The Excalibur Codex

XXVIII

‘We’d like to know what happened to Nortstein Castle,’ Jamie said when Marmaduke Porter reappeared on the terrace dressed in a silk kimono designed for one of the Japanese sumo wrestlers he so resembled. The big man frowned as he took his seat, his eyes almost disappearing into the folds of his face. He noticed Charlotte taking a moleskin notebook from her bag and raised a plump hand. ‘No notes, please.’

‘Don’t you want to search us for recording equipment?’ Jamie suggested playfully.

‘I can assure you I would already know, Mr Saintclair, unless the equipment was so sophisticated my machines could not trace it, in which case I’d be unlikely to find it on your person. I prefer to trust to your honesty.’ He laughed at the unlikely thought. ‘You understand that my reputation, such as it is, has been built on a penchant for discretion as much as my ability to bring people together and make things happen in difficult and unlikely circumstances. My clients trust me to keep their secrets. However, sometimes certain facts can be disclosed without abusing their trust, and your earlier generosity deserves some reward. The question is where to start and what to tell?’

‘I always find it simpler to start at the beginning.’

‘Indeed.’ The fat man stared out to sea for a few moments, apparently mesmerized by what he saw there. ‘I bought this place for the view, you know, and of course the privacy, but I have never been near the balcony, partially because I suffer from vertigo, but also because I am not a man who takes risks. You must bear that in mind as we continue. Information is not dead material. It is a living thing that changes shape and value depending on who has it and who wants it. It can have a positive influence, or a negative. It can be beneficial to whoever has it, yet in other circumstances it may be fatal.’

‘Are you threatening us, Mr Porter?’ Jamie asked mildly.

‘You misunderstand me, Mr Saintclair. I am a creator, not a destroyer.’ He paused and the odd little face creased in concentration. ‘It began, if memory serves me, in the summer of nineteen eighty-seven. I was a young man and ambitious. I’d had dealings with the Polish government for a few years, mainly in the area of asset sales likely to accrue foreign currency, which they badly needed at the time.’ Porter nodded sagely, reflecting on a job well done. ‘You must remember that the so-called iron grip the Communists had on the country was never really much more than a weak man’s grip on the collar of a large and frisky dog. It was always on the verge of breaking free. In nineteen eighty-seven they were under pressure on several fronts. Pope John Paul the Second’s visit had emboldened the Catholic majority and galvanized the priesthood to become involved socially and politically. Walesa’s Solidarity movement had been forced underground, but was threatening to break out into the open rather in the manner of an erupting volcano. General Jaruzelski’s grip on power was weakening—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie interrupted. ‘But we didn’t come here for a history lesson.’

‘Of course,’ Porter acknowledged airily with a smile towards Charlotte, who sat back with her legs crossed, sipping at a glass of iced water. ‘I am merely setting the scene in the manner of the gentleman who introduces one of Shakespeare’s plays at the Globe. You are offering a great deal of money, you deserve a little entertainment. So, in nineteen eighty-seven the men who ran Poland and Poland’s administrative regions were nervous and already looking to the future; a Communist-free future. In the August of that year I was approached by a certain party by way of another certain party. The certain party was a foundation, endowed with considerable means, which had an interest in Polish culture and heritage. Its benefactors feared for the well-being of certain aspects of that heritage under the current, and possibly future, Polish regime and wished to purchase for shipment to its home country an example that could be protected and studied at leisure.’

‘A castle?’

‘Indeed. I’m sure you’ll understand, Mr Saintclair, that I am a man who is often asked to provide unusual items and unusual services, but even I was surprised at this request. More so when I was told that they wished to purchase a specific castle, and, dare I say rather fortunately, an insignificant one. The export permit was surprisingly easy to arrange. Not many people in Warsaw were interested in a small German castle up near the Kaliningrad border where they have castles to spare. The good citizens of the Olzstyn region were another matter. German or not, the castle was part of their heritage.’ A rumble heralded the departure of a jet from Corfu Town and it crossed the mountains behind the house with its afterburners straining. Jamie looked up to see the white underbelly etched against a sky of pristine blue and as Marmaduke Porter waited for silence, Spiros appeared with a third — or possibly fourth — bottle of the Meursault. The consultant took a long drink before continuing his story.

‘Fortunately for me, the party chairman of the administrative region was a man of the old school, a dictator in all but name. He was also one of those preparing for their future I mentioned earlier. I was able to ensure he could look forward to a long and happy retirement with regular holidays in Switzerland, where most of his money is now held. As for the good burgers of Olzstyn, thanks to a hefty injection of zlotys to build a new school and a hospital in Ketrzyn, they discovered their feelings for the castle were not quite as passionate as they thought. The goodwill this bought also allowed me to use a local labour force, which might not have been possible had there been significant community opposition.’ He sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile and a soft burp. ‘We trucked the entire castle, right down to the curtains and hangings, to Gdansk and shipped it in containers to its eventual destination.’

‘And that destination was?’

‘Client confidentiality.’

‘And the client’s name?’

Porter didn’t even deign to answer the question and in the silence that followed Jamie pondered what he’d been told, and the implications it raised.

‘The client must have given you very specific instructions if you were paying attention to the curtains and wall hangings of a six-hundred-year-old castle — the window glass and wood panelling too, I’m sure — that must have been looted when the Russians over-ran East Prussia?’

For the first time a defensive note crept into Marmaduke Porter’s voice. ‘I think your question answers itself.’

‘All I’m trying to elicit from you is the level of detail involved.’ Jamie smiled. ‘For instance, I believe the hangings may have included certain items related to a former occupier of the building from the time of the Teutonic Knights? You were aware of the association with the Teutonic Knights?’

‘I’m not a student of the history of the Baltic regions, Mr Saintclair,’ Porter said dismissively. ‘And now I think we must bring this interview to a close. I may have said more than I intended.’ He sniffed. ‘I’m aware that your client is unlikely to be satisfied with what I have been able to divulge, but I believe I have given enough quite specific information to have earned, let us say, half of the agreed amount?’

‘I’ll have to discuss that with my client.’

The fat man’s face relaxed. ‘Of course, but I’m sure he will see my point of view.’ He sat with the smile fixed on his fleshy features, waiting for them to rise from their seats. Jamie didn’t move and Charlotte, though she wasn’t certain she understood the undercurrents of what was happening, took her lead from him.

‘I have one further question about the castle.’ Jamie broke the silence. ‘Were you given specific instructions about the safeguarding of certain artefacts that may not have been in their natural position in the castle, but were nevertheless part of its fabric, or that of its out-buildings?’

He had to admire Marmaduke Porter. His expression didn’t alter. Only the slightest flicker of panic in the deep-set eyes signalled that the next words he would say were going to be a lie.

‘No. Now I really must insist, Spi—’

Jamie raised a hand. ‘That really wouldn’t be wise, Marmaduke, not for a man who doesn’t take risks.’

Porter heaved himself out of his chair, his whole body quivering with outraged dignity. ‘I will not be threatened in my own house. I really must ask—’

‘A shipment of canned goods left Volgograd on 24 May 2008,’ Jamie quoted. ‘It was destined for the port of Baku in Azerbaijan, but it made an unscheduled detour in the Caspian Sea, which took it further south. Some friends of mine wish, among other things, to know the final destination of this shipment.’

The blood drained from the big man’s face and he slumped back in the chair, his features a mask of dismay. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I think you do, Marmaduke. And I have to insist that you answer my questions. What was the destination of the castle and who was your client?’

‘You know I can’t tell you that. My reputation would be destroyed.’

‘The only people who will ever know are the people at this table.’

‘And my client.’

‘Your client is a foundation — a faceless entity carrying out an act of laudable cultural preservation. The people who run it would have no incentive to broadcast who had provided us with its name.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Porter choked. ‘It is more than my life is worth to tell you.’

He was pleading now and Jamie had to suppress a twinge of compassion that wasn’t helped by the glare of disappointment Charlotte directed at him. He took a deep breath and twisted the knife.

‘My friend said to ask you how the facilitation of the Volgograd shipment would be seen by your former business partners in the light of certain information channelled through the CIA Head of Station in Kuwait City?’

Marmaduke Porter groaned and began to shake as if he was having a seizure. ‘No, Christ, no. You can’t, they’ll—’

‘Give me the name, Marmaduke. The name and the destination and we’ll be on our way.’

‘Please, no.’

‘Do you want to know what else my friend said?’

A few mumbled words spilled from the fleshy lips. Jamie signalled Charlotte to get her notebook ready. ‘Could you repeat that please?’

Charlotte scribbled the name and darted a puzzled look at Jamie.

Jamie rose to his feet. ‘I know you won’t believe it, Marmaduke, but I’m truly sorry it had to be like this. If it’s any consolation, fifty thousand pounds in Swiss francs will be couriered to you in the next few days.’

It appeared the money didn’t mean much to Marmaduke Porter, because he didn’t even look up as they left. Jamie hesitated at the door and looked back with a pang of regret at the broken man sitting with his head cradled in his big hands. ‘Er, there’s just one more thing, old chum. Your new partners will be in touch soon. Do you understand that, Marmaduke? Your new partners will be in touch soon. I’d be a bit more forthcoming with them.’

They left the room to the sound of frantic, chest-tearing sobbing.