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BELGRADE
I THE LONG VERSION
Friday 8th February 1923
Belgrade Central: We breakfast early so that we’re ready to disembark from the Express on arrival at Belgrade. Soon enough the train begins to slow; we look out of the windows to see the convergence of the Sava and Danube rivers and the city itself, dark and brooding, squatting beneath a blanket of fog and woodsmoke. At 9.0 a.m, exactly on time, the train pulls into the station. The station signs read Железничка станица Београд Центар in Serbian cryillic, and Železnička stanica Beograd Centar in Latinized text. In simple English, this is Belgrade Central.
Surprise: We alight from the train to the platform and are delighted to see a familiar smiling face. “Guten tag, mein fruend!”, Ludwig enthusiastically shook hands with George Banks. The rest of the company warmly extend their greetings too. Banks was becoming the master of disappearing from the train on undisclosed business and re-appearing at unexpected moments. We haven’t seen Banks since our late night sojourn around Zagreb. Or was he really there? Did any of us really go there?
Hubert? We introduced Banks to our new companion, Father Mika. Banks enquired about the notable absence of Hubert Black. We inform Banks that Hubert’s state of mind became increasingly fragile until he finally broke. Hubert was returning to England in the company of a trusted ally to convalesce. This same ally, Jazmina Moric, was also arranging for a strongbox of recently acquired items to be forwarded to a Dr Jordanov in Sofia. But first we have business here, in Belgrade.
Petar Richtig: As with other passengers, as soon as the porters unload our luggage we find ourselves surrounded by a press of youths all offering their services. We don’t understand most of the shouting; not until a clear, though accented, voice calls out to us in English. “Let me help you. My name is Petar Richtig. I will get you to a hotel”. Obviously well practised in these proceedings, Petar has our luggage whisked away to a waiting taxi—a large vehicle big enough to fit us all. Before we realise we haven’t agreed yet to any assistance, we are taken to the Hotel Moskva by our new guide (obviously compensated by the Moskva for doing so) where we check ourselves in to three partitioned suites. Normally expecting just a few dinar, Letty is over-generous in rewarding Petar by pressing a crisp five pound sterling note into his hand. The gleeful youth responds with an offer to be our guide and translator throughout our stay—for further payment of course. We ask Petar to present himself at the Moskva each morning and evening in case we should need to avail ourselves of his services.
Hotel Moskva: We learn that the Hotel Moskva is a highly regarded establishment and popular with other Orient Express passengers stopping over in Belgrade. But it’s not quite the Europa—the finest hotel in the city. We’ll have to slum it I suppose. Our partitioned suites allow us to configure the rooms in such a way as to each have a private space, but remain close to one another in case of emergency. As previously, we leave the most important of our travel trunks with Letty (containing the parts of the simulacrum). She’ll be sleeping in the bath as usual anyway, so the extra luggage shouldn’t be too much of a clutter.
National Museum: Beddows' notes mention a Dr Milovan Todorivic who can be consulted at the National Museum in Belgrade. Without any real idea on what we should be consulting the man about, we decide to head out to the museum without delay. The museum is on the same street as the Moskva, about a half mile distant. Stepping out in the late morning air intent on enjoying the walk, we find the weather has taken a turn for the worse. A fair breeze directs sleet and snow at us. Abandoning the idea of a walk, we draw our coats and scarves around us and decide to take the electric tram instead.
The Galleries: After a short tram ride we are deposited outside the National Museum and are struck by its wonderful neo-gothic façade. Inside, we spend a couple of hours wandering the galleries, admiring oil paintings by van Goch, Rubens, Raphael, Veneziano, Matisse, Renoir, Degas, Cezanne and many others. The collection of Roman, Hellenic, Byzantine sculptures include busts of Marcus Aurelias and Diocletian and the famous statue of the Lady of Vinča. Thanks to some barely legible markings, Pierre is convinced that one of the more obscure Byzantine pieces in the gallery represents Brother David—the very man of the Fourth Crusade we read about in the Devil’s Similare manuscript.
Dr Todorivic: We decide it’s time to look for Dr Milovan Todorivic. Enquiries at the help desk don’t elicit much help at all. The very officious Maria, as per her name badge, informs us he’s out until later this afternoon and then insists on taking all our names. We should return at 4.0 p.m and she’ll let us know if Dr Todorivic will be prepared to accept us. We go for lunch.
Try again: After a light lunch at a fine patisserie we head back to the museum, take in a few more galleries and return to the help desk at the appointed hour. Maria seems almost disappointed to be helpful but informs us that we can now visit Dr Todorivic in his office and gives us a few vague directions to send us on our way.
The workshop: In a corridor, we manage to find a glass-panelled door upon which the the name Dr Milovan Todorivic is stencilled in neat letters. Ludwig knocks politely. We wait. Ludwig knocks again. We wait again. Ludwig pushes the door and we all put our heads round to peer inside. What at first we assumed would be an office is in fact a workshop in which we find a man busy with restoration on an exquisite life-size marble sculpture –“Second century if I’m not mistaken” breathed Pierre.
Sorry for the intrusion: To his credit, Dr Todorivic proves to be quite welcoming to a bunch of foreign weirdoes invading his private work space uninvited. To quickly ingratiate ourselves Ludwig asks him if he knows a Professor Julius Smith and introduces us all as friends and contemporaries of the professor. Indeed, Todorivic does know Smith. The two used to correspond regularly. As we have no idea what information we’re meant to communicate to, or extract from, Todorivic, the conversation twists and turns to educe whatever we can from the man, until our continued pressing causes suspicion. Todorivic starts asking questions of his own that we’re unable to truthfully answer. Father Mika tries to ease Todorivic’s sudden misgivings by assuring him he represents the Vatican on this important matter. We’re not sure this revelation carried the positive impression Mika hoped for.
Is honesty the best policy? We inform Todorivic that Smith was onto something important. Bad people are looking for precious artefacts. Smith sent us to prevent something terrible from happening. We ask Todorivic to tell us what he and Smith corresponded about. Smith was interested in a contact that Todorivic has; a dealer in antiquities, especially classical and Byzantine pieces—Todorivic’s speciality. Through this contact Todorivic has acquired many excellent pieces for the museum. Todorivic though refuses to supply any details—perhaps unsure of our intent. We invite Todorivic to join us as our guest for dinner this evening. The Hotel Moskva, 7.30 p.m.
Dinner at the Moskva: We treat Todorivic to the finest cuisine the Moskva has to offer. It’s not exactly the Europa, but we have to make do with a simple five course meal and a magnum of Dom Pérignon. Todorivic starts talking. He's willing to provide us with his contact's details, but first, to prove our honest intent, and show we’re not using him to facilitate under-handed dealings, we must obtain a permit from the Bureau of National Treasures. It is illegal to export items of national importance without one.
Saturday 9th February 1923
A good start to the day: Next morning, after breakfast, we engage the young and eager Petar as our guide and translator for the day. For the first order of business, he takes us to the Bureau of National Treasures where, for the handsome bribe of twenty pounds sterling, we obtain an export permit.
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