“Leave him, Jan. You know he prefers to be a miserable sod before action.” Kubicki’s face was again enveloped in smoke. “I must say, I didn’t particularly know Marowitz, but he seemed alright. Very inquisitive though. Always asking questions about things. Nosy little bugger, really.”
Jan closed his eyes again. Yes, that was true, he thought, Marowitz was always asking him questions about his family. Perhaps that’s why Jerzy seemed rather cool with him, despite the fact that they’d known each other for years. Studied law in the same year, if Jan remembered correctly. Then again Miro was one to talk. He also couldn’t stop asking personal questions. Oh, well. Marowitz was dead and gone and God rest his soul, but God now had more important things to do. He had to preserve the souls of Jan and his friends. Reconnaissance and radar told them a huge bomber formation was on its way. They’d be in the air for sure in a couple of hours.
*
Merlin and Robinson found Williams’ Coin Emporium in a small side street off Shaftesbury Avenue. The doorbell rattled noisily as they entered and a neat little man hurried up to them, followed by an enormously fat cat. “Get back, Boris, there’s nothing for you to fuss yourself about.” The man spoke with a delicate foreign accent. “Good afternoon, sir, madam. How can I help you?”
Merlin removed his hat and made the introductions.
The little man smiled politely and waved them towards a desk located in the back of the shop. “It is not often we get police in the shop, is it, Boris, and never, I think, a pretty, young policewoman?” Mr Williams, as Merlin assumed him to be, guided them to a battered, old, red divan before taking up his seat behind the desk. “And so, Chief Inspector, how can I help you?”
Merlin nodded at Robinson.
“My brother, Edward Robinson, suggested we come to you.”
“Ah, yes. Young Edward. A very clever boy. And you are his beautiful sister. I hope he is well. I heard he got back safely from the beaches?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He suggested, Mr Williams—”
The shop owner chuckled. He was dressed very dapperly with a green handkerchief poking out of his top pocket, which matched the green of his tie and the mottled tweed of his suit. “Williams is the name on the shop, but the real name is Wyczinski, Josef Wyczinski. Joe Williams is a lot easier for your countrymen.”
“Well, Mr Wyczinski.”
“Very well pronounced, young lady. I sense latent linguistic skills.”
Merlin brushed some cat hairs from his coat. “That would be a Polish name, would it not, sir?”
“Indeed it would, Chief Inspector.”
Robinson continued. “We have an item that may be relevant to an investigation we are conducting. We were hoping you might be able to identify it for us.”
“I shall do my best.”
Merlin had put the ingot in a small cloth bag, which he now produced and opened. He laid the gold bar on Wyczinski’s desk.