The Pearl Thief

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Anyway, it was touch and go for a long time, as I was at the mercy of strangers who were being paid or owed Otto as opposed to wanting to help us. It was a fraught journey full of tensions and possible discovery at any moment … and yet we made it and started life in Lausanne. Switzerland was in an awkward situation, surrounded by fascist nations, pressed upon by the Nazis but determined to resist that ideology even though it supported the notion of conservatism and strong leadership. I leaned on my French language, keen not to be seen as a German. The family who looked after us were bankers, friends of Otto’s. They were generous and we remained safe until the war’s end; I did part-time work at the bank and at a library. They never knew I was Jewish and I am not sure if that would have made a difference … it may have.’ She shrugged. ‘Otto, of course, couldn’t let suspicions be raised about his absence. Once he knew we were safely on our journey, he returned to Prague and his work at the hospital.’

  ‘So he told anyone who asked that the burns woman was now in the mountains?’

  ‘No, that she’d died. And the news was lost amidst all the drama of Heydrich’s death and the horrific repercussions for the village of Lidice, where the Gestapo supposedly had intercepted a letter belonging to a local family who had a son in the Czech army in Britain. All adult males were executed as a result, along with more than fifty women, and the rest sent to concentration camps, as I understand. The village was burnt to the ground as a final reprisal. But rumour has it that Hitler wanted thirty thousand Czechs to be slaughtered as a price for Heydrich’s assassination, which makes one hundred and seventy-three lives taken sound trivial … and yet …’

  ‘I know. Don’t upset yourself.’ He handed her his handkerchief and she sniffed gratefully into it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, muffled into the linen, before squaring her shoulders. ‘I learned they sent Jewish slaves from Terezín to dig the graves for the slaughtered. Rudy probably offered them up for the ghoulish work,’ she snarled.

  ‘And your friend?’

  ‘Mrs Biskup?’ She smiled. ‘Lives happily in England now, up north. I visit often – I know the top half of this country, particularly Yorkshire, quite well but not the south. I can walk the moors but I get lost in London.’ She gave him a rare soft smile. ‘Of course, Mrs Biskup loves Paris and has stayed with me many times, although age is now catching up with her. She hasn’t visited for a long time.’

  ‘Katerina, I don’t want to trivialise anything of what you’ve told me, but the main aspect – for the purposes of our conversation – is that you survived.’

  ‘Now you really do sound like a lawyer,’ she admitted.

  ‘I find myself trapped in the midst of a curly and, frankly, dangerous matter.’ He sighed. ‘Dangerous to my firm, is what I mean. On a personal note, I would like to help; of course I would.’

  She felt her spirits lift.

  ‘But my hands are bound. If I transgress, I’m opening the firm up to prosecution.’ He dragged his misshapen fingers through his hair and it occurred to her that despite his fashionable appearance, he didn’t set much store by it and was likely happier out of his sharp tailoring from a Savile Row specialist. Perhaps he far preferred corduroy and gumboots.

  ‘I don’t want you to get into any trouble on my account.’ She meant it.

  ‘I like to live on the edge, can’t you tell?’ He smiled and she felt that gesture land on her and go deeper, searching for a response that was more than a surface one. She wasn’t imagining the strengthening bond between them; he was feeling it too. She was unprepared to be experiencing the sensation of attraction but helpless within it.

  ‘I can see from your sartorial taste that you don’t mind taking risks.’

  Now he laughed. ‘Miss Bailey didn’t approve of my red pin-stripe either.’

  ‘Oh, I approve. Very much so. I like a man who dresses to please himself.’

  ‘Do you?’

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘You could be boring in a charcoal pin-stripe. But I would say you are right out there at the forefront … I have no doubt we’ll see you in florals and sweeping lapels by next year.’

  ‘Slow down – let’s respect my profession. They’ll have me disbarred if I allow my lapels to get any wider than I’ve already pushed it,’ he admitted, with a sly grin at her sharp observation. ‘All right, Mademoiselle Kassowicz,’ he began, as though switching back to his formal role, and yet the pressure from his gaze, filled with amusement, suggested he enjoyed the playfulness and would like to extend it. ‘While we’ve been here sipping coffee, I’ve had a thought.’

  She waited.

  ‘Did your father leave a will?’

  She blinked; she had not expected this unlikely query. ‘What would be the point? The Germans —’

  ‘But did he?’ he said, leaning forward and unexpectedly squeezing her hand warmly.

  ‘To my best knowledge, yes. Both my parents made wills together.’

  His gaze widened and he let go – she missed the touch immediately. ‘Tell me more.’

  She explained all that she had told Daniel just days earlier about her closeness to her father and how he had begun to use her as a sounding board and indeed a vault for his thoughts and actions. ‘When he and my mother made what he said were their final wills in 1939, he gave them to his closest friend in the world, a man called Levi Körbel, who handled all of my father’s business affairs of a legal nature.’ She shrugged. ‘No doubt my mother was still capable then. Father instructed Levi to make copies and send them to one of his international affiliates – I remember that now! I’ve only in this moment recalled my father impressing that I now shared the knowledge that their final wills existed.’

  Edward gazed at her and she could see she was saying all the right words because his expression seemed to brighten immeasurably. ‘What is the name of the legal firm – I’m presuming your Mr Körbel worked out of Prague?’

  ‘Er, yes, I’ve been to his offices but I think he and his family were taken to Terezín too, so I doubt …’ She shook her head, not wanting to say it.

  ‘I understand. Do you recall the name of his legal practice?’

  ‘Körbel and Associates. What are you thinking?’

  He gave a shrug. ‘It’s slim. Leave it with me for now. It breaks no rules in terms of my client confidentiality or …’ He nodded to himself. ‘Oh, are you all right?’

  She lifted a hand, embarrassed. ‘This is the first time since the shock of seeing the Pearls again that it feels as though I can take some heart … I’ve felt lost, entirely out of control, and that’s not my preferred state of mind.’

  ‘No, I can gather that. I can’t imagine you ever going … well, wild,’ he admitted, but it was said with such tenderness she couldn’t take offence.

  ‘I wish I could, believe me. I’d love to have just a single day of feeling entirely free: no concerns, a sense of abandon … a day of …’

  ‘Debauchery?’ he offered, sounding helpful, and won her unexpected gust of amusement.

  ‘You are a surprise, Edward.’

  ‘Good. Why?’

  ‘Because you’re kinder than I hoped, more amusing than I thought you capable, and definitely someone I can say I’m glad to know.’

  He sat back and considered her words as if testing them in his mind. ‘Do you know, I think that’s one of the nicest compliments that has ever come my way. Thank you. I’m glad I haven’t disappointed, although I continue to stress that I must tiptoe through this minefield. I can’t be seen to be assisting your case and I must remain within the confines of my legal responsibility to my client.’

  ‘You can’t tell me where the law firm you’re representing is based in Europe, can you?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I can’t,’ he said, standing, and she looked away with disappointment. Summerbee removed his jacket from around the parlour chair. ‘Of course,’ he continued, not looking at her but in a tone that had a sighing quality. ‘What the unwittingly looselipped museum staff might a
ccidentally spill is not something I can control,’ he said.

  Their gazes met and she twitched him a smile.

  22

  As he had helped to slip the coat from Katerina’s shoulders earlier, Edward had felt dangerous stirrings of affection for a stranger he knew better than to be fraternising with. This meeting contravened his code and yet how could he not be moved by her story? The personal test of not opening her letter had made him feel like a dog left alone in a room with a freshly roasted chicken and being asked not to touch it. It was why he’d called Alice and hastily arranged an evening out.

  It couldn’t have been easy for the proud, contained woman he’d met in his office that morning to lower herself to stalking him to the Café Royal tonight. He found himself respecting her determination, despite wanting to be angrier with her for forcing him to blow off his date for the evening. Offending Alice was the least of his problems; she was pleasant enough company and they both enjoyed each other infrequently. Nevertheless, he had begun to feel uneasy that she wanted so much more from him. Her patience troubled him; he presumed she was waiting for him to offer something he had no intention of giving. Most women he met fell into the Alice category.

  Severine Kassel – or was it Katerina Kassowicz? – was a rare creature; he’d felt an immediate electricity between them and yet she had an aloofness that made her more attractive than simply the package she came in. This was a woman who, in any other circumstances he would helplessly chase. Professional constraints required him to run in the other direction so he’d carried the letter with him that evening, fully intending to dispose of it at home in the fireplace – he wanted no trace of it in the office. That’s what he had told himself. He refused to admit he’d kept it close because he couldn’t fully let it or her go yet.

  And now reading her tale had sickened him. All of his training and experience as a solicitor had taught him to be measured in his approach. Everyone has a story, everyone can skew an argument their way … that’s what his favourite tutor had reinforced. And from their perspective, right is always on their side.

  Nevertheless, he had toppled into her shocking tale and burned with hidden fury on her behalf. It was rare for him to feel the arrival of rage. So now he had to know more. If it was true that he was now indirectly working on behalf of a Nazi collaborator, then he wanted no professional part in these dealings.

  It would be hard to deny the beauty of Katerina Kassowicz; it struck him that she wouldn’t be able to hide her natural presence wherever she went. It was like going to Brighton Beach and amongst all the unremarkable pebbles finding one dazzling seashell of mother of pearl. The thought reminded him of what had brought them together. Pearls that had once belonged to a sultan and been worn by his naked bride. What could he say? He wanted to get to the bottom of the enigmatic piece and help the authorities catch a murderer if it turned out that the man she called Ruda Mayek was the same person behind the offering of the Pearls to the British Museum.

  More worryingly was that what he had thought were the strong walls of his life were now feeling suddenly vulnerable. Just the length of her slim neck, which he’d gazed upon as she’d dropped her coat, weakened him, and any remaining resolve he might have possessed had been washed aside by her hard-won laugh, which caught his attention more than her sorrows. It felt like a prize to be earned.

  ‘Why aren’t you married?’ she suddenly asked over her shoulder as he followed her back into the reception hall of his home.

  It felt like the 64-thousand-dollar question. ‘I love women,’ he began. ‘The problem, however, is they love me back.’ He said it with such a sense of dismay that Katerina’s body shook with amusement. ‘It’s not funny. It’s just a bit scary: they latch on or they make me feel so guilty I want to hide myself in the bathroom and never come out. Their phone calls make me tremble because they’re persistent and some will sort of stalk me … turning up at places they know I frequent.’ He cleared his throat but she didn’t take offence at his remark; no doubt she understood that they weren’t directed at her on this occasion.

  ‘Edward, there are lots of lonely women. It’s cruel to charm them and then expect them to feel content at being shut out.’

  ‘I don’t understand why we can’t solve each other’s loneliness … just for a single night.’

  She dissolved into a low laugh, unable to protect his feelings. ‘That’s because you’re a horrid man, incapable of understanding how the minds and emotions of the majority of women work.’

  He nodded. ‘This is true. I don’t understand women. Being upfront with them, telling the truth, ends up hurting their feelings, while if you fib, gild the truth to protect those feelings, you’re accused of being a vicious fraud.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to admit something to you now that I haven’t admitted to anyone before.’

  Katerina waited, amused, for his next admission.

  ‘It’s caddish, but it’s far easier to have a brief fling with a married woman, especially if you can ascertain that she just wants some affection she can’t get at home, while having no intention of disrupting her otherwise happy home life.’

  ‘That’s very convenient.’

  ‘It can be,’ he said, nodding with a grave expression. ‘I will not risk my heart again.’

  ‘Again? What happened?’

  He tutted, as if annoyed at having to recall it. ‘It was broken once and I can’t face the repair again. Rejection hurts for so long, I swear it can change one’s personality.’

  He gestured across the hall but she didn’t move.

  ‘Who rejected you?’

  ‘That’s rather curious of you,’ he admonished.

  ‘Well, I’m hardly going to know her, and it’s your past, I’m presuming, so it’s academic, surely?’

  Her logic was hard to argue with.

  ‘She was the only woman I’ve ever said the words “I love you” to. I met her in my first year of university and I never wanted to be with anyone but her. I was so in love I was pathetic and that was likely the problem; I wanted to give her the world. I said yes to everything. I was like marshmallow and probably enormously irritating to be around by the end of it.’

  She turned and frowned in sympathy.

  ‘She married my brother.’

  Katerina opened her mouth in surprise.

  ‘That was nineteen years ago. They have a beautiful family and they are very close and wonderful together, but I have found it extremely difficult to be around Sarah without feeling pitiful.’

  ‘Nineteen years on?’ She looked at him, incredulous.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m sincere, what can I say?’ He stood to change the subject and the atmosphere. ‘Shall we go to my study … I think clearer there?’

  They were followed by two dogs now whose nails gave an account of their passage across the parquet floors. He opened the door and let her step through first.

  ‘My goodness, this is unexpected,’ she said, looking around with an expression of wonder.

  ‘What did you anticipate?’ he asked.

  ‘I expected Edwardian … at the very least, Art Deco furnishings, but not this clean, sparse design.’

  ‘Well, before you panic, the rest of the house is still very much a mishmash of late Victorian confusing into Edwardian, like the parlour.’ He sighed. ‘I got the London house, my brother got the farm and its properties. Our parents were traditional, as you might have guessed and I haven’t yet had the heart to take a big stick to this place that holds so many fond memories. I’m testing the waters in my study.’

  ‘Well, it’s modern and I can’t fault your taste.’

  ‘Thank you. Can I offer you a nightcap? Sherry, perhaps?’

  ‘A whisky, please.’

  He nodded with obvious pleasure at her choice. ‘We’ll make that two. Ice? I can fetch —’

  She shook her head and took out the comb that had held her hair in a pleat to let the soft waves drop to the sweep of flawless skin below her throat.

  He cou
ld see the pulse of her heartbeat tap gently where he stared and he wanted to kiss it. ‘Er … right,’ he said, blinking as he turned. Was she doing this to him on purpose? ‘Just neat, then. I have a malt so smooth you’d think you were sipping liquid silk.’ He didn’t dare turn back yet, taking the minute of splashing whisky from his decanter into two squat glasses to compose himself and his ranging thoughts.

  ‘I like this room very much,’ her smoky voice continued behind him. ‘It’s not quite clinical but the lines are sparse … beautiful and calm. Is this Hans Wegner, the Danish designer?’

  He was forced to turn and note where the long finger pointed to a matching pair of chairs. Edward nodded, genuinely surprised. ‘It is. I bought those wishbone chairs about three years ago. Everyone else was watching the debate between Kennedy and Nixon; meanwhile I was admiring the chairs in which they sat.’

  She laughed at his remark and he couldn’t help but feel like a child being awarded a gold star. He admonished himself for the notion.

  ‘Wishbones? Is that what they’re called?’ she said.

  He handed her a glass and tried to pretend he didn’t feel the skin of her fingertips against his as she took it, looking back at the chairs. ‘I made a special trip to Denmark to Carl Hansen and Son to acquire this pair.’

  ‘They’re stark. Gorgeous lines.’

  ‘I’m impressed you’d recognise him.’

  ‘I’ve seen them in galleries from time to time; never knew their name. Tell me why you like them?’ She gestured at one. ‘May I?’

  He nodded and watched her fold her frame neatly into the wishbone chair. Her exquisite lines were a match for Wegner’s design.

  ‘Well, firstly, you would know why already, now that you’ve sat in one.’

  ‘Superb,’ she admitted. ‘How can timber be this comfortable?’

  ‘It’s Danish hardwood and the seat is a hand-woven unbleached paper cord.’

  ‘And secondly?’ she enquired, lifting her glass to him.

  He clinked his with hers. ‘Er, secondly, it’s the love of carpentry, I think. Look at the exquisite arc of the chair’s top.’ He touched the edge, barely inches from touching her. ‘It’s steam-bent maple and rounded in a way to allow freedom for the person seated.’ He sipped his whisky, felt its vapours rise at his throat and fume in his head while the liquor slipped down his gullet, like a warming blanket for the inside. Everything was beginning to warm to a sizzle. This fire was moving beyond simply dangerous to the law firm. It was threatening to thaw his heart.