“Good, I’ll forward it to my two contacts in the same format. Thank you.”
“No problem,” Ivor said, closing off.
* * *
“Petru?” Constanta said on Tarquin’s landline.
“Yes. Hi, Constanta. How are you?”
“Good, darling. Things have been happening here!”
“Oh? Like what?”
“They got us … the bastards got us in Tarquin’s house!” she said, her eyes filling with tears at recalling the ghastly moment when she realized they were caught.
“Shit! Fucking hell! Are you okay? What happened?” Petru said, instantly more alert.
Constanta went through the details of that scary experience, to the horror of Petru, who listened intently.
“Jesus, Constanta!” he said at the end. “You must been terrified.”
“I was, darling!” she said with a hollow chuckle. “I really thought we were finished.”
“I think so.”
“So look … he really wants to see these photos. Can you do this … like now?” she said.
“No problem. I’ll use Natalia’s PC; it’s always running. The memory stick is in my rucksack; I don’t go anywhere without it,” he said.
“Cool. I’ll send you the password now from my mobile and send the email address from Tarquin’s PC in a few minutes. His name is David—at least that’s the name he gave us—but he’s a Russian bastard!”
“Okay. But you do know you can do this yourself, Constanta? You have the memory stick as well,” he said.
“I know. It sounds crazy, but I just want to do it like I told him … you know, from Bucharest … in case … he …,”
“He works it out? That you did it in London? That’s impossible,” Petru said, chuckling.
“Whatever. Anyway, you’ll be better at selecting than me. I’m a bit fucked at the moment, darling, and I wouldn’t trust Tarquin!” she said with a small snort.
“Sure. No problem.”
“But be very selective what you send him. No outside pictures of the house; well, none that would show the place completely. We don’t want him working out where it is by going through lists of big French houses or something crazy. And be careful about details in the background; you know, like a road sign, a name, or something like this.”
“A road sign? It’s not near any roads!”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
“Sure. How many photos should I send?” he said.
“As many as you have to. You need to show one of Oliver and the other two guys, together if possible. You need to show the cabinet … from different angles and some details, the crate it went into, the stairs, the place it was put in that dusty room … perhaps the room itself and … and then possibly a shot at the bottom of the stairs at ground level, to give impression of the sort of place it is. Oh … and a shot of the outside of the house … but only a part, if you can?”
“Sure, okay. But I think you better take a look at them first, so I will text you when they’re loaded so you can check them out.”
“Good idea,” she agreed.
“May have to be three separate emails with all these photos; there’s a limit,” he said.
“Sure. Anyway, he can always get more. He just needs to smell the meat at this stage!” she said with a giggle.
Petru laughed.
“He’s a hungry dog, is he?”
“Woof woof!” she said. “I’m going to send you a picture of my new hair style; it’s so fucking cool.”
“Okay. But go careful, Constanta.”
“Bye, darling.”
“Bye.”
* * *
Oliver pushed open the door to Melvyn’s workshop.
“Morning, Mel. How you feeling?”
“Oh, not so bad. To be honest, though, it seems really empty in here. I’m so used to that bloody great cabinet in here, that it’s left a real hole. I can’t seem to settle!”
“Yuh. I quite understand … with me too,” Oliver agreed. “It’s like our whole lives were taken up by the damn thing, and suddenly it’s … well … flown the nest! I hope it’s feeling homesick!”
“Some hope of that,” Melvyn said. “I reckon it’s settled into its new home with barely a thought for us, its creators. I hope those spiders are giving it the itches, though. I must’ve put seven or eight in there. We want that thing nicely webbed up when it comes to opening the lid in a year’s time.”
“Good God! What a crazy game we play, Mel,” Oliver said. “Beats a nine to five, I suppose. Are you enjoying Drawn to Trouble?”
“What?”
“That book I gave you by Eric Hebborn. Drawn to Trouble.”
“Oh yeah … well, I’ve only skimmed the first few pages; haven’t had it long. That guy had some cheek, though! Fancy copying all those masterpieces; you know. Rembrandts, Gainsboroughs, Rubens … he even did a Michelangelo. The bloody nerve of the man!”
“It’s absolutely outrageous!” Oliver said, bursting out laughing at Melvyn’s irony.
“Yer, well … at least we’re not printing them off like bank notes!” he said sheepishly.
“That wouldn’t be easy, Mel,” Oliver said, still chuckling. “Knocking out high-end ‘one-offs’ is bloody impossible!”
“That’s why they’re ‘one-offs,’ Oliver. No machine could be set to create that cabinet; there are too many fine judgements to make throughout the process.”
“True, Mel, too many indeed. It would take a very complex series of machines to knock those out! Music … books … pictures, can all be funneled down wires and through the air, but solid oak cabinets … I don’t think so!”
“They do in Star Trek,” Melvyn offered with a grin.
“And guess what, Mel … then they’d be worth nothing! Like a song you just suck from the web.”
Suddenly Oliver’s mobile squealed in his pocket. He looked at the screen and strolled outside.
“You took your time, darling! Must have called you on Tuesday evening,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Olly. I was terribly tied up earlier in the week, doing Lord knows what. So many silly things that always need doing,” Lily said.
“I know,” Oliver said, wandering farther away from the workshop. “When are you around for, um ... a catch up? I’ve got a few bottles for you; think you’ll enjoy them!”
“Oh, how sweet of you. Well … er … where are we … Sunday … shall we say Tuesday? Giles will be in London … always is for the first three days of the week, and I’ll be on my lonesome. I’ll need some company. You can join me by the pool.”
“Sounds alluring.”
“Come for twelve-ish. I’ll throw a salad together.”
“Lovely, darling. Well, until Tuesday. Oh, I nearly forgot! Thanks so much for taking Titus out that Friday. That was beyond the call of duty, but my word, was it appreciated. What a chance meeting that was … in the village shop!”
“No problem, Olly. I like Mary … and it was rather nice to have a snoop at the Hall when you weren’t there!”
“Well, thank you very much!” Oliver said theatrically.
Lily sighed.
“Oh, it’s lovely to hear your voice, Oliver,” she said quietly. “Seems I haven’t seen you in ages … see you soon.”
“Okay, darling,” he murmured, closing off.
Oliver put the mobile back in his pocket and stood thinking for a few moments. He then wandered back into the workshop.
“Now, Mel, as we discussed, we’re going to take a few weeks off. I suggest you and Mary hire that caravan thing, that motor cruiser, and go on a tour of grand English houses. You’ve always talked about it, so this is your chance.”
“Could do, I suppose,” Melvyn said, without a glimmer of enthusiasm.
“Does anything really excite you, Mel?” Oliver said with a wry smile.
“Yeah … it’s just I don’t jump up and down,” he replied with a grin. “I really would enjoy a tour like that.”
&nbs
p; “Good … well, start organizing it. As for me … I’ll have to give it some thought. A bit of fishing would be fun; yes, a trip to Scotland.”
They carried on in this lazy whimsical vein for the rest of the morning, discussing their individual ambitions and the various pieces that were in the pipeline for restoration. Eventually Oliver glanced at his watch, slapped Melvyn fondly on the shoulder, and returned to the Hall.
* * *
Tarquin reached for his mobile; it showed “number unknown.”
“Hello,” he said tentatively.
“Hi. It is David,” came the clipped Russian voice.
“Oh, hi, David … er … did you get the email?”
“Yes, I did. As I thought, Oliver has copied a high-value piece. We need to meet and discuss our options. Where is your girlfriend? It’s important she is at this meeting.”
“One moment, I’ll get her.”
Tarquin held his hand over the mouthpiece and started up the stairs, yelling.
“What the fuck is it?” Constanta said, looking over the banisters two floors up.
“It’s David. He wants to meet.”
“Tell him I’m coming down.”
“Sorry, David. She’s just coming,” Tarquin said, as though his mobile had transformed into a scorpion. “I’ll hand you over.”
She bounced down the final steps and snatched the phone.
“David, hi. You’ve received the photos?”
“Yes, I have … impressive. We need to meet. Can you do tomorrow at three?”
“Where?”
“At the Buddhist Temple … by the river in Battersea Park.”
“At the Buddhist Temple in Battersea Park at three?” she repeated, for Tarquin’s affirmation.
He put his thumb up.
“Sure … three o’clock … we’ll be there.”
“Good. Bring your mobile.”
“Sure.”
The phone went dead.
Constanta looked at Tarquin and smiled.
“See? That guy is so hooked. Now we just got to be really cool. He’s seen the cabinet and he wants it. Oh God, he wants it!”
“Well, let’s just wait and see what he’s going to come up with,” Tarquin said sternly.
“I reckon I’m right,” she said confidently. “Oliver makes the cabinets in Gloucestershire and gets them over to that house in France as quickly as possible.”
“You wonder why he doesn’t make them over there,” Tarquin said lazily, whilst inwardly thinking there was more to Oliver’s strange actions in that house.
“Well, first of all he’d have to be in France most of the time, which may not suit him,” she said. “Since he’s meant to be running his English antique business.”
“Suppose so,” Tarquin said doubtfully.
“I mean, there could be a heap of reasons, darling, just don’t worry your little head over it,” she said, slumping down on the sofa and throwing her legs over his.
He ran his fingers up the back of her neck and chuckled.
“It’s all bristly there! Rather sexy, actually,” he said, stroking the short hairs repeatedly.
“Remind you of your school days, darling?” she said mischievously, allowing her head to rest against his cheek.
“Please, Constanta … don’t spoil the moment,” he said tenderly. “Now, about our meeting with this guy tomorrow … we need to think it through.”
Chapter 37
Bernard stood by the folly in the garden at Chateau Clery, studying the tree growing around the rear of the structure.
“It’s well and truly dug in around the masonry, Jeanne,” he said to his wife, slapping the rough trunk. “And it’s completely blocking off the entrance to that pit, or whatever it is down those steps.”
“Well, Bernard, you should know!” his wife said mockingly. “After all, you did work here all those years ago.”
“Yeah, when I was fifteen, Jeanne! That’s forty years back.”
“Well, can’t you remember anything about it? The tree and all this undergrowth wouldn’t have been here then,” she said.
“No, I can’t, Jeanne! It doesn’t look anything like it did … the whole place has gone to rack and ruin. They built all sorts of weird things then for these big houses … just for the hell of it. I mean, look at this building, for Christ’s sake … what’s its purpose? Nothing!” Bernard said with a loud snort, gazing up at the rows of columns.
“They did it because it was pretty, Bernard, and when you have lots of money, that’s what you do. Build things that have no real purpose, but look nice when you look out of your bedroom window,” she continued, like a school mistress.
“True, Jeanne. Anyway, this wasn’t even a part of the garden I was concerned with. They had loads of gardeners, and they all had their patch. We weren’t allowed to wander around sticking our noses where they weren’t wanted … we had a job to do and we did it. Things weren’t so casual then!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t want us to do major stuff, like cutting trees down, until next spring. When it’s all stripped bare, it’ll probably all come back to you.”
“Might do,” Bernard conceded. “I reckon we’d start by stripping the branches off the thing first, and when it’s cleared, rope up the trunk and make sure it falls down the hill and out of harm’s way.”
“You make it sound so easy, Bernard, but you know as well as me that trees have a habit of falling oddly when you’re involved,” his wife said in bossy tones. “You tend to go hammer and tongs at these things and then regret it after.”
“I know, I know,” he said irritably. “Of course, we have to be careful … and we will be careful. But why are we discussing something that’s not happening for ages?”
“Well, we don’t want to be wiping out his folly, do we?” she said with a cackle.
“Jeanne, for Christ’s sake, we’re not going to damage the bloody building, just stop worrying,” he said, removing his cap and running his hand back over his brown scalp.
“Any normal person would want to get the inside of the house in order first and then start on the garden,” Jeanne said, cupping a bunch of yellow blooms in the palm of her hand. “But he seems adamant that we mustn’t touch the inside … well, apart from superficial stuff on the ground floor.”
“There’s enough to do, Jeanne, on the ground floor, don’t you worry,” Bernard said. “Varnishing the window cills and panels, mending the shutters … the floorboards, skirtings … oh yes, it’ll keep us occupied, all right. You’ve got to understand, he’s trying to get a grant, and for that to happen the inspector needs to see it looking rough. He’s forbidden us to do anything on the upper floors, and he meant it! He had a look in his eye when he said that, so be careful!”
“Bernard, I don’t need you to lecture me on where we can go and what we do here,” Jeanne said sharply. “As long as he’s paying us, I don’t give a fig!”
“Exactly, my lovely. Just enjoy the place; the peace, the space. He just wants us here, I think, to keep an eye. Where are the dogs, by the way?”
“Oh … up at the top in the rhododendrons. They’ve cornered a rabbit, I think,” Jeanne said, glancing up the hill towards the house.
“When’s he next coming down, by the way?” Bernard said.
“Do you ever listen, Bernard?”
“No, I don’t, you hussy!” Bernard said, lunging forward and slapping his wife’s bottom.
“Bernard, stop being childish,” she replied shrilly, swivelling round to face him. “He’s not down this weekend, but the one after. Then he’s going to try and come down every other weekend. And by the way, he has a girlfriend called Cecile, in case you’d forgotten.”
“Very funny, Jeanne. You know when I speak about him I mean them both,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“If you say so. Come on. Let’s go and list the things we need to get in town tomorrow; it’s going to be a big shopping day.”
With that, they started up the hill
towards the house, calling the dogs.
Chapter 38
At two forty-five on Monday, Tarquin and Constanta arrived at the cream-stoned Buddhist temple known as the Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park. They were early and the place was deserted apart from a pair of Japanese tourists on the steps taking photographs. The air felt heavy, hot … aching to unleash a summer downpour. They gazed up and down the walkway by the river wall and then scanned the nearby benches, but there seemed to be no sign of the Russians yet. Tarquin nervously checked his mobile, making sure he had a signal.
“Take it easy, darling,” Constanta said, scrutinizing him. “We just got to see what he says. We have the trump card. We know where the cabinet is, he doesn’t. Without that information, they can’t do very much, and David knows it.”
“I know, I know,” Tarquin said tensely. “It’s just this is such foreign territory to me.”
“Leave it to me, Tarquin. You know I’m good when it comes to thinking on my feet. Everything’s going to be fine. The best thing you did was research the cabinet and find out what it is. Now that was cool; that nearly blew my mind! You got to admit it, Oliver’s got some style to try and pull that one off.”
“I know. I still feel we’re going to realize we’ve all made a terrible mistake and he’s completely innocent!” Tarquin said with a furrowed brow.
“For fuck’s sake, darling, stop being so naïve!” she said, and then paused before adding, “Hey, my English is getting better, isn’t it! That’s not a word I ever used before … must be catching it from you!”
“Thanks,” Tarquin said with a tight smile, whilst gazing over her shoulder towards Albert Bridge. “This guy gives me a bad feeling.”
“Why? It’s all working out now. We got those assholes off our backs; you should be happy. Should be doing somersaults and …”
She stopped suddenly. “Shit. Here they are!” she said, looking past Tarquin and down the river.
Tarquin spun round and saw the unmistakable silhouettes of the two men strolling from the direction of Chelsea Bridge. Sergei towered over Zoltan, who was engrossed in his mobile, whilst a third person seemed to be lurking a few strides behind them. Constanta figured they were taking no risks. As they approached, the third man peeled off and stood by a tree, a pair of binoculars hanging from his neck.
The Freiburg Cabinet Page 31
