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a single kopek with any of them. I would go after a part of the treasure and
try to recover enough to finance a full-scale expedition. Then I would share
it with the Russian schools, our disabled veterans and the Russian churches.
In the meantime, there I was at Resigny and the drudgery at the dairy
plant. The manager was a bastard. He paid us eighty dollars a month, though
we got enough to eat and a decent place to sleep. Rut I noticed that he
preferred non-French-speaking employees and I soon discovered why. He was
cheating us. Each month as we received our pay, we signed for it on a list.
I noticed that he kept his finger over the place next to each name. Finally,
one day, I had had enough, and I pushed his hand out of my way. He was
cheating each of us' out of one hundred francs. Eleven of us at one hundred
francs apiece each month . . . not bad! I went to the manager and told him,
"Monsieur, either you pay us what you owe us, or I'm going to write to your
superiors in Paris."
The next day, he called me into his office. "Okay, I'll pay you but not
the Polaks."
"No, either you pay everybody or I'm going to report you."
I realized, of course, that after this I could not stay on under any
circumstances. Finally, he gave me my missing back pay for seven months. The
Polish workers were afraid of losing their jobs so they settled for the one
hundred francs that had been "omitted" from their last wages. I said
good-bye and went on my way.
I knew that a former Russian soldier was the manager of a plant about
twelve miles from Laon that rented farm equipment out to the local farmers.
I got a job as a tractor driver and worked at harvesting the wheat near
Vervins. It was summer and the life was so pleasant that I didn't give a
thought to the treasure. When the harvesting was finished, I worked at
plowing with the same machine.
By now I had saved what I had planned on, but I decided to accumulate a
bit more. I didn't know Paris, and I was both attracted and intimidated. How
would I manage in that vast city with no friends or acquaintances? So when
the plowing was finished, I took a job in a nearby sugar-processing plant.
Toward the end of November, as I was going about my work one day, I saw two
foremen and two policemen approaching.
"Are you Sergei Orel? Do you have an identity card?" I gave him my
card. "Okay, get your belongings and come along."
"But why?"
"We have a warrant from Laon for your arrest. You are accused of
stealing." I was terrified.
"But there must be some mistake. I've stolen nothing."
"You can tell that to the judge. We are only carrying out our
instructions."
The gendarmes were riding bicycles, so I had to trot along between
them. They didn't handcuff me; they were quite decent to me, in fact.
It was a Saturday, so I had to spend two days in the police station
before I could be transferred to the Laon jail. The jail was in an ancient
monastery, with thick walls and long corridors. I was outraged at being held
as a suspect without trial, much less a sentence. According to the law, work
in prison is optional, but I was put to work as soon as I arrived. The
building was freezing cold-it hadn't been heated in centuries -- and was
almost unbearable once the sun had gone down. We were made to get into our
nightclothes and march double time over the cold stone floors to our
dormitory. Once we were inside, the doors were locked and nothing could move
the guards to open them. After several days, I was at last called before the
judge for a preliminary hearing. Before he said a word, I demanded to know
why I was being held.
He replied, "I have issued a warrant against you on a complaint that
you robbed a worker at the Maggi Dairy at Resigny."
The theft had supposedly occurred on a Sunday, over a month before; a
suitcase belonging to one of the workers had disappeared. I asked how I came
to be accused and the Judge informed me that the manager had suggested that
I was the guilty party.
I explained to the judge why the manager might wish to get even with
me, and that at the time of the theft I had been forty miles away from the
scene. To be absolutely sure of my alibi, I asked for a day so that I could
figure out exactly where I had been that Sunday. I sat up all night doping
it out, and by morning I had it all fitted together. At the time of the
alleged crime, I had been playing billiards with Cassart, a former military
policeman. I reported back to the judge and he promised to call Cassart.
Cassart backed me up, and twenty days after I had been arrested, the judge
let me go.
I was released just before Christmas. After that experience, with more
than twenty-five hundred francs in my pocket, life looked rosy. I took the
train for Paris and settled into a hotel near the Gare du Nord. I was
fascinated by Paris. For the first three days I hardly slept. I wanted to
see everything.
Then it was time to think about finding work and lodgings. I had the
address of a Russian who had worked at the Resigny dairy and was now working
at Joinville-le-Pont and lived on the Quai de la Marne. I moved into a small
hotel near him. I still had twenty-two hundred francs left after my Parisian
"extravagances." Instead of looking for a job right away, I decided to get a
driver's license. That way I would have a skill to sell instead of having to
apply as an unskilled worker.
In a month I had obtained my license both for pleasure driving and for
trucks and I found a job as a truck driver at a mill near Troyes. The pay
was good, although the work was hard. I had to load and unload hundred-pound
sacks of flour. I intended to keep the job for only a few months, as all I
needed was enough money to work out a scheme to get at the treasure. I would
spend everything I had, my money and my strength, to get my hands on that
treasure. I had had enough deprivation.
When I got back to Paris, I had almost five thousand francs, a good
suit and overcoat. I was quite presentable. Again I settled in
Joinville-le-Pont, which was then a charming little town. Since automobiles
were rare in those days, most Parisians spent Sundays and holidays in the
towns around Paris, especially Nogent-sur-Marne and ! Joinville,
where there were plenty of nice restaurants and [ taverns. I moved into a
little hotel and the man who a owned it became a good friend. He
only charged me sixteen francs a day for a very nice room and full board,
including wine.
I began to look up people I had known in Russia who were now living in
Paris, preferably civilians or acquaintances of my family. That took some
time, as there were an enormous number of Russians spread all over Paris. I
finally met the former district attorney of St. Petersburg, who had known
both my father and grandfather. He was almost fifty years older than I but
he seemed to enjoy my company. We met regularly to have dinner and to
gossip.
I began to realize that my friend knew many important Parisians. I
decided to tell him about the treasure after swearing him to reveal not a
word about it to anyone, even if he decided not to help me.
"I believe I can help you, though," he told me. "But, before
introducing you to the person I have in mind, I want you to understand that
he is a very important man and won't get mixed up in anything that could
hurt his reputation. But I have known him for a long time and he is very
pro-Russian, and I think he will help."
After I had given it some thought, I told him: "I don't think it is
necessary to tell him where the treasure came from. It would be wiser to
tell him that it had belonged to my family."
I saw him a few days later. "Everything is okay," he told me. "The
person I was telling you about is the Marquis de Navailles, chief of the
European department of the French Foreign Ministry. He will receive you in a
few days. If he agrees to help, under no circumstances offer him any reward.
He would kick you out."
A few days later I was ushered into the office of M. de Navailles. He
was a big man, with a ruddy complexion and exquisite manners, an
eighteenth-century aristocrat. I told him my tale. He agreed to help me "on
condition that your story is true." I assured him that no embarrassment
would come to him. He gave me a personal letter to the French ambassador at
Sofia, asking him to accept a package from me and to forward it to him. He
also gave me a letter to the police requesting a French passport for me.
That very day I received my passport and a visa for Bulgaria. The only
problem that remained was money, and somehow the former prosecutor found
another five thousand francs for me. I was on my way to the treasure.
i TOOK THE ORIENT EXPRESS for Bulgaria in January 1927. The winter had
been severe in France, and I was hoping it would be warmer in southern
Europe. But it was even colder there.
Hoping the weather would warm up, I delayed a few days in Sofia. But it
did not change and I had to keep moving to avoid arousing the suspicions of
the Bulgarian police, who took careful note of the arrival of every
foreigner. I couldn't stay in my hotel just doing nothing. So I told the
desk clerk, who was undoubtedly a police agent, that I had to go to Plovdiv,
the second most important city in the country, to look into the tobacco
market there. Plovdiv is on the railroad line to Burgas. I spent a day
purchasing my digging tools and work clothes and then continued on to
Burgas. I could definitely not spend more than twenty-four hours in Burgas
without arousing suspicion. Why would a foreigner come to such a small city,
where there was nothing to do, in the dead of winter?
I arrived in Burgas in the morning and spent almost the whole day
looking for a place to change my clothes. That night I went to the public
park near the beach, which was deserted at that hour. In an icy wind, I
changed into my work clothes, hopping up and down to keep from freezing. I
checked my street clothes at the railroad station, drank some hot coffee,
then set off to the first hiding place. It was growing colder and colder. In
spite of my warm clothing, I was trembling like a leaf. A strong wind bit my
face and slowed me down. I didn't reach even the nearest cache until nearly
midnight, and then it took me a half hour to locate it with a flashlight.
Everything was in order; no one had discovered our secret. I tested the
ground. It was frozen hard as a rock. I tried to dig, not at the actual
site, so as not to betray it, but a little distance away. Useless. It would
take dynamite to break the ground. I was furious that all my effort, my long
trip, had been in vain. I would return to Paris empty-handed.
In the morning, half-frozen, I returned to Burgas and took the train to
Sofia. Before returning to my hotel, I went to the public baths to change my
clothes. The frigid weather continued; there was no way of knowing when it
would end and I couldn't stay where I was. I returned to Paris.
My friend, the former prosecutor, was disappointed with me. I gave him
my passport and M. de Navailles' letter and asked him to explain to
Navailles why I had failed. I was worried about the money he had loaned me.
I did not know whether he had borrowed it from someone else. One night, as I
tossed and turned in bed trying to find a solution, I decided to go see my
former commander, General Postovsky, who was a great gambler. The next day I
went around and asked him to take me to his gambling club that evening. I
needed to make some profit on my last thousand francs.
"You've come at a bad time," he said. "I've had a losing streak for a
week and I've lost more than fifty thousand francs. All I have left is three
thousand. But if you wish, come along. I'll try, but I make no promises."
I gave him my wallet and he played baccarat for both of us. By 2 A.M.
he had won seventy thousand francs for himself and more than twenty thousand
for me. I practically had to drag him away from the table.
I returned the money I had borrowed and went to Join-ville to rest. I
regretted that I had been so precipitate. I should have waited for spring to
go to Bulgaria. The next expedition time I would plan more carefully. And I
would need a companion.
After a few days of relaxation, I decided to get started doing
something. I knew that Lieutenant General Rafalo-vitch, who was a former
commander of the Cossack cavalry and a good friend of my family, was living
in Brussels, He was a man of absolute integrity and loyalty. I went to see
him. He was very glad to see me but I did not tell him about the treasure
right away. I waited for about a month and then I told him the whole story.
He listened to me carefully.
"I have been expecting you to speak to me about this business. I've
heard some rumors about a war treasure taken out of Russia by General
Pokrovsky. They say that you know where it is. Some people even claim that
it has been in your possession since Pokrovsky's death. I am glad that you
have told me the true story. You must realize that you are in a very
delicate and dangerous position. If either the Reds or Whites ever become
convinced that you know where the treasure is, your life will be in danger.
They will kidnap you, torture you to obtain the secret, and then they will
kill you."
"I've thought of all that," I replied. "But that still wouldn't give
them any chance at all of finding the treasure. Even if I gave someone a
detailed description of the general location, they still couldn't find the
exact spot without digging up the entire area, about twelve square miles.
Once I was dead, no one could find it."
"All right," he said, "I'm convinced. But what are you going to do?" I
explained in detail my plan to recover the treasure and what I intended to
do with it afterward. He asked for a few days to think it over.
When I returned, he said, "I have concluded that you are right. I agree
that it would not be wise to talk to the Russian authorities in Paris. In
the first place, they couldn't do anything without your help. And once they
got their hands on it, it would disappear. Like you, I am against any
attempt to attack the Bolsheviks from abroad. Furthermore, I believe you
have demonstrated a right to the treasure. Keep me advised. I will try to
help. But you must be careful; you will be in bad trouble if word gets
around."
It was the spring of 1927 and it was to be two years before I found
just the right man. During those two years in Brussels I became
administrative director of the famous Russian chorus, the Cossacks of Kuban.
One day in Brussels I saw a man on the street dressed in the costume of the
Kuban Cossacks. I could not believe my eyes -- for as he came closer, I
recognized George Vinnikov, a great old pal who had been in my regiment. We
went into a cafe and he told me his story. Because he had had musical
training, in Yugoslavia the ataman of the Kuban Cossacks, General Naoumenko,
had commissioned him to form a Cossack choir. For several years the choir
had remained in Yugoslavia but eventually it began to receive invitations to
perform abroad. They were in Brussels to give three concerts. Naturally, I
attended the opening night. The next day at lunch, Vinnikov remarked: "It
would be so much more convenient if we had someone who knew this part of
Europe and could speak the languages. I know only a bit of French and the
rest speak nothing but Russian. We always have to find a translator." Then
out of the blue, he said: "We need someone exactly like you. How about being
our director?" I was taken by surprise and told him that I didn't know
anything about that sort of business. "And," I said, "right now I don't have
the kind of money to do a lot of traveling, and that would be necessary,
wouldn't it?"
"Yes," he replied, "you would have to be our advance man, make all the
arrangements, sign contracts, and so forth. But, naturally, you would be
paid the same salary as I, and your expenses would be taken care of." I
explained my difficulties with the police. "Listen, Nicholas," he replied,
"I have known you for a long time and I know that you are incapable of
dishonesty. We would be honored to have you." I agreed on condition that
General Naoumenko give his approval, and I wrote him explaining my
situation. Two weeks later I received a letter from the general confirming
my appointment. I contacted all the great impresarios of Europe and arranged
manv appearances. The choir was a great success everywhere.
In 1929, a construction engineer of Russian descent, a man named Arian,
introduced me to a Belgian diplomat, Baron K., a counselor at the Belgian
embassy in a neighboring country. He had been stationed in St. Petersburg as
a young man and had married a Russian woman. He agreed to help me get the
treasure out of Bulgaria.
Arian knew only the bare outlines of the plan and I assured his silence
by promising him a generous commission. Unfortunately, I did not realize
that his business was in trouble and that he was deeply in debt. Our plan
was for the baron to go to Bulgaria after me, receive a suitcase from me
containing part of the treasure, and take it out of the country in the
diplomatic pouch. In a few days he had obtained a passport and a Bulgarian
visa for me under the name of Nansen. I was to leave first. We would
register at different hotels in Sofia. I would proceed to Burgas, return to
Sofia, meet the baron at the Belgian legation, and give him my suitcase.
I arrived in Sofia and waited four days, but there was no sign of the
baron. I was frantic. At the legation I finally found a message. He had
fallen ill en route and was in Belgrade. He asked me to wait in Sofia, as he
hoped the doctor would allow him to move in two or three days. Four days
later, another message arrived: he was worse and had to return to Brussels.
He promised to continue our business when he had recovered.
This was a terrible blow. I went back immediately and visited the
baron's bedside. He was very upset that he had been unable to complete his
voyage. He promised again that we would resume our mission as soon as
possible. I went to see Arian, who was very cool to me. I could not
understand until he finally blurted out: "You know I don't believe a word of
this story of the baron's sickness. I think this was a diplomatic illness. I
think you carried off the affair and are keeping it from me so that you
won't have to pay me my share."
"You are out of your mind," I told him. "Even if you don't believe me,
do you really think the baron would risk his reputation and career for a few
pennies? Go ask him yourself."
I learned later that he had indeed gone to the baron, who had thrown
him out of the house.
A week later I was arrested on a charge of suspicion of swindling.
Arian had brought an accusation against me to the Belgian police. The story
was all over the papers.
I protested, of course, but I was held for thirty days. Six months
later, the case was dismissed for lack of evidence, but my reputation was
ruined. No end of false stories had appeared in the Belgian press and the
police had sent inquiries about me to a number of other countries. There was
nothing on the books against me anywhere, but I was labeled undesirable and
effectively barred from several countries forever. This was a ghastly
situation for a stateless person.
I had not a cent, no means of leaving the country much less reaching
Bulgaria. I was near the end of my rope when I found a jeweler who was
willing to lend me the twenty thousand francs I needed for my next
expedition. I put it in a bank while I made my preparations and waited for
my chance to go back to Bulgaria.
Then one morning I received a summons to appear before the police. I
was accused once again of swindling. The jeweler had decided that I might be
going to skip out with his money, and instead of asking for it back, he had
gone straight to the police. When I heard what the accusation was, I
immediately wrote him out a check, but I was condemned to a month in prison
anyhow. I appealed the sentence, but the appeals court sustained the
sentence w absentia since I was out of the country at the time. When
J
I returned, I found that I was to be deported. I had either to leave
immediately or face an indeterminate sentence.
I was desperate to get hold of some money and a passport that would get
me into Bulgaria. I wrote a friend of mine, a former Russian officer who was
living in Switzerland, and asked him if there was any way I could borrow
fifty thousand Belgian francs. I promised to pay him back double that
amount. He was an old friend and I knew he would trust me. He wrote back
that he didn't have such a sum but knew someone who would lend it to me if
he guaranteed the loan. He would arrange for me to meet this person in
France.
I entered France via Luxembourg and had a meeting with this man. A few
days later the money came; I was obliged to return it in three months. Now I
had to obtain a real passport, not a forged one. I had heard that this could
be arranged at some of the consulates in Berlin. I went there with a Belgian
woman friend. She suggested that she go around to the consulates. They might
be nicer to her than to me.
I waited for her all one day while she inquired around. Finally, she
returned. "Done," she said. "You have your passport." She had been to a
half-dozen consulates. When she had told them that she wanted a passport for
a friend, some of the officials had simply laughed at her, others were
angered. She was ready to come back empty-handed when she had passed a sign
that said "Consulate of Panama." She had decided to give it one more try.
The consul had received her courteously and listened to her. He finally told
her to have me come in person. I was leery of a trap but there was nothing
else I could think of to do.
He was very hospitable. As character witnesses, I was able to give him
the names of two persons living in Berlin whom he knew. A few days later I
received my passport, for which I paid thirty thousand Belgian francs.
There was no question of entering Bulgaria officially, since the
passport carried my real name. I went to the Yugoslav border town of
Zajecar, hoping to find someone to get me across the border. I finally found
two men who agreed for three thousand dinars. Meanwhile, I stayed with my
uncle, who was a supervisor at the copper mines about eighteen miles away.
One day the men who were to smuggle me across saw my wallet bulging with
money. They exchanged glances, and I decided I had to be more cautious.
At last, we set out one midnight, walking for a couple of hours.
Finally, my guides told me we were three miles inside Bulgaria and it was
time for me to pay up. I handed over the money, and while they were counting
it, put my hand on the pistol in my coat pocket. As I had half expected,
they both pulled knives and demanded my money, watch and ring. I made a
motion as if I were reaching for my wallet, but instead pulled my gun and
put a bullet in each of their heads, then I ran like hell. About a half mile
farther on I threw my pistol into a stream. As I was walking along the road
to Vidin, following the course of the Danube, I ran into a patrol of five
policemen who demanded to know why I had fired my gun. I answered that I did
not even have a gun. They searched me but decided to take me to Vidin for
questioning anyhow. This arrest put an end to my elaborate plans.
Of course, I denied that I had anything to do with killing the two men,
whose bodies had since been discovered, and the police admitted freely that
they were not really concerned about that. They were just as happy to have
two fewer smugglers to worry about. After two days, I was transferred to the
prison in Sofia. The police there were most anxious to know whether I had
entered Bulgaria illegally. I made up an elaborate story which they did not
believe. The fact was I had mailed my Panamanian passport to General
Delivery in Burgas and by this time it had already been returned to
Brussels.
It was a disaster. The man who had loaned me his money, not having
heard from me for so long, had naturally concluded that I had run off with
it and he denounced me to the police. A short time later he died.
When I finally got back to Switzerland by way of Yugoslavia, I was
arrested and extradited to France. Later, I was cleared of the charge he had
made.
I was getting desperate. I would do anything to reach the treasure. I
decided that the first thing I needed was a good lawyer. Through an
acquaintance I was recommended to one in The Hague. I sold a camera and my
gold watch to get the money to visit him. I will call him simply Leon. We
struck up a friendship right off the bat. After I had told him the whole
story, including my problems with the law, he said he would help me. He was
quite rich and did not need any money. I believe the romantic, adventurous
side of the undertaking appealed to him. He agreed to finance my first
expedition; after that, I would have enough money to pay for a hundred.
19 Leon
IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER and we decided to get started right away.
We had a simple and workable plan. We would go by train to Constanza in
Rumania and sail from there to Constantinople. I had not been in Turkey for
a long time and, we hoped, would not be recognized. I was to stay in
Constantinople for a few days, and then take the boat alone to Burgas, do my
job, and telegraph Leon in Constantinople. He would get on the Orient
Express, which goes through Bulgaria on its way to Paris, having wired me in
care of General Delivery at Plovdiv. I would be waiting at that station and
would pass the package to him. In those days the Orient Express was all
first class and the border guards treated the passengers with deference; his
bags would not be opened until he reached Paris, and he would get off before
that. I would take a boat up the Danube and meet him in Lausanne. The day of
my departure arrived. The boat, the Bulgaria, was in the middle of the
Bosporus, and I was the only passenger. I was rowed out by some Turkish
sailors. The sea --was so rough that I almost lost my passport as I climbed
the ladder to get on board. Since I was supposed to be a Panamanian, I could
not speak Russian or show that I understood Bulgarian. I managed to
communicate with the crew in German and English.
When I arrived in Burgas, I checked into a hotel and let it be known
that I was waiting three days for the departure of my boat from Routschouk.
I spent my first day there on the beach and that night went fishing. (This
would explain my overnight absence from the hotel the following night.) I
decided to go after the treasure on the second day.
That night was warm and there was a full moon. I got to the hiding
place nearest the city about i A.M. After digging for about an hour and a
half, I found the cases. We had marked them to indicate the contents. The
first contained jewels. The next contained securities and English currency.
I took the jewels and papers and replaced the cases, and covered over
the trenches so that no one could tell that there had been any digging. I
returned to Burgas without incident .and buried my tools on the beach. I
knew it would be difficult to get back into the hotel without arousing
suspicion about my package, since I had departed empty-handed to "go
fishing." So I left the package at the door, and as I entered I asked the
desk clerk to fetch me a bottle of wine. Then I ran back for the package,
carried it to my room, and hid it under the bed.
Next I wired Leon as agreed, and by evening I had his answer. He would
pass through Plovdiv in two days. Now was my first opportunity to examine
what I had. There were beautiful jewels, about one hundred grams of cut but
unset diamonds, about one hundred foreign bonds, and twenty-five thousand
pounds sterling in currency.
The next day I took the train to Plovdiv. I went to the station the
next day and saw Leon debark from the train. This was the moment of danger:
I had to pass the bags to him inconspicuously. He took them and said,
"Everything is all right. I sent the steward for a bottle of mineral water."
This was our entire conversation. It was ten days before I saw him again, in
Lausanne. When he arrived there he had deposited the treasure in a bank. The
operation had been a marvelous success -- but it was not over yet. We had to
exchange the money and sell the bonds and the jewels. Leon was a tremendous
help because he had so many contacts. All this took two months, but brought
us a handsome sum.
When the expedition had finally worked out so well, I went back to
Brussels illegally and renewed contact with some old and faithful friends.
Naturally I shared some of my wealth with the Cossacks of Kuban. But nothing
lasts forever. Several years later my friend Lieutenant Vin-nikov, founder
and guiding spirit of the choir, fell ill and died in Brussels, and without
him the choir split up into several groups. A quintet managed by the
talented Svet-lanov brothers from the chorus enjoyed some success in Europe
for a number of years, but that was the end of the Cossacks of Kuban.
After our successful expedition in Bulgaria Leon and I traveled a good
deal, particularly to Vienna, our favorite city, but also to Berlin, Prague
and Budapest. While we were enjoying ourselves, however, we never lost sight
of the fact that we were going to recover the rest of the treasure. We had
long since decided that the only effective way to get at it was to go to
Bulgaria as tourists on a yacht and that we would have to buy one, rather
than rent it, so that we wouldn't be saddled with a crew we couldn't trust.
We searched for the right vessel for over a month and grew discouraged.
One was too large, another too small. One day Leon received a letter from a
friend in Rotterdam telling him that the kind of boat he was looking for was
anchored at Cannes. We went there immediately and fell in love with the
yacht at first sight. Leon went to England and bought it, retaining its
registration, which was Panamanian. Many yachts had this registration, but
it was a lucky detail because of my passport. It was perfect for us. It had
two powerful engines, six cabins and quarters for a crew of five.
It took us two months to get ready. The most complicated task was to
find a reliable crew. We put together an international team: three Dutch
sailors, a German mechanic and his wife, who would serve as maid, a Russian
cook and an English captain. Leon deliberately chose a crew who did not
understand French so that we could talk freely. We took on board a great
supply of all sorts of provisions and invited two beautiful women we knew to
add the proper touch of posing as rich tourists on a cruise.
We departed in midsummer, sailing at a leisurely pace. We stayed at
Naples for three days and visited the famous Blue Grotto on the isle of
Capri to please our companions, and a few days later we stopped for a few
hours at Lem-nos, where I had had so many adventures, to buy some fruit and
fresh bread. After a two-day stopover at Constantinople we headed toward the
Bulgarian coast. First, we anchored at Varna, a larger and more pleasant
city than Burgas, as it might have looked suspicious if we had gone directly
to Burgas, bypassing a tourist attraction like Varna. We spent a week there,
lolling on the beach.
Finally, we headed for Burgas. The customs officials did not bother us;
they were concerned only with those who actually arrived in port. We moved
back and forth from the boat with sacks and bags to get them used to our
moving about. I found my tools where I had buried them on the first
expedition. To explain our overnight absence to the ladies and the captain,
we said that we were going to visit Russian friends of mine who lived
inland.
We set out early the first evening. I carried my Mauser, though Leon
was unarmed. Even though the first hiding place was still half full, I
decided to go straight to the second, and we got there about 11 P.M. An hour
later, we had finished. But I was only able to take out about half the
valuables because Leon was scared and kept urging me to hurry. I realized
that for the next expedition I would need a different kind of man; you can't
ask a bourgeois lawyer to be an adventurer, specially when the affair had
little or no heroism to it. We were back at the seashore at about 2 A.M. and
had located the place where I was planning to hide the tools. We buried the
tools and rested a while. Then we started out at a leisurely pace. We didn't
want to get to town too early.
After walking for about ten minutes, we heard "stoi" ("halt"). That's
it, I said to myself, the customs police. I had forgotten that the customs
would patrol that part of the beach at night since it was an ideal spot for
smugglers to land. The voice came from the brush at the edge of the beach. I
sized up the situation immediately: if we remained on the beach we were done
for. I told Leon to follow me and ran for the cover of the brush. We heard
the order to halt again but by this time we were hidden. We were each
carrying a bag full of valuables. "Run toward the town and wait for me near
the station," I said to Leon. I decided to fire on the police if they
pursued us. A few seconds later, the customs man (who, as I had surmised,
was alone) fired in the air; I fired two shots in his direction and he
apparently decided to leave us alone.
I reached Burgas without any trouble and found Leon at a bistro near
the station. He was gray. "I'm not a Cossack, you know," he told me. We
bought a few pieces of fruit and some vegetables and put them into our
sacks. When we passed the customs officials at the port, they greeted us as
casually as usual, and we reached the boat without any difficulty. I put the
sacks into a storage space near my cabin that I always kept closed. No one
noticed them.
We spent the next day on the beach and the following day we left Burgas
for Constantinople. We decided that we had to be alone to take inventory of
what we had, so we put the women off the boat in Trieste, in spite of their
tears and protests, and gave them money to go back to Brussels. We cruised
around the boot of Italy and left the boat at San Remo, then made our way to
Switzerland by train. Once again, thanks to his connections, Leon was able
to sell everything. After our business"was done, Leon had to return to The
Hague to take care of some business.
Even after I had given away about three-quarters of the money from my
last expedition, I still had quite a bit. However, I knew that war was
imminent and I was determined to get back to Bulgaria as soon as possible.
Leon tried to dissuade me, listing all the difficulties that the tense
political situation would create. I knew he was right, but I couldn't accept
a quiet life. He offered to lend me whatever I needed to get established in
Brussels, but I could not undertake any legitimate business, since I had no
legal documents with my real name. I decided to go to Bulgaria one more
time. Alone.
AT THE END OF FEBRUARY of 1939 I set out by train for Naples, and went
from there to Constantinople by ship. Then I had to figure out some way of
getting into Bulgaria. I met an old acquaintance there by chance, the
ex-police chief of my hometown. He imported hams from Bulgaria and he went
back and forth to Burgas all the time. The hams were shipped on Turkish
feluccas, which sailed to Sozopol, a city south of Burgas, to collect wood.
Of course, he knew the captains of all these boats, so I had him introduce
me to a couple and I made arrangements to go to Burgas on one boat and come
back on another.
The morning I arrived in Burgas I found the fourth hiding place, the
closest one to where we had landed. Everything came off without a hitch. As
before, I took only part of what was buried. This time I managed three of
the six cases, as well as three unopened cases in each of the other three
hiding places -- twelve cases in all, still a sizable fortune. The felucca I
was to return on was not ready to leave, so for the next five days I helped
load it. We got back to Constantinople without incident and I managed to
slip by customs. I still had my room in the Pera Palace Hotel.
I had so many valuables with me that I thought it would be prudent to
deposit some of them, mainly the stocks and some of the diamonds, in a bank
vault and plan to come back for them later, and so I did this. I was worried
that I would be thoroughly searched at customs in Naples. That did not turn
out to be the case, surprisingly, and I made my way peacefully to Leon's
home in The Hague. He was grateful to see me safe and sound, and confessed
that he had been very concerned. However, he refused to go back to
Constantinople to recover what I had put in the bank, which put me in a very
difficult position. Convinced that war was imminent, I wrote to the bank and
asked them to advise me how I could authorize a person to open my safe
deposit box. They wrote back with instructions on how to proceed. Leon still
refused to go, so I had to go to Constantinople by myself. He advised me to
find a buyer, at least for the diamonds; I could leave the stocks in the
Constantinople branch office of any of the major European banks.
At Anvers I located a diamond merchant who agreed to make the trip, and
who was ready to buy the diamonds from me on the spot. I drove across
Germany, Austria, and Hungary and as far as Belgrade with my new Belgian
girl friend. The merchant, who was Jewish, didn't want to travel through
these countries, so he took the Orient Express and met us in Belgrade. We
all spent a very pleasant evening the first night we were there and then
agreed to meet early the next morning. My girl friend and I arrived on time
for our appointment. But the diamond merchant was late, and when he arrived
he acted very disturbed and announced that he had to return home
immediately. I protested vigorously, but then, because I knew that his
concern had to do with the persecution of the Jews by the Germans, I did not
insist further.
I phoned Leon to tell him that I would have to return to The Hague
because the merchant could not continue on with me. He told me instead to go
to Budapest and that he would join me there. So my girl and I went there and
settled into a hotel in the heart of the city, on the charming island in the
Danube. The manager knew me, since I had stayed there several times before.
One day, I saw him wearing an army officer's uniform and when I asked him
about it, he explained that the political situation was very grave and that
the government had mobilized some of the reservists. That evening he came to
our room and advised me to leave the country immediately. "If war breaks
out," he said, "you will be stuck here, and if America comes in, you are
bound to be interned." We decided that this was good advice and that we
should leave immediately. If war did break out and I was caught with a phony
passport, I could be arrested as a spy. We left Budapest on August 25, 1939,
one week before the war began. It took us a long time to reach the
Luxembourg border. All the roads in Austria and Germany were clogged with
military convoys. When we finally reached the Moselle and the bridge that
connects Luxembourg and Germany, a nasty surprise was waiting for us. No one
was being permitted across. We had to sit there all day before we were
finally allowed to go over. The next day we reached Brussels. Immediately I
went to the beautiful apartment I had there, furnished with rare Russian
books, icons, and other objets d'art. An old girl friend was living there as
housekeeper, since she was out of work. I decided I'd better stay off the
streets, as there were all sorts of rumors about German parachutists and
spies and I did not want to take the chance of being taken for one. Then I
had a piece of bad luck (or was it good fortune in disguise?). The woman who
had traveled with me to Budapest phoned to say that her stepfather, who was
a French citizen, had just been mobilized and was to return right away to
France. She very much wanted me to meet him before he left and, against my
better judgment, I agreed. I walked the half mile that separated my
apartment from hers and when I was almost there, three men approached and
showed me their badges. One said: "Police. Let me have your papers, please."
When I reached into my pocket, my heart almost stopped. My passport was
not there. I had not taken the time to transfer it from another coat. But I
couldn't tell the police that, because I was renting the apartment under a
different name from the one on the passport. The only thing I could think of
to do was to say I had left it at my hotel. The police said I had better
come along to the station house and explain everything to the officer in
charge. They would send someone to my hotel to find the passport. But when I
got to the magistrate, I decided I had better tell the truth, especially
since he knew me. "This is going to cost you a month in jail," he said,
"since you have already been formally expelled from the country once." So I
found myself in jail again, cursing my carelessness.
The next day I appeared before the judge to be arraigned. Much to my
surprise, he greeted me cheerfully. When I asked him why he was so cheerful,
he replied that he had just signed a warrant for my arrest on a charge of
swindling. "Do you know Mr. ----?" It was the diamond merchant. Now it
dawned on me why he had left so precipitately in Belgrade. An associate of
his had gone to the police looking for information about me. Needless to
say, he had found out that I had been accused of swindling twice and had
been expelled from Belgium. He had warned his friend to get away from me as
soon as possible. Since the diamond merchant had not suffered any losses at
my hands, he was willing to drop the whole matter. But the law followed its
inexorable course. The judge had presented an indictment on the grounds that
I had wished to swindle the man and I was sentenced to eighteen months in
prison. I appealed, and that charge was finally dismissed; but I was still
charged and convicted of using a false name when I had written to the
merchant.
To add to my woes, I received another sentence of four months in prison
for something I had not done. It had all begun a year before when I met a
pretty girl one evening at the movies. I had walked her home and we had
agreed to meet again. A few days later, we went to see another film that was
restricted to adults. When she was asked for her identity card, she said she
had forgotten it and so I guaranteed the ticket taker that she was nineteen,
which is what she had told me. Later, as we were having a drink in a cafe, I
caught a glimpse of her card when she opened her pocketbook. I was shocked
to see that she was only sixteen, and decided not to see her again. (Belgian
law is very strict on the corruption of minors.) I told her I was going off
on a long trip. Then one day while I was serving my sentence in prison in
Brussels, I was called to court and there she was. She had testified that I
had seduced her. I learned only later that she had bragged to her friends
about having had an affair with a rich foreigner and that one of her friends
had told her parents, and that they had gone to the police. Having started
the whole mess with lies, she couldn't stop lying now. I was found guilty.
As the war began to rage in earnest, food grew scarce and life in
prison was a nightmare. We were given only a little bread with some
margarine melted into it and warm water. I became so undernourished that my
legs and feet swelled up horribly and I had to be transferred to the prison
hospital. The food was better there and after a month I was all right. I was
told by the police that I was to be detained even after my sentence ran out,
because I was considered a menace to the public order.
Each day we strolled in the prison courtyard, I saw members of the
Gestapo. They had taken over part of the jail for their own prisoners. I
try to recover enough to finance a full-scale expedition. Then I would share
it with the Russian schools, our disabled veterans and the Russian churches.
In the meantime, there I was at Resigny and the drudgery at the dairy
plant. The manager was a bastard. He paid us eighty dollars a month, though
we got enough to eat and a decent place to sleep. Rut I noticed that he
preferred non-French-speaking employees and I soon discovered why. He was
cheating us. Each month as we received our pay, we signed for it on a list.
I noticed that he kept his finger over the place next to each name. Finally,
one day, I had had enough, and I pushed his hand out of my way. He was
cheating each of us' out of one hundred francs. Eleven of us at one hundred
francs apiece each month . . . not bad! I went to the manager and told him,
"Monsieur, either you pay us what you owe us, or I'm going to write to your
superiors in Paris."
The next day, he called me into his office. "Okay, I'll pay you but not
the Polaks."
"No, either you pay everybody or I'm going to report you."
I realized, of course, that after this I could not stay on under any
circumstances. Finally, he gave me my missing back pay for seven months. The
Polish workers were afraid of losing their jobs so they settled for the one
hundred francs that had been "omitted" from their last wages. I said
good-bye and went on my way.
I knew that a former Russian soldier was the manager of a plant about
twelve miles from Laon that rented farm equipment out to the local farmers.
I got a job as a tractor driver and worked at harvesting the wheat near
Vervins. It was summer and the life was so pleasant that I didn't give a
thought to the treasure. When the harvesting was finished, I worked at
plowing with the same machine.
By now I had saved what I had planned on, but I decided to accumulate a
bit more. I didn't know Paris, and I was both attracted and intimidated. How
would I manage in that vast city with no friends or acquaintances? So when
the plowing was finished, I took a job in a nearby sugar-processing plant.
Toward the end of November, as I was going about my work one day, I saw two
foremen and two policemen approaching.
"Are you Sergei Orel? Do you have an identity card?" I gave him my
card. "Okay, get your belongings and come along."
"But why?"
"We have a warrant from Laon for your arrest. You are accused of
stealing." I was terrified.
"But there must be some mistake. I've stolen nothing."
"You can tell that to the judge. We are only carrying out our
instructions."
The gendarmes were riding bicycles, so I had to trot along between
them. They didn't handcuff me; they were quite decent to me, in fact.
It was a Saturday, so I had to spend two days in the police station
before I could be transferred to the Laon jail. The jail was in an ancient
monastery, with thick walls and long corridors. I was outraged at being held
as a suspect without trial, much less a sentence. According to the law, work
in prison is optional, but I was put to work as soon as I arrived. The
building was freezing cold-it hadn't been heated in centuries -- and was
almost unbearable once the sun had gone down. We were made to get into our
nightclothes and march double time over the cold stone floors to our
dormitory. Once we were inside, the doors were locked and nothing could move
the guards to open them. After several days, I was at last called before the
judge for a preliminary hearing. Before he said a word, I demanded to know
why I was being held.
He replied, "I have issued a warrant against you on a complaint that
you robbed a worker at the Maggi Dairy at Resigny."
The theft had supposedly occurred on a Sunday, over a month before; a
suitcase belonging to one of the workers had disappeared. I asked how I came
to be accused and the Judge informed me that the manager had suggested that
I was the guilty party.
I explained to the judge why the manager might wish to get even with
me, and that at the time of the theft I had been forty miles away from the
scene. To be absolutely sure of my alibi, I asked for a day so that I could
figure out exactly where I had been that Sunday. I sat up all night doping
it out, and by morning I had it all fitted together. At the time of the
alleged crime, I had been playing billiards with Cassart, a former military
policeman. I reported back to the judge and he promised to call Cassart.
Cassart backed me up, and twenty days after I had been arrested, the judge
let me go.
I was released just before Christmas. After that experience, with more
than twenty-five hundred francs in my pocket, life looked rosy. I took the
train for Paris and settled into a hotel near the Gare du Nord. I was
fascinated by Paris. For the first three days I hardly slept. I wanted to
see everything.
Then it was time to think about finding work and lodgings. I had the
address of a Russian who had worked at the Resigny dairy and was now working
at Joinville-le-Pont and lived on the Quai de la Marne. I moved into a small
hotel near him. I still had twenty-two hundred francs left after my Parisian
"extravagances." Instead of looking for a job right away, I decided to get a
driver's license. That way I would have a skill to sell instead of having to
apply as an unskilled worker.
In a month I had obtained my license both for pleasure driving and for
trucks and I found a job as a truck driver at a mill near Troyes. The pay
was good, although the work was hard. I had to load and unload hundred-pound
sacks of flour. I intended to keep the job for only a few months, as all I
needed was enough money to work out a scheme to get at the treasure. I would
spend everything I had, my money and my strength, to get my hands on that
treasure. I had had enough deprivation.
When I got back to Paris, I had almost five thousand francs, a good
suit and overcoat. I was quite presentable. Again I settled in
Joinville-le-Pont, which was then a charming little town. Since automobiles
were rare in those days, most Parisians spent Sundays and holidays in the
towns around Paris, especially Nogent-sur-Marne and ! Joinville,
where there were plenty of nice restaurants and [ taverns. I moved into a
little hotel and the man who a owned it became a good friend. He
only charged me sixteen francs a day for a very nice room and full board,
including wine.
I began to look up people I had known in Russia who were now living in
Paris, preferably civilians or acquaintances of my family. That took some
time, as there were an enormous number of Russians spread all over Paris. I
finally met the former district attorney of St. Petersburg, who had known
both my father and grandfather. He was almost fifty years older than I but
he seemed to enjoy my company. We met regularly to have dinner and to
gossip.
I began to realize that my friend knew many important Parisians. I
decided to tell him about the treasure after swearing him to reveal not a
word about it to anyone, even if he decided not to help me.
"I believe I can help you, though," he told me. "But, before
introducing you to the person I have in mind, I want you to understand that
he is a very important man and won't get mixed up in anything that could
hurt his reputation. But I have known him for a long time and he is very
pro-Russian, and I think he will help."
After I had given it some thought, I told him: "I don't think it is
necessary to tell him where the treasure came from. It would be wiser to
tell him that it had belonged to my family."
I saw him a few days later. "Everything is okay," he told me. "The
person I was telling you about is the Marquis de Navailles, chief of the
European department of the French Foreign Ministry. He will receive you in a
few days. If he agrees to help, under no circumstances offer him any reward.
He would kick you out."
A few days later I was ushered into the office of M. de Navailles. He
was a big man, with a ruddy complexion and exquisite manners, an
eighteenth-century aristocrat. I told him my tale. He agreed to help me "on
condition that your story is true." I assured him that no embarrassment
would come to him. He gave me a personal letter to the French ambassador at
Sofia, asking him to accept a package from me and to forward it to him. He
also gave me a letter to the police requesting a French passport for me.
That very day I received my passport and a visa for Bulgaria. The only
problem that remained was money, and somehow the former prosecutor found
another five thousand francs for me. I was on my way to the treasure.
i TOOK THE ORIENT EXPRESS for Bulgaria in January 1927. The winter had
been severe in France, and I was hoping it would be warmer in southern
Europe. But it was even colder there.
Hoping the weather would warm up, I delayed a few days in Sofia. But it
did not change and I had to keep moving to avoid arousing the suspicions of
the Bulgarian police, who took careful note of the arrival of every
foreigner. I couldn't stay in my hotel just doing nothing. So I told the
desk clerk, who was undoubtedly a police agent, that I had to go to Plovdiv,
the second most important city in the country, to look into the tobacco
market there. Plovdiv is on the railroad line to Burgas. I spent a day
purchasing my digging tools and work clothes and then continued on to
Burgas. I could definitely not spend more than twenty-four hours in Burgas
without arousing suspicion. Why would a foreigner come to such a small city,
where there was nothing to do, in the dead of winter?
I arrived in Burgas in the morning and spent almost the whole day
looking for a place to change my clothes. That night I went to the public
park near the beach, which was deserted at that hour. In an icy wind, I
changed into my work clothes, hopping up and down to keep from freezing. I
checked my street clothes at the railroad station, drank some hot coffee,
then set off to the first hiding place. It was growing colder and colder. In
spite of my warm clothing, I was trembling like a leaf. A strong wind bit my
face and slowed me down. I didn't reach even the nearest cache until nearly
midnight, and then it took me a half hour to locate it with a flashlight.
Everything was in order; no one had discovered our secret. I tested the
ground. It was frozen hard as a rock. I tried to dig, not at the actual
site, so as not to betray it, but a little distance away. Useless. It would
take dynamite to break the ground. I was furious that all my effort, my long
trip, had been in vain. I would return to Paris empty-handed.
In the morning, half-frozen, I returned to Burgas and took the train to
Sofia. Before returning to my hotel, I went to the public baths to change my
clothes. The frigid weather continued; there was no way of knowing when it
would end and I couldn't stay where I was. I returned to Paris.
My friend, the former prosecutor, was disappointed with me. I gave him
my passport and M. de Navailles' letter and asked him to explain to
Navailles why I had failed. I was worried about the money he had loaned me.
I did not know whether he had borrowed it from someone else. One night, as I
tossed and turned in bed trying to find a solution, I decided to go see my
former commander, General Postovsky, who was a great gambler. The next day I
went around and asked him to take me to his gambling club that evening. I
needed to make some profit on my last thousand francs.
"You've come at a bad time," he said. "I've had a losing streak for a
week and I've lost more than fifty thousand francs. All I have left is three
thousand. But if you wish, come along. I'll try, but I make no promises."
I gave him my wallet and he played baccarat for both of us. By 2 A.M.
he had won seventy thousand francs for himself and more than twenty thousand
for me. I practically had to drag him away from the table.
I returned the money I had borrowed and went to Join-ville to rest. I
regretted that I had been so precipitate. I should have waited for spring to
go to Bulgaria. The next expedition time I would plan more carefully. And I
would need a companion.
After a few days of relaxation, I decided to get started doing
something. I knew that Lieutenant General Rafalo-vitch, who was a former
commander of the Cossack cavalry and a good friend of my family, was living
in Brussels, He was a man of absolute integrity and loyalty. I went to see
him. He was very glad to see me but I did not tell him about the treasure
right away. I waited for about a month and then I told him the whole story.
He listened to me carefully.
"I have been expecting you to speak to me about this business. I've
heard some rumors about a war treasure taken out of Russia by General
Pokrovsky. They say that you know where it is. Some people even claim that
it has been in your possession since Pokrovsky's death. I am glad that you
have told me the true story. You must realize that you are in a very
delicate and dangerous position. If either the Reds or Whites ever become
convinced that you know where the treasure is, your life will be in danger.
They will kidnap you, torture you to obtain the secret, and then they will
kill you."
"I've thought of all that," I replied. "But that still wouldn't give
them any chance at all of finding the treasure. Even if I gave someone a
detailed description of the general location, they still couldn't find the
exact spot without digging up the entire area, about twelve square miles.
Once I was dead, no one could find it."
"All right," he said, "I'm convinced. But what are you going to do?" I
explained in detail my plan to recover the treasure and what I intended to
do with it afterward. He asked for a few days to think it over.
When I returned, he said, "I have concluded that you are right. I agree
that it would not be wise to talk to the Russian authorities in Paris. In
the first place, they couldn't do anything without your help. And once they
got their hands on it, it would disappear. Like you, I am against any
attempt to attack the Bolsheviks from abroad. Furthermore, I believe you
have demonstrated a right to the treasure. Keep me advised. I will try to
help. But you must be careful; you will be in bad trouble if word gets
around."
It was the spring of 1927 and it was to be two years before I found
just the right man. During those two years in Brussels I became
administrative director of the famous Russian chorus, the Cossacks of Kuban.
One day in Brussels I saw a man on the street dressed in the costume of the
Kuban Cossacks. I could not believe my eyes -- for as he came closer, I
recognized George Vinnikov, a great old pal who had been in my regiment. We
went into a cafe and he told me his story. Because he had had musical
training, in Yugoslavia the ataman of the Kuban Cossacks, General Naoumenko,
had commissioned him to form a Cossack choir. For several years the choir
had remained in Yugoslavia but eventually it began to receive invitations to
perform abroad. They were in Brussels to give three concerts. Naturally, I
attended the opening night. The next day at lunch, Vinnikov remarked: "It
would be so much more convenient if we had someone who knew this part of
Europe and could speak the languages. I know only a bit of French and the
rest speak nothing but Russian. We always have to find a translator." Then
out of the blue, he said: "We need someone exactly like you. How about being
our director?" I was taken by surprise and told him that I didn't know
anything about that sort of business. "And," I said, "right now I don't have
the kind of money to do a lot of traveling, and that would be necessary,
wouldn't it?"
"Yes," he replied, "you would have to be our advance man, make all the
arrangements, sign contracts, and so forth. But, naturally, you would be
paid the same salary as I, and your expenses would be taken care of." I
explained my difficulties with the police. "Listen, Nicholas," he replied,
"I have known you for a long time and I know that you are incapable of
dishonesty. We would be honored to have you." I agreed on condition that
General Naoumenko give his approval, and I wrote him explaining my
situation. Two weeks later I received a letter from the general confirming
my appointment. I contacted all the great impresarios of Europe and arranged
manv appearances. The choir was a great success everywhere.
In 1929, a construction engineer of Russian descent, a man named Arian,
introduced me to a Belgian diplomat, Baron K., a counselor at the Belgian
embassy in a neighboring country. He had been stationed in St. Petersburg as
a young man and had married a Russian woman. He agreed to help me get the
treasure out of Bulgaria.
Arian knew only the bare outlines of the plan and I assured his silence
by promising him a generous commission. Unfortunately, I did not realize
that his business was in trouble and that he was deeply in debt. Our plan
was for the baron to go to Bulgaria after me, receive a suitcase from me
containing part of the treasure, and take it out of the country in the
diplomatic pouch. In a few days he had obtained a passport and a Bulgarian
visa for me under the name of Nansen. I was to leave first. We would
register at different hotels in Sofia. I would proceed to Burgas, return to
Sofia, meet the baron at the Belgian legation, and give him my suitcase.
I arrived in Sofia and waited four days, but there was no sign of the
baron. I was frantic. At the legation I finally found a message. He had
fallen ill en route and was in Belgrade. He asked me to wait in Sofia, as he
hoped the doctor would allow him to move in two or three days. Four days
later, another message arrived: he was worse and had to return to Brussels.
He promised to continue our business when he had recovered.
This was a terrible blow. I went back immediately and visited the
baron's bedside. He was very upset that he had been unable to complete his
voyage. He promised again that we would resume our mission as soon as
possible. I went to see Arian, who was very cool to me. I could not
understand until he finally blurted out: "You know I don't believe a word of
this story of the baron's sickness. I think this was a diplomatic illness. I
think you carried off the affair and are keeping it from me so that you
won't have to pay me my share."
"You are out of your mind," I told him. "Even if you don't believe me,
do you really think the baron would risk his reputation and career for a few
pennies? Go ask him yourself."
I learned later that he had indeed gone to the baron, who had thrown
him out of the house.
A week later I was arrested on a charge of suspicion of swindling.
Arian had brought an accusation against me to the Belgian police. The story
was all over the papers.
I protested, of course, but I was held for thirty days. Six months
later, the case was dismissed for lack of evidence, but my reputation was
ruined. No end of false stories had appeared in the Belgian press and the
police had sent inquiries about me to a number of other countries. There was
nothing on the books against me anywhere, but I was labeled undesirable and
effectively barred from several countries forever. This was a ghastly
situation for a stateless person.
I had not a cent, no means of leaving the country much less reaching
Bulgaria. I was near the end of my rope when I found a jeweler who was
willing to lend me the twenty thousand francs I needed for my next
expedition. I put it in a bank while I made my preparations and waited for
my chance to go back to Bulgaria.
Then one morning I received a summons to appear before the police. I
was accused once again of swindling. The jeweler had decided that I might be
going to skip out with his money, and instead of asking for it back, he had
gone straight to the police. When I heard what the accusation was, I
immediately wrote him out a check, but I was condemned to a month in prison
anyhow. I appealed the sentence, but the appeals court sustained the
sentence w absentia since I was out of the country at the time. When
J
I returned, I found that I was to be deported. I had either to leave
immediately or face an indeterminate sentence.
I was desperate to get hold of some money and a passport that would get
me into Bulgaria. I wrote a friend of mine, a former Russian officer who was
living in Switzerland, and asked him if there was any way I could borrow
fifty thousand Belgian francs. I promised to pay him back double that
amount. He was an old friend and I knew he would trust me. He wrote back
that he didn't have such a sum but knew someone who would lend it to me if
he guaranteed the loan. He would arrange for me to meet this person in
France.
I entered France via Luxembourg and had a meeting with this man. A few
days later the money came; I was obliged to return it in three months. Now I
had to obtain a real passport, not a forged one. I had heard that this could
be arranged at some of the consulates in Berlin. I went there with a Belgian
woman friend. She suggested that she go around to the consulates. They might
be nicer to her than to me.
I waited for her all one day while she inquired around. Finally, she
returned. "Done," she said. "You have your passport." She had been to a
half-dozen consulates. When she had told them that she wanted a passport for
a friend, some of the officials had simply laughed at her, others were
angered. She was ready to come back empty-handed when she had passed a sign
that said "Consulate of Panama." She had decided to give it one more try.
The consul had received her courteously and listened to her. He finally told
her to have me come in person. I was leery of a trap but there was nothing
else I could think of to do.
He was very hospitable. As character witnesses, I was able to give him
the names of two persons living in Berlin whom he knew. A few days later I
received my passport, for which I paid thirty thousand Belgian francs.
There was no question of entering Bulgaria officially, since the
passport carried my real name. I went to the Yugoslav border town of
Zajecar, hoping to find someone to get me across the border. I finally found
two men who agreed for three thousand dinars. Meanwhile, I stayed with my
uncle, who was a supervisor at the copper mines about eighteen miles away.
One day the men who were to smuggle me across saw my wallet bulging with
money. They exchanged glances, and I decided I had to be more cautious.
At last, we set out one midnight, walking for a couple of hours.
Finally, my guides told me we were three miles inside Bulgaria and it was
time for me to pay up. I handed over the money, and while they were counting
it, put my hand on the pistol in my coat pocket. As I had half expected,
they both pulled knives and demanded my money, watch and ring. I made a
motion as if I were reaching for my wallet, but instead pulled my gun and
put a bullet in each of their heads, then I ran like hell. About a half mile
farther on I threw my pistol into a stream. As I was walking along the road
to Vidin, following the course of the Danube, I ran into a patrol of five
policemen who demanded to know why I had fired my gun. I answered that I did
not even have a gun. They searched me but decided to take me to Vidin for
questioning anyhow. This arrest put an end to my elaborate plans.
Of course, I denied that I had anything to do with killing the two men,
whose bodies had since been discovered, and the police admitted freely that
they were not really concerned about that. They were just as happy to have
two fewer smugglers to worry about. After two days, I was transferred to the
prison in Sofia. The police there were most anxious to know whether I had
entered Bulgaria illegally. I made up an elaborate story which they did not
believe. The fact was I had mailed my Panamanian passport to General
Delivery in Burgas and by this time it had already been returned to
Brussels.
It was a disaster. The man who had loaned me his money, not having
heard from me for so long, had naturally concluded that I had run off with
it and he denounced me to the police. A short time later he died.
When I finally got back to Switzerland by way of Yugoslavia, I was
arrested and extradited to France. Later, I was cleared of the charge he had
made.
I was getting desperate. I would do anything to reach the treasure. I
decided that the first thing I needed was a good lawyer. Through an
acquaintance I was recommended to one in The Hague. I sold a camera and my
gold watch to get the money to visit him. I will call him simply Leon. We
struck up a friendship right off the bat. After I had told him the whole
story, including my problems with the law, he said he would help me. He was
quite rich and did not need any money. I believe the romantic, adventurous
side of the undertaking appealed to him. He agreed to finance my first
expedition; after that, I would have enough money to pay for a hundred.
19 Leon
IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER and we decided to get started right away.
We had a simple and workable plan. We would go by train to Constanza in
Rumania and sail from there to Constantinople. I had not been in Turkey for
a long time and, we hoped, would not be recognized. I was to stay in
Constantinople for a few days, and then take the boat alone to Burgas, do my
job, and telegraph Leon in Constantinople. He would get on the Orient
Express, which goes through Bulgaria on its way to Paris, having wired me in
care of General Delivery at Plovdiv. I would be waiting at that station and
would pass the package to him. In those days the Orient Express was all
first class and the border guards treated the passengers with deference; his
bags would not be opened until he reached Paris, and he would get off before
that. I would take a boat up the Danube and meet him in Lausanne. The day of
my departure arrived. The boat, the Bulgaria, was in the middle of the
Bosporus, and I was the only passenger. I was rowed out by some Turkish
sailors. The sea --was so rough that I almost lost my passport as I climbed
the ladder to get on board. Since I was supposed to be a Panamanian, I could
not speak Russian or show that I understood Bulgarian. I managed to
communicate with the crew in German and English.
When I arrived in Burgas, I checked into a hotel and let it be known
that I was waiting three days for the departure of my boat from Routschouk.
I spent my first day there on the beach and that night went fishing. (This
would explain my overnight absence from the hotel the following night.) I
decided to go after the treasure on the second day.
That night was warm and there was a full moon. I got to the hiding
place nearest the city about i A.M. After digging for about an hour and a
half, I found the cases. We had marked them to indicate the contents. The
first contained jewels. The next contained securities and English currency.
I took the jewels and papers and replaced the cases, and covered over
the trenches so that no one could tell that there had been any digging. I
returned to Burgas without incident .and buried my tools on the beach. I
knew it would be difficult to get back into the hotel without arousing
suspicion about my package, since I had departed empty-handed to "go
fishing." So I left the package at the door, and as I entered I asked the
desk clerk to fetch me a bottle of wine. Then I ran back for the package,
carried it to my room, and hid it under the bed.
Next I wired Leon as agreed, and by evening I had his answer. He would
pass through Plovdiv in two days. Now was my first opportunity to examine
what I had. There were beautiful jewels, about one hundred grams of cut but
unset diamonds, about one hundred foreign bonds, and twenty-five thousand
pounds sterling in currency.
The next day I took the train to Plovdiv. I went to the station the
next day and saw Leon debark from the train. This was the moment of danger:
I had to pass the bags to him inconspicuously. He took them and said,
"Everything is all right. I sent the steward for a bottle of mineral water."
This was our entire conversation. It was ten days before I saw him again, in
Lausanne. When he arrived there he had deposited the treasure in a bank. The
operation had been a marvelous success -- but it was not over yet. We had to
exchange the money and sell the bonds and the jewels. Leon was a tremendous
help because he had so many contacts. All this took two months, but brought
us a handsome sum.
When the expedition had finally worked out so well, I went back to
Brussels illegally and renewed contact with some old and faithful friends.
Naturally I shared some of my wealth with the Cossacks of Kuban. But nothing
lasts forever. Several years later my friend Lieutenant Vin-nikov, founder
and guiding spirit of the choir, fell ill and died in Brussels, and without
him the choir split up into several groups. A quintet managed by the
talented Svet-lanov brothers from the chorus enjoyed some success in Europe
for a number of years, but that was the end of the Cossacks of Kuban.
After our successful expedition in Bulgaria Leon and I traveled a good
deal, particularly to Vienna, our favorite city, but also to Berlin, Prague
and Budapest. While we were enjoying ourselves, however, we never lost sight
of the fact that we were going to recover the rest of the treasure. We had
long since decided that the only effective way to get at it was to go to
Bulgaria as tourists on a yacht and that we would have to buy one, rather
than rent it, so that we wouldn't be saddled with a crew we couldn't trust.
We searched for the right vessel for over a month and grew discouraged.
One was too large, another too small. One day Leon received a letter from a
friend in Rotterdam telling him that the kind of boat he was looking for was
anchored at Cannes. We went there immediately and fell in love with the
yacht at first sight. Leon went to England and bought it, retaining its
registration, which was Panamanian. Many yachts had this registration, but
it was a lucky detail because of my passport. It was perfect for us. It had
two powerful engines, six cabins and quarters for a crew of five.
It took us two months to get ready. The most complicated task was to
find a reliable crew. We put together an international team: three Dutch
sailors, a German mechanic and his wife, who would serve as maid, a Russian
cook and an English captain. Leon deliberately chose a crew who did not
understand French so that we could talk freely. We took on board a great
supply of all sorts of provisions and invited two beautiful women we knew to
add the proper touch of posing as rich tourists on a cruise.
We departed in midsummer, sailing at a leisurely pace. We stayed at
Naples for three days and visited the famous Blue Grotto on the isle of
Capri to please our companions, and a few days later we stopped for a few
hours at Lem-nos, where I had had so many adventures, to buy some fruit and
fresh bread. After a two-day stopover at Constantinople we headed toward the
Bulgarian coast. First, we anchored at Varna, a larger and more pleasant
city than Burgas, as it might have looked suspicious if we had gone directly
to Burgas, bypassing a tourist attraction like Varna. We spent a week there,
lolling on the beach.
Finally, we headed for Burgas. The customs officials did not bother us;
they were concerned only with those who actually arrived in port. We moved
back and forth from the boat with sacks and bags to get them used to our
moving about. I found my tools where I had buried them on the first
expedition. To explain our overnight absence to the ladies and the captain,
we said that we were going to visit Russian friends of mine who lived
inland.
We set out early the first evening. I carried my Mauser, though Leon
was unarmed. Even though the first hiding place was still half full, I
decided to go straight to the second, and we got there about 11 P.M. An hour
later, we had finished. But I was only able to take out about half the
valuables because Leon was scared and kept urging me to hurry. I realized
that for the next expedition I would need a different kind of man; you can't
ask a bourgeois lawyer to be an adventurer, specially when the affair had
little or no heroism to it. We were back at the seashore at about 2 A.M. and
had located the place where I was planning to hide the tools. We buried the
tools and rested a while. Then we started out at a leisurely pace. We didn't
want to get to town too early.
After walking for about ten minutes, we heard "stoi" ("halt"). That's
it, I said to myself, the customs police. I had forgotten that the customs
would patrol that part of the beach at night since it was an ideal spot for
smugglers to land. The voice came from the brush at the edge of the beach. I
sized up the situation immediately: if we remained on the beach we were done
for. I told Leon to follow me and ran for the cover of the brush. We heard
the order to halt again but by this time we were hidden. We were each
carrying a bag full of valuables. "Run toward the town and wait for me near
the station," I said to Leon. I decided to fire on the police if they
pursued us. A few seconds later, the customs man (who, as I had surmised,
was alone) fired in the air; I fired two shots in his direction and he
apparently decided to leave us alone.
I reached Burgas without any trouble and found Leon at a bistro near
the station. He was gray. "I'm not a Cossack, you know," he told me. We
bought a few pieces of fruit and some vegetables and put them into our
sacks. When we passed the customs officials at the port, they greeted us as
casually as usual, and we reached the boat without any difficulty. I put the
sacks into a storage space near my cabin that I always kept closed. No one
noticed them.
We spent the next day on the beach and the following day we left Burgas
for Constantinople. We decided that we had to be alone to take inventory of
what we had, so we put the women off the boat in Trieste, in spite of their
tears and protests, and gave them money to go back to Brussels. We cruised
around the boot of Italy and left the boat at San Remo, then made our way to
Switzerland by train. Once again, thanks to his connections, Leon was able
to sell everything. After our business"was done, Leon had to return to The
Hague to take care of some business.
Even after I had given away about three-quarters of the money from my
last expedition, I still had quite a bit. However, I knew that war was
imminent and I was determined to get back to Bulgaria as soon as possible.
Leon tried to dissuade me, listing all the difficulties that the tense
political situation would create. I knew he was right, but I couldn't accept
a quiet life. He offered to lend me whatever I needed to get established in
Brussels, but I could not undertake any legitimate business, since I had no
legal documents with my real name. I decided to go to Bulgaria one more
time. Alone.
AT THE END OF FEBRUARY of 1939 I set out by train for Naples, and went
from there to Constantinople by ship. Then I had to figure out some way of
getting into Bulgaria. I met an old acquaintance there by chance, the
ex-police chief of my hometown. He imported hams from Bulgaria and he went
back and forth to Burgas all the time. The hams were shipped on Turkish
feluccas, which sailed to Sozopol, a city south of Burgas, to collect wood.
Of course, he knew the captains of all these boats, so I had him introduce
me to a couple and I made arrangements to go to Burgas on one boat and come
back on another.
The morning I arrived in Burgas I found the fourth hiding place, the
closest one to where we had landed. Everything came off without a hitch. As
before, I took only part of what was buried. This time I managed three of
the six cases, as well as three unopened cases in each of the other three
hiding places -- twelve cases in all, still a sizable fortune. The felucca I
was to return on was not ready to leave, so for the next five days I helped
load it. We got back to Constantinople without incident and I managed to
slip by customs. I still had my room in the Pera Palace Hotel.
I had so many valuables with me that I thought it would be prudent to
deposit some of them, mainly the stocks and some of the diamonds, in a bank
vault and plan to come back for them later, and so I did this. I was worried
that I would be thoroughly searched at customs in Naples. That did not turn
out to be the case, surprisingly, and I made my way peacefully to Leon's
home in The Hague. He was grateful to see me safe and sound, and confessed
that he had been very concerned. However, he refused to go back to
Constantinople to recover what I had put in the bank, which put me in a very
difficult position. Convinced that war was imminent, I wrote to the bank and
asked them to advise me how I could authorize a person to open my safe
deposit box. They wrote back with instructions on how to proceed. Leon still
refused to go, so I had to go to Constantinople by myself. He advised me to
find a buyer, at least for the diamonds; I could leave the stocks in the
Constantinople branch office of any of the major European banks.
At Anvers I located a diamond merchant who agreed to make the trip, and
who was ready to buy the diamonds from me on the spot. I drove across
Germany, Austria, and Hungary and as far as Belgrade with my new Belgian
girl friend. The merchant, who was Jewish, didn't want to travel through
these countries, so he took the Orient Express and met us in Belgrade. We
all spent a very pleasant evening the first night we were there and then
agreed to meet early the next morning. My girl friend and I arrived on time
for our appointment. But the diamond merchant was late, and when he arrived
he acted very disturbed and announced that he had to return home
immediately. I protested vigorously, but then, because I knew that his
concern had to do with the persecution of the Jews by the Germans, I did not
insist further.
I phoned Leon to tell him that I would have to return to The Hague
because the merchant could not continue on with me. He told me instead to go
to Budapest and that he would join me there. So my girl and I went there and
settled into a hotel in the heart of the city, on the charming island in the
Danube. The manager knew me, since I had stayed there several times before.
One day, I saw him wearing an army officer's uniform and when I asked him
about it, he explained that the political situation was very grave and that
the government had mobilized some of the reservists. That evening he came to
our room and advised me to leave the country immediately. "If war breaks
out," he said, "you will be stuck here, and if America comes in, you are
bound to be interned." We decided that this was good advice and that we
should leave immediately. If war did break out and I was caught with a phony
passport, I could be arrested as a spy. We left Budapest on August 25, 1939,
one week before the war began. It took us a long time to reach the
Luxembourg border. All the roads in Austria and Germany were clogged with
military convoys. When we finally reached the Moselle and the bridge that
connects Luxembourg and Germany, a nasty surprise was waiting for us. No one
was being permitted across. We had to sit there all day before we were
finally allowed to go over. The next day we reached Brussels. Immediately I
went to the beautiful apartment I had there, furnished with rare Russian
books, icons, and other objets d'art. An old girl friend was living there as
housekeeper, since she was out of work. I decided I'd better stay off the
streets, as there were all sorts of rumors about German parachutists and
spies and I did not want to take the chance of being taken for one. Then I
had a piece of bad luck (or was it good fortune in disguise?). The woman who
had traveled with me to Budapest phoned to say that her stepfather, who was
a French citizen, had just been mobilized and was to return right away to
France. She very much wanted me to meet him before he left and, against my
better judgment, I agreed. I walked the half mile that separated my
apartment from hers and when I was almost there, three men approached and
showed me their badges. One said: "Police. Let me have your papers, please."
When I reached into my pocket, my heart almost stopped. My passport was
not there. I had not taken the time to transfer it from another coat. But I
couldn't tell the police that, because I was renting the apartment under a
different name from the one on the passport. The only thing I could think of
to do was to say I had left it at my hotel. The police said I had better
come along to the station house and explain everything to the officer in
charge. They would send someone to my hotel to find the passport. But when I
got to the magistrate, I decided I had better tell the truth, especially
since he knew me. "This is going to cost you a month in jail," he said,
"since you have already been formally expelled from the country once." So I
found myself in jail again, cursing my carelessness.
The next day I appeared before the judge to be arraigned. Much to my
surprise, he greeted me cheerfully. When I asked him why he was so cheerful,
he replied that he had just signed a warrant for my arrest on a charge of
swindling. "Do you know Mr. ----?" It was the diamond merchant. Now it
dawned on me why he had left so precipitately in Belgrade. An associate of
his had gone to the police looking for information about me. Needless to
say, he had found out that I had been accused of swindling twice and had
been expelled from Belgium. He had warned his friend to get away from me as
soon as possible. Since the diamond merchant had not suffered any losses at
my hands, he was willing to drop the whole matter. But the law followed its
inexorable course. The judge had presented an indictment on the grounds that
I had wished to swindle the man and I was sentenced to eighteen months in
prison. I appealed, and that charge was finally dismissed; but I was still
charged and convicted of using a false name when I had written to the
merchant.
To add to my woes, I received another sentence of four months in prison
for something I had not done. It had all begun a year before when I met a
pretty girl one evening at the movies. I had walked her home and we had
agreed to meet again. A few days later, we went to see another film that was
restricted to adults. When she was asked for her identity card, she said she
had forgotten it and so I guaranteed the ticket taker that she was nineteen,
which is what she had told me. Later, as we were having a drink in a cafe, I
caught a glimpse of her card when she opened her pocketbook. I was shocked
to see that she was only sixteen, and decided not to see her again. (Belgian
law is very strict on the corruption of minors.) I told her I was going off
on a long trip. Then one day while I was serving my sentence in prison in
Brussels, I was called to court and there she was. She had testified that I
had seduced her. I learned only later that she had bragged to her friends
about having had an affair with a rich foreigner and that one of her friends
had told her parents, and that they had gone to the police. Having started
the whole mess with lies, she couldn't stop lying now. I was found guilty.
As the war began to rage in earnest, food grew scarce and life in
prison was a nightmare. We were given only a little bread with some
margarine melted into it and warm water. I became so undernourished that my
legs and feet swelled up horribly and I had to be transferred to the prison
hospital. The food was better there and after a month I was all right. I was
told by the police that I was to be detained even after my sentence ran out,
because I was considered a menace to the public order.
Each day we strolled in the prison courtyard, I saw members of the
Gestapo. They had taken over part of the jail for their own prisoners. I