‘Krupp was in the chair. He did not waste words. He opened the proceedings by saying “Gentlemen, I’m afraid we’ve backed a loser. Our horse is not going to finish the race.” No minutes were taken of that meeting, and it only lasted a couple of hours. But its purpose was clear. The bankers — the Jews, the Internationalists, the Multinationalists — were already preparing to carve up their empire in Europe. While hundreds of thousands of brave men were dying all over Europe — millions of civilians dying in bombing raids — these commercial bandits were prepared to sit down in a quiet, nice house in neutral Switzerland and work out their share of the post-war profits. Does this story disgust you?’
‘It doesn’t surprise me. Does it disgust you?’
‘Nothing disgusts me anymore, Herr Hawn. I am too old to be a moralist. My pleasures are few. What I value most is tranquillity, peace — virtues I have learnt through the wisdom of the Lord Buddha and transmitted through the blood of Christ. I am no longer a man of war, nor a man of the flesh. But I must survive — that is the first rule of Nature, and applies to the highest as well as the lowest. Even Buddha did not say that one can exist on the fruits of the spirit alone. I need money, Herr Hawn. The information you want, and which I can give you, is not cheap. It could well compromise me — as it could you. I require ten thousand Swiss francs, in one-hundred notes. That is approximately, at the current rate of exchange, £3,300, or just over US $6,550.’
Hawn thought that for an old recluse who kept chickens in the wilds of Spain, he was remarkably well informed, particularly in fiscal matters. No doubt he had a radio, besides a telephone. He said: ‘Swiss francs may be difficult. I don’t know how Spanish banks operate with foreign exchange, but it will be quicker and easier to go to Madrid for the money. Dollars would be the simplest. Shall we say a round figure of six thousand?’
The German nodded and refilled their glasses. ‘Prosit! The money will be ready when?’
‘I shall wire for it tomorrow morning. How soon will you be able to let me have the information? And in what form?’
‘I give you two affidavits. They will contain names and dates, secret meetings, shipping lanes, Bills of Lading, and certain other details which can be checked for their authenticity. But what you are after — the really important information — will be contained in the kind of details that no outsider, not even the most astute historian, would either know or be able to invent.’
‘In what form will you give me this information?’
‘I cannot provide you with original documents, or even copies. But my memory is excellent, even at my age. I was trained to have a good memory — it was part of my administrative duties to memorize data that could not be committed to the files.’
‘And you can let me have these affidavits when I produce the money?’
‘That would be a reasonable arrangement. Of course, it will all depend on us trusting each other. I should add that even in this solitary place, I take certain precautions.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Here is my card, with my telephone number. Remember, I am always Senor Alberto Millao.’
Hawn told him where they were staying; then, just as they were about to take their leave, he said, ‘By the way, Herr Doktor, my friend in London told me of a rumour he had heard after the war — about certain aspects of what we have been discussing. He said that a collection of files and secret documents disappeared at the end of the war. They were not destroyed, and they were not captured by the Allies. Does that mean anything to you?’
‘Herr Hawn, I would remind you that we have an agreement. I am selling you confidential information for a specified sum of money. I am not prepared to disclose any part of that information until our agreement has been ratified.’ He came across the room and escorted them outside to the front door; then, instead of shaking hands, in the German fashion, he gave a little bow with his fingertips pressed together in the traditional Eastern gesture of greeting and farewell.
In the car Hawn had his first opportunity to give Anna a rough translation of his discussion with Mönch. She did not seem over-enthusiastic. ‘Tom, that’s a lot of money to pay over to a complete stranger, blind. How can we know that the stuff he gives us isn’t a load of rubbish?’
‘We don’t. We’re taking a chance — but it’s not our money we’re chancing, it’s Pol’s. Mönch may have been a bastard in his time, but now he’s just an old, lonely exile, and a religious crank to boot. People who follow Buddha don’t usually make petty crooks.’
‘Talking of Pol,’ she said, as they turned up the road towards the hotel, ‘he’s going to want something for his money, too.’
‘It’s up to him to come and get it.’
CHAPTER 12
Two days later Hawn drove to Madrid and drew out the six thousand dollars which had been wired from France. He was back in Soria by three in the afternoon, stopped the Citroën outside the iron gate, rang, and listened to the dog’s fury until he was let in again by the servant who showed him to the same bare white room. This time he had to wait nearly half-an-hour.
When the man finally reappeared Hawn was led out of the back of the house, into a stifling little garden, lush and well-kept, with a stench of geraniums and chicken droppings. Mönch was seated alone at a little
