death as murder.’