by John Holt
“How much would you guess for the whole project?” said Bannister. “Five thousand dollars? Six? Or more?”
Kadowski hesitated. He didn’t know the answer to that question. It was all guess work. He hadn’t worked it out. It probably didn’t matter anyway. It was all a pipe dream. Why was Bannister going on like this? “Yes, I guess that could be about right, five or six thousand dollars,” he finally replied. “Whatever sum, it’s a lot of money. I certainly don’t have that kind of cash, do you?”
“No. No I don’t,” said Bannister, thoughtfully. “But between the three of us, we should be able to raise it. Don’t you think?” Bannister picked up his drink. “So what would you think the gold would be worth?” he continued. “Say one bar, a thousand dollars?”
“Could be,” said Kadowski. “I don’t really know. Why, what are you getting at?”
“It’s only conversation, Frank,” Bannister replied. “Nothing more.” He looked at Kadowski, and smiled. At that moment Kadowski knew that it was more than just conversation, although he wasn’t exactly sure what Bannister was up to.
“A thousand dollars sounds about right to me,” Bannister continued. “Then there’s ten, twelve, bars per crate,” he paused as though calculating. “That’s ten thousand dollars per crate. Ten crates per truck, does that sound reasonable?” He didn’t wait for a response. “That’s one hundred thousand dollars,” he said. “Each.”
“Well you could be right,” Kadowski replied. “But there’s an awful lot of supposition in your calculations.” Kadowski raised his hand, and held up one finger. “One, the price per bar is unknown. It could be a lot less.”
“But it could be more, couldn’t it?” Bannister interrupted.
Kadowski ignored the comment, and continued, raising a second finger. “Two, the number of bars per crate is unknown; and three we don’t know how many crates there are, anyway.”
“No. You’re absolutely right. We don’t know. But from what you have said, in the past, there is certainly more than one crate,” Bannister replied. “And judging by the normal size of a gold bar, I’m willing to bet that there would be at least ten bars to a crate, maybe considerably more.”
“Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that you are correct,” said Kadowski. “What’s your point?”
Bannister continued. “The point is that even if there were only the one crate, the gold would be worth about ten thousand dollars. So we’d get our money back, plus a profit. We’ve nothing to lose.”
“There might not be any gold at all,” insisted Kadowski. “I might have been completely wrong, then what?”
“Then we’re out seventeen hundred bucks a piece. No big deal. I could live with that,” said Bannister. “But Frank, you were so sure about the gold. We were the doubters. So why the doubt now?”
“I don’t know, Tom,” Kadowski answered. “Maybe now that we are home, everything that happened over there just seems so unreal, a great big dream. What we saw and did was not normal. It was unreal. It must not be allowed to happen again. Back here things seem to be back in perspective. Reality is once again taking over, taking charge.”
“I know what you mean, Frank”, Bannister said. “But I still feel that it’s worth a try. Why don’t we go?”
Kadowski remained silent. Bannister really means it. “Are you serious, Tom?” he asked.
“Frank,” said Bannister, “I’m very serious. Not about searching for the gold though.”
Kadowski was surprised by Bannister’s reply. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Frank, all of this has been just conversation,” Bannister replied. “I’m just trying to show you the difficulties you could face if you went ahead with your idea”. Bannister took a drink, and continued. “We have already discussed a number of points, but there is no end of other points to consider.” He then started to count them off. “Firstly, whatever we just said about the authorities, that’s rubbish.”
“But we just agreed that they wouldn’t be bothered about a small lake in Austria, didn’t we?”
“Yes we did. But obviously that cannot be correct. Of course they’ll be interested, Frank. They’re not going to just sit around, and leave you to it, are they? With all of the necessary equipment, and transport involved, they are going to want to know what is going on. There would be no end of questions. Who are you? What are doing? Secondly, what about the locals, the people actually living in the area? They will know something is going on, won’t they? They will start asking questions.”
“Yes, all right. I can see that,” Kadowski agreed. Doubts were now beginning to creep in.
“Thirdly, you would need to consider the gold itself,” Bannister continued. “How would you explain being in possession of gold bullion? Let’s say you had twelve bars, for the purpose of further discussion. You could never actually use them, not legally that is. You couldn’t just walk into a bank. I’d like to make a deposit please, two solid gold bars. Or pay for the week’s groceries with them. Sorry I’ve nothing smaller, do you have change?”
“Yes I can see that you have a valid point there,” said Kadowski, trying not to laugh too loudly. “They would be a bit heavy to cart around as well, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t fit too well in your pocket.”
“It sounds amusing, Frank, but it’s anything but. I’m absolutely serious,” said Bannister. “How would you dispose of them?”
Kadowski did not know the answer to that one. “The black market, I suppose,” he suggested.
Bannister was not impressed. “Frank who do you know in the Black Market? Precisely, no one, correct?”
Kadowski had to admit it, Bannister was absolutely right. He wouldn’t know where to start “You would need to find someone special,” Bannister continued. “Some racketeer, with contacts, who knew his way around, someone who knew about such things as disposing of gold bullion. Exactly who do you know in that line?” He stopped for a moment, letting the implications sink in. Then he started once again. “Anyone like that will be expensive, and you would have no choice. I doubt if you would receive much more than twenty per cent of the true value of the gold. Possibly it could be a lot less, perhaps only fifteen per cent?”
Bannister paused, but only for the briefest moment. “Then they would know everything about the gold, and they would have a hold over you. You would be open to blackmail for the rest of your life.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kadowski.
“Look,” Bannister started to explain. “With so much money involved, how much did we say? One crate equals ten thousand dollars, that black market racketeer won’t stop until he gets his hands on most of it. They won’t leave you alone. Each time you pay up you will be a little more vulnerable, and so it will go on.”
Kadowski had to admit that Bannister was probably right.
“And it would be you taking the biggest risk,” Bannister continued. “You would have to do all of the searching, and the recovery. Then you would have to transport it to our Black Market man.” Kadowski said nothing, but he knew that Bannister was making some very fine points. There were still more to come. “Another major consideration is that SS Major,” said Bannister, “He will almost certainly go looking for the gold, so you will be in a race.”
“That’s probably true,” Kadowski agreed. “But he’ll have the same difficulties as us, wouldn’t he?”
“Not quite,” said Bannister. “He has two major advantages. Number one, he is already close by, only a few hundred miles, not several thousand, like us. Number two he knows exactly where the gold is. He was the one who hid it in the first place.”
“Well you are absolutely right on that score,” said Kadowski.
“He will almost certainly go back to recover the gold, correct?” said Bannister. “Without a doubt he will get there before you.”
“Unless he’s captured beforehand,” said Kadowski.
“Unless he’s captured beforehand,” agreed Bannister. “But the chances of that happening are
quite slim, as well you know Frank.”
“It could happen,” Kadowski insisted.
“Yes it could happen,” Bannister accepted the possibility. “But nonetheless Frank, what you are considering is fraught with danger, and there are no end of problems. At the end of it all the actual financial rewards could be slim. My advice is to forget it, and tell the authorities all that you know.”
Kadowski was a little disappointed. He had hoped that Bannister would have been interested, and would have helped in the venture. He knew that Bartelli would have joined in but only if he were ordered to do so, or could be persuaded that it was all right. That was something that Bannister could have done quite easily. But he’s not interested. In fact worse than that, he thinks it is so difficult that it should just be forgotten. Kadowski wasn’t prepared to give up quite so easily. He had hoped that his Army buddies would have joined him, but that didn’t look possible now. Okay there were always other friends and neighbours.
“I appreciate what you say, Tom, but right now I’m not really sure what I’m going to do,” said Kadowski. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Frank,” said Bannister. “Think about it hard and long, then just forget all about it, please.” He looked toward Kadowski, his eyes pleading, begging him to do as he had been asked.
Kadowski stared back. He knew precisely what Bannister meant, but said nothing. Then it suddenly occurred to him that it was getting late. He checked his watch. “Hey Tom you better get off to the station. Your train will be leaving soon.”
Bannister looked at his watch. “You’re right, I hadn’t realised that it was so late,” he said. “I better get a move on, otherwise I’ll miss it.” He drained his glass, and started to prepare to leave.
“When are you due in?” asked Kadowski.
“About midday, the day after tomorrow,” Bannister replied. “Assuming there are no delays. But I have to change trains four or five times, so it won’t be that straightforward, I’m sure.” Bannister stood up, and looked at Kadowski. “Remember what I said about that gold, Frank. Hear me?” He picked up his bags.
“I hear you Tom, and I’ll remember, don’t worry,” Kadowski replied. “We’ll talk about it again. Keep in touch”. Kadowski shook Bannister’s hand. “You take care.” They walked to the exit of the bar together, and stopped at the door.
“Take care, Frank,” said Bannister. “Look after yourself.” Then, as an afterthought, he once again urged Kadowski to remember what he had said. He then turned and walked out of the door. Kadowski watched as Bannister walked toward the corner of the street, and disappeared. Kadowski then walked back into the bar. He was still thinking about Scott and what he had said. He just could not shake the feeling that he had a feeling of foreboding almost, an overwhelming fear.
* * *
He sat back down at the table, picked up his glass and drank the remainder of his drink. He then called the waiter over and ordered another. “Make it a double,” he said. Scott had certainly worried him. He was talking crazy. Sure he’s upset about Roberts, but so was he, so were the rest of the guys. It was a tough break for the poor guy. “But Roberts wasn’t the only one to die,” Kadowski spoke to himself. “That same day we lost Reynolds, Chandler, and Morris. Altogether, from the time we got to Sicily, we lost thirty-one guys.” Thirty-one, out of a total of what, just over a hundred men, he thought. “That’s a hell of an average. Thirty-one out of a hundred, that’s one in three. If I were a gambling man I’d say that was pretty poor odds.”
Chapter Twelve
The Bronx – June 1945
Although Kadowski was anxious to get home, back to his wife and family, he wasn’t ready to go, not just yet. He was too upset, too worried. Scott had un-nerved him a great deal. His mind was in turmoil. He needed to relax, to unwind again. All that day he had been looking forward to a celebratory drink with his companions. An enjoyable start to a well earned rest. It was to be a real occasion, a real homecoming. They had planned it that last night on board ship. The war in Europe was over, and they were home safe and well. They had survived, and now they were going to make their farewells to each other. To say goodbye, after such a long time together. They might never see each other again. Sure they had all swapped addresses. Sure they had made promises to keep in touch. Kadowski knew that those kind of promises didn’t last very long, and were usually forgotten quite quickly. Soon they would all be re-united with their friends and family. Then wartime acquaintances would be quickly forgotten, or at least, put to the back of their mind. Perhaps to be remembered, briefly, at Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or July 4th.
Today’s celebration was to have been a little get together with friends before they all went their separate ways. Scott had managed to change all of that. It was to have been a memorable occasion. It had certainly been memorable, Kadowski had to admit, but for all the wrong reasons. That had been quite an outburst, quite a tirade, and totally unexpected. Come to think of it though, had it been so unexpected? Scott had been acting strangely for a good few weeks now. He had been very depressed on the ship. Certainly he hadn’t acted as you would normally expect for someone returning home after such a long time away. “Perhaps I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. “Maybe I should have suspected that something like this might have happened.” No, he couldn’t really be blamed. “I should have taken more notice though, that’s for sure. I just never really gave it much thought did I? Not until now, when it’s probably all too late.”
After Bannister had left Rooney’s bar, Kadowski had another couple of drinks, and just sat thinking. He had been trying very hard to make some kind of sense out of Scott’s ramblings. It was only ramblings wasn’t it? George was just talking, wasn’t he? Sure he was, just talking, that’s all. He didn’t really know what he was saying. The other two didn’t think anything about it, did they? Nothing to worry about, they had said. Forget about it, they had said. He’ll be all right, they had said. In fact they were quite dismissive of the whole matter. He seemed to be the only one who was concerned. Maybe they were right. Perhaps he was getting carried away, letting his imagination get the better of him, seeing things that weren’t really there. Scott certainly couldn’t have meant anything serious, could he?
Kadowski hoped that the others were right, but he was far from convinced. There was still that doubt, that constant little niggle at the back of his mind. It kept telling him that something was wrong. Scott had always been a bit of a hot head. A bit wild, a little reckless, but somehow this seemed different. He sounded so definite, so determined, so focused. This didn’t sound like simple wild talk. This had been precisely thought out.
“That’s nonsense,” Kadowski said to himself. It couldn’t have been thought out, for the simple reason that it was plainly wrong. Did Scott really know what he was saying? Did he really mean what he had said? Was he really threatening to take revenge? Of course he wasn’t. It wasn’t possible. Scott was a hot head, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. As Bannister had said, Scott didn’t know Hartman’s whereabouts. He had no way of knowing. How could he? Hartman could be anywhere. Scott didn’t have a clue where he might be. How could he possibly find him? Besides it was quite likely that Hartman had already been arrested by the Military Police, and was in a prison somewhere, even now, awaiting trial. Or maybe he was already dead. That was certainly possible. I don’t know, thought Kadowski, and more importantly, neither does George. There were just too many obstacles, too many hurdles for Scott to get over.
He has about as much chance of finding that SS Officer, as I have of becoming the President of the United States. Kadowski smiled at the thought. Then he started to laugh. The people on the adjacent table looked across toward him, and then quickly turned away when they saw Kadowski glare at them.
It was amusing though, President Frank Kadowski. Even so Kadowski was still uneasy, still very apprehensive. He stopped laughing, there was nothing amusing about this whole affair, nothing funny at all. “Scott is t
hreatening to murder someone, and I’m making jokes,” Kadowski whispered. “How ridiculous is that?”
He tried hard to convince himself that there was really nothing to worry about. There was no substance in his fears. He was just being foolish, over-reacting. It was all conjecture, nothing but guesswork. Logic told him that Scott could never find Hartman, and could not, therefore, exact any kind of revenge. Nonetheless, Scott was obviously not thinking logically. Kadowski did not know anything for sure. All he did know was that he was worried that something was going to happen, something bad. Worse still, there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Try as he might he couldn’t make sense of any of it. He kept coming back to the same conclusion, and then rejecting it. It didn’t make any sense. He would then start all over, thinking it out again, and reaching the same conclusion once more.
That’s it, that’s enough. I’m done. This is driving me round the bend. Tom is probably right. I’m worrying for nothing. It was about time that he got home anyway. He looked over at the large clock on the wall, just above the bar. It was almost eight in the evening. It was much later than he had intended. He drained his glass, and placed it on the table. He stood up, and picked up his bags. He looked around to check that he had left nothing behind, and walked out of the bar. Once outside he hailed a cab, and headed toward the Bronx.
* * *
During the short trip from downtown Kadowski had, at last, managed to put all thoughts of Scott out of his head. Gone were all thoughts of Hartman, and revenge. There were no longer any thoughts regarding gold bullion, and hidden Nazi treasure. In their place all he thought of now was the two women in his life – his beautiful wife, and his lovely daughter. The two women he had not seen for so long, and who were now only a few short minutes away.