De Souza shook his head. “Can you go and drop that package at the Bank of England now Wertheim? It’s urgently required.” Wertheim nodded his assent and oozed out.
Tarkowski was amused, as usual, by Wertheim’s Dickensian manner and appearance. He would have commented on it to his companion were it not for de Souza’s equally Dickensian air.
“You were saying, Count.” De Souza leaned forward to pour the tea.
“I don’t know if you heard about the offices?”
De Souza looked back blankly.
“It only happened on Saturday. The offices took a direct hit on Saturday night or early Sunday morning, I’m not sure which. ”
“My commiserations. Were there any casualties?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
“And, er…” The banker lowered his voice. “Did the goods suffer any damage?”
“Most fortunately, I had just had most of them removed to my house. There may be one or two items lost and most of the records and papers, of course. Naturally, I got my people to make a thorough search of the ruins. I stopped off on my way today and they gave me the valuables that survived. I have them here.”
The Count paused and opened his briefcase. He withdrew a cloth bag and opened it to reveal a glint of gold. “Worryingly, my men encountered a little difficulty. They believe one or two of these may have been stolen from them.”
“Goodness me. And do you know who—”
“It was dark and my men did not get a clear look at him, but I have an idea. In any event I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to take these into your care for the time being.”
“Why, of course. I’ll escort you myself to the safety deposit room downstairs.” A brief smile of appreciation crossed the Count’s face. De Souza frowned. “Do you not think it would be wise to bring the rest of the consignment from your house? I should think our vaults are considerably more secure and bomb-proof.”
Tarkowski pondered for a moment. “I have been giving it some thought, de Souza. That may be the best option.”
The bank manager nodded. “May I ask, sir, whether you received the information I gave your wife on the telephone the other day?”
“The information regarding an inquisitive gentleman, you mean? Yes, thank you, de Souza. I did. It is good to know we have such a reliable friend in you.” The Count reached into his briefcase again and took out some papers. “Now perhaps we can move on to the official business.”
*
As Merlin got out of the car at the entrance to the Northolt aerodrome, an aircraft roared overhead. WPC Robinson spoke, but he couldn’t hear a word. He walked over to the guard box and showed his CID card to the young soldier manning the entrance. The soldier went back into the box and after a brief conversation on the phone, returned and opened the gates. “The Squadron Leader’s in that hut over there, sir, the third on the right.”
Merlin got back in beside Robinson and she drove the car into the base. “What did you say just then, Constable?”
“I was saying that that was a Wellington above us.”
“Well up on your aeroplanes, are you?”
“My brother has an obsessive interest in them. I suppose some of it might have rubbed off.”
Merlin pointed at the hut to which they had been directed. “Park it just over there.”
“Do you want me to come in, sir?”
“Of course, Constable. You are ‘in loco’ Bridges this morning, as he is otherwise engaged sorting something out for the A.C. I don’t intend you to be just a driver.”
As they got out of the car, a couple of young officers passed by. One wolf-whistled while the other made a great show of removing his hat and bowing. The wolf-whistler exclaimed, “My, oh my” in a Canadian accent, while the other muttered something in a language that Merlin knew to be Polish. Robinson blushed and kept her head down as she followed her boss through the door.