Stalin's Gold

“I saw an ambulance just now turning into Savile Row.” The warden had an Irish accent. “I’ve got a first aid box with me though. Perhaps…?”


Evans shook his head. “I’ll go and get the ambulance. You see what you can do.” He ran off towards Gieves & Hawkes’ shop at the end of Savile Row his face now displaying a grim determination. As he turned into the road, a nearby building took a direct hit, but he kept running through the smoke and falling debris. Behind him, Cole told Merlin and Johnson he felt good enough to walk to the ambulance himself with some assistance and they followed, while Stewart ran off to find the rest of his men. As the policemen and the warden turned into Savile Row, they saw the ambulance approaching them through the flames and smoke. Johnson flagged it down.

“Can we have a bit of help here?” Cole was helped into the back of the van, which also housed what appeared to be an injured lady of the night. “Alright, ducks? Cuddle up close, why don’t you?”

Johnson tried to follow Cole in, but the orderly pushed him back. “No room here, mate. We’ll be taking your friend here to the Westminster. Come and find him there.”

Merlin flashed his warrant card and glared at the ambulance man.

“Alright, pal. If you insist.”

“See you later, Peter. I’ll look after Cole, don’t worry. And see what happened to Evans.”

*



The Lubianka had finally broken him. It wasn’t one thing that had done it, but the accumulation of things. The beating, the lack of sleep, the cold, the endlessly repeated questions, the simulated executions, the stink of the cell and of his disgusting cellmate. Finally, something had broken in Karol and the words had come gushing out – all that he knew about the leaders of the Polish government in exile, about his erstwhile military comrades, about the Polish Secret Service such as it now was and about the money and the gold. He did not know what time it was when he had given up the ghost. He did not know what time it was now. Hours later, a day?

He glanced over at Andrei, who was muttering unintelligibly while waving his hand at the wall. For once, it suddenly dawned on Karol, Andrei’s actions appeared to have an element of purpose. He seemed to be pointing at something. Karol rose from the stinking floor.

“What is it, Andrei? What are you trying to tell me?” Andrei’s gibbering rose in intensity. Karol bent down to examine the brickwork which Andrei seemed to be focusing on. Then he saw it. A faint glimmer in the gloom of the cell. There was a slight gap between two of the bricks and he reached into it and withdrew the sliver of broken knife, which Andrei must have secreted there. He patted his cellmate’s hand. “Thank you, my friend.”

Andrei withdrew to the other side of the cell, a trace of a smile appearing on his slack mouth. Bracing himself, Karol stood up, said a brief prayer, turned up the palm of his right hand and opened the veins of his wrist.





Chapter 16


Tuesday, September 17



One of the mechanics had given them a lift to South Ruislip and Northolt Junction and now their train clattered merrily along the rails through the suburban metroland of west London.

Kubicki extracted a cigarette from the packet Kowalski waved in front of him. “Thanks. What exactly is it we are going to do in London, Jerzy?”

“After a very nice lunch in the West End, we are going to help some friends move some boxes.”

“Can’t they get some labourers to help? I don’t see why—”

“Look, I don’t think we’ll need to actually use our hands, Miro. It’s just that my friend wants a little security, in case anything goes wrong.”

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