Читать книгу Only Gods Never Die - Karl Hudousek - Страница 8

SEVERAL DAYS PASSED and Felix had heard nothing from his uncle. His mind was abuzz with thoughts of Egypt and he wanted to buy a book about it. He dressed and left his modest apartment early in the morning.

The street was frozen in its stillness beneath a leaden sky; it was snowing and the dry flakes swirled, falling to the pavement and gathering around walls and doorways in small heaps. The range at his local bookshop was limited, so he decided to go to the city where the bookstores would offer a larger selection. It could wait till later in the day, and then perhaps he’d visit Victor.

On his way back he stopped for a coffee. In a cosy corner of the café he eased himself into a chair and opened a newspaper. Instantly his eyes were drawn to a lengthy article on Carnarvon and Carter.

Not half an hour had passed since his return to the apartment, when there was a sharp knock on the door. It was what he was waiting for. Throwing it wide open he froze and then took a pace back. As one, the two police officers stepped into the room, forcing him to take several more paces back.

“Are you Felix Finer?” asked one while the other looked the room over, and then turned his attention back to him as he replied, “Yes.”

“Then I have the unpleasant duty to inform you of your uncle’s death. He was shot last night. We believe you may be able to assist us.”

Felix shook his head and took another faltering step backward as a stealthy chill penetrated his body. It couldn’t be. His mind reeled from the shock. He could not compose himself to ask even one question. One of the officers pulled up a chair. “Please sit down.”

“Danger. Not a word to anyone.” They were his last words, a dire warning that seemed so casual that night. Who could have perpetrated such a senseless act, robbing Felix of the person he loved and with whom he was going to share a wonderful adventure? Tears streamed down his cheeks as he remembered the good times and the laughter they shared. “How did this happen? Who did this?”

“Mr. Finer, we need your help to arrest the person responsible. We don’t expect it to be complicated.”

Choking with grief, Felix checked his emotion. That final warning of danger was flashing in his mind; he could trust no one. The first shock, which made his blood run cold, now turned to anger. He was angry at his loss and angry at his helplessness. He wished Etienne would arrive soon. Everything around him was a blur; he didn’t hear the question put to him. One of the officers shook him by the shoulder. “Are you listening?”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll help in any way.” He stood up suddenly. “I’ll come with you.”

Not a word was spoken during the short drive to police headquarters as the car jolted along the cobblestone streets. A resolution became clear in Felix’s mind: If it is to be a fight to death, then it shall be on my terms.

At headquarters Felix was ushered into a dingy office and left alone for a short time. Reveal nothing, take every advantage was his new mantra. Time passed slowly while he sat there, adding to his frustration and anger.

Suddenly a bespectacled and officious person entered the room. “Felix Finer, I am Inspector Novak,” he introduced himself without waiting for any acknowledgement. “This is Lieutenant Benzel.” He threw a look over his shoulder at the person standing in the doorway behind him. Both of them placed their folders on the desk as they sat down. Novak regarded Felix over his glasses.

“We understand your uncle was in the oriental antiquities trade.”

“Yes, he was.”

“It appears this crime is related to his business. Do you know any of his colleagues?”

“Until the other day I had not seen my uncle in eight years. He told me he was expecting a visitor: Curt Reinhardt, a man I’ve never met. I was told he’s also a dealer in antiquities and a fierce rival. I suspect he may be involved.”

“He was expecting him, you say.” Novak smiled faintly. “A murderer does not announce his arrival in advance.”

“Perhaps Reinhardt didn’t plan to murder my uncle.”

“Well, someone came with a gun and had every intention to fire it.” Novak turned to the lieutenant, who was absently tapping his pencil on the desktop: “Do you have to?”

“Why don’t you arrest Reinhardt? I’m sure he can tell you more than I can.”

“Arrest a German citizen in Austria? No. We have no jurisdiction in Vienna since the borders of Europe were redrawn.”

“Am I to understand he’s not a suspect?”

“I didn’t say he’s not a suspect. I have been surprised before, but this appears to be a burglary gone wrong.”

“A burglary?”

“Yes, he had valuable artefacts, and the door was forced. That’s why you’re here. We need your help to confirm what – if anything – is missing, then we can establish the motive. We believe it was someone he knew, but perhaps he confided something to you that may be of relevance.”

“I can’t think of anything” Felix said, hoping for more information.

“Mr. Finer, intrigue can have a high price,” said Novak dryly while he fiddled with his file. “You may be interested to know that circumstances never lie.”

The comment didn’t make Felix feel any better; he didn’t know what was going on in Novak’s head. Was it a routine statement or was it a threat? Was his secret compromised? The words “trust no one” echoed in his mind.

Novak continued, “When murder sits at your elbow it doesn’t give you much room to move.”

“You’re right, Inspector.” Felix knew he would not reveal the safe, even if its contents were the reason for the crime. He sat there in silence, chin cupped in his hands. Neither Novak nor Benzel had a word to say as they thumbed through their briefs. Felix sensed some advantage and directed his question to the lieutenant. “What about you, you’re on this case. Don’t you have a suspect?”

“We have more than that,” Novak answered for Benzel. “We will work through this, and soon we’ll have his name. What we now need is to establish a motive.”

“His name? So you do have another suspect?” interjected Felix, and not too discreetly.

“This is why you’re here; you can assist us with our investigation at the apartment. We’ll revisit the crime scene and revise our notes,” he added to inform his subordinate.

As they stood up, Benzel asked, “Do you own a .455 calibre Webly revolver?”

“No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”

Before Benzel could utter a word, Novak said, “Because we have the gun.”

“Wait here, we’ll be back in ten minutes.” Benzel indicated that Felix should sit down as they left the room.

Time passed slowly as he waited. Was this blunt ‘police’ talk trying to soften him up, he wondered. Could they have discovered the safe? They would call in academics and his secret advantage would be lost. Forty minutes had passed when Novak’s baritone voice boomed, “Ready?” as he appeared in the open doorway.

“I can’t believe that in such a serious case, Reinhardt cannot be detained.”

“He’s not in hiding and he will be interviewed in Vienna; leave that to us.” Novak turned to go. Then he stopped and Benzel waited behind him. “Ah…” Novak said as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “Hmm, we do have an interest in a person seen lurking about. We think he could be an Englishman, about forty-five, slim and tall. He’s well dressed and has a neatly clipped beard. Does that remind you of anyone?”

“No. It doesn’t.” Felix suspected that this was some ploy they were testing him with.

A police guard stood on duty outside the apartment building and acknowledged them on arrival. Felix passed the ornate doors he once admired without so much as a glance. Another officer met them on the landing outside the apartment and made a comment about not being surprised that someone would want to rob Victor. “Here is an inventory of the principle items,” he said. “The professor was astounded by the quality of the collection.”

It must be the contents of the safe. Felix’s heart was pounding. He wanted to rush into the apartment, but restrained himself. “My uncle was an avid collector. I’ll do my best to remember what he had.”

They filed into the room. Felix breathed deeply as he walked in; his eyes followed the wall of shelves till he saw the crystal vase in its place, and knew the secret panel was undisturbed behind it.

“Take your time, we need to be sure,” said Novak, as he examined each object with interest.

“Apparently there could be a motive behind any one of these objects, like this one,” proposed the lieutenant cynically, holding up a cracked clay vessel.

“It’s not about the object itself, it’s what it represents – the ethereal quality of the artefact,” Felix said as he watched Benzel throw Novak a sour look. “It’s like a badge. The important part is what it stands for.”

“Well then, tell me what this is. What does it stand for?” Novak demanded.

“It’s not in the inventory,” said the officer.

“It’s not? Why not?” asked Novak.

“I didn’t know how to classify it.”

“Classify it as chisel.” Felix said.

Both turned their eyes on him and then snatched another look at the simple implement in Benzel’s hand.

“They carved their mighty monuments with these, their civilisation and their tombs.” Felix regarded the chisel with wonder. “It’s amazing to touch that link to a stonemason twenty-five centuries ago. It’s like holding a ghost, isn’t it?” Felix asked.

Benzel shuddered and handed the chisel to Novak, who seemed genuinely interested in it.

“Well,” Novak said rather automatically as he inspected the chisel, “let’s get on with it.”

That the intruder had searched through the drawers was apparent. He had also removed some books to look behind them, replacing them untidily and in haste.

Novak was absorbed with the paintings on the opposite wall as Felix approached him. “You like that one?” he asked.

“Who wouldn’t? It’s beautiful. Your uncle had outstanding taste in art.”

“Yes he did have a gift for it. Look, I can’t find anything missing; it could have been a document or a rare book—”

“No,” the inspector snapped.

“Why not?”

Novak seemed to be on a short fuse. He tore his eyes from the painting to look at Felix. “Because something was snatched from his hand, some object, which left a deep cut on the palm. This was during a struggle, just before he was shot. Right here.” He moved to indicate a spot on the parquetry floor. He was still pointing to it when another officer entered the doorway announcing a visitor. Novak motioned to him to come forward.

It was Etienne who stepped into the room, holding a well-travelled brown leather suitcase, a look of dismay already on his tanned face. His eyes darted around the room and then switched from face to face to stop on Felix. “What is this? What’s going on?”

Before anyone could say a word, Novak stepped up to him, and took the suitcase from his hand. “You’re Etienne Vallois, I suppose. Your uncle has been shot dead,” he said coldly.

Etienne’s frown deepened as the reality of the situation sunk in. “I’ll kill the bastard, I will.” He grabbed the inspector by the arm.

Novak remained calm. “Sure you will, and tell me who this bastard is, because we have no idea.”

“You better have. I’ll have no regrets whose throat I cut over this.”

Novak broke free from Etienne’s grip and took a pace back to observe him more closely. Etienne was attractive in a rugged way. His deep-set eyes had a hint of wildness, his movement an air of daring. His manliness commanded respect.

However, Novak knew he spoke with anger and hurt and it would be easy to take advantage of him. “Something is missing. It was wrenched out of your uncle’s hand in a fatal struggle. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Etienne walked into the middle of the room and looked around. Benzel stood by the large window facing the street, winding his pocket watch.

“We’ll stay here till we have some idea what it might be,” said Novak with an air of exasperation. Everyone remained silent as he looked at each person in turn, and then continued with sudden confidence. “The answer lies in this room, I’m certain of it.”

Etienne’s gaze travelled the room slowly. “The camels and Bedouins Royal Doulton vase, it’s there – wait, something is missing.” Etienne was calm and deliberate in his assessment.

“Why do you repeat what I already said?” Novak sounded annoyed.

“I’m merely reaffirming that something is missing. It’s the clock.”

“What?” Novak snapped.

“He’s right; there’s not a time piece in this place,” confirmed the officer acting as notary.

“You see, Benzel. I knew it. It’s simple; if we work as a team we’ll solve it before the week is over.”

“It must be valuable,” said the lieutenant.

“I think so,” Etienne affirmed.

“That settles it. We’ll meet in my office, tomorrow, at midday.” With that Novak dismissed them.

Felix didn’t know what to think. His stomach felt like it had a stone in it. His throat was dry, while his mind was tortured by secret thoughts – the panel, the safe, its contents and the incredible story. Revealing it would solve nothing. He knew he had only to wait; the ace was in his hand.

As they walked toward the river, Etienne was deep in thought. “I can’t believe he went this way,” he said bitterly, pursing his lips. “You would think he knew something important.”

“Oh, what fantasy. But tell me, how did you know about the clock?”

“I didn’t. I made it up, to get rid of them. Isn’t that what they wanted to hear?”

Felix stopped and embraced him, “Etienne, you’re a marvel. I’m so glad you’re here. This is far, far from over.”

Only an hour earlier, such a tragic reunion was the last thing on Etienne’s carefree mind. Now he gave his cousin a sombre look.

“What is it?” Felix frowned.

“I just wonder how this will end.”

The next day they awoke early and had a simple breakfast. Again they went over the ground they had covered late into the night before. “Do you believe it was a simple burglary? No you don’t; I can tell. Why don’t you admit it?” Etienne demanded.

“Don’t set fire to our hopes. This is only the opening scene and we will win it.” Felix locked his eyes on him. “Yes, we will win it not by fighting at all, but by keeping our mouths shut.”

Etienne was not easily pliable, but he knew good advice when he heard it. “It’s just that nothing makes sense to me. What do you think of Novak?”

“Eti, be patient, he proves to be quite efficient. He knew about Reinhardt’s visit and intercepted him. He knew you were coming. Let’s see what he knows today.”

In sub-zero weather they made their way along narrow sunless streets. The icy cobblestone pavement received no measure of care as they hurried to their arranged meeting.

“This way,” snapped the duty sergeant. “Wait in there.” He pointed unceremoniously to an interview room. They expected to sit there for some time, but in a few minutes the sergeant returned. “Come with me,” he commanded, and led them to another office. “In there.” He pointed at the door. Benzel saw them through the glass panel and let them in. Novak ceased talking to two other officers.

“Come on in,” he encouraged them in his booming baritone. “We got him. He was a business associate.”

“I want to see him,” demanded Etienne.

“Now wait a minute.” Novak’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath, and he adjusted his tie. “We know he’s in the country. We will arrest him; the British are also looking for him. Scotland Yard has confirmed the serial numbers on the gun. It’s registered to this person and our description of the intruder fits him like a glove.”

“What’s his name?” asked Felix.

Novak flicked over a page on the desk. “It’s, ah… here, it’s James Beaufort,” he announced proudly.

Felix felt faint and cold as the blood drained to his feet and he stared straight ahead. Novak, imagining him impressed with his proficiency, continued: “It stems from an equation of what he owed, what he owned, and what he would risk. A partnership gone wrong. That is the total sum of the matter.”

The inspector was convinced he had the complete solution, and with this new development Felix dazedly thought it best left that way for the time being.

They headed down Karlova Street; the fog had not yet lifted and the feeble sun struggled to shine through it. “We can expect a swift result, he says, and still none of this makes one iota of sense to me. And you – you look ill.” Etienne’s breath condensed in vaporous puffs in the freezing air as he spoke.

“Let’s walk down to the river and I’ll explain. I didn’t tell you last night for our protection – you couldn’t reveal what you didn’t know.”

“What didn’t I know?”

“Why he was killed.”

“Do you know?”

“Yes I do.”

Etienne’s jaw dropped. “Why didn’t you tell Novak?”

“To keep us alive and one step ahead. Novak’s right about Beaufort and Reinhardt. We know about them. But do they know about us? If we tell him, you might as well print it in the newspapers. Victor was killed for a map. A map that shows the location of the lost treasure of Ramses, a find to rival Carter’s discovery. But why Beaufort? It was his map; he already knew the location.”

“This map, you have seen it?”

“Yes. It’s in a safe hidden in the apartment.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Steady on, we haven’t got a key.”