‘I see your point,’ accepted Tommy, ‘and did you hide it?’
‘I did but from the moment I held it in my hand I worried about what to do with it. Initially, for a few months, I kept it in a lockable drawer in my office desk. Later I moved it to a small recess under the eaves in the attic at home but neither hiding place seemed secure. I worried that in the event of my sudden death from, say, a road traffic accident, if it was found Sylvia and our daughters would be held guilty of holding a precious object which did not belong to them. Also, as you know, I don’t have a direct male heir. Daniel as my nephew is the closest. So not only did I have to find a long-term safe hiding place but I also had to find a way for Daniel to find it in the event of my untimely death. I settled on a cryptic puzzle which I think Daniel alone could solve.’
‘If I was a betting man, which I’m not except at the dogs,’ said Tommy, ‘that’s what I’d bet on you doing, something cryptic. It’s the way your devious mind works!’
They both laughed. Tommy had always called his friend devious and it was an epithet that Rolf accepted with a certain amount of pride.
‘It was harder than I thought though,’ explained Rolf. ‘I searched the internet for ideas, most were ridiculous, but it did trigger a line of thinking that brought me to a neat solution and I secreted the prize accordingly. I then used the fact that Daniel had always expressed the desire to join WareWork after university and as soon as he started with us as a trainee, without his awareness I guided him through the steps he will need to take to solve the riddle and pointed specifically to the answers. Hopefully I will remain fit and healthy into old age and will be able to pass on the information to him directly then without the need for any cloak and dagger stuff but if I die prematurely then I feel confident that Daniel will be able to work out the answers from the puzzle that I have put in a small, white tube and which you will put in the safe deposit in Liechtenstein. The new account there will be totally legal so I shall bequeath the portfolio and safe deposit contents to Daniel in an updated will that I shall lodge with our family solicitor.
‘And that’s my task tomorrow or should I say today,’ said Tommy sleepily, ‘we’d better get some kip as it’s already past one o’clock.’
The following morning in the large marble-floored foyer of the bank on Aeschenstrasse Rolf gave Tommy the letter of authority for the bank in Vaduz where he had already set up an account and a safe deposit facility. Next he handed him the cash from the closed safe deposit box now stuffed in two brown envelopes and which Tommy immediately put in the rucksack that he had brought along for the purpose. He then gave Tommy the soft drawstring pouch containing the marbles reminding him that it was this item that had to be handed over to the blackmailer’s representative. Finally, he put the small white tube into Tommy’s outstretched hand telling him again that he should put it in the new safe deposit.
‘I’ve arranged a hire car for your journey back to Basle as I don’t want to give the blackmailer’s agent the chance of following you,’ Rolf told Tommy, ‘you must pick it up at the train station in Buchs and hand it back at the airport.’
‘Fine,’ said Tommy zipping up all the rucksack’s outer pockets after he had carefully placed the pouch and tube in a plastic bag before positioning it in one of them.
‘You’re looking much smarter than normal,’ said an observant Rolf, looking closely at Tommy’s smart casual outfit and trendy spectacle frames. ‘She must be a very special person as you don’t usually go to so much trouble for a new girlfriend.’
‘It’s all part of my disguise as a special courier,’ joked Tommy in his normal engaging way, ‘but you’re dead right Jane is special and we’re spending a couple of days together after this assignment.’
They parted with a warm hug, Rolf left for the airport and Tommy walked to the railway station. Neither of them had noticed the tall, thin man standing outside the bank who followed Tommy to the station and when Tommy changed trains in Zürich and boarded the intercity destined for Vienna so did Paul.
Tommy sat back in a comfortable corner seat watching the beautiful countryside whistle past as the train sped smoothly towards Austria. His thoughts soon drifted to Jane. He’d met her quite by chance at the dog racing. She’d been with two girlfriends on a day out shopping firstly at the biggest mall in the South-East where they had shopped till they dropped followed by an evening at the dogs at Crayford Stadium just up the A2 from the Blue Water mall. They were all upper crust, la-di-da with posh accents, not a bit like him but he’d overheard them talking in the restaurant and realised that they didn’t have the race programme and he’d offered his to Jane. One of his own dogs, Miss Little, was racing that evening and he had suggested that they wouldn’t waste their money if they bet on it. Jane had quipped that it had better be a winning tip! Later, she had spotted him trackside and had thanked him as they had all placed bets on his dog. They got chatting while her two girlfriends were at the bar enjoying their last gin and tonics of the day, Jane was the chauffeur apparently and needed to stay sober as she would have to drive them back safely to Winchester. He started going to the dogs as a young lad accompanying his father who was an ardent fan he had told her and he currently had two dogs in training in kennels near the Crayford track. He’d asked her if she had enjoyed the new experience of dog racing and she said that she was surprised that she had. Up close and personal where you can smell the grease paint was how she had described being trackside. He had suggested that she might like to watch a heat of the Greyhound Derby run at Wimbledon Stadium later in the year and if she did he’d be happy to be her escort. He’d given her his business card hoping that she would ring but never really expecting that she would, but she had. The stadium was buzzing with activity that cool evening under a starlit sky when Tommy greeted her at the entrance with a beaming smile. They shook hands warmly and studied the race card while having an aperitif. With their bets placed they had retreated to the restaurant to watch the thrills and spills of each race. Despite his smart casual attire and new close-cropped haircut that was currently de rigueur for bald men Tommy felt tongue-tied, his path with sophisticated ladies from deepest Hampshire having not yet been crossed. His normal line of cheeky, cheerful, inconsequential patter seemed inappropriate and it had been Jane who had sensed his hesitancy and got the ball rolling with a dreadful pun about his route into second-hand car sales. It had made them laugh and relax. He had related how he had started his early working life helping his father on the market stalls but had seen how hard he’d had to work to make ends meet that very early on in his career he took the decision to sell a high-end product and quality cars was it. And he’d done well in the boom period leading up to the millennium when punters were flush with cash and upgraded to classier Marques. He now had two established showrooms and had recently opened a third. Nobody should knock stall holding, he had told her and although it would never appear on any list of glamorous jobs it was a trade that dated back many centuries. In the deep freeze of January 1684 stalls had been set up on the Thames and in longevity it was almost as old as prostitution! She’d asked him if he was married and he’d said a little dejectedly that he was still a bachelor although it wasn’t by choice, he had just never met the right person with whom to spend the rest of his life. He’d quickly turned the tables and asked about her situation.
Jane lived in Winchester and was married with a daughter, her husband worked in import/export in the City but his true passion lay in the arts: antiques, paintings, sculpture, you name it he loved it. He had funded their daughter’s antiques shop and regularly went on trips around the country to craft and antiques fairs looking for stock for the shop. He was a good man she had said without any real enthusiasm but he wanted his pound of flesh. When Tommy had enquired if it was the same pound of flesh as in Shylock’s speech in The Merchant of Venice she had replied that in Arthur’s case it was the real-world equivalent where he maintained her in a first-class l
ifestyle and in return he expected her to be at his beck and call. Her designated role was that of a pampered housewife, one who was expected to be ever ready for her man, she was his status symbol and it had become very irksome. Their marriage, she explained, had really been borne more of convenience than of love, she had the status but little money, he had the money but not the true status despite his portrayal as coming from a middle-class background. But their marriage in many ways had proved surprisingly successful as Arthur turned out to be a considerate husband and caring father.
It was fine she had said when her daughter was at home but now that she was married Jane felt at a loose end and a little lonely and was beginning to realise that the people with whom she socialised were more acquaintances than friends. She was beginning to notice that some of her girlfriends were now working ladies, some even doing professional jobs. Jane had become increasingly discontented with her lifestyle of apparent endless pleasure. She wanted to do something useful and needed a goal. She knew Arthur would never countenance her working for money so it had to be some sort of voluntary work, one that would give her satisfaction and bring a sense of worthiness to her life. With a family history of glaucoma she had contacted the district branch of an eye-related charity offering to help raise funds or provide transport to take people shopping. She also determined to do a basic bookkeeping course so that if ever a new treasurer was required she would be ready to fill the breach. He had escorted her back to Waterloo to catch the penultimate train home that evening and asked her to write down her mobile number on the back of his business card. She had thanked him for a wonderful evening. Standing close they looked intently into one another’s eyes. Jane moved to give Tommy a peck on the cheek but somehow landed on his lips. They were warm and inviting and neither party wanted the kiss to end. Tommy touched his lips gently remembering the feel of her lips on his. For her the shackles of married life, albeit velvet ones were sprung and she was free, for him the hope of love had become a genuine possibility. As he made his way back down the escalator to the underground he murmured the words of a poem he had had to learn by rote at school. The old order changeth yielding place to new… it was very appropriate.
When Rolf had asked him for a favour to be done in Switzerland Tommy’s first thoughts had gone to Jane. He knew he had to make the next move if their relationship was to continue and he wanted it to do so as he was fed up with being increasingly called a confirmed bachelor by his mates at the pub. Love had passed him by until this moment. He had had several relationships but none had lasted more than a few months and now what he really wanted, even at his late stage in life, was a wife and kids of his own. He knew he was no oil painting: bald, crooked nose and spectacles but appearances weren’t everything apparently and he hoped that his outgoing personality would triumph over his physical appearance. It was just two meetings and one phone call so far but Tommy had been thinking a lot about trying to find a way for them to meet again. Rolf had said that once the assignment was completed he would be free to stay on in Switzerland if he wished. He could keep the hire car for several days; he just had to deliver it back to Basle airport where Tommy had left his white van in the long-stay car park. Tommy knew he had to be bold. He crossed his fingers and hoped that Jane felt the same about him. With mounting excitement he had tapped out her mobile number and when she had answered he had asked her if she would like to join him in Switzerland for a couple of days. They would sample the renowned thermal waters of Baden, a spa town near Zürich and enjoy some good cuisine. They would share the same room if that was okay. It was very okay she had said and she would definitely find a way to come and Tommy had pressed the end call button with a trembling finger.
The ticket inspector interrupted his reverie and a tall, thin man walked down the central aisle towards the WC. Tommy’s thoughts turned to the blackmailer’s representative who would be standing just outside the railings of the Café Rosah in the main square at noon. He or she would be wearing a red baseball cap. Alighting at Buchs station Tommy caught the tramway for the short distance across the Rhein into Liechtenstein and walked the last hundred metres or so to the main square. He had ample time to attend to Rolf’s banking affairs before sauntering along to take an outdoor seat at the Café Rosah. It was a gorgeous day and he reflected on his wisdom of employing a full-time manager for his newest branch so freeing him up to take time off more easily whenever he needed. Crammed between the mountains of Austria and those of Switzerland Tommy sat back enjoying the stunning view and his glass of beer. He watched the English-speaking cycling group arrive and chain their bikes to the railings and waited for the red baseball cap to appear. All too soon its wearer appeared and Tommy made an unfortunate error.
Chapter Two
Back Chat
1936 – 2010
There was no period of adjustment for Rolf’s father when the authorities eventually allowed him to travel to London. Almost penniless except for the valuable watch which he swore he would never sell, his only family keepsake, he had to find work instantly, washing dishes and cleaning in various greasy spoon cafés in the East End. Later, he would find regular work as a waiter in an Oxford Street department store. One day, whilst serving a couple and their daughter at table, he remarked on the accent of the father when ordering and guessed correctly their origin as Swiss. Replying in German he immediately established a friendly rapport and over the coming weeks he saw them often. It was the start of a friendship with Esther, their daughter, which would blossom into love and then marriage. But with war looming ominously in spring 1939 Max and his new wife fled to Switzerland, fearful for Max’s physical safety should the Germans invade. They settled in Yverdon, a charming town in French-speaking Switzerland and with the help and expertise of one of Esther’s cousins and her husband they set up a small business manufacturing lace handkerchiefs. After the war, with business opportunities far greater in England they returned. Leicestershire with its historic links with the hosiery and textile industries was their area of choice and following a short search in the Market Harborough area of south-east Leicestershire they found a small bomb-damaged factory which the elderly owner let them buy for a song. His son and intended heir had been killed by the blanket bombing of the Midlands in 1941 and he had finally lost heart and simply wanted to sell up and move away. One end of the mostly brick structure had caved in when a bomb had fallen directly on the adjacent building and one of its chimneys had plunged onto the factory demolishing the gable end and leaving the building exposed to the elements. Neglect over the next few years had caused further damage to the fabric of the building but Max and Esther had noticed that the two large knitting machines housed at the other end of the factory appeared intact although very dirty and rather rusty. They decided to take a chance that they could get them running. With money tight and building materials scarce in post-war Britain Max and Esther had to rely on their own skills and hard work to turn the factory back into a productive unit knitting woollen socks in the early years and moving into cotton overalls when they could afford new machinery. Of the former building next door, bomb rubble long since removed but still undeveloped, they had mentally earmarked it as their expansion area such was their ambition and faith in their own abilities. During this start up time they retained the small embroidery and lace business in Switzerland which continued to be run on a daily basis by Esther’s cousin Greta Devereux and her husband Eugene. In 1950 their first child was born, a boy, Rolf, and three years later their baby girl Andreé arrived. Born prematurely, her infancy was fraught with difficulties resulting in a serious medical problem which slowly became apparent. They lavished their love and money on her while their son seemed almost forgotten a fact that he was quick to sense and even quicker to resent.
Rolf was born into a post-war Britain with food rationing still a legacy of the war years. Despite the frugal times he enjoyed the undivided attention of his parents but his status changed fundamentally with the birth of his disabled sister,
a change that would shape his conduct and emotions forever as his sister’s needs became increasingly apparent and Rolf found himself shunted to the periphery of his parents’ attention. This fuelled his future character with strength and resourcefulness but also with a deep and lasting resentment. With Andreé away most of the time at a special needs school and his parents working all hours to build up the family business Rolf spent much of his youth living with his maternal grandparents in Ilford to their obvious delight. For Rolf too it was a welcome arrangement as, in truth, he enjoyed more of a family life with them than with his parents and he always considered it to be his real home. Rolf was smart and hardworking and high on his agenda was never again to play second fiddle. He realised he needed money. There was little time during the school week to earn any but on Saturdays he would help out on Tommy’s father’s stall in a local market where the tricks of the trade were soon learned and used skilfully to supplement pocket money. While Tommy bought himself the occasional treat with his dodgy earnings Rolf squirreled his away in various caches in his room until he was old enough to open a savings account in his own name. It would become his nest egg and the springboard for his future ambitions on completion of his education but it would also become a skeleton in his closet as fake goods were often sold from Stan Cahill’s stall. Aware of such goings-on Rolf lowered his standard of probity for what he considered to be minor irregularities but the unregulated markets of those times were permeated by protection gangs and Rolf became caught up unwittingly in the passing of counterfeit currency, a situation that would have serious ramifications for any successful business man or politician. He had moved from petty larceny into aiding and abetting serious crime and ignorance of the situation would be no plausible defence.
Unsafe Deposit Page 2