The Poellenberg Inheritance (29 page)

‘Oh God,' Paula whispered. ‘Oh God, what am I to do?'

At that moment the telephone rang. He held her, his grip on her tight; suddenly it relaxed and he stepped back. ‘Answer it, Paula.'

She lifted the receiver. ‘It's me,' Fisher said. ‘Don't say anything, just listen. He's with you, isn't he?'

‘Yes,' she answered. ‘Yes, how did you know?'

‘Never mind that. I'm coming up in a few minutes. Has he told you where it's hidden?'

‘No,' Paula said. ‘Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't want to see you.'

‘I appreciate that from the way you walked out on me,' he said. ‘But it's not just me; the Salt is in your suite. I'm coming up with a carpenter and Princess Von Hessel. So you'd better get him out of there. I thought I'd warn you.'

‘Thank you,' Paula said quietly. She glanced at her father standing waiting, listening without comprehension to the onesided conversation. ‘Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry about what happened.'

‘Don't give it a thought.' Fisher sounded curt. ‘I always knew if it came to a choice between him and me, you'd choose him.' The line clicked as he rang off.

‘They're coming,' Paula said. ‘They're on their way up here! Father, you've got to go!'

‘The Salt is here, in this room,' the General said. ‘I brought something to help us get it out. But now there isn't time. Who told you this?'

‘The detective,' she answered. ‘He guessed you were with me; he gave me time to warn you. Please, kiss me goodbye, and go
now
! Wait, wait – where can I find you?'

‘You cannot,' the General said.

‘But you won't disappear, you won't just leave me and disappear?'

He bent and kissed her. ‘The Salt,' he said. ‘That is what matters. Soon you will see your inheritance. And it is yours. The proof is with it.' He left her and without turning to look back, he went out of the door and through to the corridor. For a moment Paula hesitated, fighting the impulse to break down and cry with the abandon of a child who finds itself deserted. Then she ran to the door of the suite and looked for him, but the corridor was empty. A few minutes later the reception rang to say that Prince Philip Von Hessel was on his way up. ‘You've been crying,' he said. She had let him in, expecting to see his mother and Fisher with him.

‘What is the matter?'

‘Nothing,' Paula said. ‘I'm quite all right. I thought the others would be with you.'

‘What others? I came to see how you were and to ask you to have dinner with me.'

‘Your mother,' Paula said. ‘And Eric Fisher. The Salt is here, hidden somewhere in this suite. They're coming to get it. I thought that knock was them.'

‘She never told me,' Philip said slowly. ‘She never said a word about it. I think it's a good thing I shall be here. You may need an ally, Mrs. Stanley, if I know my mother. We'll wait for them together. Is that what made you cry?'

‘No,' Paula said. ‘Something quite different. Could I have a cigarette?'

‘Of course.' He lit it for her, his face grave. Uncharacteristically he touched her shoulder. ‘I won't ask about it,' he said quietly. ‘But after this business is over, perhaps we could go somewhere and talk?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I don't know what's going to happen. I want to run away!'

‘Not now,' the Prince said. ‘You have come to the end; you will face it and for what it's worth, you know I'm here as your friend.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I believe you are. I hear them now, that was the door opening.'

The first person to come into the drawing room was Margaret Von Hessel. As she saw Paula and then her son, she stopped. She spoke over her shoulder.

‘Mr. Fisher – what are these people doing here?'

He came in, followed by a man in overalls carrying a tool-bag. He looked first at Paula and then, with taut suspicion, at the Prince. Philip had moved close to her; he stood so close that they were side by side.

‘Mrs. Stanley?' That was the Princess, sharp and imperious. ‘Would you be good enough to leave – this does not concern you. And you' – she glared at her son – ‘had better accompany the lady!'

‘Mrs. Stanley stays,' Philip said quietly. ‘And so do I.' There was a sound outside and then Dunston walked into the room, one hand in his pocket, an oblong piece of plaster covering his cheek. Paula gasped and stepped back. He looked directly at her and he smiled. He spoke to Fisher.

‘I think I'll make sure there's nobody else in here,' he said, and before Fisher could say anything he opened the door connecting with the bedroom and went inside. He came out again, and glanced at Paula. His message was clear. Say one word about what happened and I'll set the dogs on
him
. She turned away from him, helpless before that sly, taunting grin. The memory of his hands on her, of that vicious grip on her mouth and the force of his knee propelling her from behind made her tremble suddenly, He had recognised her father; he knew that there was nothing she could do, that even with Fisher standing a few feet away, she couldn't accuse him … He had gone away from the bedroom and moved to the window; she saw him nudge the long curtains to make sure that nobody was concealed behind them.

‘Unless you and Mrs. Stanley leave, I shall call off the search.' The Princess spoke again.

‘They stay, or at any rate Mrs. Stanley does. I'm not interested in your son,' Fisher said coldly. He didn't look at Paula. With the younger man standing so close beside her in that intimate way, he couldn't trust himself to do so.

‘I'm the only one who knows where the Salt is, and I shan't do another thing about it, unless Mrs. Stanley is a witness. There's a question of ownership, and she's entitled to be here.'

‘That is exactly my view,' Prince Philip said. ‘Please proceed, Mr. Fisher.'

‘All right.' Margaret Von Hessel swung round to Fisher. ‘All right, we'll have it on your terms. For God's sake, get your man to work!'

The hotel carpenter came forward and Fisher said, ‘Try the walls. I think that's where we'll find it. Look for any woodwork that's been replaced.'

‘Tell me one thing,' Paula said to him. ‘Before you start. How did you find out where it was?'

For the first time they looked directly at each other; Fisher felt the same solar plexus pain. She looked different; the habitual poise was gone, there was something distraught about her, the slight dishevelment of her hair, usually so chic and groomed, and the anxious glances round the room, to Dunston standing immovable and inscrutable, a little away from them all.

‘I got it from a friend of Madame Brevet's,' he said. ‘A neighbour who knew the family. Jacquot was a master carpenter; that was the clue. Your father picked him out from the hostages because he discovered what his trade was. And he put him to work here that night. In his own private quarters, where he could work without anyone knowing what was going on. And then he picked him out next morning and had him shot to stop him telling anyone. I was sure the General had used him to wall up the Salt or hide it and when your mother told me he stayed in this suite at exactly that date, I knew this was where the master carpenter had been employed. As soon as I heard what Jacquot's trade was, all I had to do was find a suitable place. It wasn't very difficult.'

‘Why don't we get on,' the Princess snapped at him. ‘You've told all this to me – tell the man to begin looking!'

It took half an hour for the carpenter to find the portion of the wall which didn't ring true. He went over the surface from ground level upwards, tapping, while Paula watched him, and the Princess sat in a chair, her back stiff in disdain of fatigue, one foot swinging in rhythm to the sound of the carpenter's knocking. She didn't look near her son. Then the carpenter turned and spoke to Fisher.

‘There's something wrong here. It sounds different to the rest of the room.' They were to the right of the marble fireplace, about four feet from the ground. The panelling was covered with a beautiful tracery of acanthus leaves, with a design of daffodils and ears of corn. Fisher bent over the area and ran his finger down the tracery. It was impossible to see a join. ‘You're sure of this?'

The man nodded; a blackened cigarette hung from one corner of his mouth. The Princess had forgotten to object when he lit it.

‘I'd say the wall behind this was hollow,' he said. ‘There's nothing solid behind this wood panel. But I can't see where it's been cut – one minute, there's a torch in my bag …'

The beam of light flashed on and hung over this woodwork. Fisher directed it while the man ran his fingers over the raised carved surface.

‘Impossible,' he muttered. ‘Impossible to see. Whoever took this wood out and put it back was a master craftsman.'

‘Yes,' Fisher said quietly. ‘Yes, he certainly was. Can you feel anything different?'

The carpenter was kneeling with his back towards them. His fingers were curled around one large piece of fine scrolling. ‘Bring the light in closer. That's right. Ah! I think I've found it. Look, there it is – a hair line right along the curved piece there! And it goes on, smaller, but it's still there. This is where the wood was cut!'

There was a sound from the Princess; before she had sat silent, betraying nothing except through the pendulum swing of that one foot. ‘Open it!' she commanded. ‘Cut it open!'

The man glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘I'm not going to damage this panelling, madame. It's eighteenth century and beautiful work. I'll do a good job and I'll take my time.' Nobody spoke. Fisher stayed beside him holding the torch. Slowly and with great care, he put the point of a fine saw along the carving and began to cut. The sound seemed loud out of all proportion; it was as if the watchers had stopped breathing. Paula couldn't move, transfixed by the yellow circle of light and the motion of the saw, backwards and forwards through the wood. Suddenly there was a movement. The Princess was on her feet.

‘Cut!' she shouted. ‘Cut through it and for God's sake get on!'

‘Do as she says.' Fisher spoke quietly. ‘She can pay for any damage. You can't avoid it. Hurry up, let's get the panel out.'

Outside the windows a clock struck; immediately a little ormolu and porcelain timepiece in the room began its sweet chime. There was a foot left to cut through; the wood was gaping at three sides, showing a line of blackness.

‘Hah! That's it …' The carpenter dropped his saw and slowly pulled. Fisher swung the torch beam into the aperture and there was a sudden brilliant gleam of gold. Because he was nearest the carpenter saw it first. He shoved the panel aside and it fell with a clatter, knocking against a table.

‘Jesus Christ!'

Fisher dropped the torch and it rolled across the floor; its light went out.

‘Help me,' he said. ‘Help me to get it out.'

In spite of herself, Paula moved towards them, her view masked by the figure of Margaret Von Hessel.

The two men reached into the darkness to the yellow gleam, and very slowly lifted. ‘Get away from it,' the Princess rasped at them. ‘Get away – let me see it!'

It stood on the carpet, shining like sunlight, flashing with diamonds, the huge ruby in the base was red as a wound. Fisher stood upright. ‘My God,' he said. ‘My God, look at that.'

The photographs had not prepared Paula. They showed something inanimate. The golden ornament seemed to be alive. The leaves of the tree were visibly trembling, the nymphs and the pursuing satyrs were as mobile as gilded flesh. The beauty and the magnificence burned and glittered like a sun.

‘At last,' Margaret Von Hessel said, and her voice trembled, with triumph, with passion, with so many emotions that she sounded almost incoherent. ‘At last I have it back.'

‘No, Princess Von Hessel. You do not!' The words came from behind them; Fisher sprang round and then stood very still. They were all turned, looking at the man standing in the doorway. There was a gun in his hand.

Fisher didn't need Paula's anguished cry, or the gasp of the old woman, who was staring, hands upraised as if to ward off an attack. The General stepped forward into the room. He took deliberate aim at Margaret Von Hessel.

‘There is something else in that opening. One of you get it out. If anyone tries anything foolish, I will shoot this woman. You …' He gestured at Dunston. ‘You – stand with the others. I would especially like to kill you …' Fisher went to the opening; there was something in the darkness, something pale that crackled when his fingers touched it. It was an envelope, yellowed and stiff.

‘Ah.' The General spoke softly. ‘Good. It is all in German. Let me tell you what is in it.'

‘No,' Margaret Von Hessel cried out. ‘No!'

‘On the 23rd of April 1944, you signed the document inside that envelope. It made me the legal owner of the Poellenberg Salt. By deed of gift. Witnessed and binding, legal in any court in the world.' The gun was pointing at her; Fisher calculated that if he made a move, the General would get the first shot through her left chest. There was nothing he could do.

‘Father,' Paula cried out, ‘Father, don't …'

‘That is one document.' The General didn't even turn his head towards her. ‘The second is another deed of gift, made by me for my only daughter. Giving her the Salt. That too is legal. Anywhere in the world.' He spoke directly to the Princess. ‘But that is not what you're afraid of, is it? You could fight those papers; you could use your money and you might even win because I can't defend myself. I thought of that. I knew the end was coming and I thought of everything. There is another paper, Paula. That is what the Princess doesn't want anyone to see.'

He spoke to Fisher. ‘Open it,' he said. ‘Give the papers to my daughter. And move slowly; otherwise she dies.' And looking into Margaret Von Hessel's face, he smiled. Fisher glanced at Dunston and quickly shook his head. He handed three folded documents to Paula; he moved very carefully as the General had suggested. He had seen men with that expression in their eyes before. He didn't want to be responsible for the Princess's death.