Page 23 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mystery #11)
WEDNESDAY MORNING
The man from Switzerland was true to his word.
At exactly ten twenty, there was a final beep from the machine followed by a solid clunk.
The technician spun the handle and the safe door swung open.
The door and walls were about four inches thick and I could see how difficult it would have been for a thief to get in without destroying the contents – and probably half the villa as well.
This had been built to withstand most things.
Virgilio and I stood there and studied the contents closely while the technician set about packing his tools away as if safe cracking were the most normal occupation in the world.
I wondered idly how much he would be able to make if he ever decided to embrace the dark side.
There were three shelves inside the safe and just about the first thing I spotted on the top shelf was a yellow and brown cigar box, roughly the size of a big book.
Alongside it was a little pile of five shiny gold bars, each roughly the size of a pack of cards.
Next to these were a number of jewellery boxes and clear plastic bags containing different-coloured precious stones.
The middle shelf held a pile of documents, while on the bottom shelf, there were three large gold ingots, each almost the size of a packet of biscuits.
I wondered how much these might be worth – certainly these alone fully justified the installation of such a secure safe.
Virgilio reached in and picked up a handful of the documents.
On top of them all was a long envelope and I heard him give a grunt of satisfaction.
He held it up and I could see that it had Casper handwritten on it.
‘This looks like David Berg’s will.’ He set it down on top of the safe and started flicking through the other documents.
I grabbed the rest of the pile in my gloved hands and started to go through them.
It didn’t take long to realise that they were mostly certificates of authentication, in particular, certificates attesting to the place of origin of each of the jewels and precious metals in the safe.
My eye happened on a certificate headed Emirates Gold , confirming the authenticity of a 99.
9 per cent pure gold bullion bar with a weight of 400 troy ounces.
I had no idea what this meant in real terms so I squatted down and lifted one of the gold bars on the bottom shelf – and it wasn’t easy.
I pulled it out and weighed it in my hand, reckoning that it had to be at least ten kilos.
That meant that this relatively small piece of metal weighed the same as half a dozen full bottles of wine, if not more.
This meant that these three bars amounted to at least thirty kilos of pure gold.
These plus the smaller gold bars and the gemstones were the proof that Berg had been a very, very wealthy man.
I replaced the gold bar and glanced at the envelope marked Casper on top of the safe.
Who was going to inherit the gold and all the other stuff belonging to David Berg?
I returned the pile of papers to the middle shelf and glanced across at Virgilio. ‘All right with you if I take a look inside Jacobs’s cigar box? I’m dying to see what’s in it.’
‘Go for it. I’m keen to see for myself.’
I picked up the cigar box and brought it out.
It was double the size of the big gold ingots – almost as big as the T-bone steak we had eaten at the weekend – but it weighed far less than the ingots.
I set it down on the desk and opened the lid, noting the wording Montecristo No.
4 on the top as I did so. Inside, there was a layer of cotton wool and when I delicately pulled this out of the way, I was almost dazzled by the blaze of reflected light that emanated from the box.
There, in front of me, was a jumbled mass of diamonds in all shapes and sizes ranging from one as big as a broad bean to others little bigger than grains of rice.
There must have been several hundred diamonds in there.
Some were lighter, some darker, some so rough, they looked little more than random seaside pebbles, but most were crystal clear – literally.
I was impressed to hear even the hitherto reserved Swiss technician gasp in amazement, and the uniformed officer at the door took a step nearer to admire the contents of the box.
Only Oscar, happily snoozing by the window, failed to be impressed. Now, if it had been a T-bone steak…
‘So that’s what three hundred thousand euros looks like.
’ There was awe in Virgilio’s voice. He picked up his phone and called the questura , asking for Forensics to send a team as soon as possible.
Putting his phone down again, he looked up.
‘I want fingerprints from everything, particularly the cigar box. If we find prints belonging to Jacobs, that might help his case in establishing his ownership of the diamonds – not that it’ll do him much good now, poor man. ’
‘Then what happens to this stuff? Do you take it away? Does it go into a bank vault?’ I glanced at the Swiss technician. ‘What if we left it here? Can you give us the combination or can we set a new one?’
‘When I opened the safe, all settings automatically returned to default factory settings. That means that the combination is ABCD12345. It’s easy to set a new combination with the door open, using a combination of nine letters or numbers.
I would suggest that if you change the combination, the contents of the safe will probably be more secure left where they are.
This is one of our top-of-the-range models and I doubt if there’s anybody else in Europe who could open it.
’ His tone wasn’t boastful; he was just stating a fact.
Virgilio nodded. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea. I very much doubt if the questore would have wanted the responsibility of transporting and looking after hundreds of thousands of euros’ worth of jewels and gold.’
A thought occurred to me. ‘What about the family? Are you planning on letting them take a look?’
Virgilio shook his head decisively. ‘No, I don’t want any more people than necessary poking around in here. We have to talk to them about their father’s will and we can give them a rough idea of what’s in the safe at that stage. How heavy do you reckon those big gold bars are?’
‘At least ten kilos. They weigh much more than you’d think.’
The Swiss technician cleared his throat.
‘If you don’t mind my butting in, gentlemen, I think you’ll find those are standard bullion bars, 400 troy ounces each, and they weigh just under twelve and a half kilos each.
’ He paused to do some rapid mental arithmetic.
‘Three of those at today’s gold price add up to roughly two and a half million euros, Swiss francs or US dollars.
The smaller one-kilo bars on the top shelf are worth about sixty thousand euros each. ’
Virgilio and I exchanged looks. On that basis, the five smaller gold bars added up to three hundred thousand euros, presumably the payment that Jacobs had handed over in exchange for the diamonds in the box.
Virgilio whistled in amazement. ‘So with Jacobs’s diamonds, plus the extra three hundred thousand in gold, plus however much all these other gemstones are worth, that makes a total of well over three million euros sitting here.
’ Virgilio turned to the technician. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d show me how to set the new combination now.
The sooner we get this door locked again, the happier I’ll be.
’ He switched his attention to the young constable.
‘And Linetti, I want you to keep your lips firmly sealed about what you’ve just seen.
Am I clear? Not even to your mother. The last thing we need is for a bunch of local villains to descend on this place looking for treasure. ’
After the safe door had once again been locked, Virgilio picked up the envelope presumably containing David Berg’s will and turned to me. ‘Shall we take Oscar for a little walk in the garden?’
The magic word immediately had Oscar on his feet and heading for the door.
Virgilio shook hands with the technician and thanked him, leaving Constable Linetti to drive him back to the airport as soon as the Swiss had finished collecting all his bits and pieces.
Virgilio and I followed Oscar down the stairs and let ourselves out of the front door.
David Berg’s garden was a large one, divided into different levels supported by dry stone walls, and we followed a path that wound its way up through the olive trees and aromatic rosemary shrubs.
Once we were suitably far from curious ears, we sat down on one of the walls and Virgilio turned to me.
The Swiss technician wasn’t the only one to have been doing some mental arithmetic.
‘At a rough guess, I reckon this house has to be worth at least two or three million euros, probably more. In the safe, there’s at least that amount or more, plus there’s the shop on the Ponte Vecchio and its contents.
David Berg was a very wealthy man.’ He held up the envelope. ‘Let’s see who gets all his money.’
He slit the end of the envelope with a penknife, slid out the contents and confirmed to me that this was indeed the old man’s will, accompanied by a covering letter.
The will was written in Italian and Virgilio read it out loud.
It contained few surprises. There was a sum of ten thousand euros to be paid to Signora Ines Bianchi for her years as what Berg described as ‘a faithful servant’, and the rest of his considerable fortune was to be divided equally between his three children.
When he had finished reading, Virgilio caught my eye.