The Poellenberg Inheritance (19 page)

The next telephone call that came for Fisher was from Prince Philip Von Hessel with the news that his brother had walked out of his hotel and disappeared.

By the next morning the newspapers carried the story, and on their front pages there was a photograph of the Prince's silver-mounted cane lying on the pavement by the riverside.

‘It's so horrible,' Paula said. ‘It's the second death.'

‘I know,' Fisher said. He held her hand; she looked very pale and unhappy. He hated to see it.

‘I know it is. It's getting creepy. Listen, darling, I've been thinking. I know you won't like the idea, but all the same I think it's not a bad one. I want you to go home to London.'

‘No!' Paula turned to him immediately. ‘I knew you were going to say that! Why should I go home? We made a bargain and you promised.'

‘I did,' he agreed. ‘I promised to help you find your father. But I'm not sure now it's a very good idea. Be a good girl and give it up. Let me get on with it and find the bloody Salt, if I can. And if I can't then it's too bad and the Von Hessels can have their deposit back, as far as I'm concerned. I just don't want you mixed up in this. I don't like the way it's shaping up at all.'

‘I'm not going back to London,' Paula said. ‘I'm not giving up now. You said you loved me; I told you what this means to me. If you go back on me now I'll never forgive you.'

‘You know bloody well I can't risk that,' he said. ‘As for loving you, hasn't it struck you that this is just a bit one-sided? I know how you feel about your father, but I'm not so sure how you feel about me.'

‘You ought to be,' she said. ‘I've told you. I love you too. It's only that I have to do this first!'

‘I wonder,' Fisher said slowly. ‘I wonder if you're not fooling yourself. Maybe there's no room for anyone else in your life but this phantom you've created. There is a name for it, you know.'

‘I know.' Paula got up. ‘And as I told you before, I don't care. I've got to have the chance to judge for myself. Otherwise I'll live for the rest of my life with the things that old woman told me! Can't you understand at all?'

‘No,' Fisher said. ‘Honestly I can't. All I know is that I'm not enough for you, and I find that very hard to take. It's a funny thing; you're the first woman I've ever cared a damn about. Are you going to marry me, or has that got to be put on the waiting list too?'

‘Oh, don't let's quarrel.' She came and put her arms around him. ‘Please don't say things like this to me. I know it's difficult for you, but try to be patient. How can I say I'll marry you at this moment? My life is in chaos, I've only been divorced a few weeks and now I'm going to find my father after thinking he was dead since I was a child. You're not being reasonable.'

‘No, I suppose I'm not,' he said. He put his arm around her, and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘I'm so bloody scared of losing you, that's my trouble.'

‘You needn't be,' Paula said. ‘I need you too. And I'm probably going to need you even more before it's finished. I've never known anyone like you. I've never known anyone who wanted to fight battles for me. All my life I've been pushed out to fend for myself; and women hate that. I did it, but I hated it. With you I know it'll be different. You're a real man, darling, that's why I love you. And you're probably the first one I've ever met.'

‘And the last, if I have any say in it,' Fisher said. ‘You wouldn't like to prove what you've just said?'

‘How?'

‘By letting me make love to you.'

‘Will it convince you?'

‘I don't know,' he said. He pressed her round the waist. ‘But I think it would certainly help.' She didn't answer, she stood against him, feeling the tension in his body, letting him open her mouth and explore while his hands stroked her back and picked at the fastenings of her dress. It was a different kind of love-making to James's, her husband. It was more forceful, yet controlled. Fisher knew what he was doing; he took the initiative at once and never let it go. He brought her to the bedroom and went on kissing her; he didn't say anything, none of the superlatives she had heard about how great she was and what a swinging trip they were going to make together. He didn't talk at all. He used his body to arouse her, to confuse and compel her, and he gave the act of love a significance which Paula had never known could exist. For the first time she felt dignified by sex instead of used. When it was over he looked down at her.

‘I love you,' he said. ‘And nobody and nothing is going to take you away from me. Never forget that.'

‘I won't,' Paula whispered. ‘And after this, there isn't anything that could.' For the rest of that night Fisher believed her. But by the morning, when he woke and left her sleeping, he had already begun to doubt.

At eleven o'clock he arrived at the Sûreté office and asked for Superintendent Foulet. The Superintendent was very busy; he looked harassed and not very pleased to see Fisher; then his expression changed. He asked him to sit down.

‘You must excuse me,' he said. ‘I have very little time. This Von Hessel case is driving me mad. Why should someone as rich as that want to jump in the Seine? Poor little girls and penniless students, but not that Boche, with his millions!'

‘I knew him,' Fisher said. ‘And I may be able to provide an explanation. Analyse the contents of his stomach and you'll find enough alcohol to drown anyone. He didn't jump in, Superintendent, he fell in!'

‘You are sure of this?'

‘Dead sure. Princess Von Hessel is the client I am working for.' He saw the older man's jaw slip.

‘The Von Hessels? They want to find the war criminal? Is that why the Prince was here …?'

‘Partly,' Fisher answered. ‘And partly to meddle. I don't think he knew what he was doing half the time. Poor bastard, what a lousy way to die!'

‘Not at all.' The Frenchman's eyes were hostile. ‘There's nothing to pity about him or any of them. The Von Hessels are just a gang of millionaire criminals, guilty of everything the Nazis did. Slave labour, collaborating to the limit, growing fat on German victims. Don't waste your sympathy on any Von Hessel. They are all the same. All bad.'

‘If you say so,' Fisher said. ‘I just take their money and do my job. And speaking of that, you were kind enough to telephone me.'

‘Ah yes, so I did. It was about your question – Tante Ambrosine and Jacquot.'

Fisher was on the edge of the chair. ‘Yes? You've found them?'

‘Oh no.' The Superintendent shook his head and frowned. ‘I don't work miracles. The names are a mystery to me; but I have a friend you might go and see. He worked in the Resistance during the war and he operated in Paris when Bronsart was here. He might be able to think of something. I wrote down the name and address; one moment while I find it.'

He passed a sheet off a memo pad to Fisher. ‘You will get on well, I think,' Foulet said. ‘He's an old friend of mine, a most remarkable man. He used to be a hard line Communist and he ran the most successful Reseau in the central Paris area. He's mellowed now; politics have sickened him, like most of us. But he could be helpful to you if anyone could. Would you excuse me now? That telephone has never stopped ringing all the morning and I have a lot of paperwork.'

Fisher thanked him. He stopped in the street outside and reread the name and address. Albert Lebrun, and the number of a house in 16th arrondissement. For an ex-Communist, it was an exceedingly smart place to live. He put the paper in his wallet and drove to the Ritz Hotel to see Prince Philip. The Princess was flying in later that day, and it was planned to take Prince Heinrich's body back to Germany for burial. He wondered whether the family might not be too concerned with the scandal to want to look for anything, even Cellini's masterpiece.

And that was the first thing the Prince said to him after he had expressed his sympathy.

‘I want this stopped,' Philip Von Hessel said. ‘I want you to accept a cheque from me, Mr. Fisher, which will cover all your expenses and leave a substantial sum in compensation for the time we have wasted. I tried to persuade my mother to drop this investigation but I failed; now I know she will be glad to forget the whole affair.'

‘Do you have her instructions to do this?' Fisher asked. ‘Written instructions, I mean.'

‘No,' the Prince said. ‘She is too upset about my brother to be worried at the moment. But you can take my word for it.'

‘Unfortunately I can't,' Fisher said. ‘I thought I'd made this plain to you before. I'm working for your mother and if she wants it dropped I'll be happy to oblige. For personal reasons, Prince Von Hessel, I'm anything but anxious to find either General Bronsart or the Poellenberg Salt. But I have my responsibility to my client. Please don't try and offer me money again, because I shall walk right out of here if you do. I'm not amenable to bribes.'

For a moment the Prince looked at him; suddenly he made a gesture.

‘Mr. Fisher, please sit down and listen to me. Forget that you are working for my mother. I want to talk to you as one man to another. Mine is an old and honourable family; during the war we lost our good name and we did things of which I am personally deeply ashamed. What would have happened to us if we had refused to go with the Nazis can be argued several ways. I'm not prepared to judge my parents because I wasn't old enough to know the issues, and it's easy to criticise in retrospect. But I want to make up for the past. I want to re-establish my family as a force for good in the destiny of my country. This is my life's work, if you like to put it in rather dramatic terms. And the Poellenberg Salt can destroy everything I mean to do. Now that my brother Heinrich is dead I am in a position to do it. My mother still has the power but she is old, and I can persuade her to hand over to me. I can build something constructive out of our resources. Call off the investigation. I'm asking you as a personal favour to me. Not for money, if that offends you, but for much greater, more important reasons. Leave this thing alone.'

For a moment Fisher was tempted. It sounded very sentimental and noble; real tears-to-the-eye stuff. It would have been easier if he could have dismissed the Prince's appeal as a piece of emotional blackmail, but he was genuine. He meant what he said, with the passionate idealism which was yet another contradictory facet of his race. But Fisher also had his ethics, and they were not to be discarded, for the salvation of the Von Hessel soul.

He stood up. ‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘I told you, dropping the case would suit me just as much as it would you. But I can't do it. Not unless I get instructions from your mother. If she asks my opinion I'll advise her to forget about it. But that's all I can do.'

‘Thank you,' Prince Philip said. He didn't look as if he were grateful; he rang the bell by the fireplace. A servant in livery appeared.

‘Show Mr. Fisher out,' he said.

‘I'm sorry about your son,' Dunston said.

‘Thank you.' The Princess's voice was brisk. She showed no inclination to discuss the matter.

‘Why have you telephoned me?'

‘I received a letter from Switzerland,' Dunston said. ‘You've made the first payment. Thanks very much. I thought I'd let you know I'm getting ready to take action on that business we talked about. I'll have to go and spy out the land a bit, meet the person concerned, you understand.'

‘So long as it's successfully concluded I don't care what your methods are,' the Princess said. ‘But your partner is very confident; I hope you prove to be as efficient in your conduct of our business.'

‘Oh, don't worry,' Dunston said. ‘When it comes to a fee like that, you'll get the very best I have to offer.'

‘What do you intend to do now?'

‘I'm going over there. I want to be on the spot.'

‘Good. I don't think we should be in touch again. When you've completed your part, the bill will be settled in full. Goodbye, Mr. Dunston.'

‘Goodbye.' He hung up, and for a moment sat looking at the telephone. There had been times in the past two weeks when he had woken in the night and wondered whether he could do what he had promised, even for the huge fortune involved. Dunston didn't suffer from scruples, or from a sensitive imagination. No ghosts would haunt his conscience, no guilty qualm allay his enjoyment of a leisured, wealthy life. He would never look back. But in the still hours of the early morning, he considered the problem and pondered the means. He had killed once before in the exercise of his police duties, and the experience had left him quite unmoved. He had a low opinion of human beings and an even lower sense of their value in the scheme of life. He had an affinity with the dishonest, due, he supposed, to his long association with crime and criminals. It was known that in some cases the dirt of law-breaking tended to rub off on those engaged in its suppression. The bent policeman was a familiar phenomenon; Dunston's acceptance of the bribe from a front man for the smuggling ring was the logical progression of his attitude towards his work. It hadn't been too difficult. Ten thousand pounds was a lot of money. And what he was asked to do was simple. He had delayed operations, and once quietly suppressed evidence. In retrospect his action had been foolish. He had jeopardised his career for insufficient gain, and after he left Interpol with the question mark above his character, he made up his mind never to take a chance again. He had run his agency with scrupulous honesty, assisted by the rigid attitude of Fisher to anything which wasn't according to the rules.

But what he was going to do now was in a very different league from taking money and obstructing an investigation. This was murder. He said the word aloud to himself during his night-time meditations. He had to kill a woman in such a way that no blame could ever attach itself to him. Or to anyone. Which meant her death must be an accident. He liked the sound of the word. It conjured up scenes of cars leaping over cliffs, of trains thundering towards a hurtling body, of windows high above the ground. However he got rid of Paula Stanley, it mustn't look like murder. Because he was a professional and he knew that once an investigation started, no matter how carefully the killer plotted his course, the chances of discovery were higher than those of getting clear away with it. One difficulty presented itself, and that also worried him. Fisher's involvement with the girl. He had to find out just how close they were, he had to go to Paris and begin by watching the victim and noting her routine. This was the first step towards the ultimate goal of isolating her for death. It wasn't going to be easy; he knew the odds and he hadn't tried to minimise the risks. But balanced against all was that enormous sum of money. The first payment was a fortune in itself and that was safe in Switzerland in an account of which he had the number. The final sum would take him and his family anywhere in the world, without the need to think about money ever again. He could buy a villa in Portugal, where they had spent such a good holiday. A motor yacht. Any kind of car he fancied. There would be some fancy jewellery for his wife, who was a good girl and solid as a rock with the children and any amount of women to be had on the side. It would be a golden world for them all. He picked up his office telephone and began making the arrangements to go to Paris.