In Pursuit of Platinum: The Shocking Secret of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 1)

by Vic Robbie

  He shook his head with a weakening defiance.

  Weber tutted. ‘A fine display of bravado, however stupid in the circumstances.’

  He glared at him.

  ‘I understand what you’re feeling. You’re cornered. You’ve nowhere to turn. We have your family. You feel helpless.’

  He hoped his face showed no emotion.

  ‘Very well, let’s not play games.’ Weber shook his head. ‘I’ll give you several options and it’ll be up to you what happens.’

  Dropping his gaze to the desk he waited for what was coming next.

  ‘Refuse to tell me and it will be your choice and one you’ll have to live with.’

  He stared at him wondering what he meant.

  ‘You must choose now which of your daughters is to survive.’ Weber waited for a reaction from Bernay. ‘We will shoot one girl now and if you want your other daughter and your wife to live you must talk. If you don’t, then both your remaining daughter and your wife will be killed.’

  Bernay glared at him with all the hate he could muster and shook his head.

  ‘If you refuse to make a choice, both girls will be executed. It’s up to you.’

  He gasped. He wanted to run at Weber and hit him although he seemed to have lost the power of his legs and arms.

  ‘Choose now which of your two daughters you want to live. Do it now.’

  Weber looked at his watch as if working to a deadline.

  In times of danger, the brain is supposed to speed up and make instant decisions. All Bernay experienced was a kaleidoscopic jumble of emotions.

  Weber reached over and picked up the receiver. ‘Okay, Otto, kill them both now.’

  He could hear agonised screams coming down the line from Nice.

  ‘No, no, no.’ He jumped up and grabbed Weber by the lapels of his coat.

  Weber removed Bernay’s hands and pushed him back down into the chair and picked up the telephone again. ‘Otto, hold your fire,’ he ordered.

  Turning to Bernay he continued. ‘Of course, there could be another solution, Philippe. If you stop playing this futile game and tell me everything, I will set free your wife and daughters.’

  He snorted in disbelief.

  ‘I’m a man of honour. I keep my word.’

  ‘You’re a Nazi.’

  ‘No, I’m a German. Nazis are members of a political party and I don’t agree with them.’

  ‘How can I know you’ll keep your word?’

  ‘If you don’t help me...’ Weber raised his arms.

  ‘How can I tell?’ he insisted.

  ‘You can’t. From where I stand, your only option is to tell us everything.’

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes and looked beyond Weber and out through the now open shutters at the streetlights switching on and tried to calculate his options. If he’d gone to Nice with his family, this wouldn’t be happening.

  Lighting another cigarette, Weber waited, a finger tapping on his gold cigarette case. He had to speed things up. Every minute lost was vital and an obstacle to the success of his mission.

  ‘Tell me again about my family?’

  Weber picked up the phone and waved it at him. ‘The line is still open and your family is intact for the moment. Once you tell me what I need to know, I’ll instruct my men to take them back to their hotel and release them unharmed. You have my word.’

  ‘Very well,’ he sighed, accepting he’d no choice. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Where’s the platinum going?’

  ‘Out of France.’

  ‘I know. Which route?’

  The hands on the clock on the wall seemed to be crawling now.

  ‘By now the car should’ve crossed the Spanish border and be out of your reach.’

  Weber made a clicking noise with his tongue and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Not necessarily, Franco has closed his borders and any French refugees in the country are being rounded up and are being held in camps before being sent back.’

  Could they be out of reach in Spain, he wondered. He looked at his watch again and tried to work out the distance and the hours. His mind wouldn’t respond.

  ‘Spain is not the destination, is it Philippe?’ Weber persisted.

  ‘Mmm....’

  ‘Let me see, if they did manage to make it into Spain, the next friendly country would be... Portugal.’

  He glared at Bernay and saw by the resigned slump of his shoulders he was right.

  ‘Yes, that all makes good sense.’ Weber paced the room. ‘Estoril?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘ESTORIL,’ shouted Weber.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ He felt a deep pain in his chest and a tributary of sweat ran down his cheek knowing he’d betrayed Ben.

  ‘You’re trying to ship the platinum to England, aren’t you?’ Weber rounded on Bernay.

  He didn’t answer and Weber knew he was right.

  ‘So who’s arranging it for you, I wonder?’

  ‘No one, I...’

  ‘With respect, Philippe, a banker such as you wouldn’t have the necessary contacts to arrange this.’

  ‘I did...’

  ‘So it must have been British Intelligence at the embassy,’ mused Weber.

  He just stared at him.

  ‘To be picked up by an RAF flying boat probably.’

  Feeling guilt at having given away everything without a fight, he exhaled loudly.

  ‘Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.’

  He again picked up the telephone and waved it at the banker to remind him his family were still under a death sentence.

  ‘Give me the name of the woman?’

  The question caught him unawares although he recovered enough composure to appear confused. ‘Woman? What woman?’

  ‘Come on,’ Weber chastised him.

  He shook his head.

  ‘I know about the woman,’ said Weber sitting on the edge of the desk. ‘Renard told me.’

  ‘You’re mistaken.’

  ‘Remember, I said your family would be freed if you told me everything, and it has to be everything.’

  ‘Perhaps it was his girlfriend, I...’

  ‘Please don’t take me for a fool.’ Weber raised his voice again. ‘Let me tell you what happened – you went to the British to get their assistance to transport the platinum and in exchange they demanded you help the woman escape...’

  He guessed Weber was going after the car so it didn’t matter whether the woman was aboard. ‘I wasn’t given her name. I thought she was a wife, a mistress, a girlfriend of someone important at the embassy. I don’t know.’

  Weber looked thoughtful as if he could believe it.

  ‘And she’s going to England as well?’

  ‘Yes, although I know nothing about her and her child.’

  ‘Aha!’ Weber sparked into life and shoved his face into Bernay’s. Now he was sure this woman was his primary quarry.

  For the first time, Bernay realised the German was more interested in the woman and child than the platinum.

  ‘Well done, my friend, well done,’ said Weber in triumph. ‘The woman and the boy are very important to us. I would swap all the platinum just for them. Hitler has a particular interest in them and when they are returned to Germany, I shall be free.’

  He interrupted Weber’s gloating. ‘My family, what about them?’

  Weber snatched up the telephone then paused. ‘Where were they planning to cross the border into Spain?’

  ‘Hendaye.’

  Weber played with the phone in his hand. If the Bentley could not get through the border point what would Peters do? He almost chuckled. It was a crazy idea but one he would attempt if forced to. He had to move quickly and he gave a curt order before replacing the receiver. ‘Your family will be released.’

  Slumping back in his chair, Bernay let out a massive gasp of relief.

  ‘There’s just one problem now,’ said Weber watching him. ‘I’ll have to report what you’ve tol
d me about stealing the platinum, which is now our property. My colleagues on the other side of the door won’t be pleased. Although I won’t tell them about your family, they’ll get it out of you and we won’t be able to protect them.’

  Bernay put his head in his hands and groaned.

  Taking a Walther PPK out of his coat pocket, Weber slid it across the desk towards him.

  Bernay looked at the pistol lying before him and up into Weber’s cold grey eyes and back at the gun wondering what the German was playing at. Could he snatch it up and shoot Weber? But the guards would burst in and kill him.

  Weber watched him, gauging his reaction. ‘In the Luger is one round and it’s up to you. Yes, you can shoot me. However, if you do, your family won’t be freed and they’ll be placed in a work camp, where I understand the survival rate is low. Or...’

  Weber saw he understood and didn’t need to finish.

  The German shook his hand and to his surprise he reciprocated.

  ‘Thank you, my friend, it’s been good talking to you. Today we may have saved two families.’

  Walking to the office’s double doors, Weber hesitated with his back to Bernay presenting him with a large target, and he almost wished the banker would shoot.

  As Weber was closing the doors behind him, the officer made to return to the room, but Weber took his arm.

  ‘Walk with me, I need your help.’

  They went down the stairs and out into the lobby before Weber stopped and turned to the soldier.

  ‘I need a plane and six of your best men in plainclothes. Have them at the airport as soon as possible. We must leave within the hour.’

  The officer snapped out a salute and, as he turned, the noise of a single shot echoed around the building. There followed a silence and then a scrambling of soldiers’ boots as they ran to the origin of the sound.

  Weber smiled. If Bernay had lived, it would have caused problems. It was imperative no one knew the details of his mission.

  35

  IT could have changed everything.

  Their spirits were low and there was little Ben could do to raise them. Freddie was oblivious to everything around him and found some pieces of wood from which he attempted to build a castle. Alena had retreated within herself and became engrossed in arranging changes of clothes for her and Freddie from a case she’d brought in from the car. And she avoided speaking to him.

  With nothing better to do, he found a broken mirror and took a candle and a bowl of cold water and started shaving the stubble that was making his face look dirty. He never usually spent much time looking at his reflected image, not much liking what he saw. But this time it was much worse – the haggard face looked back at him with bloodshot eyes and was narrowed with worry.

  She prepared a bed for the boy and she’d put two armchairs together so they formed a secure cot and he was excited at this new adventure. She managed to get him into the bed and covered him with jackets and when she leant over to kiss him goodnight, he wrapped his arms around her neck and kept kissing her.

  ‘Ben, Ben,’ the boy called and he went to see what he wanted.

  He stood on the other side of the makeshift bed from her, and Freddie put up his arms. ‘Now Ben must kiss me goodnight,’ he demanded.

  Alena continued to tuck in the jackets around him as he leaned over, and Freddie grabbed him around the neck and he kissed him on the forehead.

  ‘Goodnight, Freddie. Tomorrow we’ll have an even better adventure.’

  As he pulled back, Freddie shouted. ‘Now you must kiss teddy.’

  Just as he lowered his face, Alena did the same to finish tucking in her son. The closeness of her and her scent made his head spin. He looked up and her face was inches from his and her defenceless green eyes glinted in the firelight. Her lips were open and moist and in touching distance and their fullness pulled him in like some magnetic force. She stared back and hesitated before she met his kiss with equal hunger. And Ben found her lips tasted soft and warm.

  ‘Look, look,’ Freddie cried, laughter shaking his tiny frame. ‘Maman’s kissing Ben. Maman’s kissing Ben.’

  Horrified, she pulled back and raised a hand to her lips as if she’d been stung.

  ‘Go to sleep, Freddie.’ She turned away as her cheeks coloured.

  Kicking off her shoes, she went to the far end of the sofa in front of the fire and sat down tucking her legs under her. He followed her over and he felt a coldness between them.

  ‘Shouldn’t have happened,’ she said. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It was my fault.’ And she didn’t deny it.

  He retrieved a bottle with the remains of the wine and poured two glasses and shoved one into her hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, not looking at him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why do you have to do this crazy thing?’

  He looked down at his drink and didn’t know how to answer her.

  Her voice rose. ‘Even if he doesn’t come back, on our own we could probably find a path through to Spain although not with that car.’ She almost spat out the words. ‘I’d rather chance it on the mountain than go back to face the Nazis.’

  ‘I have to take the car.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she shouted. ‘What’s so special about it, is metal more important than flesh and blood?’

  ‘Of course not, although a lot depends on it getting through.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean? If you can’t get the car through, you’ll stay with it?’

  ‘No, I –’

  ‘We still have a chance to get out of France, Bernay would understand.’

  ‘I have to get it to Estoril.’

  Alena now knelt on the couch, facing him with her fists clenched. ‘I just want Freddie to have a life,’ she cried. ‘We’ll die if we don’t get out of France. There’s no safe place here for people like us. You’ve no idea what I’ve done.’

  ‘I’ll do everything I can to help you...’

  She pushed her hair off her forehead.

  ‘You’re so selfish.’ And she turned away from him signalling the end of the conversation.

  ‘Let’s see if he returns with some help first.’ He wondered if the man was now spending their money in a local hostelry. ‘He could still come good.’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ she shouted. ‘It's clear that you don’t care for us. Tomorrow Freddie and I are going to cross the mountain whether you come with us or not.’

  His protest was halted in mid breath as the old oak door rattled and the rusty hinges rasped and it swung open letting in a blast of the cold night air.

  36

  WITHIN fifty minutes, they were aboard a twin-engined Siebel Si 204 and Weber held his breath all along the runway as crosswinds buffeted the plane and it seemed to struggle to free itself from the ground. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and upper lip and he daren’t look out at the lights below. Instead, he stared straight ahead. Sitting behind the two pilots, he was in front of his six men, looking even more like soldiers in their civvies, and from there they couldn’t see his discomfort. It wouldn’t have been wise to show the slightest sign of weakness.

  He hated flying and would always try to find an alternative route, going by road or by boat. Anything other than by plane. Although he didn’t have the time on this occasion. A small plane magnified his discomfort. The claustrophobia of the smaller cabin and the continual swaying as it rode the air currents contributed to his deep-seated fear and an overwhelming feeling of nausea. Once it levelled out he could perhaps relax just a bit, but as it climbed he listened for a change in the engine note warning of mechanical problems that could send them plummeting back to earth.

  Weber moved in the small seat to extricate a cigarette and lit up oblivious to the clouds of smoke drifting towards the back of the plane. He felt events were fitting into place at last. Before his meeting with Bernay, he’d no idea of the woman’s whereabouts. Now he knew her route. G
ermany had eyes everywhere and they were reporting the Spanish were not letting anyone through their borders. He doubted Ben and the woman would head back into France. They had to stay with the Bentley and in the car they couldn’t hide. Going over one of the old smuggling trails would be the only way out but nigh on impossible with the car. For Weber, the car wasn’t important. No one else knew about the platinum, which was a bonus. His mission was to bring back the woman and child – or as a last resort the child and eliminate the woman – and the safety of those he loved depended on his success. He and his men were heading for a military airfield in Bilbao just over the border in Spain. Surrounded by mountains and with the wind coming off the Bay of Biscay, it would make for a difficult landing and he tried to bury the thought at the back of his mind.

  If Ben and the woman did make it over the Pyrenees, he and his men would be waiting for them. Although he’d considered going straight to Estoril, the earlier he caught them, the better. The woman’s secret must not get out, and the American would have to be killed in case she’d confided in him.

  He settled back in his seat and the low voices from behind and the drone of the plane almost lulled him into sleep. He wondered what his family were doing and was glad they’d no idea of what would happen to them if he failed. There were too many stories about people – even good Germans – disappearing in Germany. The word was they were sent to work camps. Anyone who showed any disaffection or voiced their protests was regarded as a danger to the state and was taken away and never seen again. All he had to do was find the woman and the boy. They were the key to his family’s survival because he was in no doubt about Himmler’s threat. Bernay had done likewise; he’d sacrificed himself for the safety of his family. He respected him. As for this woman, she was an enemy of the Fatherland and had to pay.

  37

  A SMALL gnarled man stood in the doorway. His skin was so brown it was almost black, its texture resembling a walnut, and when he smiled his teeth shone like a white beacon. He almost made a gargoyle look attractive with large flapping ears and a hooked nose and he’d combed his black hair forward to hide a receding hairline. Although he had a slight stoop, Ben realised he was younger than he looked and walked on the balls of his feet like a cat.