The Amber Knight (15 page)

‘And to think I gave myself credit for shaking them off,’ Adam said dryly.

Melerski produced a gold lighter and lit the cigars Josef and Radek had taken. ‘Exactly what have you been doing to annoy the Russians, Mr Salen?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘So it was Miss Janca they were after?’

‘I’m not too sure.’ Josef poured Magdalena a coffee and handed it to her. ‘As we all know, Mr Salen has some very annoying habits.’

‘Mr Radek, could you please pass on the message to whoever came after us that Brunon Kaszuba’s wife has no idea where he is, or what he does with his time?’ Adam asked.

‘And what makes you think an honest art dealer would be acquainted with gun-toting men who drive black limousines, Mr Salen?’

‘There’s something you don’t know about Kaszuba,’ Josef broke in quickly before Adam could frame a retort to Radek’s question.

‘There are a number of things I don’t know about Kaszuba and don’t want to.’ Melerski flicked the ash from his cigar onto the floor.

‘What I do know is that he rarely visits his grandmother or wife,’ Adam interrupted.

‘Is that true, Mrs Kaszuba?’ Radek asked.

‘The name is Janca, and I’ve only seen Brunon twice this year. Captain Dalecka lives in the same apartment block as me. He’ll verify that Brunon doesn’t live there.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘The twelfth of March. He paid his grandmother a birthday visit.’

‘Did he give her a present?’

‘A silk scarf.’

‘Anything else?’

She shook her head.

‘Think carefully,’ Josef urged. ‘Any money…’

‘Brunon’s never given me or his grandmother a grosz. All he ever does is borrow or steal from us.’

‘We think that fifty thousand dollars you saw him drop on the roulette table…’ Josef looked to Radek who nodded, ‘…was part of a consignment that came in with the amber shipment.’

‘To be laundered?’ Adam asked.

‘Invested,’ Radek contradicted.

‘And your people tried to pick up Magdalena to put the screws on Brunon Kaszuba to hand back the amber and anything that’s left of the consignment?’

‘I know nothing about the people who came after you and the lady, Mr Salen, that’s if they even exist outside of your imagination,’ Radek retorted

‘We didn’t come here to argue,’ Melerski said smoothly. ‘Only to volunteer our services to the police.’

‘On a murder enquiry, missing amber shipment, or art fraud?’ Adam asked.

Radek narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you inviting us to take our pick?’

‘I want all the employees of the Salen Institute to be able to sleep at night.’

‘I’ve set a watch on Miss Janca’s family and apartment.’ Josef punched the keyboard on his computer, ‘and I’ve stretched our resources to cover personal escorts for her and her two brothers.’

‘Against the kind of jokers who ran us off the road?’ Adam demanded.

‘Would you prefer it if I locked her in a cell?’

‘The same one Kaszuba escaped from?’ Adam opened the door and held out his hand to Magdalena. ‘Just remember, whoever comes after her will find themselves tangling with me.’

‘I’m sure they’re quaking in their boots at the thought,’ Radek mocked.

‘They should be,’ Adam called back, guiding Magdalena out through the door.

‘You’ll remain with her every minute?’

‘It’ll be more than my job’s worth to leave her for a second, Mr Salen,’ the burly policeman Josef had assigned to watch over Magdalena assured him, as they stood in her office at the Historical Museum.

‘And you’re going to stay here all afternoon?’ Adam glanced out of the window at the stream of tourists pouring into the building. He realised that between the guard and the high profile police presence stationed in tourist areas to deter pickpockets, Magdalena would be safer here than anywhere else in Gdansk.

‘Yes,’ Magdalena agreed irritably.

‘I’ll be back in an hour.’ Adam went to the door.

‘There’s no need…’

‘One hour,’ he repeated.

Adam made his way down the alleyways to Mariacka Street, pausing to check every fifty yards or so that he wasn’t being followed. He looked up at his window before walking up the half dozen steps that led to the gallery. The place was crammed with Americans flicking through cradles of scenic views of Gdansk painted by local artists.

‘You wanted something, Mr Salen?’ Waleria always tried to get rid of Adam as soon as he appeared in the gallery lest he put off customers with his wisecracks.

‘Has the American delegation returned?’

‘No.’

He tapped an oil painting one of the tourists was admiring. ‘Helena’s going to be enormous in a year or two. I buy all I can for my New York gallery. A superb artist…’

‘But they could return at any time,’ Waleria interrupted when she realised what he was doing. Adam’s attempts to boost her sales had a habit of backfiring, leaving her with full stock and an empty till.

‘If you’ll excuse me, ladies.’ He heard the tourists clamouring to see more of Helena’s work before he reached the back staircase. He smiled; if Helena made a killing it might stop Edmund Dunst from pressing for a more generous stipend from the Institute.

Despite Waleria’s assurance that his apartment was empty he heard the unmistakeable sound of a voice. Standing behind his door he tensed his fists and his muscles, only to end up feeling foolish when the answer-phone clicked off. He unlocked the door, walked in and inspected every corner before playing back his messages.

Courtney’s voice, low, sexy, filled the room, inviting him to dine with her at the Grand Hotel. The initial message was followed by a second, warning him to be no later than eight, and finally a third informing him she’d thought better of the idea and would pick him up in a taxi at seven thirty so he could show her the old town at night.

He ran up the stairs to the mezzanine and filled a sports bag with sufficient clothes and toiletries to last him a week. Leaving the bag at the foot of the stairs he went into the kitchen. He pulled down the window blind and wheeled the dishwasher out of the short bank of units. Set in the floor beneath the space it had occupied was a safe. He turned the combination lock, opened it and lifted out several, neatly-tied bundles of papers, and two sizeable wads of twenty dollar bills. Nestling in the bottom was a Glock pistol. Heeding warnings from experienced travellers in the Eastern Block, he had acquired it when he had first come to Poland, principally because it was a model that could be carried safely when loaded and had the added advantage of being made of a light polymer that didn’t show up on metal detectors.

The military academy his father had parked him in had taught him about guns, but he’d never felt the need to carry one – until now. The shoulder holster felt uncomfortable and once he’d added the weight of the Glock, disconcertingly conspicuous, even after he slipped on his jacket. He pocketed two boxes of ammunition and one of the wads of cash, replaced the documents, re-locked the safe and returned the machine to its housing. Opening the fridge he emptied the contents into a cool box and carried it downstairs with the bag.

Waleria was counting the money in her till. ‘For once your ploy worked. I sold all the canvasses of Helena’s I had in stock.’

‘Present for you.’ He dumped the box on to the counter beside her. She looked into it suspiciously.

‘Do I look as though I need feeding up?’

‘Just going away for a few days.’

‘Again?’

‘The last trip was unexpected.’

‘Is this “away” business, or a ploy to avoid your wife and sister?’

‘Business. If there are any messages pass them on to Dunst at the museum, I’ll be keeping in touch with him.’

‘What do you want me to tell your wife if she turns up?’

‘That I’ve taken all the keys to my apartment, and you don’t know where I am, or when I’m coming back.’

‘She’s a very beautiful lady.’

‘So was Lucretia Borgia.’

As soon as he reached his office he locked the door, opened the safe, removed the scrambler and attached it to the telephone.

‘So, you finally remembered you have a grandfather.’ The old man’s querulous voice was testier than usual.

‘I was a bit tied up.’

‘Knowing you, in bed sheets. Why you have to chase skirts with a wife who looks the way yours does…’

‘I was not in bed sheets. I just couldn’t get to a phone.’

‘A likely story,’ his grandfather sneered.

‘They’re still scarce in country areas. I was trying to authenticate the photographs of the knight.’

‘Spit out whatever it is you have to say, boy.’

‘Everyone I’ve spoken to agrees that the photographs look genuine, but one of the most experienced amber-smiths I know insists it’s impossible to be sure without actually handling the piece.’

‘Buy it, then he can handle it all he likes. The one thing I’ve learnt about experts is they never agree when it comes to verifying a work of art. Bid now, today. The whole one hundred million in the special fund, to be sure of getting it.’

‘That would be crazy.’

‘What’s crazy about it? A piece like that…’

‘I said it looks authentic. But just to disprove your theory about experts, everyone I’ve consulted agrees that given a stone coffin, enough amber and a body, it wouldn’t take much to make a copy.’

‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to run.’

‘It could cost you the whole of the emergency fund.’

‘So what? It’s my decision.’

‘I’m aware of that, but we have three more days. Please, leave it with me for…’

‘Damn it all, boy, I want that knight for Poland!’

Adam wasn’t a Salen for nothing. Unlike his father and grandfather he’d learned to control his temper but he never kept it in check when it might turn the tide to his advantage. ‘And I want to make sure it’s the real thing, so the Salen Institute doesn’t become a byword for fakes and forgeries.’

‘Two days, and if you don’t issue the code word tomorrow morning to release the money in Switzerland I’ll put someone else on the job. That’s not an idle threat. I have an expert standing by.’

‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘If you want to hang on to the directorship of the Institute, you’d better be. I’ll fly out to see the knight next week. I’ll expect it to be there.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Make damned sure your best is good enough.’

Adam pocketed the scrambler and replaced the receiver on the cradle just as Edmund knocked the door.

‘Your wife’s been in.’

‘Is she here now?’ Adam was already reaching for his briefcase.

‘No, but she said she’d be back.’

‘Send all my correspondence and messages over to the Historical Museum for a couple of days, and don’t tell a soul – a single soul,’ he warned, ‘where I am.’

‘Wouldn’t it be easier to talk to the woman, she’s very…’

‘Beautiful?’ Adam finished for him. ‘If you think she’s that gorgeous, she’s yours. I give her to you. As an added incentive I’ll even throw in my house in New York on condition you live there and keep her away from me.’ He opened his case and emptied his in-tray into it.

‘I thought this might come in useful.’ Edmund handed him a file. ‘Two dozen listings of all the Konigsberg treasures that disappeared along with the knight and the amber room. There’s a separate appendix giving the history of the few pieces that have surfaced.’

‘Recently?’

‘Nothing since ’65.’

‘I should have thought of doing this earlier. It’s probably worth passing it on to Josef so the police can check the antique shops for the smaller stuff.’

‘Already done. I made those for you to give Feliks and the other amber-smiths.’

Adam sat on the edge of his desk and faced Edmund. ‘All I’ve done since we had the demand is chase round in ever-decreasing circles. I’m glad one of us has taken the time to plan a strategy. I’m more grateful than you know for this.’

‘I could take the credit but it was Wiklaria’s idea. She’s a bright girl and she insisted she had nothing else to do as Magdalena was away with you.’

Adam looked for and found no hint of sarcasm in Edmund’s voice.

‘Dare I ask if there have been any developments?’ Edmund pressed.

‘I haven’t found the knight, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Word has it Warsaw and the Smithsonian have been offered the same deal as us.’

‘Any ideas on bids?’

‘If you were about to make a bid, would you be broadcasting the amount?’

‘Sorry, I’m tired. Not thinking straight.’

‘You do realise there are only three days left to the deadline?’

‘Yes.’

‘So are we going to make a bid, or not?’ Edmund demanded, finally allowing his exasperation to show.

‘Tell you when I know.’ Adam hesitated before leaving. ‘If there’s any trouble over the next couple of days phone Josef right away. Whatever you do, don’t try and handle it yourself.’

‘What kind of trouble are you expecting?’

‘Nothing in particular, but if you see any unsavoury people hanging around…’

‘You seen any of the other kind in Gdansk lately?’ Edmund interrupted.

‘I’m serious.’

‘Trouble in Kaliningrad?’

‘Not really.’

‘Then why did the trip take so long?’

‘The car was wrecked in a contaminated area. We were quarantined.’

‘Josef couldn’t track down any accident reports.’

‘That’s the Polish police for you.’

‘You didn’t see Krefta?’

‘No.’

Edmund frowned. ‘You would tell me if you were in trouble?’

‘OK, it’s not me. It’s Magdalena. There’s a possibility that Kaszuba’s on this month’s Mafia hit list.’

‘Kaszuba? I saw him lunch time.’

‘Where?’

‘In the main square.’

‘I don’t believe it. Every police officer in Gdansk is looking for him and you see him in the main square. Did you talk to him?’

‘Just waved. He was walking towards the torture house with another man. Looked like he was showing him the sights.’

The phone rang and without thinking, Adam picked up the receiver.

‘Adam this place is ghastly…’

‘What place, Georgiana?’ he queried impatiently.