The Amber Knight (31 page)

Magdalena had only just gathered up the Berlin faxes when Melerski walked into her office.

‘I assumed you went back to bed hours ago.’ Josef acknowledged his cousin’s presence without looking up from the map of the old quarter he was studying.

‘I heard you cancelled all sleep.’

‘Only for police officers, I have no jurisdiction over the Mafia.’

‘You sound like Adam. I went to see Radek.’

Josef lowered the map. ‘And?’

‘I find your naivety extraordinary in a member of our family. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out that Adam had survived the shooting in Ketrzyn and was hiding out here?’

‘How did you know?’ Josef fumbled for his cigarettes.

‘Half the police force clomps round the main town in the early hours of the morning, and you ask me how I know you had Adam holed up here.’

‘No one knew Adam was here except Magda and me. I certainly didn’t tell you.’

‘And neither did I,’ Magdalena broke in hotly.

‘Come on, Melerski, who told you?’

‘Does it matter? How often do Radek and I have to insist that we’re on the same side as you? East against West…’

‘Who told you?’ Josef commanded in an icy tone.

‘If I tell you, do you promise not to do anything to the man?’

‘No.’

‘He was trying to help. He contacted me to find out if I knew anything.’

‘Do you and Radek have the entire bloody Gdansk police force in your pocket?’

‘No, we’ve never had you,’ Melerski answered quietly.

‘Where is Adam Salen?’

‘Radek’s men are out looking for him but there’s no word on the street and that means he’s in the hands of someone we’ve never done business with. I swear it on the Holy Virgin’s nose, Josef, this whole thing with the Amber Knight isn’t connected to any organisation Radek or I have ever come across.’ He pulled a chair close to Magdalena’s desk. ‘We all know what a pain in the arse Adam can be, but I’m quite fond of the man. He’s the only westerner I’ve ever met who has Polish interests at heart.’

‘He wanted the knight for Gdansk,’ Magdalena asserted.

‘He’s also steered a lot of foreign investment into the museums which in turn has increased tourism, which has been good for the town. That’s why Radek and I want to pool resources.’

‘You want to help the police find Adam?’ Josef questioned incredulously.

‘And the knight and, not to put too altruistic a point on it, our missing amber.’

‘And the unlaundered money Brunon stole?’ Magdalena added.

‘And what’s left of our money after your husband’s visit to the casino,’ Melerski agreed. ‘Radek and I suspect that whoever stole the amber took it to make a copy of the knight so they could sell it twice over.’

‘And as the amber and your money disappeared at the same time, you’re supposing we’re all after the same band of racketeering murderers.’ Josef picked up the coffee pot and replenished their cups. ‘All right, before I agree to pool resources, let’s hear your offer.’

A seductive aroma lingered in the air. The fragrant smell of pine woods basking in languid, summer heat. It was the promise of warmth that unsettled Adam. He’d tried to keep his circulation going, but it was difficult when the pain in his chest blotted every sensation other than cold from his mind, and the chains on his wrists and ankles restricted his movement to less than a skin chafing inch.

The icy chill had seeped through every pore of his being, freezing his blood and numbing his mind. It was as much as he could do to concentrate on keeping breathing and prevent himself from choking. He tried to ignore the fragrance by mulling over every incident, significant or not, since he had opened the envelope containing the demand for the knight.

Krefta, two anonymous men, and now Maria, dying because they had entered the vault where the knight had been stored. Brunon Kaszuba implicated because he had helped hijack the illegal amber shipment smuggled out of Kaliningrad and, incidentally Radek’s money. Helga’s Slavic bed mate to do the cold-blooded killing. And, he suspected, an avaricious woman he had taken into his bed masterminding the scheme to divert fifty million dollars of Salen Institute’s money into her own pocket.

It all fitted neatly, and probably would have worked like a clockwork babushka if the Amber Knight hadn’t carried death in its shroud. The knowledge that the knight was contaminated must have upset plans for early and luxurious retirements.

The smell came again, warm, resinous, redolent of woods on sunny days, and he realised what it was. Somewhere close by, the stolen amber was being heated in readiness to manufacture a replica of the knight. They had medieval clothes and armour – probably courtesy of Kaszuba. It wouldn’t have been hard for a determined professional thief to break into the Historical Museum, but it would have been even easier for Kaszuba, who had access through Maria to Magdalena’s keys, which might explain why the guards hadn’t been alerted to the presence of an intruder. If Kaszuba had copied the keys and returned the originals before they were missed, all he would have had to do was let himself into the museum, hide between security checks and pick up the clothes and armour before slipping out the way he had entered. Not difficult, given the complex layout of the museum, and well within the capabilities of a man of even limited intellect. Adam had long since decided intelligence couldn’t be one of Kaszuba’s assets, not when he had abandoned a wife like Magdalena so soon after their wedding.

The smell grew in intensity, filling his nostrils and overpowering his senses. He pictured the scene that had been played out on the shores of the Baltic so many centuries before. A corpse enveloped in plague pustules – he hoped for the sake of the grief–stricken mourners it had been covered – an open stone coffin, and the melted aromatic resin running free from the treasure house of the burning medieval village. Scented smoke curling around the majestic, armour-clad figure of Hermann von Balk as he walked among his troops. And the Princess Woberg – had she been there? Or had she already donned the veil?

How did they melt amber these days? He should have asked Feliks Malek.

Footsteps, at least two sets, disturbed the icy, tomb-like silence. One tapping in the light staccato of feminine stilettos, the other a ponderous, more masculine tread. The door creaked on the rusting hinges and blinding light shone down from a single naked bulb.

He closed his eyes against the glare. When he opened them a moment later he saw artfully coloured red hair, glittering green eyes and a slim, desirable body.

The woman stepped forward holding a gun to his temple as her companion unlocked the chains that bound him to the bed. Adam attempted a smile, choking on the gag for his trouble. He fought for breath.

‘It’s a trick.’

‘He’s suffocating, you fool,’ the woman snapped. ‘Cut the gag. We’d be in a right mess if he died.’

Brunon Kaszuba bent over Adam and sliced through the rope that held the cloth in place.

Adam spat the gag from his mouth, coughed and fought for breath before finally managing the smile that had threatened to be his last. ‘You’re not wearing my earrings, Helga. Does that mean you’ve already sold them?’

‘The amber never left Gdansk.’

‘How do you know?’ Josef asked Melerski.

‘Radek and I have had men checking every cargo that’s moved out of the town by ship, road, rail and air since the hijack.’

‘Whoever took it could have had a plane waiting, a boat…’

‘Take my word for it. It’s still here,’ Melerski assured him. ‘We received confirmation yesterday. Friend of ours brought a parcel into the city last night. It was very heavy.’

‘Like a stone coffin?’ Josef asked.

‘Two.’

‘Stop spinning it out. Where were they delivered?’

‘Warehouse in the Old Town.’

Only a place like Gdansk could have a medieval quarter universally known as the Main Town and a newer quarter christened the Old Town, Josef reflected.

‘Kaszuba picked them up before dawn this morning. He was with another man, and before you ask, the description matches the one you issued after the shooting in Ketrzyn police station.’

‘Transport?’

‘White transit van, false plates.’

Josef made a note on his pad. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that your man followed them?’

‘He knows Kaszuba and values his hide.’

‘I’ll put out a description on the van. Someone may have seen it.’ Josef glanced up, Melerski was smiling. ‘As you seem to have more control over my men these days than I do, I assume you’ve already done so?’

‘Radek wants whoever murdered his brother.’

‘So do I, but I want him legally, Melerski, and that doesn’t mean an eye for an eye.’

‘Then we have to find him before anyone can exact retribution.’

‘If they have stone coffins, amber and medieval clothes, they are making copies,’ Josef guessed. ‘Probably right this minute. It’s time we contacted the Salen Institute in America to find out if Adam has authorised payment for the knight. Will anyone be there yet?’

Magdalena shook her head. ‘I’ve tried the fax and phone. All the offices are empty. It’s three in the morning in Europe, seven p.m. in San Francisco, and ten at night in New York.’

‘Leave messages on all the answer phones and I’ll get on to Interpol to see what they can do. Pajewski?’ Josef’s lieutenant came running to the door. ‘Have you raised Salen’s sister yet?’

‘She’s in Prague. I’ve talked to the nanny. She’s trying to track down Ms Salen, but the lady is doing the night clubs with a group of artists and her mobile is switched off. It could take time.’

‘I hope you told the nanny that time is the one commodity we don’t have.’

‘I stressed that it was vital we talk to Mr Salen’s sister as soon as possible.’

‘Ring back and ask her to wake the boy,’ Magdalena suggested. ‘He can operate his mother’s electronic address book. If Georgiana has Adam’s grandfather’s telephone number it should be in it.’

‘Good idea.’ Josef lifted Adam’s briefcase on to the desk in front of him. ‘There may be something in this.’ When the combination lock proved stubborn he produced a Stanley knife.

‘Salen won’t thank you for ruining an expensive briefcase,’ Melerski admonished. ‘Hand it over.’

‘I was opening briefcases like this when you were still in kindergarten,’ Josef boasted.

‘Not like that one you weren’t.’

Melerski’s warning came too late. An ear piercing alarm shrieked, deafening everyone within earshot and a jet of glutinous, foul-smelling liquid shot out of the locks towards Josef, staining his face, hands and clothes a conspicuous shade of luminous green.

‘We know you have the code that will release the emergency funds from the Salen Institute’s Swiss bank account. All you have to do is write it down, then you can go.’ Helga pushed a cheap biro and pad of even cheaper paper along the table until it rested in front of Adam. Brunon had dragged him off the bed and down a passageway into a Gothic arched and vaulted cellar that looked as though it had been built to accommodate a Tsar’s wine reserve. Dusty wooden racks stood at the back of some of the alcoves. An enormous electric kiln belched out heat into an atmosphere that was already stifling, prompting Adam to wonder how he could have ever considered extreme cold less bearable than a surfeit of heat.

Brunon had dumped him on a chair set skin-cracklingly close to the kiln. His ankles were still chained, and they had been securely fastened to the metal legs of the chair. His hands, cuffed together at the wrists, were resting on the surface of the table Helga had provided for him to write on.

‘I’m sorry, I have an appalling memory. I can never remember names or numbers. On the other hand I always remember warnings, especially when they concern my own or other people’s health. If either of you went into the vault with the Amber Knight, you’re not going to last long.’

‘As neither of us did, that’s not a problem.’ Helga pushed two cigarettes into her mouth, lit them and handed one to Brunon.

‘What about you?’ Adam asked Brunon. ‘Don’t you care that your grandmother’s dead and your wife has exposed herself to anthrax by visiting her?’

‘My grandmother was old. The old die and, you’re too interested in my wife.’

‘Someone has to be.’

‘I know Magda. She’s so hung up on her fucking church and morality you’ll never get anywhere with her.’ Brunon drew heavily on his cigarette and waved the glowing tip before Adam’s eyes. ‘She won’t drop her principles or her knickers for anyone who hasn’t put a wedding ring on her finger. In fact she’s so fucking superior, she hasn’t even done it for her husband in years.’

‘That’s because her husband is an impotent bastard who can’t satisfy a half-zloty whore, let alone a real woman.’

The blow was powerful, swift and sudden, sending Adam and the chair he was chained to spinning on the floor. Adam held his breath and tensed his muscles against the kick Brunon aimed at his bandaged ribs, but his efforts didn’t lessen the impact. An ominous cracking escalated his pain to screaming pitch.

‘Kaszuba!’ the Russian shouted from somewhere behind them.

‘The bastard insulted me.’

‘We need him,’ Helga hissed, revealing more to Adam than she’d intended with those three words.

‘Keep your fucking mouth shut,’ the Russian warned Helga as he hoisted the chair, and Adam, upright. ‘And you,’ he glared at Brunon, ‘stand the other side of the kiln until you learn to control your temper.’

Helga examined a cut that ran from the corner of Adam’s left eye to his ear. She dabbed at it ineffectually with a crumpled tissue.

‘If you haven’t any disinfectant I’d rather you kept your germs to yourself,’ Adam muttered, fighting pain.

‘I’m trying to help.’

‘Your boyfriend to kill me?’ he asked flatly.

‘What makes you think Brunon is my boyfriend?’ She eyed the Russian warily.

‘He isn’t?’ Adam asked with what he hoped was just the right amount of scepticism. ‘You do know that if you’re trying to recreate the Amber Knight, you’re going the wrong way about it?’

‘Who says we’re trying to recreate the knight?’ the Russian asked.