"Yes, but only for the production of imitation gold," the little man murmured, looking hard at Thomas. "When you boys have something wrong with your teeth, you go somewhere else. Funny I haven't seen you before. Only just joined the mob, have you?"
Thomas nodded.
"He's only just out of stir," Bastian explained cheerfully. "The boss thinks the world of him. This work's to go on her private account."
"Right. You've brought the tins? Fine, fine. I'll be able to make seven ingots at once without having to wait every time for the muck to cool off." Dr. Bouie unpacked the tins and stood them in a row. "All right for length," he remarked. "Each to weigh a kilo, eh? Yes, that's what I thought." He turned to Thomas. "You can watch if you're interested, young man. One never knows when knowledge of this kind may come in handy."
"You're right there," said Thomas, raising his eyes to the ceiling in a gesture of self-pity.
Bastian growled: "I've seen it all hundreds of times already. I'll just go out and get us something to eat."
"Something pretty solid, please," said the dentist. "This foundry work's rather exhausting."
"Well, the boss is paying. What'll it be then?"
The little man smacked his lips. "Henri, on the ground floor, has got hold of some nice little ducklings from the country. He's pushing 'em on the black market before the bloke from Economic Control picks 'em up. They're sweet little specimens. Not much fat and small bones. Three pounds weight each at most."
"Well then, I'll just go down and gtt us a couple off the hook," said Bastian. He went out.
Dr. Rene Boule informed Thomas: "The trouble with the production of bogus gold ingots is that gold and lead have very different melting points and specific gravities. Lead melts at as low as 327 degrees Celsius and gold not till 1063. Those cake tins won't stand such a high temperature. So we shall have to line them with fire clay."
The little man took precise measurements of the tins. Then
he ruled the outlines of their bases and sides on the fire clay, engraved the lines with a file and broke off, without effort, the superfluous portions. As he worked he went on talking. "Now o we'll make a set of bricks out of plaster of pans to fit into the tins in such a way as to leave a space of three millimeters all round. We stick four matches through the plaster while it's still soft, at the base of each brick, so as to hold it three millimeters off the bottom layer of fire clay ... Wouldn't you like to take some notes?"
"I have a good memory."
"Have you? Well, all right ... As soon as the plaster bricks are in place on the fire-clay base we can start melting down the gold in a crucible."
"How is the high temperature obtained?"
"With an oxyacetylene torch and bottled propane gas."
"And what quality of gold do you use?"
"Twenty-two carat of course."
"Where do you get it?"
"At any analyst's. I collect the dust and exchange it for the twenty-two carat equivalent. As soon as the gold is melted we pour it into the spaces between the fire clay and the plaster and let it cool naturally. We don't, for instance, chill it with water. You really ought to be taking notes, you know. Then I take out the plaster, leaving a thin gold container of the same dimensions as a bar of gold weighing one kilo. This container is then filled with lead."
"Just a minute," said Thomas. "Lead is lighter than gold surely, isn't it?"
"Young man, I shall see to it that my bars weigh a kilo each, whatever's in them. Only the volume is different. I shall allow myself certain little differences in the width of each ingot, as compared with the real article. No one's going to notice that."
[22]
Bastian returned. He brought with him two plump little ducklings and two pounds of chestnuts and disappeared into the kitchen.
Thomas went on watching the talented dentist for a while at his work on production of the plaster bricks. Then he went into the kitchen to see what was going on there. He stiffened with repugnance. He didn't know anything about the production of imitation gold ingots. But he knew quite a lot about
ducklings. And the way in which one of those birds was being treated roused his connoisseur's ire. Shaking his head, he approached Bastian, who was working under the window with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He had opened up one of the ducklings and was rubbing salt into both inner and outer fleshy parts.
"What are you up to?" demanded Thomas Lieven sternly.
"What d'you mean, what am I up to?" retorted Bastian with irritation. "I'm getting a duckling ready. What's wrong with that, may I ask?"
"You savage."
"What did you say to me?" The giant gulped.
"I said you were a savage. That bird is to be roasted, I suppose?"
"Of course it is."
"And that's just what I call savage."
"See here, you!" Bastian stuck his fists on his hips. He had forgotten Chantal's warnings. Reddening with rage, he roared: "What the hell do you know about cooking, you miserable little runt?"
"A bit," Thomas answered politely. "At -any rate enough to tell you that what you are doing is a crime."
"I've been a ship's cook. And I've beecr preparing ducks for roasting all my life."
"Then you've been committing crimes all your life. Without mentioning what others you may have committed."
At the very last moment Bastian remembered Chantal's warnings. By a frantic effort he managed to control himself. He put both his mighty fists behind him, to prevent their taking action of their own accord and doing something rash. He spoke in a strangled tone. "And how—ahem—would you, M. Hunebelle, prepare a duck?"
"Only in the Chinese style, naturally."
"Ah—"
"Because only preparation with pineapples and proper seasoning retains the subtle flavor of a duck unadulterated. Actually, it even does more. It brings out the characteristic taste and emphasizes it."
"Rot," returned the giant. "Roasting's the only way."
"Obviously you know nothing of gastronomy," said Thomas. "Gentlemen prefer Chinese."
"Listen, golden boy, if you're trying to insinuate ..." Bastian began. But he was interrupted by the little dentist plucking at his sleeve.
"What's up, Bastian? What are you two quarreling about? We've got two ducks, haven't we? Why not try out both styles, roast and Chinese? I've got hours of work to do yet."
Bastian growled: "You mean we have a competition?"
"That's what I mean," said the little man, smacking his lips again. "I'll judge it."
Bastian suddenly started grinning. He asked Thomas: "That suit you?"
"Sure. But I'll need a few trimmings. Mushrooms, tomatoes, pineapple, rice."
The dentist tittered. "Go down to Henri. He's got everything." He clapped his hands delightedly. "Now we're going to have fun! I'll be teaching you something and you'll be teaching me something. Aux armes, citoyens!"
Thereupon both the kitchen and the laboratory of Dr. Rene Boule became scenes of businesslike activity.
MENU
Chinese (Duck with (Pineapple
(Roast (Duck with Steamed Chestnuts
(Trifle with Whipped Cream
5 DECEMBER 1940
Thomas Iieven's duck started a friendship which became a legend.
Chinese Duck with Pineapple
Clean and bone a fairly lean duck, prepare a strong stock from the duck bones and giblets. The duck meat is cut into small pieces, fried in a casserole till golden brown, sprinkled with flour and left to cook till flour is yellow. The stock is poured over the meat, a skinned fresh tomato, a.few chopped mushrooms and a quarter of a teaspoon of glutamate are added and the whole is then left to braise for half an hour. Pineapple cubes are added and the mixture is left to cook another quarter of an hour. Plain boiled rice is served with this dish.
Roast Duck with Steamed Chestnuts
A young, fairly lean duck is cleaned and rubbed inside and out with salt. The inside may also be rubbed with garlic if desired and various herbs laid
inside the duck. The bird is then placed breast downward on a grid in the oven and a roasting pan with some water is placed underneath. The duck is roasted in medium heat and braised with the fat which dripped into the roasting pan. The bird should be roasted, according to size, for between one and one and a half hours. For the last twenty minutes it is roasted with the breast upward. The well-browned skin is brushed with cold water and given another five minutes in a very hot oven. The skin will then be very crisp and tender.
As many chestnuts as one would normally take potatoes are cleaned and steamed in salt water. Care must be taken not to break them. They are then drenched in melted butter and served.
Trifle with Whipped Cream
Very dark bread crumbs, preferably pumpernickel, are placed at the bottom of a large glass dish and damped with cognac or kirsch. A layer of drained preserved morelia cherries are placed on top of the bread crumbs and the whole is covered with a layer of whipped cream. These layers are repeated and topped off with whipped cream as before. Grated chocolate is sprinkled over the top layer and it is decorated with cherries. This dish is chilled and left to stand for some time before serving.
While Bastian was rubbing his duck with garlic, adding herbs and turning the bird breast downward on the grid of the oven, Thomas Lieven jointed his, chopped up the bones and prepared from them and the giblets a strong stock. While waiting for the stock to boil he went to watch the little specialist at work in the laboratory.
Dr. Boule had meanwhile produced seven vats of gold leaf in the seven cake tins. He proceeded to fill the first of them with liquid lead. The dentist said: "We must let the lead cool. At present only one side of the gold lining is still open. We lay a sheet of fire clay on it to prevent the lead liquefying again when it comes in contact with the liquid gold. This last sheet
of fire clay is very important, as it guards against discoloration of the gold surface, which would make any expert suspicious."
Thomas returned to the kitchen to look after his stock. After cutting up the duck meat he returned to the laboratory to look after his ingots.
Dr. Boule had meanwhile liquified more gold in a crucible and was now pouring it over the fire-clay sheet in the cake tin. He said: "We must now wait for the bubbles to disappear. The gold will set of its own accord. The surface has to have a low, raised edge round it, like that of a cake of soap. Then, before the metal has cooled, we quickly do the most important job of all, the punching."
"The what?"
"The punching. With a stamp certifying the bar's quality and content." Dr. Boule turned to the kitchen, calling out: "What stamp shall I use, Bastian?"
"Lyons Refinery," the giant called back. He was just brushing his bird with hot fat.
"Well, that'll be all right," said Dr. Boule. "I have a whole collection of punches in use by all sorts of refineries and banks." He showed them to Thomas. "I cut the negatives in linoleum and stuck the lino shapes on wooden blocks. Now watch carefully."
He picked up a counterfeit Lyons stamp and smeared the lino with olive oil. He then pressed the stamp into a corner of the still soft gold leaf of the first ingot The film of oil burned up with a hissing sound. Dr. Boule snatched the stamp away before the hot metal could scorch the linoleum. The instant of pressure had sufficed. The impression of the stamp remained perfectly clear.
Quoth the dentist: "The irregularities, ashes and lump$ left on the bar can stay there. Genuine ingots aren't polished either."
"What chances are there of the swindle being discovered?"
"Practically none." Dr. Boule shook his head. "The lead filling is now surrounded on all sides by a layer of gold three millimeters thick. The purchaser tests the bar with oilstone and acids. When he scratches a corner of the ingot with his oilstone a strip of gold will come off on it. He dabs the strip with various acid concentrations, one after another, appropriate to various carat contents. If the strip stays, the gold must be twenty-two carat. And that's just what it is, of course." The dentist suddenly began sniffing. "Holy Mother, that smells good! I wonder if it's your duck or his?"
An hour later the gentlemen sat down in silence to their meal. First they tasted the roast duck and then the Chinese. Next door the first three bars were cooling out. And it was ominously quiet in Dr. Rene Boule's little dining room. At last Bastian wiped his mouth and surveyed the dentist with half-closed eyes. "Well, come on, Rene, which was the best?"
Dr. Boule glanced in embarrassment from one cook to the other, from Thomas to Bastian and from Bastian to Thomas. Bastian's huge fists were stiffly opening and closing.
The little doctor stammered: "Impossible to say in three words, my dear Bastian ... on the one hand your duck is ... but on the other hand of course .. ."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Bastian. "You're sick in your stomach in case I beat you up, eh? All right, 111 do the judging for you. The Chinese was the best!" He grinned and gave Thomas such a thump on the back that the latter nearly choked. "I believe I'm the oldest of us two. So Til give you leave, in return for your duck, to call me Bastian."
"Call me Pierre, Bastian."
"I've been a fool all my life about my roast duck. Wish I'd met you earlier, boy! Know any other recipes like that?"
"A few," answered Thomas modestly.
Bastian beamed. He gazed upon Thomas, all of a sudden, with the greatest sympathy and respect. The satisfaction of his greed had done away with his jealousy. "Pierre, d'you know what I think? I think we're going to be first-rate pals!"
Bastian was right. In 1957, at a villa in the Cecilien Allee, Diisseldorf, their friendship would be as vigorous and robust as on this first day. During the intervening seventeen years many of the mighty ones of the earth would learn to tremble before this pair of allies.
"But your duck wasn't bad either, Bastian," said Thomas. "Not at all bad, really. Incidentally, I also made some trifle with whipped cream. Help yourselves. I can't eat more. If I take another mouthful I shall drop dead!"
On the subject of death ...
Cologne, 4 December 1940 FROM: Cologne Intelligence. TO: Head of Berlin Intelligence. SECRET 135892/VC/LU.
On my return from Lisbon I venture with respect to report for the attention of the Admiral the death of the
double agent and traitor Thomas Lieven, alias Jean Leblanc.
The said individual was shot on the 17th November 1940 at 0935 hours (local time) in the courtyard of No. 16 Rua do Poco des Negros.
Lieven was disguised, at the time of his assassination, as a certain Lazarus Alcoba, with whom he had shared a cell.
Although the Portuguese authorities naturally did their best to suppress news of the event and draw a veil over its details, I have been able to ascertain beyond doubt that Lieven was shot by a paid professional killer acting under instructions by the British Secret Service. As the Admiral is aware, Lieven also sold the British bogus lists of the names and addresses of French agents.
I regret that it proved impossible for me to capture Lieven alive as directed. On the other hand his well deserved end means one source of trouble less for our own Service.
Heil Hitler! Fritz Loos, Major and Special Detachment Leader.
tude of pots and bottles. M. Bergier evidently paid much attention to his toilet. Bastian turned on one of the taps. Then he slipped noiselessly into the passage, removed the key of the apartment from the lock, took an old tin of beeswax out of his pocket, pressed both sides of the key into the wax, put the key back into the lock and the tin back into his pocket.
Meanwhile, in the drawing room, Bergier was testing the ingots. His methods were exactly the same as had been described by the little dentist. He used an oilstone and various concentrations of acids.
"Satisfactory," he announced after testing all seven bars. Then he gazed speculatively at Thomas. "I wonder what I ought to do in your case."
"I beg your pardon?" To Thomas's relief Bastian re-entered the drawing room at that moment.
"Well, I have to render a formal account to my princ
ipals of every purchase I make, naturally. We—er—keep lists of our customers."
Lists! Thomas Lieven's heart beat quicker. Those were just the lists he wanted! Lists of the names and addresses of collaborators in unoccupied France, people who sold their country, and often enough their countrymen and women also, to the Gestapo.
Bergier continued in the mildest of tones: "Of course, we don't compel anyone to give us information. ... How could we?" He laughed. "But if you should ever feel inclined to do business with us later on, it might perhaps be useful if I took a few notes ... naturally in the strictest confidence ..."
In the strictest confidence with the Gestapo, thought Thomas. He answered: "Just as you like. I am hoping, in fact, to be able to make a few more deliveries to you. Of currency also."
"Please excuse me a moment," Bergier requested. With his mincing, feminine gait he crossed the salon and disappeared into his bedroom.
"Did you get the impression?" Thomas asked.
"Sure." Bastian nodded. "Tell me, is that lad a bit... ?"
"You don't miss a thing, do you?" Thomas commented.
Bergier returned. He was carrying a brief case with four locks, which he ceremoniously unfastened. He extracted several lists from the case, each of many names and addresses. He took out a gold fountain pen. Thomas Lieven gave his false name and a false address. Bergier wrote them down.
"And now the money, please," said Thomas.
Bergier laughed. "Don't worry. It's just coming. Please accompany me into my bedroom."
In the adjacent bedroom were three enormous wardrobe trunks. The lawyer pulled out a small drawer in one of them. It was chock-full of bundles of one-thousand and five-thou-sand-franc notes. Thomas had realized that Bergier and de Lesseps would have to carry great quantities of cash about with them. Undoubtedly the other drawers in the trunk also contained money. He therefore noted with the greatest excitement where Bergier proceeded to stow away the brief case containing the lists.
Bergier paid 360,000 francs for each ingot. The total for the seven bars therefore amounted to 2,520,000 francs.
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 25
