The Amber Knight (9 page)

‘It’s shipped in?’

‘You didn’t think they brought it in overland?’

‘I’ve never thought about it at all. Brunon and Rat could have stolen the amber to order.’

‘And got paid up front?’ Josef questioned sceptically.

‘What about the crew? Didn’t they see or hear anything?’

‘Probably.’

‘They’re not talking?’

‘When I said the boat came in, I should have mentioned that it was towed in by the coastguard. The crew and the deck had more holes in them than a tart’s knickers, courtesy of a Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun, according to ballistics.’ Josef finished the coffee in his cup and poured himself another.

‘Isn’t that an army gun?’ Adam asked.

‘I doubt whoever fired it was wearing a uniform. There were three bodies on board, but as someone said in the station this morning, that’s three less for us to worry about.’

‘Russian or Polish?’

‘Who cares? I don’t see a tie-in between Kaszuba’s fifty grand and the hi-jacked amber shipment. Instinct tells me Kaszuba’s money came from a killing. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Rat had “retired” someone for cash.’

‘I thought the going rate was a couple of hundred American.’ Adam held out a cup and Josef filled it for him.

‘Depends on the subject.’

‘If the subject was important why entrust the job to third-rate hoodlums like Kaszuba and Rat?’

‘I was sorting this nicely in my mind until you walked in.’

‘Then you’re letting the vodka do your thinking for you.’

‘And I think I’m encouraging an amateur to get above himself.’

‘You’re here for the coffee?’ Adam switched the almost empty machine off.

Josef fell serious. ‘I came to tell you there’s a price on Kaszuba’s head. Ten thousand dollars dead, twenty alive, courtesy of the Russians, according to Melerski. The silly sod’s really annoyed someone this time. Warn Magdalena, I’d hate to think of anyone taking it out on her.’

‘Warn her yourself.’

‘How can I, when we’ve had no notification through official channels?’

‘I thought Mafia channels were the official ones these days.’

‘Very funny. I asked Melerski to pass on the message that Magdalena and Kaszuba lead separate lives and she knows nothing about him or what he does, but as I don’t know who we’re dealing with, it might not have any effect.’

‘But you get a clear conscience for playing the honourable police officer.’

‘I’ve done all I can, Adam,’ Josef asserted defensively rising from his chair.

‘It has occurred to me that the amber might have been stolen to make a couple of fake knights.’

‘A couple?’ Josef stopped in his tracks.

‘Feliks reckons there’d be enough to make more than one.’

‘What about the coffin?’

‘Not difficult to get hold of.’

‘Neither are corpses,’ Josef reflected. ‘After last night there’s four lying unclaimed in the mortuary right now. Be interesting to see what happens if three knights turn up after the auction. A word of advice if you do fork out fifty million dollars – make sure you get the real thing.’

‘Tell me where to get hold of fifty million dollars and I might risk bidding.’

‘Don’t forget to warn Magdalena about Kaszuba, and to let us know the minute she sees him.’ Josef opened the door.

‘I’ll talk to Magdalena, but I make no promises. You know what she’s like.’

‘Impossible, like all bloody women,’ Josef snarled.

Edmund entered Adam’s office as soon as he heard Josef leave. ‘Berlin’s had the same offer as us.’

‘They biting?’ Adam asked.

‘Wary, same as you. I spoke to the assistant curator. They’re running around in circles trying to authenticate the photographs.’

‘They won’t succeed. There’s no way of doing it without access to the piece.’

‘You checked with Feliks?’

‘He and Elizbieta identified Krefta. If you want coffee I’ll make fresh,’ Adam offered.

Edmund shook his head. ‘What Feliks doesn’t know about amber isn’t worth knowing. So, are we going to make a bid or not?’

‘Let you know nearer the date.’ Adam picked up his jacket. ‘If anyone wants me I’ll be with Magdalena.’

‘You wouldn’t give the knight to the Historical Museum?’ Edmund was horrified at the thought of the archaeological museum losing out to its rival.

‘Let’s get the knight in Gdansk before we start arguing about where it’s going to be exhibited, shall we?’

The Historical Museum was housed in the old town hall of Gdansk. Adam had never seen the facade for the simple reason that it had been swathed in scaffolding and plastic sheeting since his arrival, but he couldn’t resist glancing up at the stone lions on the coat of arms above the door. Legend had it they turned their gaze in the direction of the rightful Polish king. Whatever the von Bach Zalewski’s status before their arrival in the States, it clearly hadn’t been royal, because their eyes had never swivelled in his direction.

Nodding to the burly ex-police officer who steered the tourists towards the ticket booth, he ran up the stairs to Magdalena’s office which was tucked away in a corner of the top floor. The rest of the floor housed a conference room and an apartment the Institute used to house visiting professors, historians, archaeologists and anyone who expressed the slightest interest in investing in a Salen Institute project.

Guilt at Magdalena’s workload had led to the recent appointment of a new secretary. Magdalena had been all in favour until she had met Adam’s choice, Wiklaria, the pretty, blonde niece of his landlady, Waleria. Wiklaria was orally proficient and literate in five languages, a whiz with computers and had impeccable references from the private commercial college her aunt had sent her to, but all Magdalena saw were a pair of long slim legs, blue eyes, and the mooning looks Wiklaria sent Adam’s way on the rare occasions he ventured into the Historical Museum.

Adam smiled at Wiklaria as he entered the reception area. After asking how she was settling in, he sent her out to get coffee and sandwiches from the restaurant next door. Steeling himself for Magdalena’s chilly reception, he tapped at the inner door. Her sharp, ‘Come,’ alerted him that she had overheard, and disapproved of, his conversation with her assistant.

Magdalena was sitting at her desk; wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on her nose, light brown hair scraped back into a net, the bare minimum of lipstick and mascara accentuating the stern expression in her steel-grey eyes.

‘Edmund delivered the file and your instructions.’

‘It was a request for help, not an instruction. Any problems?’ He was never as abrupt with the rest of the staff, but Magdalena had made it plain she disliked conversation that could be construed as personal, and that included comments on the weather or simple enquiries after her health.

‘None, other than lack of time.’ She moved a pile of books uncovering a heap of newspaper cuttings that had turned brown and brittle with age.

‘Edmund told you about the letter and authentication that arrived with the photographs?’

Adam folded his long frame onto the uncomfortable upright chair she kept in her office to discourage visitors. Before she had time to answer, Wiklaria knocked and carried in a tray loaded with coffee and rolls. ‘Thank you.’ Adam took it from her and deposited it on the window ledge, the only clear space in the room.

‘I don’t remember asking for coffee, Wiklaria,’ Magdalena snapped.

‘You didn’t, I did,’ Adam said. ‘Sorry, I should have checked with you, only I haven’t had lunch and I assumed that you’d worked through too.’

Wiklaria gave Magdalena an apologetic look before she closed the door. The staff liked Adam, but they were in no doubt as to who was in charge of the Salen Institute offices in the Historical Museum.

Adam poured out the coffee and laid two of the rolls on plates.

‘Just coffee for me. I never eat lunch.’

‘You should.’

‘I prefer not to get butter smears on my papers, and in answer to your question, yes, Edmund told me about the photographs of the knight and the demand. After sixty years I really would urge caution…’

‘Before we start on the Amber Knight, I’ve an unofficial warning from the police.’

‘Josef?’

He nodded, aware that the Daleckas lived in the same tower block as Magdalena and her younger brothers. ‘Your husband is in trouble.’

‘Brunon’s always in trouble,’ she said dismissively.

‘He was gambling in Sopot Casino last night with a man who was found murdered shortly after Brunon was escorted out of the place.’

‘Did Brunon kill him?’ Her knuckles whitened as she locked her fingers together.

‘No, he was in police custody when the man was killed.’

‘Then if he didn’t kill this man…’

‘Brunon dropped fifty thousand dollars on the roulette table in under an hour. Have you any idea where he got that kind of money?’

She continued to sit, pale-faced and tight-lipped. ‘None.’

‘The police don’t think it was his money. It could also be the reason why his companion was killed. He might be in danger,’ he added, deliberately choosing not to mention the price on Brunon’s head.

‘Are the police still holding him?’

‘He skipped out of a cell this morning.’

‘Skipped?’ She stared at him blankly.

‘Skipped – escaped,’ he explained. ‘It looks like he’s annoyed some ruthless people. The police are afraid they might come after you and the boys.’

‘What for? Everyone knows Brunon doesn’t live with us.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Weeks ago.’

‘If he did steal that money…’

‘What my husband does or doesn’t do is no concern of yours. You’re my employer, not my priest.’

‘No one is interfering in your private life. Josef and I are worried about you and the boys.’

‘We can look after ourselves. Now if we can discuss the information you asked for, I can get on with evaluating the appeals you sent me this morning.’

Adam bit into his roll. He should have known what to expect. Experience had taught him that trying to get through to Magdalena on anything other than a work level was like trying to dig a clean-sided hole in fine sand.

‘I asked the Berlin Document Centre to fax us copies of the last orders issued by the Reich, relevant to the artefacts kept in Konigsberg castle. They were in the care of an SS brigadefuhrer who according to this –’ Magdalena produced a fax from the piles of paper on her desk and pushed it across to Adam, ‘oversaw the removal and packing of the castle contents. They were entrusted to a transport detail and taken out of Konigsberg in November 1944.’

‘Any documentation as to the destination?’

‘None. But there are eyewitness reports that the only convoy that left the castle in November headed south.’

Adam left his chair. Picking up another roll, he walked over to a large-scale map of modern Poland pinned to the wall opposite Magdalena’s desk.

‘South doesn’t make sense. In November 1944 the Russians were massed on the borders of East Prussia. All logic dictates that High Command would have sent the convoy west on the Elbag road. It’s the most direct route to Berlin.’

‘Direct by road,’ she interposed. ‘The brigadefuhrer was captured and interrogated by the Russians in January 1945. He told them that the convoy was sent south to mislead any partisans and thieves who might be watching into thinking that it was a routine supply transport.’

‘This brigadefuhrer didn’t accompany the transport?’

‘No, he stayed to defend the city against the onslaught of the Russians. And there are no documents to support his assertion that the castle contents were entrusted to the care of another officer, a standartenfuhrer. Either he didn’t want to, or couldn’t, identify the particular officer.’ She picked up a newspaper clipping. ‘There are no more official documents concerning the transport, only rumour and newspaper speculation.’

‘I bet there’s plenty of that.’

‘The only hard evidence surfaced at the end of the war. A few minor pieces from the Konigsberg treasure, including a gold altar cross that had lost its rubies and sapphires, and a couple of gold rings purported to have once belonged to the Grand Masters of the Teutonic order, were discovered hidden under a pile of logs in the home of a Polish peasant.’

‘Discovered? Did the Russians search every farmhouse and cottage in the area in an effort to track down the treasure?’

‘They were tipped off by a jealous neighbour. The farmer had been boasting about his find in the village, and the village –’ she left her chair and stood next to him in front of the map ‘was here.’

‘Outside the town of Ostroda.’ He checked the scale of the map and made a swift calculation. ‘A hundred and twenty kilometres south of Konigsberg?’

‘As the crow flies. Distances in wartime depended on the location of the front. The peasant was also interrogated by the Russians. He insisted he had discovered the pieces lying abandoned in the forest between Ostroda and Allenstein after the Russians had advanced and left the area.’

‘So the Russians attacked the baggage train and took everything?’

‘If they had, they would have shipped it back to Moscow and exhibited it by now,’ Magdalena said authoritatively. ‘They’ve already held one exhibition of paintings lost since 1945, and their craftsmen have recreated the amber room in Tsarskoe Selo. Why would they have bothered if they had the original stashed away? If the Russians had the Amber Knight and Amber Room, they would have boasted about it to the world.’

‘So what happened to them?’

‘The only document I’ve been able to unearth is a delivery note signed by a standartenfuhrer who received a consignment from a transport three days after the treasure transport left Konigsberg Castle. The note details the date and time of delivery. No mention of what the consignment consisted of, or place of handover.’

‘Was the colonel captured?’

‘He and his men disappeared. It wasn’t unusual, isolated units in the Prussian forests were frequently ambushed by Polish Partisans and Russian troops towards the end of the war. The forest is littered with mass graves.’

‘So, you’ve unearthed nothing new.’