The Amber Knight (6 page)

‘Or shock at seeing a maggoty corpse riding among them,’ Adam interposed irreverently.

‘Those who didn’t die surrendered.’ Carried away by the legend, Edmund ignored Adam’s scepticism. ‘When Hermann took possession of the stronghold he ordered the town fired. The amber in the treasure house melted and ran down the street in a golden stream. He ordered his knights to gather it and pour it over Helmut’s body, preserving it for posterity.’

‘Posterity, or as a warning to the next tribe who stepped out of line?’

‘Whatever, it proved effective. That battle marked the end of hostilities on the western side of the Vistula.’

‘What did Hermann do to the tribes he conquered?’

‘If they converted to Christianity and swore allegiance to the Teutonic knights, nothing.’

‘And if they didn’t?’

‘He burned them.’

‘Alive?’ Adam asked.

‘The medieval church believed that burning the corrupt body was the only way to purify a heathen soul,’ Edmund lectured. ‘Maria built a chapel and convent on the site of Helmut’s last battle to house his coffin and commemorate the miracle that had delivered the knights from the barbarians. She devoted the rest of her life to God and guarding Helmut’s relics. The chapel became a place of pilgrimage until the last Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights adopted the Protestant faith in 1525. He dissolved the order, pulled down the chapel and dispersed the nuns.’

‘And Helmut?’

‘His coffin was moved to Konigsberg castle where it remained on display until 1944. The Nazis admired Helmut von Mau, and the chivalry and heroism he represented, which was why Hitler personally intervened to save his body from the advancing Russian army. The Amber Knight was packed along with the Amber Room and the other contents of the castle.’

‘And sent where?’

‘Do you think I’d be sitting here if I knew the answer to that?’ Edmund looked down at the photographs again. ‘Whoever made this demand knows the market. There are people who would gladly pay fifty million dollars for the knight, especially American museums, not to mention the Germans, who think von Mau belongs to them.’

‘And the Poles?’

‘I shouldn’t need to remind you how impoverished we are. But we’ve learnt to be grateful, even for the gift of our own history. Poland’s and the knight’s, only hope is that some kind benefactor might consider buying it and donating it to us,’ he said artfully.

‘All things in life have to be earned.’ Adam pushed an international directory of museums towards Edmund. ‘Telephone and e-mail every contact we’ve made in Europe and America to find out who else has been approached and, try to gauge if they’re in a better position than us to make a bid for it.’

Adam pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a wall cupboard. Behind it was a modern combination lock safe. Turning the dial he opened it and removed a small gadget that fitted easily in the palm of his hand. After locking his door he keyed the gadget into the telephone before dialling the international code for America. Five minutes later he was through to his grandfather’s private number.

‘Who are you calling?’

He recognised the voice of his grandfather’s private secretary. ‘It’s Adam, Peter. Can I speak to my grandfather, please?’

‘Do you know what time it is here?’

‘Yes, I also know my grandfather suffers from insomnia.’

A familiar voice crackled down the line. ‘That you, Adam?’

‘How are you?’

‘You didn’t ring me up to find out, so cut the crap. Hang up that extension, Peter. What’s happened?’

‘Can you talk?’

‘Who the hell do you think I’ve got in my bedroom at my age?’

‘Eighty’s not so old.’

‘It is for what I’d like to do.’

‘You got the scrambler on?’

‘It’s permanently on this phone, boy.’

‘Someone may have tracked down the Amber Knight. They’ve sent photographs and a suggestion that if we want it; we put in a bid in excess of fifty million dollars.’

‘You sure it’s the real thing?’

‘Not yet. I’ve only just received the bid.’

‘If it checks out, bid what you have to. There’s one hundred million in the special fund in Switzerland. It can be converted into cash at twenty four hours notice.’

‘Depending on who else has been approached, a successful bid could wipe out the special fund.’

‘Then I’ll have to top it up. I saw the knight back in thirty-eight when my father took me on a tour of Europe and the old country. It’s an important national piece, like the British Crown Jewels or the original American Declaration of Independence. Old Helmut will rotate in that amber shroud if he’s sent away from the patch of dirt he died conquering. Promise me you’ll do all you can to secure him for a Polish Museum.’

‘If it’s the real thing, I’ll get it.’

‘Good boy.’

The phone went dead. Adam knew his grandfather too well to expect any pleasantries, like “How are you?” or “Goodbye.” Removing the gadget he slipped it into his pocket and dialled the local police station. He gave the operator the extension number he waited.

‘Dalecka,’ snapped down the line, against a hubbub of voices and clacking of computer keys.

‘How would you like a real crime to solve?’

‘Like a murder outside a casino?’ came the caustic reply.

‘Meet you in the Cafe Milan in ten minutes.’

Adam replaced the receiver and picked up his keys. Parcelling the applications for funding, he pushed them into a file and carried them into Edmund’s office. ‘Send these over to Magdalena and ask her to find out all she can about the last known movements of the Amber Knight. Tell her I’ll call into the Historical Museum later to look at what she’s got.’

‘Am I allowed to enquire what you intend to do while Magdalena and I slave away at the boring bits?’

Adam pushed the envelope with the demand and photographs into his inside pocket. ‘Talk to the police.’

‘You’re not naive enough to think they’ll instigate a search for the knight?’

‘They might have some idea where it’s been kept since the war. If we can locate it, we might be able to claim it for the museum without handing over a zloty.’

‘Try searching the cells,’ Edmund advised. ‘The police could be behind the demand. All I hear these days is how hard up they are.’

One of the museum guides stopped Adam as he reached the door.

‘Telephone, Mr Salen. They said it was urgent.’

He took the call in the ticket office. ‘Adam Salen.’

‘Adam…’

‘I’m sorry he’s unavailable at the moment.’

‘That’s the worst Polish accent I’ve ever heard, dear brother.’

‘What do you want, Georgiana? I’m busy.’ Adam turned his face to the wall. No matter how hard he tried to ignore his sisters, they inevitably managed to corner him, and always at the most inconvenient times.

‘Guess where I am?’

‘I’m in no mood for games,’ Adam said sourly.

‘Go on, guess,’ she pleaded, in a voice bubbling with suppressed excitement.

‘In a wedding chapel in Las Vegas marrying number nine, or is it ten?’

‘What would I do without a little brother to tease me?’

‘Buy yourself a whipping boy?’

‘I’m in Paris.’

‘Shopping?’ he guessed.

‘Scouting for the Texas gallery.’

Adam suppressed a pang of jealousy. The Salen Institute’s Texas gallery of modern art’s budget was one he’d dearly love to dovetail into his eastern european fund.

‘… and tomorrow I’m going to visit you.’

‘I hope by “you” you mean Poland in general, not me in particular.’

‘Of course I mean you in particular. I’ve seen the most darling paintings in the most seductive colours. All poached pastels, crushed magenta, mombie and mauve…’

‘What the hell’s mombie?’

‘You never know anything. Anyway, the agent here tells me he picked them up in the most primitive little gallery in Gdansk which I simply have to see for myself. Isn’t it the most amazing co-incidence? Would you believe this gallery is in the very block you live in? You do live at 52 Mariacka Street?’

Adam was tempted to deny his address, but Georgiana didn’t give him an opportunity to ease a word in.

‘… and the artist’s adorable. I’ve only seen his photograph, but he has mournful eyes and the most seductive telephone voice. It makes my toes curl. He’s called Casimir… isn’t that a gorgeous name? Casimir Zamosc. I don’t suppose you know him?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve arranged to meet him. A man with that accent could change my life.’

‘I’ve no doubt you’ll change his,’ Adam broke in, still smarting at the thought of Georgiana touring Europe on the Texas gallery’s budget.

‘Stop behaving like a Victorian father. I’ll be with you soon, there’s no need to put yourself out…’

‘I won’t. I’ll book rooms for you in the Grand Hotel in Sopot. You’ll love it, all Art Nouveau, past splendours, atmospheric decadence, combined with modern room service and a casino. And, it’s only a short taxi ride from Gdansk.’

‘In that case tell your staff we’ll need three rooms. I have the children with me… and Nanny of course… and my maid…’

‘Five rooms?’

‘Better make it six. I have the teeniest little surprise up my sleeve.’

‘Don’t forget to tell whoever drives you from the airport, the Grand Hotel, Sopot. Everyone knows where it is…’ He was talking to a dialling tone. She’d already hung up.

The Cafe Milan was opposite the police station in Piwna Street. In the evenings it was a hive of social activity and dispenser of Italian cuisine, during the day a civilised spot for tourists to linger over leisurely lunches and a haven for police officers who needed to escape from the pressure and clamour of the station.

Josef Dalecka was already seated at a table in the darkest, most inaccessible corner when Adam walked in. The gleaming mahogany furniture complemented by pink tablecloths and sparkling cut-glass candlesticks were seductive, offering a promise of the evening to come, even at ten in the morning.

‘You had any more thoughts on last night?’ Josef enquired as Adam approached.

‘None.’

‘I knew it had to be something else!’ he grumbled as Adam took the chair opposite his. ‘Just don’t ask for any favours. I’m not in the mood for dishing out anything other than coffee.’

‘And vodka chasers?’ Adam laid his hand over the glass in front of him. ‘Not for me, thanks, but don’t let that stop you.’

‘It won’t.’ Josef picked up the bottle and re-filled his own glass.

‘Last night still bothering you, or things not so good between you and Mariana again?’

‘Worse than ever.’ Dalecka stared gloomily into his vodka. ‘We had a foul quarrel last night.’

‘It would be a newsworthy event if you hadn’t.’ Adam leaned back so the waiter could set a coffee pot and cups on the table.

‘This time we quarrelled before she went to work.’

‘I take it she’s on night shift?’

‘Yes, and she wasn’t home when I got in this morning. I stopped off at the hotel she works in on the way down from Sopot last night. They said she’d left an hour before. As she wasn’t home, where was she?’

‘Trying to avoid your foul temper,’ Adam suggested. He, and everyone else acquainted with the Daleckas in Gdansk knew that Mariana was having an affair. The affair was a constant, her choice of a man wasn’t. They changed at frequent intervals.

‘My marriage is falling apart and all you can do is make bad jokes.’

‘If you really want to save it, you can start by developing a pleasant personality. I’ll allow you to practise your new-found politeness on me. You could also try throwing your mother-in-law out of your apartment. If she wasn’t there to look after the kids, Mariana would have to come home. Whatever problems you two have, she’d never risk leaving the children on their own.’

‘I can’t throw Marta out, not while Mariana and I work the shifts we do.’

‘If you’ve no intention of taking my advice, there’s no point in discussing your domestic problems. Here’s something that will help you forget them.’ Adam handed over the envelope. He sugared his coffee and looked out of the window into the street. ‘Now that’s a sight to see, your chief sharing serious conversation with your cousin, Melerski.’

‘The way things are in Gdansk the police have good reason to be serious.’

‘Judging by the look on Melerski’s face, so do the Mafia. He still is the Godfather of all crooked Poles?’ Adam asked.

‘You Americans, you get all your ideas from Hollywood,’ Josef said dismissively. ‘Melerski’s a businessman.’

‘And I’m a green walnut.’

‘The Amber Knight!’ Josef let out a long, low whistle. ‘Poland’s legendary miracle worker. By God, we could do with him now to ride out among the foreign speculators intent on buying up the country. Quite a few I’ve come across would be improved by death.’

‘Don’t tell me a hard-headed police officer like you believes in the legend?’

‘Of course. I believe in everything Polish, even the sausages.’ Josef continued to scan the demand. ‘All the same, fifty million dollars is a lot to pay for a corpse, even Helmut von Mau’s.’

‘It is set in amber,’ Adam pointed out.

‘I could get you a ton of amber for a lot less, and a fresh corpse for nothing.’

‘That a proposition?’

‘Make me an offer.’

‘I take it you have someone in mind to play the corpse?’

‘The manager in the hotel Mariana works in,’ Josef said seriously.

Adam refused to bite at the bait of domestic intrigue. ‘People might notice the corpse wasn’t medieval.’

‘Is there a way of finding out if this is the real thing?’

‘I’m working on it. I also have Magdalena piecing together the last known movements of the Amber Knight.’

‘You want me to fingerprint the envelope and the photographs?’

‘Bit late, after we’ve mauled them about.’

Josef turned the envelope over. ‘Berlin postmark. Given the volume of east-west traffic that passes through that city, I can probably narrow it down to the odd million or so people. Is that Krefta holding the magazine over the coffin?’

‘I’ve no idea, but I intend to find out.’