The two other pilots shrugged and saluted jauntily. “à bient?t, mam’selle.” Kowalski winked his bruised eye. The door closed behind them.
Merlin bent down and lifted the trunk lid. There were a few layers of clothing, neatly folded and packed, at the top. He carefully removed them and put them on a small table by the room’s only window. At the bottom of the trunk, two books, a box camera and a chess set. One of the books was an art book of some sort with a Polish commentary. Merlin handed it to Jan, who translated the title as Great Polish Art of the Classical Period.
“Ziggy liked to talk about art and history. He was always talking to me about Polish artists and architects.” Merlin handed the other book, which was thick and worn, to Jan. “That’s the Torah. Our bible.”
Merlin looked thoughtfully at Jan. As Sonia had told him that she was half-Jewish, he didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Jan was also. “So Ziggy was Jewish, was he?”
“Yes. To be honest, I don’t think Ziggy Kilinski was his real name.”
“Do you know what that was?”
“No, he never told me.”
“I see. Was it commonly known that he was Jewish?”
“Possibly; I’ve never discussed it with anyone.”
“Do people know that you are?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I haven’t had any problems about it, though Jews are not exactly popular in Poland.”
“Hmm.” Merlin looked down again into the trunk and noticed a small pocket on the side. He reached in and pulled out a business card embossed ornately with the name of Count Adam Tarkowski and a London phone number and address. “Moving in high circles, wasn’t he? Did Ziggy go up to London much, Jan?”
“A few times. As I think you know, we were only brought out of reserve very recently and so had quite a bit of time on our hands in August. Ziggy perhaps went into town more than most. I thought he might have a girlfriend but he denied it.”
Dipping into the pocket again Merlin found what looked like a cutting from a newspaper. There were no words on it, just a photograph. “What do you think, Constable? Looks like some sort of bracelet or necklace.”
“Perhaps South American, sir?”
“You think? Well, we’ll need to check this out.” Merlin continued to rummage in the trunk, but found nothing else of interest. The loudspeaker just outside the hut suddenly crackled to life with an urgent voice instructing the pilots to get to their planes. A klaxon started up close by. Jan looked at them, shrugged his shoulders apologetically then ran out of the door.
Back in the car, Merlin had another look at the cutting, admiring the intricacy of the portrayed object’s design. Even without his new glasses he could see that it was a beautiful work of art. Although the photograph was in black and white and he couldn’t tell for certain, he would bet that this beautiful thing was made of gold.
He sat back and tapped a finger on the window as Robinson started the engine. “A few things to work with, Constable. This cutting, Count what’s his name—”
“Tarkowski, sir.”
“Yes, Tarkowski’s card.”
“And we know Ziggy was a Jew, sir, and went up to London several times.”
“Yes. We’ll have to find who he was seeing. And we’d better get the portrait from his file circulated.”
Robinson nodded and Merlin waved to acknowledge the guard as they drove through the gates.
*