Night Over Water - Ken Follett [178]
Harry sat staring at the bonds. A million pounds. It was almost too much to take in.
Harry knew why they were there. The British government had brought in emergency exchange-control regulations to stop money leaving the country. Oxenford was smuggling his bonds out, which was a criminal offense, of course.
He’s just as much of a crook as I am, Harry thought wryly.
Harry had never stolen bonds. Would he be able to cash them? They were payable to the bearer: that was stated plainly on the front of each certificate. But they were also individually numbered, so that they could be identified. Would Oxenford report them stolen? That might mean admitting he had smuggled them out of England. But he could probably think of a lie to cover that.
It was too dangerous. Harry had no expertise in the field. If he tried to cash the bonds, he would be caught. Reluctantly, he put them aside.
The other hidden item was a tan leather folder like a man’s pocketbook but somewhat larger. Harry detached it.
It looked like a jewelry wallet.
The soft leather was fastened with a zipper. He opened it.
There, lying on the black velvet lining, was the Delhi Suite.
It seemed to glow in the gloom of the baggage hold like stained glass in a cathedral. The profound red of the rubies alternated with the rainbow sparkle of the diamonds. The stones were huge, perfectly matched and exquisitely cut, each one set on a gold base and surrounded by delicate gold petals. Harry was awestruck.
He picked up the necklace solemnly and let the gems run through his fingers like colored water. How strange, he thought bemusedly, that something should look so warm and feel so cold. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry he had ever handled, perhaps the most beautiful ever made.
And it would change his life.
After a minute or two he set down the necklace and examined the rest of the set. The bracelet was like the necklace, with alternating rubies and diamonds, although the stones were proportionately smaller. The earrings were particularly dainty: each had a ruby stud with a drop of alternating small diamonds and rubies on a gold chain, each stone on a tiny version of the same gold petal setting.
Harry imagined the suite on Margaret. The red and gold would look stunning on her pale skin. I’d like to see her wearing nothing but this, he thought, and the vision gave him an erection.
He was not sure how long he had sat on the floor, gazing at the precious stones, when he heard someone coming.
The first thought that flashed through his mind was that it was the assistant engineer; but the footsteps sounded different: intrusive, aggressive, authoritarian ... official.
Suddenly he was taut with fear, his stomach tight, his teeth clenched, his fists balled.
The steps came rapidly closer. In a sudden frenzy of activity Harry replaced the drawers, threw in the envelope containing the bonds and closed up the trunk. He was stuffing the Delhi Suite into his pocket when the door to the hold opened.
He ducked behind the trunk.
There was a long moment of silence. He had a dreadful feeling he had not got down fast enough, and the guy had seen him. He heard moderately hard breathing, like that of a fat man who has hurried upstairs. Was the fellow going to come right inside and look around, or what? Harry held his breath. The door closed.
Had the man gone out? Harry listened hard. He could no longer hear breathing. He stood and looked out. The man had gone.
He sighed with relief.
But what was going on?
He had a notion those heavy footsteps and hard breathing belonged to a policeman. Or maybe a customs officer? Perhaps this had only been a routine check.
He went to the door and cracked it. He could hear muffled voices from way off in the flight cabin, but there seemed to be no one right outside. He stepped out and stood by the door to the flight cabin. It was ajar, and he could hear two male voices.
“The guy ain’t on the plane.”
“He has to be. He didn’t get off.”
The accents were a muted American that Harry