They arrived at the Tarkowski residence just after two. At the door they were met by the doctor who was a short, balding man with a wispy, grey beard. He remonstrated with Merlin again, but his complaints were halted by an imperious voice from above. “Stop it, Doctor. I will see them. They are only doing their jobs.” The Countess, dressed in black, descended the staircase slowly and elegantly, before leading Merlin and his colleagues into her drawing room. A large, life-size portrait of a dashing young man in military uniform, brandishing a sword in the air, dominated the room.
“My father, Count Stanislawicki.” The Countess waved a hand at the chairs in front of the fireplace above which the portrait was placed and everyone sat down. “It was painted when he was commanding his regiment at the turn of the century. Of course, Poland only existed as a province of Russia then. For all of the nineteenth century, Polish independence was a distant aspiration. It was only in 1918, after the Great War, that Russia gave Poland back her independence and even then, it took only a few years for the Russian army to be back at the gates of Warsaw. My father fought with Pilsudski then and for once the Poles triumphed. Stalin fought on the Russian side then, did you know that? Being the coward that he was, of course, he skulked in the rearguard. Yes, my father was a brave man. I say was, although he is still alive, or so the last letter from the Mother Superior advised me. He is now only a husk of a man. His mind has gone. There was no way he could make the journey here, so we entrusted him to the care of the nuns at a convent deep in the country.”
The Countess stared up at her father’s portrait and a tear ran down her cheek. She collected herself, brushed the tear away with her hand and faced Merlin. “Now, Chief Inspector. Ask your questions.”
Robinson took out her notebook and sat forward, pen poised.
The Countess drew in her breath. “My, Inspector. You have come well supplied with clerks. The Nazis are very good at clerking by all accounts.” She paused to look out of the window. “Ah, but forgive me, my dear, the comparison is ill-judged. Please forgive a bitter woman.” Robinson bobbed her head to acknowledge the apology.
Merlin cleared his throat. “I am very sorry about your husband, Countess. As you know, he was murdered by Voronov’s gang. Voronov, as you may not know, is also now dead. We know that the Count was transporting a large quantity of gold to a bank in the City. This bank already holds gold bullion on your husband’s account. We also have an allegation from the Russian embassy that this gold was stolen a few years before the war from a consignment of gold being shipped from Spain to Russia. Perhaps you could elaborate on all this for us?”
The Countess looked hard at Merlin then transferred her gaze to Robinson. “You are a very pretty girl to be in the police, young lady.” Robinson blushed. “Would you be so good as to go to the bureau in the corner over there and pour me a small glass of plum brandy? It’s in the decanter on the right.” Robinson looked across at Merlin to seek approval, then went to get the drink.
“Forgive my manners in not offering you anything, gentlemen, but I am sure being on duty precludes such refreshment.” The Countess took the glass from Robinson and took a sip. “First of all, Chief Inspector, I will tell you all I know with one exception. I do not propose to discuss these ludicrous claims concerning the provenance of the gold with you. Or, let me put it another way – I state unequivocally that the gold belongs to my family, as it has belonged for countless generations, and that the Russian claims are without foundation. This gold is serving or is intended to serve a noble purpose, that is, the support of our Polish government here in London. There is much work to be done back in the homeland. The Count was devoted to his country.” The Countess paused to drink again. “So, Kyril Voronov is dead, is he?”
“He was shot at the second shootout.”
The Countess’ lips parted in a sour smile. “Voronov was a vile man. A murderer and a blackmailer. I have a brother in prison in Moscow. Voronov promised to help him if I… if I did certain things. He also knew somehow about our gold and wanted me to help him steal it.”