Stalin's Gold

Karol’s confession about the gold, secured under torture, might normally be regarded as worthless. However, given the unhappiness that the gold has brought to my family and the evil that has been done because of it, it is probably best now to admit that the story is as Grishin tells it. I am sorry if this admission deprives my government of useful resources in these dire times, but it is going to take more than a few crates of gold bullion to save Poland now. Our fate is in British and, with luck, American hands and may God bless all your efforts. I cannot resist pointing out that this theft by Poles from Russians is a mere drop in the ocean compared with the thefts by Russians from Poles over the centuries.

My younger brother, Sasha, was a bit of an adventurer. Well, perhaps that is an understatement. He somehow ended up as a communist secret policeman for our greatest enemy, but then saw an opportunity to deprive that enemy of some gold and took it successfully. The gold needed to be melted down and disguised. David Nozyk had the skills to help us to do this and we hired him. As you have seen, he did an excellent job. Then he disappeared. I lied to you about not knowing anything about this. Too many lies. The truth about David’s disappearance is as follows. David was a very clever man. After a while he felt his contribution was not being properly appreciated. In other words he became greedy. At some point there was an argument about money. We also discovered that he had been taking some gold items for himself. The amulet in his brother’s possession was clearly one such item. Karol confronted him about this in our house in Warsaw, there was an argument and fists were raised. My son never knew his own strength. He hit Nozyk and as he fell he knocked his head on the edge of a marble table. He was killed instantly. Karol arranged for his body to be buried. Nozyk had worked for us on a strict basis of secrecy and we believed and hoped that no one, including his family, knew about his relationship with us. My son was extremely remorseful about what had happened and anonymously, through a private charity, made provision for Nozyk’s family. In particular an eye was kept out for David’s younger brother, Simon, and steps were taken to enable him to fulfil his ambition and join the Polish Air Force. We heard later that he was, for whatever reason, going under the name of Kilinski.

A few weeks ago, Kilinski appeared on the scene. He came to see my husband a few times. He said that his brother had left him some gold items – ingots, an amulet. While still in Poland, he said he had been able to identify the design on the coin as that of the Stanislawicki coat of arms. His brother had disappeared and his family had presumed him dead. He also knew that David had visited our house in Warsaw. He wanted to know what connection David had had with us. My husband fobbed him off. We then became aware that he was spying on us. He lurked outside the house and outside my husband’s office. Someone tried to interfere with the transfer of gold from my husband’s commercial premises here and we assumed that was him. He harassed our bank manager. Somehow he managed to piece together most of the story and threatened to expose us. He consorted, as you know, with the madman Voronov. Eventually we had had enough, or rather I had. My husband was too kind and gentle a man. When he was out of London for the day at the beginning of last week, I saw Kilinski lurking outside late in the morning. Jerzy happened to ring me and I told him that Kilinski’s pestering was becoming unbearable. I asked him if he could plead family problems to obtain an afternoon’s leave. He promised to borrow someone’s car and come to me. Jerzy adored me. I knew he would do anything I asked. Kilinski was still loitering at lunchtime and I invited him in for a sandwich and a drink. I offered him a brandy, then another. I don’t think he was much of a drinker. He became a little inebriated and morose and was telling me about his brother. Then Jerzy arrived. After a couple more brandies, Jerzy told Kilinski that he would drive him back to the base. The next I heard about Kilinski was when you came to see my husband and said that he was missing. I presumed that Jerzy had taken the bull by the horns and somehow disposed of him. Your finding of the body seemed to confirm this and I am convinced that Jerzy killed Kilinski to protect his family. You may not agree but to me this was an act of nobility. He is dead now, as I shall be in a moment, and I feel the need as we both face our Maker to make a clean breast of it, as you English say.”

Merlin passed the letter to Bridges and sat on the edge of the bed staring back at the strangely serene face of its author.

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