“Have you ever come across a gentleman called Tarkowski, Count Tarkowski?”
“Indeed, I have. He is a very senior adviser to the government. I have done some translating work for him. A charming gentleman of the old school – why do you want to know about him?”
“Do you know anything about his history?”
Mrs Hargreaves leaned forward on her seat. “Do you think it’s alright for me to talk? They are all so secretive. I wouldn’t like to be breaking any confidentiality. I’d hate to lose my work there. The money comes in very handy for Ray and me.”
“I have no desire to compromise you. Just a bit of general background, Mrs Hargreaves. A Polish flyer has gone missing and the Count may have had some contact with him. It’s really routine. Can you tell me what the Count does?”
“Well, as I said, he’s an adviser of some sort. Doesn’t seem to have a formal title. Obviously he’s, how do you say, very well connected, being a Count and all. He seems to have some diplomatic responsibilities and some financial ones. I believe he has some responsibility for raising and managing funds for the Polish government.”
“Is he a wealthy man himself?”
“I suppose so, Sergeant. Who knows? Some people managed to get out of Poland with their money, others didn’t. I myself had no money to get out with.” A strained smile spread across her thin lips.
“Did you ever see any Polish air force personnel at the Count’s offices?”
“Sergeant, I am only a part-time worker. I do not sit in the offices taking note of the many people coming in and out.”
“No, indeed, Mrs Hargreaves. I was just wondering on the off chance.”
“I have seen people in uniforms, of course, and no doubt some of them were air force uniforms, but I paid no attention really.”
“I see. Generally, what is your impression of Count Tarkowski?”
“As I said, a well-mannered gentleman. It is clear that he has been through tough times, as we Poles all have, but a gentleman, certainly.”
“Was there any gossip in the office about the Count and his wife?”
“Gossip, Sergeant? I do not involve myself in gossip. Certainly, no.”
“Do you know anything about his family?”
“Only that he has a beautiful wife. Saw her in his office one day. She’s an aristocrat as well. Someone did tell me her family name. What was it now? I should remember as it’s quite a well-known family in Poland. Stan… Stanislawicki, that’s it. Stanislawicki.”
*
The little clerk could not hide his surprise as Merlin presented the warrant card to him. “Goodness, Chief Inspector Merlin. What can you possibly want with Mr de Souza? He is a very busy man, you know. Very busy. I shall be happy to make an appointment for you later in the week. Would Thursday be convenient for you?”
“With all due respect, Mr…”
“Wertheim, Chief Inspector, Augustus Wertheim at your service.”
“Well, with respect, Mr Wertheim, Thursday would not be convenient, no. Today and now, however, will suit and I would be grateful if you could inform Mr de Souza that we are here.”
Wertheim fiddled with his spectacles and scratched his nose. “Well, this is most irregular, most irregular.” He got up from his desk, turned and went through a door behind him. Moments later he reappeared and beckoned Merlin and Robinson through. The solid figure who stood to welcome them seemed to Merlin to be the epitome of an old-fashioned City banker, save for the slight air of foreign exoticism.
“Officers. Please, come, sit down, please. Wertheim, some tea if—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr de Souza. Thank you.”
Wertheim disappeared back into his office and picked up the telephone on his desk.
*
The Odessa restaurant was not yet open for business when Bridges arrived and he had to bang several times on the door before he got any attention.
“We serve lunch from twelve noon, can’t you…?” Mikhail became silent as he regarded the burly form of Sam Bridges waving his warrant card in front of him.