“Ottawa, Canada?”
“Between 1914 and 1917, there were four major shipments of gold to Britain on agreement for war material. The first occurred in October 1914, when two British warships, the HMS Drake and the HMS Mantois, received a nighttime transfer of eight million pounds’ worth of gold at a rendezvous point thirty miles off Archangel. Despite the attempted secrecy, the Germans learned of the shipment and nearly sank the vessels before they could safely reach Liverpool. Subsequent shipments were sent overland to Vladivostok, where Japanese warships carried the gold to Vancouver. The bullion was transferred to a Bank of England emergency repository in Ottawa, where it was held for safekeeping. There were shipments of ten million in 1915, thirty million in 1916, and the twenty million mentioned in 1917.”
As the banker spoke, Mansfield found the bottom of his Guinness and set the empty glass down. “It doesn’t sound like a substantial amount of gold was actually transferred,” he said, reaching for the second beer.
“Well, sixty-eight million doesn’t sound like a great deal today, but that represents almost thirteen billion in today’s gold and currency values.”
“Thirteen billion?”
Bainbridge nodded indifferently.
“You indicated those shipments were for war material,” Mansfield said. “Are you aware of any transfers on behalf of the royal family or the Tsar personally?”
Bainbridge shook his head. “The shipments were payments for military aid. The first consignment was arranged by the Russian Ambassador to England, Count Benckendorff. The remaining shipments were by agreement of the Russian Finance Minister and Prime Minister Lloyd George, after a meeting in Paris in 1915. Some more distant Romanov family members had holdings in England, but late in the war Nicholas II made a show of bringing home all foreign deposits. By the time of his abdication, he and his immediate family had no assets in the Bank of England.”
Mansfield leaned forward. “I am interested in another transfer that occurred, or may have been scheduled to occur, in 1917 via the Mediterranean.”
Bainbridge stared back. “I am a banker and a banking historian. I deal in records and documents archived at the Bank of England. If there were additional gold shipments received by the bank in 1917, there would be evidence. My search revealed neither an additional deposit, nor evidence of a pending deposit, originating from the Mediterranean or elsewhere. If there had been an additional gold shipment made to England, it didn’t involve the Bank of England.”
“Would there be others, outside of the military, who would have advance logistics information of a proposed gold shipment, whether it went to the Bank of England or some third party?”
“The diplomatic corps might, but security and transport would in all likelihood be handled by the military.” Something tugged at Bainbridge’s mind and he looked out the pub window. Across the street, plastered on a bus stop bench, was an advertisement for a Lloyd’s of London insurance office.
“There is one other avenue you may consider investigating,” he said. “The initial shipment from Archangel in 1914. It was carried on Royal Navy vessels. The War Risks Insurance Office in London insured the shipment and charged the Russian government a premium, along with the transport fee, totaling one percent of the shipment. If your phantom shipment was to be carried on a Royal Navy ship, there’s a fair chance the Insurance Office would have known something about it.”
A wide smile crossed Mansfield’s face. “I knew that you would be of great service.” He stood and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Bainbridge, for the information and for the beer.” He turned and left the pub, leaving Bainbridge to stare at the twin empty glasses.
41
“Good morning, Summer,” Julien said on the telephone. “I have some intriguing news.”
“Good morning, Julien.” With her free hand, Summer pulled open the curtains of her hotel room and glanced at the cloudy weather. “What kind of news?”
“Charles Trehorne just called me from the reading room of the National Archives, where he got an early start this morning. He says he found an extraordinary document in the papers of Sir Leigh Hunt. He didn’t elaborate but encouraged us to meet him there.”
“Do you think it’s information about the gold?”
“All he said was that it might explain a few questions about the Canterbury. I’m on my way over now and can pick you up in about ten minutes.”
“I’ll grab Dirk and see you downstairs.”
The Rolls was waiting at the curb when the twins exited the hotel. Dirk and Summer climbed in back, where Perlmutter was reading a copy of the London Times.
“Trehorne worked pretty fast,” Dirk said.
“He practically lives at the National A
rchives. Plus, it doesn’t take much of a historical mystery to get him fired up.”
As the Rolls began to exit the hotel drive, they heard a loud-revving car. The Rolls jolted to a stop, amid a crunch of gears, and its occupants were flung forward as the old car suddenly sped in reverse. An instant later, a black car burst by, its side door careening off the Rolls’s front bumper amid a squeal of tires. The speeding car hopped the curb, plowed through a small garden, and slammed into the brick façade of the hotel’s gift shop.
Ravi rolled down the divider window. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes, thank heavens,” Perlmutter said. “The blasted fool nearly sent us to our demise.”
“Ravi, that was a fine bit of accident avoidance,” Dirk said. “How did you know he was going to strike us?”
Ravi smiled. “Private security driving school. We were taught how to minimize a collision. I heard the loud engine, saw his driving angle, and had an inkling he was headed our way. Fortunately, this old car dropped into reverse in a flash.”