"Excuse me, sir, I don't think I understood you quite rightly just now," said the owner of the Scala Cinema. 'What exactly was it you wanted?"
"You understood me quite correctly, my dear sir," Thomas rejoined, with a polite bow. "I should like to borrow today's newsreel after its last showing."
"To borrow it? But why?"
"Because I should like to see it again in private. I saw an acquaintance of mine in it, whom I lost sight of when the war broke out."
Some hours later Thomas was racing, with the film under his arm, through the nocturnal streets of Zurich, out to the Praesens Studios, where he had engaged a cutting room and the appropriate technician. The cutter ran the newsreel copy through his apparatus until Thomas called out "Stop!"
The tiny section of screen now showed a still of the Hamburg Spring Derby. A few stout gentlemen and a few smart ladies appeared on the stand. In the foreground the banker Robert E. Marlock could be clearly recognized.
Thomas clenched his fists. He could feel the sweat coming out on his forehead in his excitement. Keep calm, he told himself. Quite calm now. You're going to take your revenge.
"Can you copy that picture and let me have a few specimens early tomorrow morning, as much enlarged as possible?"
"Certainly, sir," said the cutter.
Next day Thomas caught the 11:45 a.m. express to Frank-furt-am-Main. There he looked up two leading officials in the German Bank Inspectorate Building. He showed them photographs of Robert E. Marlock. Half an hour later Thomas was handed a staff card of the kind kept by the Inspectorate for everyone in Germany engaged in banking.
On the evening of April 15, 1949, Thomas, back in his Zurich flat, said to his friend Bastian , Fabre: "That accursed scoundrel lives in Hamburg under the name of Walter Pretor-ius. And he owns a little bank again. The monstrous impudence of that arch-ruffian!"
Bastian played with his bulbing brandy glass. "I expect he feels pretty sure you're dead," he remarked. "Or have you been to see him?"
"Are you crazy? No, no. I intend that he shall go on quietly believing me dead."
"I suppose you mean to take your revenge?"
"I am going to do so. But consider this. Marlock has obtained a German banker's license. He thinks he's nothing to fear in Hamburg. Am I to go before a German court there and say that Pretorius' real name is Marlock and that he cheated me in 1939? If I do that I shall have to sue as
Thomas Lieven, the name I had when I was a banker in London. And that name will be printed in every newspaper."
"Oh Lord!"
"Just so, Oh Lord. D'you suppose I want to be rubbed out for certain by some Red, Green, Blue or Black Hand club? A man with my past must take the greatest possible pains to avoid any kind of publicity."
"Well then, how are you going to get hold of Marlock?"
"I have a plan. But I need a stooge. And I've got one. It'll be Reuben Achazian, with whom we worked the Disposals Company racket. I've written to him and he's coming here."
"And I? Where do I come in?"
"You'll just have to leave me for a while, old lad," said Thomas, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't look so miserable about it. We've simply got to separate. Otherwise we run too great a risk. You take all the money I don't need and go to Germany. Dusseldorf, preferably. You buy a villa for us there in the best quarter, plus a car and so on. If I'm unlucky in this affair and lose everything, I shall need credit And confidence. And must be able to command it. Get me?"
"I get you."
"The Cecilien Allee," murmured Thomas dreamily. "That would be the right place for us. Have a look around there. That's where we ought to settle. All the really best people live there."
"Well, well," said Bastian. "Then it's naturally as clear as daylight that we shall have to go there too."
[11]
Thomas Lieven's biggest and most risky financial deal is now to be related. We shall try to describe it in such a way that anyone can see how subtly he planned his vengeance.
We must first take a look at Stuttgart. The Excelsior Works Company used to own territory outside the gates of that fair city. During the war the company employed over 5,000 people on the production of fittings and instruments for Goer-ing's Air Force. In 1945 production ceased. For a very brief period practically no military aircraft were manufactured in Germany.
Accordingly, the Excelsior Works turned to the making of technical instruments on a very small scale. But after the currency reform of the summer of 1948 bankruptcy seemed unavoidable. Excelsior shares were negotiated at fax below their
nominal value. Quotations varied from 18 to 25. By the early summer of 1949 experts considered that collapse would ensue within a matter of weeks.
Matters were in this desperate state when the directors of the company made the acquaintance, on May 9, 1949, of an Armenian named Reuben Achazian, who came to see them in Stuttgart.
Hen Achazian, immaculately dressed and the possessor of a brand new 1949 Cadillac, informed the board as follows. "Gentlemen, I represent a Swiss undertaking which, however, desires to remain anonymous. It is most anxious to transfer part of its production plant to Germany."
The board asked why.
"Because in Germany the production costs of technical instruments are substantially lower. I am empowered to offer you a long-term agreement. My principals are prepared to collaborate on advantageous conditions in the reorganization of your factory. You will see that they are in earnest when I tell you that their group will be ready to guarantee payment of your drafts as they fall due up to a total amount of one million German marks."
A million marks constituted a silver lining to the cloud of competition threatening the works. It was understandable enough that the directors didn't hesitate long.
Punctually on May 25, 1949, a sum of 900,000 marks was paid over to the company. This was the amount Thomas Lieven was investing in his revenge. He worked hard these days. After he had talked to a number of city editors and journalists, articles appeared in Swiss newspapers according to which industrial circles in Switzerland were experimenting with the establishment of branches of their undertakings in the German Federal Republic. These reports and the fact that all bills drawn on the Excelsior Works were met without delay as they fell due caused a sensation on West German stock exchanges. A lively demand for Excelsior shares arose. Quotations improved considerably, standing at between 40 and 50.
Stooges engaged by Thomas Lieven proceeded to inquire of the Pretorius Bank in Hamburg whether it had any information about the position of the Excelsior Works. In this way the interest of the extraordinary avaricious Pretorius himself was aroused.
A few days later a certain Herr Reuben Achazian called on Walter Pretorius, whom from now on we may as well desig-
nate by his correct name of Marlock, at the latter's bank in Hamburg.
"My Swiss friends," said the Armenian, who had brought his magnificent Cadillac to the Free City of the Hanseatic League, "would be interested to hear whether you would collaborate with them in an extensive reorganization of the Excelsior Works." In view of the rapidly rising quotations of the company's shares Marlock at once declared himself ready to participate in principle. Immediately afterward he bought up, through representatives, large quantities of Excelsior shares, thus causing their prices to rise still higher. But he went on purchasing them at these excessive quotations in the firm conviction that he was about to bring off the financial killing of a lifetime.
On September 19, Thomas Lieven said to Reuben Achazian in Zurich: "I've now trapped that scoundrel into investing his whole fortune in that bankrupt Excelsior firm. The next step is for me to arrange to get back those nine hundred thousand marks, and if possible a bit more, which I sank in meeting Excelsior bills."
"And how do you propose to do that?" inquired the gentleman with the moist, almond-shaped eyes.
"By blocked marks, my friend," replied Thomas Lieven quietly.
The expression "blocked marks" at that time meant t
he financial resources of foreigners in Germany which their owners could only disburse by special permission. For otherwise such expenditure would prejudice the stability of the currency.
Before 1951 such marks could only be sold abroad surreptitiously. One hundred blocked marks as a rule brought from eight to ten dollars, in other words, a very low price. Thomas Lieven found certain industrial undertakings in Switzerland which still held blocked mark credits dating back to 1931-36. The owners readily sold our friend such balances even at the miserable figure just mentioned. They didn't care so long as at last they saw something of their money back.
Thomas accordingly now possessed blocked-mark credits in Germany. He proceeded to dispatch Herr Achazian once more to Hamburg. The little Armenian told Marlock: "The reorganization of the Excelsior Works will be largely financed by my Swiss principals' holdings of blocked marks. Under existing regulations that can be done with the assent of the German Territories Bank. I am empowered to transfer to your
bank the blocked-mark holdings in question to the amount of 2.3 millions."
Marlock rubbed his hands. He'd always known he was about to bring off the best business deal of his life! He went to Frankfurt and negotiated stubbornly for several days with the German Territories Bank. He engaged on oath to use the 2.3 millions exclusively for the reorganization of the Excelsior Works at Stuttgart. The blocked marks were then placed freely at his dispoal.
That same day Thomas Lieven, in his Zurich flat, was telling Herr Achazian: "Now you go off to him again. I shall supply you with full powers of attorney, first-rate forgeries ostensibly emanating from Swiss firms participating in the reorganization project. That rascally scoundrel in Hamburg will hand you over those millions without hesitation. After all, they don't belong to him. You cash the lot and bring the money back here."
The little Armenian gazed upon Thomas with deep admiration. "Wish I had your head. How much did you really pay for those 2.3 million blocked marks?"
"About a hundred and sixty thousand dollars." Thomas smiled modestly. But he couldn't prevent himself from rubbing his hands. It happened, so to speak, automatically. "And as soon as you have brought the cash back to Zurich in that splendid Cadillac of yours, my friend, the blocked marks will have turned into genuine German marks. You will have to make the journey more than once. The money will be stored in the spare tires and chassis. And then we'll let the Excelsior Works crash. We shan't reorganize them. And that blackguard in Hamburg will be ruined."
On December 7, 1949, Herr Reuben Achazian set out for Hamburg. He was to be back on the sixteenth. That was the day on which the Federal Republic received a credit of one milliard German marks from the United States.
Herr Reuben Achazian did not return on that historic day of German reconstruction. Herr Reuben Achazian did not return at all.
On December 28, the banker Walter Pretorius was arrested in Hamburg by German Criminal police. At the same hour Swiss Federal police arrested Thomas Lieven in his rented apartment at Zurich. They were acting on urgent instructions issued by Interpol and the German Federal Criminal police office in Wiesbaden. Both men were accused of having perpetrated a vast fraud in connection with blocked marks.
"Who accuses me of such a thing?" Thomas asked the Swiss officers.
"A certain Reuben Achazian laid information against you. He put a quantity of supporting documentary evidence at the disposal of the German authorities. Incidentally, he cannot now be found."
And my 2.3 million German marks have gone down the drain, thought Thomas Lieven. Heigh-ho! So I did in the end make a mistake, after all. But really that Reuben Achazian was an awfully nice sort of Armenian ...
[12]
Thomas Lieven remained in prison on remand for nearly twelve months. It was a bewildering year, notable for the hottest summer for a hundred years, the cessation of food rationing and on June 28, the outbreak of the Korean war, which plunged all Europe into a hoarding psychosis for months on end.
On November 19, 1950, High Criminal Court No. 2 of the Frankfurt Petty Sessions sentenced Thomas Lieven to three and a half years imprisonment. The judge in his verbal summing up stressed the frankness and straightforward attitude of the defendant Lieven. The Court had the impression, the judge continued, that certain obscure, probably entirely personal motives had impelled the accused to his reprehensible behavior. For "this highly intelligent, extremely cultured man is not the usual type of criminal. .."
The other defendant, the Hamburg banker Walter Preforms, was not characterized by the judge in any such favorable manner. Pretorius was given a four-year sentence. His bank had to go into liquidation. The German Bank Inspectorate prohibited him from any further practice of his profession and struck his name off their index of reputable bankers.
There were two intriguing features of the Frankfurt trial. Although the two defendants, as we know, were intimately acquainted, this state of affairs was not revealed by a single word or gesture from either of them in court.
In the second place the judge excluded the public from the court on the very first day of the trial. This step was taken after the defendant Lieven had indicated his willingness to explain in detail the trick by which he had caused the blocked marks to be placed freely at his disposal. No exhaustive account could therefore be given in the press of the trial of
Lieven and Pretorius. Accordingly, the publicity which Thomas had feared, on account of his activities in various secret services, was spared him.
In a certain sense he had attained his objective. Walter Pretorius, alias Robert E. Marlock, was ruined for life. It was as a pale, trembling, nervous wreck that he confronted the court.
Neither defendant exchanged a single word with the other throughout the trial. Neither made any reply when sentence was passed. But Thomas Lieven, after hearing it, smiled across the court at his former partner. Robert E. Marlock turned his head away from that smile. He couldn't bear to meet it.
[13]
On May 14, 1954, Thomas Lieven was released from prison. His friend Bastian met him outside the gates of the jail. They traveled together immediately to the Riviera, where Thomas was completely restored to health at Cap Ferrat.
It was not until the summer of 1955 that Thomas returned to his fine house in the Cecilien Allee at Diisseldorf. He still had a certain amount of money in his account at the Rhine Main Bank. His neighbors considered him a substantial businessman of the Federal Republic, though they felt slightly uneasy at not being able to obtain more definite information about him.
For months Thomas gave up his whole time to reflection and rest.
"We really must start doing something," said Bastian Fabre. "Our money won't last forever. What do you suggest?"
Thomas answered modestly: "I suggest something big in the share line. But I don't want anybody injured by it."
He worked with great enjoyment on the project for several months. It was not until April 11, 1957, t^at he took the first step by inviting to dinner the stout Herr Direktor Schallen-berg, who possessed, in addition to his dueling scars, a paper mill.
Thomas had found out that during the war Schallenberg, under the name of Mack, had been in charge of "Organization for Total War" in the so-called Warthegau and was still on the Polish Government's extradition list. In these circumstances Schallenberg could do nothing but grind his teeth and comply with Thomas's request. He put at Thomas's disposal fifty large sheets of specially watermarked paper used in the printing of share certificates.
We already know what Thomas Lieven did with this paper and how he put through his big business deal in Zurich with forged German Steel Union share certificates. As stated in detail at the beginning of this narrative he made a profit of 717,850 Swiss franks and went to the Riviera with the beautiful young Helene de Couville, whom he had met in Zurich.
During the night in which the charming Helene became his mistress in the luxury hotel at Cannes, the Carlton, Thomas, as again we already know, had a dreadful surprise. With alarming recklessness
Helene suddenly sobbed out: "I've lied to you! Oh, my beloved Thomas, I must tell you that I work for the American secret service ... I ... was forced to pursue you ... the FBI mean to hire you at any cost ... and if you won't work for us they'll have you arrested . .."
Thomas left his despairing companion alone. In his own bedroom he sat at the open window and looked up at the stars shining over the Mediterranean. He reflected on his wild, chaotic past and the crazy adventure that had now come full circle, after starting on a certain warm day in May 1939.
ing from under it. The mouth was big and red, the eyes big and black. The girl's complexion was very white. Thomas's heart was beating at lightning speed. He was thinking, No, no, no! For pity's sake! That can't be, there isn't such a thing! Chantal walking up to me, my dear, dead Chantal, the only woman I ever loved. Here she comes, smiling at me. Oh God, but she is dead, she was shot in Marseilles ...
The young woman came right up to his table. Thomas felt the sweat running down his back as he staggered to his feet. There she stood, near enough to be touched. "Chantal ..." he groaned.
"Well, Thomas Lieven," said the girl in a rather husky voice. "How are you?"
"Chantal . . "he stammered again.
"I beg your pardon?"
He drew a deep breath. No, it wasn't her. Of course it wasn't. What madness. She was smaller, more graceful, younger by quite a few years. But what a fantastic resemblance!
"Who are you?" he asked with an effort.
"My name is Pamela Faber. I'm traveling with you. Sorry I'm late. My car broke down."
"You . .. your name is Faber?" Thomas was feeling giddy again. "But Colonel Herrick mentioned a man."
"Colonel Herrick doesn't know me. He was told something about an agent. So he naturally assumed it would be a man." She smiled broadly. "Come along, Herr Lieven. Our plane will be taking off soon."
He stared at her as though she were a ghost. And that was just what Pamela Faber was. A sweet, sad memory, a distant greeting from the realm of the dead.
Flying at 18,000 feet across the Atlantic, they talked almost all through the night in a quiet, friendly fashion.
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 46
