by Mark Ellis
“Open the curtains please, Jackson. Looks as if no-one’s been in here for a while. My aunt finds the library a little depressing although it was always my father’s favourite room. There is a drawing room to the rear, facing our flower garden, which she much prefers.”
The curtains opened to reveal a spacious, high-ceilinged, wood-panelled library coloured in hues of claret and brown. All the walls were covered with books at various levels and there were a number of comfortable-looking leather armchairs. Two large, antique partners desks faced each other near the window and a selection of old prints hung in the few odd spaces devoid of books. At the far end of the room was a large, old, stone hearth, which appeared not to have been lit for a long while. Merlin loved it all. He had often dreamed of possessing such a room. He breathed in and savoured the delightful smell, a melange of old book bindings, leather upholstery, paper and ink.
At Arbuthnot’s invitation, he sat in one of the leather armchairs by the hearth. There was an old book on the table beside his chair. It had a protective cloth cover and a small cloud of dust rose into the air as he picked it up and opened it. Merlin caught his breath as he saw the title page – The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club by Charles Dickens, published by Chapman and Hall in 1837. A first edition of Dickens’ first novel, in what appeared to be excellent condition.
“This was very much my brother’s room.” Lucinda Cavendish reappeared and took a seat beside Merlin. “When he first came into money, Simon went about the antiquarian bookstores and auction houses with a keen will to furnish it properly. Our father had been an avid collector of books before he encountered financial difficulties. He had to sell most of his collection but Simon was delighted, years later, to successfully track down nearly all of father’s first editions and buy them back. That Dickens’ book is one of them, Mr Merlin. There are several other Dickens’ first editions. Simon concentrated on the Victorian greats. Dickens, Thackeray, Trollope, Collins, Hardy, the Brontës and so on.”
“I can see you have a very fine collection. I could no doubt spend many happy hours here if I had the time but unfortunately…”
“Of course, Chief Inspector. You have work to do. I’ll try to find that book for you.” Mrs Cavendish walked to the bookshelf immediately to the right of Merlin and started searching. It did not take her long. The book she held up had a grey-green hard cover. “The dust cover has long gone, of course, but otherwise it’s not in bad condition.” She handed the book to Merlin.
“I should think you have a lengthy task ahead of you. May I suggest you sit at the desk over there? The natural light is better and there’s a good lamp. I’ll get Jackson to bring some other appropriate chairs. Naturally, if you would like to make use of my own rather rusty deciphering skills, I would be happy to remain and help.”
“Thank you, Mrs Cavendish, but I think we’ll try to manage on our own. Perhaps if we get stuck…”
“Very well. We shall leave you to it then.” Jackson brought the chairs then departed with aunt and nephew.
As the men sat down, Bridges cleared his throat nervously. “Just to remind you of what I said at the Yard this morning, sir. I don’t think I’m going to be of much use to you on this. As the wife says: ‘Natural cunning is what you have, Sam Bridges. Not a brain for wordplay.’”
“That’s all right, Sergeant. None of us is claiming any expertise at this, are we, Bernie? It would obviously have been helpful to have Mr Robinson with us, but at least we have his crib.”
Robinson had been too busy to join them on the trip but had given some pointers on how to proceed, which Merlin had noted down. He placed the note, on which he had also written the code, next to the book.
“So the code is 239181749332382228492331313383X. This is how Robinson says we are to start – go to page 2 of the main text, line 3, then see what letters match the subsequent numbers, such numbers being the positions of the letters in the line. There are special rules for zeros but we don’t have any of those so let’s not worry about them for now. If page 2, line 3, doesn’t give us a coherent meaning, we have to see if there’s a line 39 on page 2 and do the same. If that doesn’t work, we are to try again on page 23, line 9, and repeat the procedure. And if that doesn’t work, try page 239.” He turned to the last page of the book. “Not surprisingly, there is no page 2,391 so those are our four options.”
“Good job we are not dealing with the Bible.”
“It is indeed, Sergeant. Have you got the stationery?” Bridges took several large sheets of paper and pencils out of his briefcase.
“I’ll read out the letters attached to the respective numbers. Both of you take a sheet and a pencil and take note. Then we’ll see where we get to.” Merlin looked again at his guide. “Robinson says, logically, I suppose, that numbers may be designed to work as single numbers or as combinations. A 1 and 3 may be two single numbers or 13. This is not going to be an issue with all numbers as some will be too high in terms of the normal length of a line.” He opened the book and counted the letters in a random line. “This line has 61 letters so I think we can take it that we aren’t likely to have combination numbers in the 70s or above.”
Goldberg scratched his forehead. “Whatever you say, Frank. Let’s get going.”
“I suggest we take our jackets off. This is going to trabajo en caliente as my father used to say. That’s ‘warm work’, Sam. Everyone comfortable? Good. Here we go.”
Merlin opened the book at the second page of the main text. “Page 2, line 3 reads: ‘Try my tailor, said Sandy. He’s got a very nice taste in red tabs. You can use…’ Sandy is presumably the Sandy Arbuthnot with whom Simon Arbuthnot liked to identify. So the next few numbers are 9181749. Letter number 9 in this line is a… an L. Number 1 is a T, number 8 is an I, number 1 again is a T, letter number 7 is an A, letter 4 is an M, letter 9 is another L.” He paused and looked across at his companions. “I have to say this doesn’t sound very promising but what have you got so far?”
“LTITAML,” Goldberg and Bridges read out in unison. Merlin groaned. “I hope it doesn’t turn out that the deciphered message is itself in code. Let’s complete the sequence of single numbers and then, if the message is still, as seems likely, gibberish, go over it again, allowing for combination numbers.” He returned his eyes to the line and counted. “There are a total of 58 letters in the line. We can alternate singles and combinations for numbers from the 10s to the 50s. Then we’ll see where we are.”
* * *
“I really must question, Aunt, whether we are doing the right thing here. It’s clear that my father was involved in some murky business. Not only the gambling but now this possible fraud I told you Fleming mentioned. However, here we are, allowing the police to have first sight of his last private wishes as expressed to you, assuming they can break the code. God knows what he wanted to tell you. The family honour may be at stake.”
Lucinda Cavendish nibbled delicately on a custard cream. She adored the biscuits and wasn’t going to allow Philip’s tiresomeness to ruin this little pleasure. Only when she had finished the last crumb did she speak.
“You know, Philip, much as I loved your father, the fact is he became rather pompous in his last years. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but your father’s success eventually went to his head. This talk of family honour is typical of the high-blown nonsense he filled his head with latterly. You no doubt had to listen to him on the subject a few times, so I understand and forgive you, but… really.” She looked out onto the garden and saw some squirrels scampering in and out of the bushes.
“I know that Simon used to pretend that our father was a very successful businessman who had a bit of bad luck. He was in fact a glorified plumber, then a dealer in industrial machinery and cars. Yes, he came from quite a good family but he had an unjustifiably high opinion of himself and spent far more than he earned. He was also a keen gambler and drinker and it was, according to mother, no great surprise to anyone when he went bust.”
“W
as he…?”
Mrs Cavendish raised a hand. “I don’t really want to say any more about your forebears for now, Philip. Perhaps another time, when we are under less stress. The reality is that there is little family honour to protect.”
“Fine but even if that’s the case, what about Father’s business reputation? Shouldn’t we try to protect that?”
“I doubt we have a hope of doing that. The bank is going to find it very difficult to cover up this fraudulent dealing we’ve just learned about.”
“Fleming and Tomlinson are clever men. And they say Pulos is as sharp as a pin. They’re bound to find a way.”
Philip’s aunt reached out for another biscuit and munched it thoughtfully. “Mr Pulos is very sharp indeed. As is Sidney Fleming. It was with the assistance of those two that Simon perpetrated his worst fraud.”
“What do you mean ‘his worst fraud’. You mean there have been others?”
“You poor boy. You have no idea of the sort of man your father was, have you? Of course there were other frauds. As Simon always loved to say about his business competitors: ‘Behind every great fortune there lies a great crime’. Simon certainly had several crimes behind his fortune but there is no doubt which was the greatest.”
Lucinda Cavendish reached out for the photograph she had shown Philip on his last visit. “You remember this picture? Your father and his friend in tennis gear?”
“Yes. Remind me, who is the friend?”
“Franzi Meyer. Simon met Franzi in London, just after the last war, in 1919. Simon was just starting out in the City. Franzi was from a very rich family in Frankfurt. His father had built up a large conglomerate with interests in finance and industry in Germany, some other European countries and overseas in South America. It survived the Great War intact. So Franzi was a rich German boy and Simon a penniless clerk.
“They met in a pub or café and for some reason hit it off, despite their difference in years. Franzi was a little older than Simon and had been sent to London to re-establish one of the family businesses. Your father was quite a charmer in those days, as was Franzi, and they enjoyed themselves in London. Of course, your father sponged off Franzi and then got him to chip in financially to a couple of his early ventures. When Franzi went back to Germany to assume control of the whole family operation, the two remained best friends and kept in close touch.”
“Please get to the point, Aunt. What was the crime?”
His aunt gave Philip a withering look. “You are as impatient as your father sometimes.” She looked out again onto the garden. The squirrels had disappeared. “In due course, Hitler came to power in Germany. Fairly soon it became apparent that Franzi and his family were going to have difficulties.”
“Why?”
“I neglected to tell you that the Meyers were Jewish.”
“Ah.”
“Franzi decided to take steps to protect the family’s wealth as a preliminary to getting out of Germany. He had to operate very carefully and stealthily as by now he was being closely watched. Ultimately, if Hitler chose to annex the Meyers’ businesses in Germany, there was little that could be done. However, they had their very substantial South American interests. With help they could be protected. Franzi asked your father to look after the share certificates for those businesses. Those certificates were in the form of bearer shares.”
Philip shook his head slowly. “Bearer shares, I see.”
“Obviously, he could no longer trust the German banks with which the certificates had been deposited up to that point. Franzi would have been wiser to deposit them in a British bank but he’d reached a point where he didn’t trust any banks. He chose to enlist your father’s help. Your father agreed to look after them.
“Shortly after he had entrusted the certificates to Simon, Franzi and his father were arrested by the Nazis. Eventually, after much hardship, he was released. His father was not so lucky and died in a German prison. Once he was out, Franzi arranged to get his immediate family to Paris, where he joined them shortly after the Nazis confiscated the Meyers’ German businesses. From Paris, he contacted your father to get back the certificates in anticipation of the family emigrating to Argentina.”
“Hmm.” Philip looked down at his feet.
“Your father refused to return the certificates. He argued that he had lent Franzi money that was secured on the certificates. As Franzi couldn’t make immediate repayment, Simon had foreclosed on the security. The amount owed was piffling in comparison with the value of the shares but ‘business was business’ he said.
“Simon sent Pulos out to Argentina with the certificates to establish Arbuthnot control of the operations. He managed to do so, spreading substantial bribes around to ensure he got the right result. Without access to South American funds, Franzi was penniless and in no position to fight his case.”
“So everything we have in South America was effectively stolen from this Meyer fellow?”
“It was. Unsurprisingly, Simon and Franzi spoke no more. I heard later that Franzi and his wife had died in poverty in Paris a few months before the war started.”
“But as I understand it, Sackville now owns those shares, not my father. How did that come about?”
“Sackville was Simon’s business vehicle. He decided these assets would substantially enhance the standing of the bank. All he had to do was to make a simple declaration of trust. He declared that he held the bearer shares, which Pulos had returned to him in London, in trust for the bank.”
Nephew and aunt sat in silence for some time. Eventually, Philip spoke. “No family honour and no business honour, then?”
“If I were a religious woman, I would be inclined to attribute recent events to divine retribution for past sins. I am sorry to burden you with all this knowledge, but you are the head of the family now and you need to know. Honour is neither here nor there but do not think that I am unconcerned with preserving the family fortune. That is our major task. If the bank’s problems become insurmountable, and we find that your father has hocked everything else he owns in England, those bearer shares become even more valuable to us.”
“Notwithstanding the fact that they were stolen.”
“Franzi Meyer is long dead. I have no intention of ending up penniless like him. I agree, on reflection, that it might have been wiser to be more reticent with the police. I was worried about this Beecham fellow and everything else you told me and wasn’t really thinking straight. However, what is done is done. We’ll wait and see if the police can manage to decode the message. Then we’ll play it by ear. The important thing is to keep our family ship afloat.”
* * *
The police officers had been at it for more than three hours. They had painstakingly worked their way through the various answers presented by the lines 3 and 39 on page 2, line 9 on page 23, and so on. They had counted along using single numbers and combined numbers as alternatives. They had looked to see if the reversal of the resulting letters provided a solution. All to no avail. An air of despondency had fallen on the three men.
Merlin loosened his tie. “There is no line 91 on page 23 and so our next, and perhaps last, option is page 239 line 18. Here we are: ‘… steep walls and made monstrous shadows. The wind swung the flame into…’ So after 23918 we have 1749332382228492331313383X. Number 1 in the line is an S, number 7 is A, number 4 is E, number 9 is L, number 3 is E. What does that give us?”
Goldberg read out: “SAELE.”
“No good then. Let’s look at double numbers. In this result, single 4 and single 9 give us EL, which makes no sense after SA. What if we put them together? There are more than 49 letters in this line, so the 49th letter is… bear with me… F. That gives us SAFE. That’s more encouraging, isn’t it?”
Bridges and Goldberg murmured agreement.
“The next number 3 is E, then number 2 is T, 3 is E again. After ETE we have 8, an L, then another T. Something tells me we are barking up the wrong tree again. Let’s try 32 instead of 3 and 2 – 32 is W
. Then 38 instead of 3 and 8 – that’s I.” They continued doubling. “22 is T and 28 is H. That gives us ‘with’. So we have SAFE WITH.”
Goldberg rubbed his eyes. “Frank, there’s a T earlier than 22nd in the line. The second letter is T. Isn’t it the rule of this code that the letter takes its earliest number?”
“That would give us two Ts – WITT – and ruin the word.” Merlin thought for a moment. “Robinson said that some codes are, by their very nature, anomalous. Let’s treat this as an acceptable anomaly for the moment, as we seem to be getting somewhere.”
“OK, Frank. You’re the boss.”
“So SAFE WITH. Safe with whom or what? I’m going to continue with double numbers for the rest. So number 49 is F, then 23 is R, 31 is O, then another O, 33 is S, there is no 83, so number 8 is L and number 3 is E.
“FROOSLE.” Bridges laughed. “Sounds like something in a fairy tale.”
Merlin chewed a fingernail. “Let’s try again with the F and the R remaining in place. If we go 3 on its own we get E so that’s FRE. If we take the next four numbers 1313 individually, we get SESE. Obviously that doesn’t work. So let’s try 13 and 13 – 13 is, um, D.” Merlin could feel his heart beating faster. “Now we have FREDD. I recall from earlier that number 38 is I and then the last number 3 is E.”
Goldberg raised his eyebrows. “SAFE WITH FREDDIE. What about the X, Frank?”
“A kiss?”
“Why not, Sergeant? The simplest solutions are often the best. If we accept, as I now think we must, that this is a message from brother to sister, why not a kiss? The message to Lucinda Cavendish from her brother Simon Arbuthnot is SAFE WITH FREDDIE followed by one kiss.” Merlin leaned back in his chair with a loud sigh of satisfaction. “Sergeant, go and ask Mrs Cavendish to join us. Let’s find out who Freddie is.”