“So, sen?rs. My manifest and your auditors say that we are shipping 7,800 cases, while my people say the actual figure is 7,900. What shall we do? We have no time for a recount if we are to make the tide and my instructions are to do that.”
“One moment, Colonel.” Mendez Aspe walked away a few yards with his colleague and exchanged words. When they returned, Mendez Aspe raised his arms and shrugged. “Colonel. Our storage manifest and our auditors here say it’s 7,800 cases. Perhaps we Spaniards are a little more advanced at arithmetic than you Russians. We are happy to sign off on 7,800 cases.”
Grishin ignored the slur and smiled politely. “You will allow me a moment, sen?rs?”
“Of course.”
He beckoned to Sasha and the two men walked off towards the sea. “I don’t know how to explain it, Colonel. These two are very good, thorough men.”
“I’m sure, Sasha. And I’d put money on their being right. In any event, there is only one path for us. If we insist that we are right and in fact we are not, we shall have to explain the absence of 100 cases to Comrade Stalin. What’s that at current values, do you think?”
“I’d guess around $6 to $7 million.”
Grishin sucked his breath in sharply. “I do not care to think of the pleasures that would await us in the Lubianka in such circumstances. So as I say, our path is clear, is it not? If by following it, Moscow ends up with a surplus of 100 cases, so be it. They won’t give us any medals, but at least we’ll be alive.”
They returned to the Spaniards. Grishin bowed his head to Mendez Aspe. “We shall defer to the advanced Spanish intellect. The number of cases counted is 7,800 and that will be the figure on the ship manifest. Are we in accord?” The Spaniards nodded and all shook hands.
“The cargo will reach Odessa when, Colonel?”
“It’s a voyage of seven days, sen?r. Not too long. Now if you will forgive me, my bed awaits. Come on, Sasha, let’s get back into town. You have a couple of hours until the tide. You can at least wash the cold out in a nice hot bath before leaving.”
Sasha lay back in the water. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Gold worth over $6 million. He knew in his bones that his people had got the count right. Perhaps more than $7million. That gold no longer existed, on paper. Would its loss be noticed? The Spanish wouldn’t miss it and his government wouldn’t know. Physically it was two normal lorry loads, fifty cases each. When they unloaded in Odessa, 160 lorries would be required to move the cargo from the ships to the Odessa railway cargo area for onward transfer to Moscow. Who was to be in overall charge of the transhipment? He, Sasha, was. A detachment of 173 NKVD Rifle Regiment would be meeting the ships, but again they would be under his command. Four ships, 160 lorries, or should that be 162 to include the non-existent gold? And was it definitely to be transhipped by rail? These details had not yet been confirmed. He had been told to await final orders when en route. Despite the warmth of the bath, he shivered. $6 or $7million? 160 or 162 lorries? Rail or road? He had a lot of thinking to do.
*
Thursday, September 12, 1940
Colonel Valery Grishin looked gloomily across his desk at the picture of Stalin, the “Vozhd” 3, on the opposite wall. He stood up and strolled around his large, comfortable office at the back of the Russian embassy. He could swear as always that the Chief’s eyes were following him around the room. That might be an illusion, but the fact that Stalin’s eyes penetrated everywhere and everyone was indisputable.