“Might I enquire what he has with you?”
“Really, Chief Inspector. There must be a limit. I shall be happy to discuss the Count’s deposits here in his presence. I think that is only fair.”
“Does he have bullion here?”
De Souza rose and moved over to a sideboard where he poured himself a glass of water. “Please, Chief Inspector. Can we not call the Count and—”
“Kilinski didn’t just have the photograph of that gold necklace in his possession. He also had some gold – of Polish origin apparently.” He rummaged in his jacket pockets then produced the ingot. “Just like this in fact. Have you seen one of these before?”
“I… I…”
“Did Kilinski show you this, sir? He had a bee in his bonnet, you see. I don’t know exactly what his mission was, but there are various links beginning to come clear to me. He had a photograph of this magnificent amulet, he had an example of this ancient Polish currency, he went to see the Count, a prominent Pole in this country, he came to see you, a prominent banker to the Poles in this country, and then he died violently. Someone didn’t want him to chase down whatever he was seeking and someone stopped him. That’s how it looks to me. Was it you, Mr de Souza?” Merlin stood up again and leaned over the desk, staring fiercely at the now cowering banker.
“Of course not, Chief Inspector, why would I do something like that?”
Merlin’s face resumed its normal equable look and he eased himself back into his chair. “Mr de Souza, I need help. Your wholehearted assistance, not the guarded response I feel I am getting from you. If you have nothing to hide, please help me. I know you have client responsibilities as a banker, but these, I am afraid, have to go by the board when we are investigating murder.”
“Of course, Chief Inspector. Please excuse me a moment.” De Souza rose slowly to his feet and walked over to the sideboard where he poured himself a large, neat whisky. He indicated two other empty glasses, but Merlin shook his head. Seated again at his desk, he took a large mouthful of the drink and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know the exact family background, but somehow the Count appears to be a very rich man. I am not a Pole myself, gentlemen – my own background is Hungarian.”
The bank manager finished his Scotch and poured another glass from the decanter which he had brought to his desk. Having decided to open up, he now relaxed into his task. “No doubt the Count had large estates, but as such wealth is obviously not portable, I assume the Count had substantial other assets. In any event, on his arrival here from Poland in January, I think it was, of this year, he made a large deposit of gold bullion.”
“How much did he deposit?”
“Well, it was around five hundred thousand pounds worth, or two million dollars.”
“And in what form?”
“In the form of these ingots. I have not been given information as to the antiquity or artistic worth of the ingots, but our valuation is simply based on the actual gold content at current prices.”
“And where is this gold?”
“In our vaults below.”
Robinson tapped a pencil on her notebook. “And is that all of the gold the Count has?”
De Souza scratched his chin. “Well, no, there is apparently more, young lady.”
“And where does the Count keep that?”
“I have advised him most strongly against this, but he has most of it in his home. He did have storage in some business premises, but the building was bombed out last week. I understand he has moved most of what was there to his house.”
“And you think that might have substantial worth as well?”
“Certainly, millions of pounds’ worth, I believe. The Count did not wish to have all his eggs in one basket, so to speak.”
“These bombed business premises. Would they, by any chance, operate under the name Grand Duchy and Oriental Trading?”