BBC News:- ‘A necklace with an estimated value of two and a half million pounds has been moved today from the lost property office of British Rail, to a more secure destination. As yet unclaimed, MI5 are investigating its origins and—’
Jack’s first reaction to the news flash was that perhaps he could now come out of hiding. Everybody knew that he did not have the necklace and perhaps it was time, to get out of this dead end part of Cornwall and leave the country. He’d cleared his bank account, organised a fake passport and taken on a new identity weeks ago. Jack had disappeared before. It was an essential art in his line of work.
He should never have taken the job in the first place. Getting into the building and the safe deposit box was the easy bit. He knew that delivering the prize depended on the secrecy of the operation and this was unlikely. He sensed that word had got out. The getaway car was a mistake, it was too easily spotted. The safest option was to secure the deposit box, re-activate the alarm and CCTV cameras and hide in the building until the cleaners had come and gone. He’d change into the other set of clothes he’d brought with him, wait until the bank officially opened and then walk out with the morning customers. He needed to get rid of the necklace and a short train ride towards the suburbs seemed as good an idea as any. He found a half empty carriage, placed the package, unobserved under the seat and left at the next station. It was remarkable that it had been handed in. Ironically, whoever the honest (or idiotic?) person was, they’d got him off the hook. He never liked to abort a job, it was bad for his bank balance and reputation. But sometimes there was no choice.
At a New Jersey apartment a mother is trying to get her son on the phone.
‘Joseph, Joseph, pick up the phone and talk to your Mother.’
A resigned voice answers. ‘I’m here Mother. What is it?’
‘Have you seen the news?’
‘Yes. What of it?’
‘The necklace Joseph. You recognise the necklace?’
‘The one in London? No. Should I?’
‘It belonged to your Grandmother. I have photos of her wearing it.’
‘I don’t remember it.’
‘Never mind. It belonged to her. I have proof, Joseph. We must go to London and —‘
‘Hang on, hang on. I can’t just leave everything, I’ve got work —-‘
‘Your work, your work – all you ever talk about is your work. We must claim the necklace before anyone else does.’
‘Are you sure it was hers?’
‘Would I forget anything worth that much? Of course I’m sure. Those bastards took everything, everything Joseph, everything that belonged to our family, as soon as they’d bundled her onto the truck. Your father had begged her to leave Germany but she wouldn’t come. We left with nothing. We were penniless Joseph, penniless.’
‘I know that Mother, It’s just —‘
‘How did I raise such a son? All those years I suffered, working and saving so that he could get an education and now he won’t help me when I need him. If his father knew how ungrateful —‘
‘Alright, alright I’ll drive over.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘No. Tonight Joseph, tonight.’
Joseph sighs and admits defeat. ‘Alright Mother, tonight. I’ll be there in the morning.”
In a small village in Switzerland an elderly gentleman opens his newspaper and stops at the fourth page entitled ‘Foreign News.’ He stares at a photograph and takes out a magnifying glass to study it more carefully. It is the same necklace, he is sure. He’d last seen it round his wife’s neck the night they had gone to the opera. They’d taken their usual box and halfway through the interval Greta had gone to the ladies. She should have gone earlier because the lights had gone down for act two before she came back. Anxious to leave before the crush, neither of them had noticed that the necklace had gone until they got home. Greta had apparently bumped into someone in the darkened corridor on her way back to her seat. Gustav had wanted to call the police immediately but his wife wouldn’t let him.
‘No Gustav. I’m pleased it’s gone. Just listen to me. Don’t say a word.’
‘But you loved it. You told me —‘
‘It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t mine was it? However much you earned you could never have afforded anything like that.’
It was true. As manager of the central bank in Zurich, Gustav had a handsome salary. The war had proved profitable for many and the bank had held not only vast amounts of money but priceless works of art from all over Europe. The origins of which were never questioned. One day towards the end of the war the usual delivery arrived with a military escort and one of the officers presented him with a package.
‘With the compliments of the Third Reich,’ he’d said, and saluted sharply.
‘We both know the only people who could afford such things.’ Greta continued, and Gustav couldn’t look at her. He had his back turned and pretended to stare out of the window. When able to speak he said ‘I sometimes think that neutrality is just a form of cowardice.’
They’d clung to each other then and three months later the war ended. Gustav retired early and the couple sold their house in Zurich and moved to this small village. They lived very simply and sent any spare funds to a Jewish orphanage. It was a happy life and Greta had no regrets when she died aged eighty eight. Gustav would be joining her soon. He took the newspaper article into the bedroom and placed it next to his late wife’s photograph. ‘The necklace may soon be returned to its rightful owners Greta. We did the right thing.’
On the East coast of America a mother and son were boarding a plane for London.
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(C) 2024 Katya Marsh
