Codeword Golden Fleece (31 page)

‘Um. We thought of that. In fact, those are the lines we’re working on at the moment. But even the purchase of a thirty-day option needs a pretty tidy sum—about fifty times what the whole of us could raise by pledging our personal credit here in Bucharest.’

‘That’s the devil, isn’t it?’ said the Duke meditatively.

‘It certainly is,’ Rex agreed. ‘Simon can’t get a nickel out of England. and I guess Lucretia will find it just the same with Spain. That leaves me as the White Hope at the moment. I’ve cabled my old man, and the wording of that cable was just as strong as they come. But it’s a big wad of dollars to ask for, when I dared not put it in clear over the international wires what I was up to. We can only hope that he comes across, but it’s trying him pretty high.’

‘When do you expect to hear from him?’

‘Today, with luck. We’ve got another conference with old man Teleuescu this evening, and he’s promised to have the option all drawn up for us to sign. We didn’t dare to put him wise to it that we might not have the money, and he certainly won’t play ball unless we can produce the cheque. So that’s how we’re situated right now.’

‘How about your own Legation? If Channock lets us down, would they be prepared to help you at all?’

‘Nope. I was not acquainted with the American Minister here, but I got him to see me all the same. Simon and I agreed
that no harm could come of my spilling the beans to him, because if he passes the idea on it will only be to the United States Government. If they decided to cash in on it, that would be all to the good. Some of us may not like Franklin D. Roosevelt’s domestic politics, but he’s no friend of the Nazis. Putting the half-Nelson on this barge traffic is just the sort of thing that might appeal to him. It’s such a whale of a chance to give a hand to the British without having to enter into a public argument with all those isolationist diehards in the Senate, who are out gunning for him all the time. Anyhow, the Minister could suggest no line by which we might raise the cash to carry through the deal; and when I asked him to lend me a million bucks on my own personal say-so, he just burst his sides for laughing.’

‘One can hardly be surprised,’ smiled the Duke.

‘No, I’ve only just stopped laughing myself at the idea of asking him; but you never know your luck.’

De Richleau nodded. ‘I am hoping to see Sir Reginald this morning, but, of course, he is in exactly the same position as your man, and, however sympathetic he may be to our intentions, I don’t see how he can help us financially. Anyhow, I’d better go and dress now, in case a call comes through from the Legation.’

While the Duke was bathing a call did come through, to the effect that Sir Reginald would be pleased to see him at twelve o’clock.

Marie Lou was now getting up, and when they were dressed she and de Richleau went along to see Lucretia, while Simon and Rex came in to talk to Richard.

Lucretia was up but lying on a sofa in her room. She looked very pale, and there were great circles under her grey eyes. She smiled faintly at her visitors and tried to put them at their ease by saying at once:

‘You’ll have heard all there is to hear from Rex and Simon, so don’t let’s talk about it. I know you’d both do anything you could for me, but there’s nothing you can do.’

In an attempt to take her mind off her grief, the Duke and Marie Lou launched into a description of their own adventures; but after a little they realised that for the time being she no longer had the power to concentrate on anything but her own bereavement and was hardly listening to what they said. When de Richleau suggested that she should return to England with Richard and Marie Lou she roused a little and agreed without protest; so
they left it at that, and the Duke went to get ready for his visit to the Legation.

Bucharest is subject to great extremes of climate—more so than any other capital in Europe; in summer it is as hot as Madrid, and in winter nearly as cold as Moscow. During September it is still beautifully warm, and as it was a lovely morning when he left the hotel, de Richleau took one of the open
droshkys
, which are such a feature of the city. They are much more numerous than taxis, and both their drivers and horses come of a special breed; the former, who always wear long black velvet caftans, being Russian
Skoptzi
—a religious sect that emigrated to Rumania many generations ago—and the latter black
Orloffs
of splendid proportions.

Arriving at the Legation punctually at midday, the Duke was shown straight up to Sir Reginald’s room, which overlooked a charming little garden. After they had exchanged greetings and the Minister had enquired kindly about Lucretia, the two old friends settled down to an informal chat about the international situation.

Pacing slowly up and down, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets and his grey head slightly forward, Sir Reginald discoursed quietly and amusingly on the position of Rumania.

The present régime, he said, was well disposed towards the Allies, and the bulk of the Rumanian people were most strongly opposed to any form of dictatorship. Few countries had a greater variety of foreign minorities included in its population, and these had always been treated with the greatest toleration. The Hungarians in Transylvania would, of course, seize on any excuse to make trouble, but this was due to their comparatively recent absorption. The Russians in Bessarabia showed little desire to place themselves under Soviet rule, and in other parts of the country communities of Turks, Germans, Greeks, Armenians, Tartars and Jews followed their own ways of life without the least interference. Commercially, Rumania was much more dependent on Germany than on Britain and France, but this was mainly the result of her geographical situation, and, Sir Reginald felt, the Rumanians would do anything to retain their independence.

The danger, of course, lay in the possibility of Hitler going into Hungary and then arrving on the Rumanian border. If the Hungarians decided, or were forced, to throw in their lot with the Germans, they would undoubtedly point out to Hitler the
wisdom of securing their genuine goodwill by getting back for them their lost province of Transylvania. The poor Rumanians would then be in a pretty fix, since they could certainly not resist the might of Germany for long, and the Allies were in no position to assist them.

The permanent retention of Transylvania was the thing nearest every Rumanian heart, but there were two schools of thought as to how this could best be achieved. The great majority, remembering that, although the Germans had overrun their country in the last great war, the Allies had triumphed in the end, and enormously increased Rumania’s territories after their victory, were for fighting their old enemies, if need be, and putting their trust in God and the Allies once again. But a small though powerful political minority were for cutting the ground from under the Hungarians’ feet by going in with Hitler as the price of his allowing them to retain Transylvania.

This minority was the Rumanian Iron Guard, an association which had risen as the result of the totalitarian doctrine gaining a certain number of converts in the army and the cities. It was mainly composed of discontented young blackguards who admired the Nazis and was rapidly becoming a menace. To achieve their ends these gangsters resorted to intimidation, blackmail and even murder; and it seemed beyond the power of the Government to stop their violent activities; although their original leader, Codreanu, had been arrested more than a year before and shot dead with twelve of his leading adherents during an attempt to escape which they had made while being transferred from one prison to another. In the event of Hitler’s occupying Hungary, the Iron Guard might even attempt a
coup d’état
, and, if it succeeded, as the Minister put it mildly, his own position might become one not altogether lacking in difficulties.

The Duke then gave him the latest news out of Poland, and his host congratulated him on the timing of his exit, remarking that he had had news that morning that the Russians and German armies had met the previous day at Brest Litovsk. He added that the Rumanians were behaving extremely well to the defeated Poles and had already given many of their leading personalities sanctuary.

After listening patiently to all that the Duke had to say about his project of buying up the Danube oil barges, Sir Reginald remarked that he was already endeavouring to interest the British Government in the matter, but it might well be some time
before they could reach agreement on the formula to be adopted and secure the necessary funds from the Treasury. There was also the factor that, if the barge traffic were cut off, Rumania would lose a great part of her oil revenues, and her Government might decide to intervene. But Sir Reginald thought it would be time enough to consider that when further progress had been made.

He warned his visitor that, if the German agents, who were already swarming in the city, or their friends of the Iron Guard got wind of his intentions he and his associates in the deal would find themselves in grave personal danger, and that he feared the police might not be able to afford them adequate protection. He then went on to say that, although he could be of no assistance in the matter of funds, should the Duke succeed in securing the option he would willingly have it sent by a fast bag to London with a personal recommendation as to the advisability of the Government’s considering its purchase as a matter of the utmost urgency; but he added a further warning that the option should on no account be sent by post, but be brought to him personally, as he had reason to suppose that the local mail was at times subject to scrutiny and that the postal authorities were not altogether free from Iron Guard influence.

While enjoying a glass of fine Amontillado they talked for a little of the war, after which de Richleau thanked the Minister for his valuable if unofficial co-operation, and took his leave.

Back at the hotel he found a radiant-faced Rex waiting for him in the lounge. The cable from America had arrived, and old Channock van Ryn had come across with the big sum they needed. Rex had already been round to the bank at which the credit had been opened, and had in his pocket a banker’s draft for the option money. It seemed that all was now set for the completion of the deal with Teleuescu that evening, and, having collected Simon, they went out to lunch at a
grădină
, as the garden restaurants, for which Bucharest is famous, are called.

Much of Rumania’s wealth lies in her great herds of livestock, and, as her cultivated lands range from temperate to semi-tropical and she has abundant fish from both her many rivers and the Black Sea coast, food is incredibly cheap and of the greatest possible variety. As a result of this, her cuisine is perhaps the best in Europe and rivals that which obtained in the Russia of the Czars.

The
grădin
ă to which Rex and Simon took the Duke was one of the best among the innumerable selection to be found in the
tree-lined streets of the outer city, and, as he sat eating his caviare, his
ciorbă
—a chicken soup made with sour cream—and his
sărmala
of rice and meatballs wrapped in vine leaves, he thought more than once of the terrible contrast between the happy scene about him and the empty, shattered cafés that he had so recently left in Warsaw.

Marie Lou had elected to remain with Richard, and Lucretia had made it plain that, for the time being, she preferred to be left alone with her grief; so that afternoon they all subscribed to the Rumanian custom of the siesta, which Simon and Rex had already adopted. In Bucharest the wealthier population keeps hours which would be thought extraordinary in England. They rarely dine before ten o’clock or go to bed before three or four in the morning, and, although the appointment with Teleuescu was not until nine that night, the friends were under no illusion that he had asked them to dinner.

At half past eight the three of them set out for the Rumanian magnate’s great mansion on the Chaussée Kisseleff, and on their way the Duke said in a low voice: ‘Tell me a little more about this man we are going to see. Do you feel reasonably confident that he can be trusted?’

‘Don’t think he’ll back down on us once the thing is signed,’ replied Simon. ‘Put through an enquiry to my office in London about him. They say he drives a hard bargain but sticks to his word once he’s given it.’

‘I take it he is not mixed up with the Iron Guard in any way? It’s scarcely likely that he would be if he’s prepared to do business with us.’

‘He’s the sort of wise guy who doesn’t believe in getting himself mixed up in politics,’ said Rex. ‘Money is what he’s after, first, last and all the time. He’s out to become the wealthiest man in Rumania, and he doesn’t give a damn who rules the country, provided they let him alone.’

‘I thought you said he’d taken a bias against the Nazis?’

‘Sure. His wife’s a Jewess, but I don’t reckon he’d let that interfere with his business deals.’

‘Then it’s just on the cards that he may be double-crossing us and has put our idea up to the Germans with the hope that they might pay a higher price.’

‘Ner. Don’t think so.’ Simon shook his head. ‘He named his price the first time we went to see him. It was an outrageous one, of course, but he wouldn’t reduce it by a
lei
. Naturally, we tried
to get him down. That didn’t cost us any time, as we hadn’t the boodle to close until this morning, anyway. But he wouldn’t budge an inch. He jumped to it that we were acting for the British Government first go off, and probably named the top sum he thought they’d pay, right away. If we swore on the Bible, the Koran and the Torah that this was a private deal, he still wouldn’t believe us. But now we’re prepared to come across I’m sure he’ll be satisfied. Just pat himself on the back for having opened his mouth so wide in the first place, and take the cash.’

Their taxi drew up before a tree-screened mansion through the shrubberies of which there penetrated a long glass-roofed porch. The door was opened to them by a liveried manservant, and, after a short wait in a huge colonnaded vestibule, they were ushered into an ornate room on the ground floor, where the Rumanian millionaire transacted his business.