by Verner Jones
“Follow me. I’ll show you the way.” They walked with him to a private room where they were told to wait. Moments later Mr. Archer returned accompanied by another colleague and handed the box over to Stipe.
“All yours gentlemen. There is a buzzer at the side of the door if you need any assistance.”
“Thank you Mr. Archer.” The two men left leaving Stipe and Toni alone.
“This is going to be too easy. Let’s swap the statue and get out of here.”
“Don’t be in a rush, Toni. Stay calm for Christ’s sake.” Stipe took the key for the box out of his pocket. The rain started to beat hard against the window making the room seem as if it was under siege. “Get the statue out.” Stipe unlocked the metal box. Toni unclipped his bag and removed the statue. Stipe lifted the lid and both men peered at its contents. For a second the sound of the rain disappeared. There was only silence and mortified expressions as the emptiness of the safety deposit box greeted their gaze. Stipe stood abruptly.
“Where the fuck is it? That bloody statue was supposed to be here.” His hands picked up the box and turned it upside down as if his actions might provide a positive result.
“Shite and double shite. What are we going to do now, Stipe?”
“I don’t know. You had better put the statue back in the bag. You look like you’re holding a frigging Oscar.” Toni put the statue back into the briefcase, his nerves almost shot to pieces. Someone knocked the door and entered the room. Stipe turned to face them forcing a casual expression to replace his bewildered look and started to relock the deposit box as if it was his original action. Mr Archer and a larger, executive looking man stood in the doorway. Mr. Archer had the furrowed brow and was adjacent and to the rear of the new face, who was holding their letter in front of him and trying hard to conceal his concern.
“Mr. Kazoulis. My colleague has just given me your documents and they rather surprised me.”
“Oh, why is that?” said Stipe.
“Well it was only last week that we had a gentlemen from your office who presented himself at this bank and requested exactly the same information as yourselves. We have already dealt with this matter I believe. Can you give me an explanation?” Stipe sidestepped positioning himself so as to block out the view of Toni’s face from his two inquisitors, knowing that Toni’s eyes would be sending out guilt messages to anyone who saw them. Calmly Stipe remembered the scenarios he had rehearsed back in the hotel room as he had tried to anticipate any eventuality that might occur in the bank, and be as prepared as possible for it. With a stutter-less voice he said,
“Really! I don’t know how that could be, unless, ah ha, I know what as happened. You see my associate, Mr. Martin, who is dealing with this matter, had an emergency at the weekend. His father had a heart attack and he is away at his bedside. I was called upon a couple of days ago to take over this case and conclude all the matters. With his secretary being away sick I haven’t found the files relating to this matter and when we last spoke about a week ago he said that he was arranging a visit to the bank to do what I am here to do now. I assumed he had not carried out that task, and I had an introductory letter drawn up enabling me to proceed where I thought he had left off. It would appear that I have made rather an embarrassing error and it does sort of make us look incompetent fools back at Stalwart and Grangers.” The new face didn’t flinch and said,
“Well mistakes do happen, Mr. Kazoulis, and there is no harm done. Would you mind waiting here a moment. I’ll photocopy this for our records and then you can be on your way.”
“Certainly. And please accept my apology for wasting your time.” Both men left the room. Stipe sat down thinking he had delivered a good performance under the circumstances and relished the brief respite that their absence afforded, but he was convinced that the new face was unsure of his story. Toni started to speak and Stipe interrupted him.
“Before you say anything, Toni, everything is under control. Trust me. Make sure you are ready to leave when they return.”
“Ok, Stipe.” They sat in silence for the next few minutes. The rain reached a crescendo as it intensified its assault on the windowpane. The new face went back to his office and dialled the number at the foot of the page that Stipe had given him. It was answered after five rings.
“Stalwart and Granger Solicitors, How may I help you?”
“This is Mr. Ainley, I’m the manager at the main branch of the National Westminster Bank in town. I have two representatives of yours here that are dealing with the affairs of Mrs Maria Stavell. Could I speak to Mr Stalwart or Mr Granger about this matter?”
“I’m afraid they have both left for court this morning, but I may be able to help you. I am Mr. Kazoulis’s secretary.”
“Ah good. It’s just that the matter they came here on business was resolved last week by one of your associates and I just wanted to be sure under the circumstances that these gentlemen were of a legitimate nature. You can never be too careful where peoples money is concerned.”
“No, quite. As it happens, Mr. Ainley I have been trying to contact Mr. Kazoulis on his mobile phone because I am in possession of Mrs Stavells’s file and I can see that there seems to be a mix up and I wanted to tell him to return to the office.”
“Well the mix up has been cleared, certainly at this end and Mr. Kazoulis will be leaving shortly. Thank you very much for your help and I hope that you didn’t mind me calling? Good Bye.” Mr. Ainley replaced the receiver collected the letter and returned to Stipe’s room satisfied that all was well. Stipe and Toni stood when he entered the office.
“Here’s your letter Mr. Kazoulis.” Stipe took it from him and placed it into his briefcase. “I will arrange for someone to collect the box after I have spoken with my colleague, Mr. Martin. Thank you for your time.” Mr. Ainley showed them to the door and Stipe and Toni left the bank and started to retrace their steps. The rain had subsided and the shop windows were once again flashing reflected signals from the strengthening sunshine. Stipe wondered if Mr. Ainley had made the call to the office contact number that he had replaced with the telephone number of his hotel room, and tried to picture Marta composing herself, pretending to be his personnel secretary. If he had then it was only Marta’s confirmation of events that had kept them their freedom. The only problem now was that they still didn’t have the original statue, or know its location.
21
Meal times were an eagerly awaited event. The Najinsky Private Hospital employed two French head chefs who provided nutritious food that had flavour and imagination, enhancing the high medical reputation of the hospital, a deciding factor for some of the patients who was in for routine operations. The two orderlies pushed the heated trolley along the corridor. The first orderly checked the chart. Room 106 was destined for asparagus soup with poached salmon and spring vegetables to follow. The orderly instructed his companion to prepare the food for 107 while he sorted the menu for106. He selected the food, placing it on a tray and took the contents into the room.
The man lay motionless in his bed. The orderly approached starting a casual conversation as he walked, his attention focused on the accuracy of the tray’s contents.
“How are you today Mr. Van der Meen? We have a delicious asparagus soup and poached…” Henrick prized his arm from the bed covers and groaned at the new arrival. Gravity defeated his muscles and his arm fell limp at the side of the bed. The orderly looked up and noticed Henrick’s condition. He placed the tray on a dresser and rushed to Henrick’s side.
“Are you okay Mr. Van der Meen?” He didn’t wait for the reply. Henrick’s sallow complexion and cold, clammy, hand answered his enquiry. He dropped Henrick’s hand onto the bed and stretched over to the wall and hit the emergency button. Within seconds a nurse and a doctor were in the room.
“I think he’s having a heart attack. I just found him like that when I came into the room.” The nurse acknowledged the orderly and rushed to the side of the bed. Quickly she assessed Henrick’s appe
arance, loosening clothing and checking his carotid artery. The pulse was weak and erratic. The doctor, who had positioned himself on the opposite side, checked Henrick’s heartbeat with his stethoscope. His eyes pinched as he listened to the result.
“Get a crash team in here fast and bring 30 cc’s of adrenalin.”
“Yes doctor.” The nurse rushed from the room brushing by the orderly who side stepped to let her pass. Moments later she returned pushing a defibrillator and a rack of monitors on a trolley, followed by three other medical staff, one of which carried a tray with a syringe and the adrenalin. Henrick’s condition had deteriorated rapidly. The doctor was working frantically with his palms on Henrick’s chest, trying to restart his heartbeat. The team swung into action. The nurse quickly prepared the syringe and injected the drug directly into Henrick’s chest. Another powered up the defibrillator and connected contact pads to his chest. . A monitor sprang into life revealing Henrick’s condition. There was just a flat line humming its way across the screen. It unified the attention of the team for a split second. Eyes fixed onto the monitor, and then with practiced efficiency, hands initiated the actions that the screen dictated. Directives were barked and the response was immediate. The nurse prepared another syringe and administered it. The doctor ceased administering the cardiac massage.
“Pass me the paddles.” A nurse handed the doctor the defibrillator pads. Everyone stood clear. “Set the charge for 40 Jules.” A hand turned a dial and a voice confirmed the action. The doctor positioned the pads and Henrick’s body jerked involuntarily. Eyes fixed on the monitor. The screen and the monotone pitch remained constant. “Eighty Jules.” The doctor tried again. Henrick’s body jumped higher and slumped back on the bed like a lifeless sack of potatoes. No change. The inevitable outcome was showing in the faces of the crash team, powerless to do anymore against deaths hold on the body before them. They focused on the doctor, looking for his lead. “Give me everything you’ve got.” The doctor replaced the paddles. “Clear.” The charge was dispersed. The doctor watched the monitor, holding the paddles in mid-air. Suddenly a line shot up the screen. The single tone changed to a beep and then another one. An invisible oppressive force lifted from the room. Everyone started to breathe again, including Henrick. The team responded instinctively. Voices confirmed the rising heart rate and blood pressure. More drugs were administered. The doctor gave final instructions, turned from his patient and smiled at the orderly who was still standing in the background. The doctor saw the tray of food on the furniture.
“I don’t think he’ll be needing that right now. You can take it away.” The orderly hesitated while his senses returned, remembering his duties, he picked up the tray. The doctor left his patient. His work was done. Five minutes later Henrick was being taken to intensive care where his recovery could be closely monitored, Zoran’s intentions for Henrick thwarted.
The door knocked three short raps, a pause, and then twice more. Marta stood when she heard the first knock; a flutter of panic bridled any forward motion. The second knock dispersed any fear and she quickly moved towards the hotel room door and opened it. Stipe and Toni entered. She could tell by their expressions that all had not gone well. Stipe dropped his briefcase onto the bed and slipped of his jacket. Toni slumped into a chair. Marta came forward and stood by her man uneasy at their silence.
“What happened? You know I got a call from the bank checking to see if you two were authentic.” Stipe turned sharply and faced Marta.
“Did you? Jeeze, it’s a good job we altered the phone numbers or else we would have been right in the shit.”
“Well you do seem to think of everything, Stipe.”
“Not quite everything. If I had thought of everything we would be returning here with the original statue and not some cheap imitation. The box was empty when we opened it. Not even a whiff of a precious stone.” Marta draped a consolatory arm over Stipe’s shoulder, stunned into silence at the news.
“It was a damn shock seeing an empty box staring back at you. We barely had time to close the thing before that bank manager guy came back into the room. I only just managed to keep my cool. It was pretty nerve racking.”
“You can say that again,” said Toni. Stipe faced Marta, his lips tight together pushing his cheeks apart. “In fact we are even worse off now than before we came here. At least when we left Amsterdam we thought we knew where the statue was. Now we haven’t a clue.” Marta squeezed Stipe’s hand. His frown softened.
“Not exactly,” said Toni. “Remember that Henrick said that all of Maria Stavells’s possessions were being auctioned off. That’s obviously where the statue has gone. The auction house has probably got it by now.”
“ Maybe, Toni, or it could be locked away in that solicitors office and there is no way that I can go back there again to find out, is there!” Marta strode around the room collecting her thoughts.
“You know, Toni is probably right. Henrick said that the auction was only weeks away. The appraisers or auctioneers, whatever you call them, would need time to catalogue, organise everything. I doubt with the auction as close as it is that the statue would still be with the solicitors.”
“That still doesn’t help us much, because A, we don’t know the auction house in charge of the sale and B, if we did we haven’t any plan to relieve them of it.”
“That’s not like you, Stipe to be so pessimistic. You’re the one who normally has all the ideas. Give it some thought. Let’s work this through,” said Marta.
“It could be one of the big auction houses like Christies or Sotheby’s. She was a famous actress after all. Be a lot of interest in her possessions,” said Toni.
“You could be right, but I don’t think that she has done anything acting wise for some years and I don’t think she’d quite reached Garbo status. Besides, I would have thought you would need to book an auction a long time in advance at either of those establishments.”
“You are probably right, Stipe.”
“We could give Henrick a call. He might be able to shed some light on things. Call him, Stipe.” Stipe hesitated a moment, and then mentally agreeing it was a good idea, called Henrick at his office. The store manager answered the phone and informed Stipe that Henrick had suffered a heart attack while in the Najinsky Hospital and that they were moving him back to his room today after a spell in the intensive care unit. Stipe took the details and hung up. Through the snippets of conversation, Marta and Toni guessed there was a problem. They looked expectantly as he cradled the receiver.
“Henrick’s gone and had a heart attack. From what his store manager told me he seems to have past the worst. I’ll call him at the hospital.”
“That is all we need. You think he could have waited at least until we arrived back before trying to die on us.”
“I’m sure he didn’t ‘try to die on us’, Toni. These things just happen.” Marta thought that all the excitement of the last weeks couldn’t have helped and she found herself feeling sorry that she had pointed the gun at him in his office. She had grown to like him in an odd sort of way.
Stipe dialled the new number, and after convincing the duty nurse that he was a close relative, was connected to Henrick’s private room. A shaky voice answered the phone.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Henrick, it’s Stipe. I’m calling from the UK. Sorry to hear about you having a heart attack. I hope it wasn’t too serious.”
“Damned well nearly took me he did. I was a flat line case that’s how close he was, but I’ll get the better …kaw, kaw … wait and ..kaw …see.” Stipe shot a puzzled look to Toni and Marta who had joined him at the side of the phone.
“Take your time, Henrick. Don’t rush your words. We don’t want you to have a relapse. We need to talk to you about the statue…”
“And I need to talk to you, all of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t just happen to have a heart attack, my friend. No. I was visited by some one armed man, a
n ex associate of yours I believe. He tried to kill me by smothering me with a goddamned pillow. That’s how I ended up having a heart attack, but not until he had extracted from me all the information I had about you three, your location and reason for being in London. He’s damn well coming after you, so you had all better be careful. That man has only evil where his heart used to be.” Stipe gulped and scratched his head. He didn’t have a verbal response. The surprise had temporarily unseated him.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Marta, seeing the colour from Stipe’s face draining.
“Give me a minute. So he knows everything, hotel, statue, the works?”
“I’m afraid so. When your life is on the line you’ll say anything. What did you expect I would do? But at least I have been able to warn you. Get back here with the statue as quick as you can. The sooner we conclude this affair the better. I’ve been in touch with some people. They are eager to do business.”
“That’s one of the reasons we called you, Henrick. We haven’t been able to switch them yet. The box was empty at the bank and we think that the auction house has it. We don’t know which one, or where to start looking.”
“What next! I can do without any more surprises, Stipe. Morgan & Morgan. She has used them in the past to auction gowns from films she was in for a charity, and she has bought extensively from them over the years. They are the biggest auctioneers in Richmond. Try them, …kaw kaw , and be bloody careful, there’s a lunatic after you, remember.” Henrick disconnected without any goodbyes. Stipe replaced the handset as if on autopilot. Two pairs of eyes waited eagerly to be informed.
“You are not going to like this.”
“Well, you had better tell us quickly and let us be the judge of that,” said Marta.
“Your friend, Toni, the one-armed-charm-machine, well he tried to kill Henrick. He knows we are here and what we are about. He’s after us.” Toni squirmed and turned away.