The Countess put on her spectacles and grasped the last page of the document that Grishin was holding in front of her. She looked and read, then, with a piercing cry of recognition, buckled to the floor. Constable Robinson hurried forward to try and catch her but was too late. Merlin and Bridges bent down and helped the Countess carefully to her feet and back into her chair.
Grishin continued contemptuously. “Yes, your dear brother Karol describes here in detail how your other beloved dead brother Sasha stole the gold from our shipment from Spain, taking advantage of a bureaucratic error. How he, Karol and your cousin Kowalski brought the gold overland through the mountain forests to Poland. How the gold jewellery and Spanish bars were melted down and recast with your family crest. And, finally, how you managed to get the gold to London before the Nazis could get their filthy hands on it.”
The Countess sat rigid in her chair. “And Karol?”
“Is dead, Countess. By his own hand apparently, though you may choose to believe otherwise.”
Silent tears rolled down Maria Tarkowski’s alabaster cheeks. Robinson placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.
Merlin gave Grishin a hard look. “Could this not have been handled a little more delicately, Colonel?”
Grishin stroked his moustache and laughed. “Delicately! You are sitting on millions of pounds’ worth of our gold, Chief Inspector. Gold stolen by this woman’s family. No doubt she has been sitting here telling you a pack of lies. Perhaps now you will get the truth from her.”
“With respect, Colonel, I would suggest the gold belongs to Spain before anyone. You stole it from the legitimate government of Spain at the time, did you not?”
“Stole? No, my friend, a legitimate commercial transaction. They wanted arms and had to pay for them or provide security for payment. The Spaniards can whistle for the gold, Chief Inspector.”
Doctor Molik appeared at the door and sprang to the Countess’s side. “Come, my dear. Come upstairs. The Countess needs rest, gentlemen. I told you she was not yet fit to be talked to.”
*
Back in the office, Merlin picked up the telephone and listened. “Yes, sir. I see. I am sorry. Thanks for letting me know.”
Merlin pushed back his chair and sighed. “That was Northolt. Kowalski did not return from his mission. He’s been posted missing, but two of his fellow pilots think they might have seen him shot out of the air.”
“That poor woman.”
“Poor woman indeed, Robinson. But I am certain that poor woman is a liar.” Merlin rubbed his forehead. “So, according to her, Kilinski’s brother disappeared. She claims she has no idea why or how. Kilinski didn’t believe her. What did he think? Whatever, clearly he was being an infernal pest to the Tarkowskis. Is that why he in turn disappeared and died? Or was that for some completely different reason?”
“Perhaps Kilinski was operating as some sort of agent for Voronov?”
Merlin twirled a pencil in his fingers. “Perhaps, Constable. Still a lot of imponderables. The fact remains that of the living, the Countess is the one who knows the most. We must have another crack at her when we can. I am going for a little walk to clear my head.”
When Merlin returned an hour later from his stroll along the Embankment he found the phone ringing again. He was just replacing the receiver when Bridges came in. “ That was the Countess’s doctor, Sergeant. He sounded very strained. Let’s go. Where’s Robinson?”
“Getting a translation of Grishin’s document, sir. Someone at the Foreign Office is sorting it for her. What was the message?”
“Just to get there pronto. Come on.”
*
The doctor opened the door to them. He looked exhausted and said nothing, but pointed to the stairs. When they reached the landing on the top of the stairs, the doctor called out, “It’s the bedroom on the right at the front of the house.”