“Or Russian gold?” Summer said.
Finlay led them past several rows of safe-deposit boxes and a large cash safe to a caged area at the back. An aged iron gate had been opened, exposing a large stack of wooden crates. The two soldiers were inside retrieving another crate and squeezed past the group.
“Romanov gold, to be precise,” Finlay said, answering Summer’s question.
“Brought here so the Bank of England could deny possession?” Trehorne asked.
“That’s my understanding. The gold was shipped out of Russia and transferred to the HMS Sentinel under great secrecy. The Sentinel brought it here for temporary safekeeping, pending transfer to England. But two things happened. Public protests in St. Petersburg increased, leading to the Tsar’s abdication. And the Sentinel was sunk, just days after delivering the gold. Those in the know in England generally believed the Sentinel was lost with the gold aboard. The Anglo-Egyptian Bank manager in Gibraltar and a Bank of England regional representative cut a deal to hold the gold here, pending clarification of the political situation in Russia.” He shook his head. “I’ve been told that the Bank of England representative was killed when his ship was torpedoed on the return to England.”
Trehorne rubbed his chin. “So even the Bank of England was in the dark?”
“Until about two weeks ago, when we notified the governor of the bank and requested they provide transfer and security.”
“Who else knew?” Summer asked.
“Virtually no one outside of Gibraltar. The Queen and the Prime Minister were reportedly shocked at the news. They hope, of course, to keep the gold’s existence a secret.”
“Fat chance, in this day and age,” Dirk said. “Where’s it headed?”
“The Army is moving it to the airport for a military flight to London. It will be stored in the government’s gold repository in downtown London, under Threadneedle Street.”
Summer looked to Finlay. “How did you know today was the day?”
“We had a draft copy of the treaty in our files, so we’re well aware of the termination date. You can imagine my shock when you entered the bank yesterday, followed by the Russians.”
“A very close shave,” Trehorne said.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Because you didn’t have a signed copy of the treaty?” Perlmutter asked.
“Exactly,” Finlay said. “We had no legal standing until today, when the Russians brought us the signed copy. Now we have proof of the treaty’s ratification. The British government can thank you for that.”
“What of the other elements of the treaty?” Dirk said. “Will the government make a claim for the lost mineral rights?”
“Who’s to say? It would make Great Britain the richest nation in the world if those rights were ever acknowledged. But the Russians would sooner declare war, I suppose. It will probably be swept aside in the name of diplomatic secrecy. A pity for you, actually.”
“Why’s that?” Summer asked.
“Otherwise, I suspect honorary knighthood from the Queen would have been in order for you all.”
“Knighthood?” Trehorne said. “My, now, that would have been something.”
Summer shook her head at the thought. “May we see the gold?”
“Certainly.” Finlay led them into the cage and to one of the crates. He pried off the lid and exposed a solid bank of shiny gold bars, identical to the one Summer had found on the Canterbury. Finlay passed one around, letting each person admire it.
“There’s also a crate or two of uncut gemstones in the mix,” Finlay said.
Summer was the last to examine the gold and lost her grip as she handed it back to the banker. The heavy bar clinked as it struck the floor.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Finlay. It’s not every day I let a billion dollars slip through my fingers.”
“Quite all right.” He retrieved the bar. “I can imagine your disappointment after a long and difficult hunt to locate the gold.”
“It made for a few sleepless nights,” she said.
As they made their way back to the lobby, she noticed Dirk was smiling. “You seem a bit happy, given the circumstances.”