The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (5 page)

He wandered to the rear of the
church where the offices were. Father John knocked on a door marked private and entered. Bear and Petros followed.

In a chair behind a wooden desk sat a pale
-faced man with pure white hair wearing a smart grey suit. He looked at Father John. “Why do you bring workers into my private room?”

“Bishop
, these men entered the church through the hero’s tomb.”

Father
John’s introduction ended with the bishop saying. “Leave us, John. I will talk to them alone and explain later.”

Father John bowed and left the room.

“You are English?”

Bear and Petros nodded in unison.

He pointed at some stiff- backed wooden chairs. “Please find a seat and relax. What you have discovered I am aware of. My predecessor made me promise on the Holy book never to reveal the secret of the tunnels. The tomb is false as you found out but reminds us that the young of Poland fought its oppressors. When this church was rebuilt the entrance was covered. We thought, for all time. How did you find it?”

“T
ell him, PK.”

Petros reiterated the story of the boy
, the book and the missing treasure. The bishop sat and listened, not once interrupting.

The
bishop’s mind was razor sharp. “So you found the sacred items belonging to the Jews of Poland and a rather large bomb. We must contact the army and pray to God that they have the expertise to diffuse it. This church of mine survived the Warsaw uprising and bombing. I’d hate to see it destroyed. Go back to your Rabbi Jacob and let him know what is happening. One of you will be required to show the army where this bomb is located.”

“I’ll assist the army,” said Petros.

The bishop picked up his mobile. “Go before the police seal off the vicinity.”

Both men dashed past a bemused F
ather John and out the main door.

Bear looked about him.
“Bloody hell, PK, Rabbi Jacob’s tent is less than a hundred metres away. Underground I thought we walked for miles.”

“Maybe w
e did but does it matter?”

Rabbi Jacob jumped as both men entered the tent.
“How on earth did you find a way out?”

“Long story
, Rabbi, but the police will be here in minutes to seal off the area. We found the treasure along with an unexploded bomb of world war two vintage. In a few minutes, the police will be clearing this area. PK and I will wait and one of us will show the explosives expert where it is. Then we are out of here.”

Sirens wailed and loud speakers broadcast the news no one wanted to hear. Barriers were erected sealing off the square and the police directed the locals and tourists to a place of safety. Ten minutes elapsed before an army truck arrived, dropped off two men with holdalls, before it roared away.

Petros and Bear peeked out of the tent and recognised the bomb disposal insignia on the truck.

“Time you left, Rabbi,” said Petros.

The two men
in army overalls strolled across the square as if out for a walk in the park. The elder-looking of the two spoke first, his voice calm and formal. “Sergeant Antoni Duda. Are you the two who found the bomb?”

Bear didn’t hesitate. “Yes we did, looks German
, World War Two vintage.”

“One of us will show you where it is,” said Petros.

“Are you sure it’s German?” asked Antoni.

“Definitely,” said Bear.

“Then it will be straight forward unless it’s German with a Russian fuse. But as it failed to go off seven decades ago, you never can tell.” He grinned. “My third wife hates my job. Isn’t that right, Drugi?”

“My second wife left me
two weeks ago. The sergeant knows how to defuse bombs but he will not tell you his secrets.”

“Drugi talks too much. Looks like the police have completed the evacuation.”

“How can you tell?” asked Bear.

My mobile is receiving a text.

He pulled it from his overall pocket, read the message and turned it off. “Ready, Drugi?”

“I’ll take you to it
,” said Petros before Bear jumped in.

Antoni p
rodded Petros’ chest. “You leave when you have shown us. I will not have you on my conscience if something goes wrong. This task never gets easier, because the greater the time that has elapsed since the war, new potential problems are uncovered. Do you know that one in eight bombs dropped on Warsaw did not explode?”

“I’ll lead.” Petros entered the tent, dropped into the drain and waited.

Antoni and Drugi followed with their equipment.

“Why do you do this? Is it simply a job?” asked Petros.

Antoni smiled, his voice hard and cold. “You don’t live long if you regard it as just a job.”

“Up there,” pointed Petros
, “there’s a shaft to the left, which leads to a chamber. Careful as you enter, the bomb’s right there.”

“Thanks. See you in an hour or so. If we make it
faster, you’ll soon know.” Antoni laughed as he and Drugi removed  triple headlamps from their bags. They ascended the makeshift ladder and vanished into the shaft.

At a
trot, Petros ran back and clambered out and into the tent. Outside he saw Bear waving from across the square.

“So you left the experts to it,” said Bear as he shifted the barrier.

Petros gave a satisfied smile. “Defusing bombs, I leave to the professionals. I thought you’d gone home, Rabbi.”

“I did leave but bumped into a few people who
are waiting back there,” he pointed, “and would like a word. Sorry but finding a World War Two bomb is news”

“What shall I tell them?”

“I’ll need to interpret but the truth works for me.”

“Okay, l
et’s not waste time. Tomorrow we’re out of here.”

“You’d better believe it,” said Bear.

Cameras flashed and rolled as Bear followed by Petros and the Rabbi entered a safe street.

Petros studied the location and decided the main backdrop for the interview would be a rough stonewall with no distinctive features.
With ease, he guided Bear and the Rabbi into position. Questions came fast and furious from the male and female reporters. He held up his hand until there was silence and started to speak.

He paused for effect to study their faces.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I will say what I have to say and once.” At each pause, the Rabbi interpreted. “There will be no questions and you have my word and that of Rabbi Jacob I am telling you the truth. Ready, Jacob?”

Petros told the tale, omitting th
e part where Bear ended in the Catholic church and other minor details.

“
Bear, Rabbi, it’s time we left.”

The media realised
that was one side of the story and returned to the police cordon where they waited for the explosives specialists to surface.

A light wind wafted through the old market square. T
he babble of spectators and the media stopped as Sergeant Antoni Duda, and his assistant came out of the tent. Together they marched across the square and located the senior police officer.

“We must speak with them,” said Bear.
“No one should enter those tunnels. Sergeant Antoni,” he shouted, his deep voice carrying across the gathering.

Antoni glanced towards him and waved.

Petros followed Bear’s huge frame through the throng until they stood next to Antoni with a metal barrier in between.

   “You were right, my friend, the bomb was German. A well-made bomb with a fuse that could not work.”

“You mean it was a dud,” said Bear.

“No,” said Antoni. “The cocked firing pin was missing.”

“How come?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps a simple mistake or a worker left it out on purpose.” He chuckled. “You can’t test a bomb to see if it works.”

“The passa
ges that lead from the chamber contain an assortment of skeletons, grenades and ammunition. I suggest it’s removed before the trophy hunters arrive.”

Antoni
gave him a stern look. “I’ll get my team to sweep through tonight. Rabbi, when we’ve finished, get your people together and take away every one of those boxes. We plan to remove the bomb in the morning and detonate it in a disused quarry.”

Petros turned to Be
ar. “I’ve had enough excitement for one day. A hot bath and a good meal are top of my agenda. Pleased it went well, Antoni.”

He shook Petros’ hand. “So am I.”

Bear smiled and waved as they wandered back to their hotel.

Chapter Three

Petros snapped open his eyes as the ri
nging of the telephone woke him. The gloom tempered by dull sunlight filtered through thick curtains. He grabbed the handset. “Petros Kyriades.”

             
“Good morning, Mr Kyriades, Alicja in reception. We have arranged for breakfast in your room.”

             
“May I ask why?”

             
“Reception is full of the media wanting to interview you and your friend.”

             
Petros sat on the edge of the bed. “We spoke to them last night. Now what do they want?”

             
“The artefacts you discovered are on show at the Yiddish Theatre. And from what I’ve heard, many thought these were lost forever. The Chief Rabbi of Poland has contacted the hotel and wants to speak to you.”

             
“Breakfast for two in my room sounds perfect. I’ll give my friend a call.”

             
Ten minutes later Petros opened the door to a bleary-eyed Bear holding the morning paper. “Have you seen this?”

             
“Slim chance as you’ve just picked it up. Come in. Breakfast’s on its way.”

             
Bear went and slumped into an armchair. “Our picture with Antoni is on the front page. Must be a slow news day.”

             
“Alicja told me the press are in reception.” A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Ah, with luck food
,” said Bear.

Petros opened the door and Alicja wheeled a trolley
laden with food and a large pot of coffee into the room. “When you are ready to talk to the press let me know. I suggest we use the dining room.”

“Sorry about this,” said Petros.

She raised her eyebrows. “Why? This is the cheapest advertising the hotel’s had in years. I’m charging that mob a fortune for tea, coffee, and sandwiches. We’ve made more in the last couple of hours than we make in days.”

“T
hat’s out and out profiteering,” said Bear in a serious tone.             

Alicja’s voice rose with amazement. “
If they want refreshments cheaper they can go elsewhere, I’m not stopping them. By midday it’ll be over and tomorrow you’ll be gone. In your country you say, make hay while the sun shines.” She turned to leave but stopped. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes
, miss,” said Bear, grinning as she closed the door.

Petros poured a cup of coffee and sipped
the hot liquid while Bear filled a plate with bacon, eggs, tomatoes and beans.

“Leave some for me.”

“What you eat fits on one piece of toast,” said Bear, his mouth full.

Petros sat at the table, retrieved a slice of toast and covered it in marmalade. “What are we going to tell them this time?”

Bear glanced at him. “Can I finish eating before we discuss the mundane stuff?”

Petros laughed. “My apologies.”