The Burning Sky

CHAPTER NINE

‘Peter, you should move out to another hotel. This one might not be safe if it all goes tits up.’

‘You are so sure of your Yid?’ The apology was immediate. ‘Sorry, old boy, habits of a lifetime.’

‘Are you sure we have a boat?’

‘Piece of cake, and the captain is Turkish. I had a look at the engines, which, to my untutored eye, appeared to be in fine shape, and so clean, which is more than I can say for the port. If you think things are tough at home, you should see the docks at Constanta. Dire everywhere, except for the oil terminal.’

‘Which makes it doubly strange the Rumanian Government are buying weapons. If the main port is in bad shape the country can’t be making the kind of money needed for such a purchase, even if they do have oil to sell.’

‘Then you of all people should know what that means, Cal,’ Lanchester replied, rubbing finger and thumb together. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time the guiding principle of an arms deal is personal profit.’

‘Anyway, pack your bags, check out and go to the Hotel Francez. Let me know your room number as soon as you’re checked in. Then I’ll send Vince over.’

‘No chance of my being entertained by your Rumanian colonel, is there? I do think I deserve equal treatment.’

‘None.’

‘Dirty, lucky sod.’

Jardine left Lanchester’s room, and him packing, with caution, making sure the floor manager was not about, or the cleaners. As soon as he got back to his suite, he found a note under his door with the simple message, I.G. Call. As usual, when he left the hotel he picked up the man tasked to report his movements, Jardine registering that if it was always the same poor sod in the grey, badly cut suit, only able to trail him on foot, then Dimitrescu was not overburdened with resources, while his man was severely lacking in his wardrobe. Wondering what was being reported back, it was amusing to think it was that the target was addicted to coffee.

‘Herr Hardeen, I have some news for you and I think we should meet.’

‘At your house?’

‘No, come to the Great Synagogue, I will meet you there.’

It was double motor taxis again, this time bouncing off a third five-star hotel, the Grand Hotel du Boulevard, and a sour response when his second cab was directed to the Gro?e Synagoge, which left Jardine thinking that compared to Germany this place was truly rabid; God help the Jews if Hitler’s kind of fascism took hold here. As he entered, to the sound of some gentle Hebrew chanting, he had to remind himself not to remove his hat.

Goldfarbeen was waiting for him and took him to a quiet corner and sat him down, in case, as he put it, ‘The rabbi sees a goyim in his house of worship.’

‘First, I am near certain you have some time. A message has come back from Berlin to Dimitrescu, telling him they want you and they will send an escort to take you back to Germany. He sent a reply insisting they wait until he says it is time to come.’

‘For what reason?’

For the first time the old man looked cross, like what-does-it-matter irritated. ‘Also, he has ordered, this very morning, the small weapon armouries cleared out into railway wagons, as the guns he has bought are on their way from Germany by freight train.’

There was a twinkle in the older man’s eyes now, which begged a question. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I am thinking, Herr Hardeen, that Dimitrescu is going to sell you those guns in the railway wagons.’

‘That’s not all you are thinking.’

‘You must let your mind work like a Rumanian.’

‘Better you do that.’

‘How would you pay him?’

Jardine explained the transaction, which would be between banks, one in Zurich and whichever one Dimitrescu designated in Bucharest.

‘Something tells me it won’t be the National Bank,’ Goldfarbeen pronounced.

‘It should be.’

That got a shrug, which with his shoulders was impressive. ‘Here is what I think he will do. The transaction will be between a bank of his choice and yours.’ Jardine was about to say it would be hard to keep that a secret, but he suspected Goldfarbeen would say ‘this is Rumania’.

‘He will do everything to make it look kosher and that is why he has asked his German friends to wait. As soon as you have made the payment he will find a reason to detain you, just long enough for a train to come from Berlin with the men who want to take you back.’

‘You’re saying he’ll have me arrested.’

‘No, Herr Hardeen, he does not want you screaming “cheat” from the cells.’

‘Quicker to kill me, then.’

‘Which would not please his German friends, who it seems want you very badly, and — who knows? — they might even pay to get you. I told you he was greedy.’

‘How much of this can you keep on top of?’ Jardine had to clarify that: it was too colloquial for Goldfarbeen.

‘If I spend enough money, I will know everything.’

‘Can you find out when that armaments train from Germany will arrive?’ Seeing the question in his eyes, he added, ‘I think the people who want to escort me back might come at the same time, perhaps they won’t wait even if he has told them to. A German will not like taking orders from a man like Dimitrescu.’

The old man thought for a while, then nodded. ‘There are a few Communists in this country. Some are Jews, of course, but there are others who work in the mines, docks and the railways. Maybe even they like money.’

‘They might act out of conviction.’

‘I am not sure I would trust conviction, Mr Hardeen.’

‘Spend what you need and I will pay you back, or I’ll get Monty to do it when I get back to London.’

‘My friend, I would like to do it out of my own pockets, just to stick a finger up Hitler’s arse, but my pockets are not that deep.’

‘Herr Jardine, I have been trying to contact you.’ The voice became jocular. ‘I had a fear my little gift brought on such exhaustion and you were still asleep.’

Cheeky sod: that was a dig at his manhood. ‘I was at the British embassy, just to let them know I am here.’

The voice became tense: it was not a place any arms dealer should go near. ‘The British embassy?’

‘Social call, really, sort of good manners. The last thing I need is them becoming aware a fellow countryman is in town and wondering why I am here. Better to call in and spin them a yarn.’

‘So you still wish to do business?’

‘Most certainly.’

‘Then if you go downstairs in, say, twenty minutes you will find my car waiting for you. Oh, and by the way, I would appreciate details of your banking facilities, without which we cannot proceed.’

‘Of course.’

First he phoned Lanchester, who just acknowledged the message, then Vince Castellano. ‘We’re on.’

‘Is it safe, guv?’

‘Not for long, Vince, not for long.’

‘Take your shooter.’

‘I will.’

In warm weather it was impossible to carry a gun without it showing, so he used the attache case he had bought in Brussels, which had a side pocket near the inside top into which he could slip the Colt in such a way that it could be extracted quickly. With the time he had, once he had also put in some papers, only the bank details being really needed, Jardine sat in a chair with the case slightly open by his side and practised pulling it out, slipping off the safety and aiming it, feeling absurdly like a poor man’s Tom Mix.

The car was waiting as promised and he got in with a confident smile, hardly noticing Vince, who was writing down the number. He did not see him jump into the motor taxi he had standing by and, in Italian with gestures, order it to follow the limousine — not hard, since it was the kind of car to be driven at a stately pace. It soon became clear it was heading away from the district that housed the official buildings, the Royal Palace and the ministries. To Cal Jardine it made no difference, and in his mind he toyed with that absurd expression used by Sherlock Holmes: ‘The game’s afoot.’

It was a bank but in not the least bit a grand one. Jardine did not even bother to look at the signage to see what it said: Vince would take care of that and make more sense of it than he. He was escorted in by the driver to find Dimitrescu waiting for him, then led into a small office furnished in poor-imitation art deco. The colonel took a seat behind a desk, clear of anything except for a single folder and a push bell, with Jardine sitting opposite, his first act, as he put down his case, to slip the catch.

‘As you will appreciate, Herr Jardine, discretion is all in such transactions.’

‘Of course.’

‘Hence the need to meet in an out-of-the-way banking facility like this one. First of all, I have considered our previous conversation and I wish to establish if your aim is to purchase everything you think you can sell on and take it out of Rumania.’

‘It is.’

‘Might I ask how?’

‘By truck to Varna.’ Dimitrescu lost his genial air then, and his expression came close to a scowl: just the mention of a Bulgarian port was enough to raise his national hackles. ‘I would ask as part of our transaction that you clear us through customs on the Rumanian-Bulgarian border.’

‘Why Varna?’

‘To divulge that would be to open up a path that might lead to excessive disclosure, Colonel, and really, once the transaction is complete, and I say this with no ill intent, your interest in what happens to the goods is at an end.’

‘You will appreciate that any weaponry going to that country raises concerns. The Bulgarians are not good neighbours and to this I cannot agree.’

Jardine made a show of thinking deeply, hand on chin. In reality he was amused: he had just said that to guy the bastard, to see how far he would go, and he knew he could insist. Greed would overcome patriotism.

‘You would prefer Constanta?’

‘Most certainly.’

The response was a shrug of supposed indifference. ‘My ship can dock anywhere. I will send instructions to move to Constanta and we will load there.’

‘Good!’ The folder was slipped across the table. ‘Here is a list of what we have. It is probably best if I leave you in peace to consider what you want and don’t want. I take it you have a pen?’

‘Of course,’ Jardine replied, pulling a Mont Blanc Meisterstuck from his inside pocket. He was with a man who knew quality when he saw it, evident in his look of admiration, with the owner playing another joke. ‘Bought it in Hamburg. Damn fine pen.’

‘Hamburg,’ Dimitrescu replied, his facial skin a trifle tight. ‘I do not know it.’

‘Neither do I, really, just paid a short visit. Bit windy for my taste.’

‘I will leave you to it.’ Jardine thanked him, then promised himself no more guying: the bugger might join the dots. ‘You have details of your bank?’

That was passed over and Dimitrescu exited. Opening the folder he perused the list, and it was obvious his colonel was telling the truth about this, at least. It was a real hotchpotch of weapons: French, Russian, some old Austrian pre-Great War pieces, but there were Maxim guns and, in reality, a rifle was a rifle; they had not changed much in fifty years, except the Mannlichers had clips while most were bolt action. There were French 6.5 mm Daudeteaus and M75s, plus eighty-odd Lee-Enfields. Also listed were mortars that he wanted, and some small-calibre field guns, which he struck off, but in the main the list conformed to what Zaharoff had shown him.

The fountain pen was used to put a price beside each set of items, including the required ammunition, the whole totted up to a low total which he knew Dimitrescu would try to negotiate upwards, opening with an outrageous value, this being a country where bargaining was part of the fabric. So the arguments would be, unless he cut them short, long and boring. Sure he had the means to curtail matters, he rang the bell and his man re-entered with his bank details, which were handed back before he resumed his seat.

‘I have had the manager send a telegram to Zurich, if that is acceptable, just to check the account exists.’

‘Essential I would say, wouldn’t you?’

‘So?’ he asked, nodding to the folder, once again closed, assuming there was no need to wait for a reply.

‘I think we can very much do business, Colonel Dimitrescu.’ Then Jardine made a big play of looking around the office. ‘But I think when we do, the price I pay should reflect the unusual nature of our surroundings, don’t you?’

‘I have already explained-’

Jardine cut him off, but with some gentility. ‘Please, Colonel, I am a man of the world and as long as I get that which I seek I have no other concerns. I will deal with you in good faith, but I think it is obvious you are acting … how shall I say it? … at the very limits of your authority, perhaps.’

He was not one to surrender too easily. ‘I am acting as the representative of my nation.’

‘I was good enough to give to you the details of my banking facility. Would you be good enough to respond?’

‘It is too early for such a thing.’

Jardine was thinking, good try, old cock, but not good enough. Time for a little bit of a lie, so that Dimitrescu started operating to his timetable instead of the other way round. ‘As I told you, I called at the British embassy this morning. I established they are happy to arrange for me to see the Minister of War.’

‘You mentioned these weapons?’

‘Of course not. I said I was trying to sell some British products, and they were keen to aid me. A forged business card does wonders. Now, do we do business, or do I accept their offer?’

‘You are living very dangerously, Herr Jardine.’

‘I think we both are.’

‘It does not seem to occur to you that I am acting on the instructions of that very same minister.’

‘Then you have nothing to fear in me meeting him.’ Jardine leant forward. ‘Come, Colonel, I have no interest in what you are up to or who stands to gain from it, I am merely keen to get what I want for as little as I am required to pay, so that I can increase the profit I make when I sell it. It is business.’

Dimitrescu opened the folder and looked down the notes Jardine had made. There was no need to enquire if he had got to the total: his hiss of anger was too audible.

‘An opening gambit, Colonel, but it has a purpose and that is to tell you I expect to pay a good price, but not an unreasonable one.’

Dimitrescu did not hesitate: he came back with a figure three times that on the paper before him and they were off, back and forth, edging closer until they seemed close to a deal on one just above twice what Jardine had proposed, a point from which he refused to budge. But then, neither would the colonel, and that was when Jardine recalled Goldfarbeen saying the weapons had been loaded onto railway wagons.

‘I’ll tell you what, Colonel, I will agree that price if you get my weapons to Constanta.’

Dimitrescu was quick to agree, unaware the man he was negotiating with knew such transportation was, to him, probably cost-free; time to close him out.

‘Naturally, the weapons being on the dockside, ready to be loaded, would represent the completion of the transaction. I am sure your bank has a branch in the country’s main port.’

‘Dimitrescu wants the money more than he wants to do the Germans a favour and he won’t move till that’s in his bank. We complete the deal, he tells them to come and nail me, and by the time they get here I will be in the middle of the Black Sea, we will have our weapons and, I can tell you, at a price a lot less than I expected to pay. It’s a good deal, and you don’t have to get involved except in the money transfer, and you can do that from here.’

‘Your show, old boy,’ Lanchester said. ‘No point in hiring a dog …’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence!’

‘Heel, boy,’ Lanchester joked. ‘I’d best get word to London that matters are coming to a head.’

‘You don’t want to meet Dimitrescu, anyway.’

‘It wasn’t him I wanted to meet, it was those dark-haired floozies you told me about.’

‘I missed out on that an’ all,’ Vince cut in.

‘It is our misfortune, Vince, to be in cahoots with a selfish bastard. So what’s the process, Cal?’

‘We need speed, so the transfer will have to be by telephone, telegrams will take too long, which means you have to set up a line to Switzerland from this hotel and keep it open.’

‘Can you do that?’ Vince asked.

Lanchester shrugged. ‘Grand luxury hotel, they should be used to that sort of thing.’

‘I will phone reception from Constanta on another line with a coded message, you process the funds, I will insist he is on to his bank in the same way, and as soon as all is complete I put a gun to his head and tell him if he tries to stop me leaving with the weapons his brains will be all over the wall. Simple, really.’

‘I can spot one or two flaws.’

‘So can I, but I will have Vince with me. They don’t know about him and he will have your Colt Automatic.’

‘I’ve only ever fired a rifle and a machine gun.’

‘It’s easy, Vince,’ Lanchester said.

‘Must be,’ Vince retorted, ‘if a bleedin’ officer can do it.’

Jardine responded, ‘You just point it and pull the trigger, like James Cagney in The Public Enemy.’

‘What’s the timing?’ asked Lanchester.

‘Dimitrescu is calling in the morning, Peter. I’ll tell you then.’ Jardine pulled a card out of his pocket. ‘This is the place he and I went to last night. Why don’t you take Vince there and have a night on the firm?’

‘You?’

‘Whacked, Peter.’

‘And don’t we know why. Anything else we might need to have a romantic evening?’

‘Cotton wool.’

Cal Jardine stopped at the bar of the Athenee Palace to have a drink, before dinner and an early night. That a stranger spoke to him in a hotel bar, on hearing him order from a multilingual barman, was not anything to remark upon, nor even that the man was clearly German and wanted someone to talk to over a drink; after all, they did much business in Rumania. Besides, as he said, he was keen to try out his English, which he feared was becoming rusty, evidenced by his accent and grammatical errors when he spoke it.

There is a certain air about some men, and for a businessman in machine tools, Herr Reisner, with his firm handshake, seemed very fit. When Jardine deliberately laid a hand on his upper arm as they got up to go into dinner, it was clear the fellow had hard biceps. He also had scars in certain places on his face and cheeks, nothing too obvious, but the little mementoes that come from action; Jardine had seen enough of those in his own shaving mirror, and there was also a similarity in the skin: he was a man accustomed to the outdoors.

His hair was blond, the eyes — a startling blue — were rarely concealed by a blink, while they had at the corners the kind of lines that came from peering at a strong sun. In the none-too-taxing enquiries he made about his presence in Bucharest and his business, the replies were just a shade too slow in coming, as if he had a flimsy cover story, while every time he asked Jardine about his reasons for being in Bucharest, there was just the slightest trace, a tightening of the upper jaw, that indicated those replies were being measured against another narrative.

Dinner over, Jardine politely declined a late-night stroll or a nightcap, pleading a long and tiring day, and went back to his room, his first act to lock his door and jam a chair against it. Then he rang Lanchester’s hotel and Vince’s room, leaving a simple code they would understand and no German should. It took time for the receptionist to get the letters down when he spelt it out and he made the man read it back.

‘That’s right. We’ve been bowled a googly.’

Then he went to bed with the Colt under his pillow, caring not one jot that the oil on the gun would stain the linen of his sheets. What would the chambermaid think, having changed them that morning after his night of passion?