The Travels Of Fin - Part Two

Polly drove the twenty odd miles to the Warwick University campus and at 11.30 am she was knocking on the door of Professor Tom Wilkes, in the history faculty. Prof Wilko as he was known by many was a giant of a man who had more the appearance of a retired rugby player with his rather wild hair and generally unkempt look than that of the erudite and highly intelligent scholar that he was.  

“Morning Polly “he boomed “are we going to explore the language of the sixteenth century and the Shakespeare effect today?”  “Well actually Prof – I wondered if you would have a look at this” she retorted as she passed across Fin’s scruffy file. Prof opened the file and gently extracted the parchment “good Lord this is most interesting – where on earth did you get it?” – “can’t really say Prof - he is a good friend and he asked me to keep it on the QT” The prof pushed his glasses upon his nose, puffed, nodded and drew a sharp intake of breath in quick succession  - “ Mm Gaelic Irish – definitely and the parchment looks genuine at least”  “I suppose you can’t leave it with me either Polly?” “Well no sorry prof” Polly replied.

After about fifteen minutes of head scratching, poring over various tomes and considerable puffing and blowing the prof suddenly but clearly stated “this dagger was bought back by Padraig O'Neil to Kinsale from the Sale Rovers in 1672 in the Barbary coast”. The prof looked more animated than anybody had seen him for many a year and now he started to pace up and down his rather insalubrious study “I think it is referring to the town of  Salé  which is in Morocco near the city of Rabat , the present day capital of Morocco – the Sale Rovers were a band of pirates and brigands operating from what was then known as the Barbary Coast – from the sixteenth century up until the early eighteenth century they pretty much ruled the seas in the western Atlantic and Mediterranean  and raided towns and villages as far north as the West Country in England and the south coast of Ireland – they were essentially white slave traders and would take whole villages from these coastal regions and sell them into a life of slavery with the Moors.”   Polly stared in amazement, her brow furrowed and with her jaw dropped – “so what does it mean prof?”  The prof cleared his throat, played with his rather Einsteinian hair and said “Well Polly – I suspect Mr O’Neil was captured either from a ship or possibly from his village by these Barbary pirates and sold into slavery after which he must have either bought his freedom somehow or escaped back to Ireland.”   

 

“Fin” Bernie barked “there’s a foreign bloke been in here looking for you – didn’t tell him I knew you – odd sort of a bloke – didn’t even stay for a drink”  “ruddy Mick Malley was about to start spouting but I slammed a pint glass down on his hand – that soon stopped the little bugger” Fin noticeably twitched and said “Do you reckon he could have been an Arab?” “Yeah could have been Fin”  “Thanks Bernie – I’d better get on”.

Fin sloped off back to the flat , slumped in his chair and fell into a slightly fitful sleep only to be woken by the sharp ringing of his phone , he wished he had bought a new-fangled portable phone as he struggled up and answered his ancient corded GPO phone. “Mr Denham” the voice said in a rather guttural broken English “I need to see you as soon as possible – my name is Hassan Sordeau – it is important” Fin tried to clear his still sleep ridden head and stuttered “what about?”  The voice said “I think you know – when can we meet?”  Once again Fin clammed up and considered whether it would be better to meet him in private or perhaps better in a public place – he decided on the latter – “Mr Sordeau I will meet you here at The Black Sheep tomorrow”. The phone clicked off and went dead.

Fin opened his somewhat bare corner cupboard where he kept his drink, emptied the remaining contents of a nigh empty bottle of Armagnac into a tumbler and sat back down. He tried to consider his options with a degree of clarity but his head was racing with thoughts of armada chests, Arabs & jewel encrusted daggers. It seemed obvious to him that Hassan Sordeau was the under bidder at the auction and that he probably knew of the presence of the dagger but as to why he didn’t actually buy the lot at the auction remained a mystery to him. Should he meet him tomorrow and just sell him the lot complete with dagger and parchment and probably make a handsome profit or should he meet him and call his bluff about the contents and see what occurs?  His head told him to meet him, explain that he had found the dagger and ask in the region of £4000.00 for whole caboodle but a little voice in the back of his brain nagged at him to keep the contents and investigate further. The romantic in Fin seemed to be winning the day but what was he laying himself open to?  

Fin sidled in the back door of the Black Sheep at 11.30am to find Bernie bottling up behind the bar whereupon a Cognac and black coffee appeared seamlessly without even a word spoken. “Want to start a day slate Fin, I haven’t done the till yet?” exclaimed Bernie as he put another bottle of gin on the optic. “Thanks Bernie – yes I’m meeting that foreign bloke”.  The bar was empty apart from the rather ancient pub bull terrier dog who gave a quick tail wag and then carried on sleeping by the unlit fire , Fin rather hoped that somebody would come in before his meeting thinking that it might give him a bit of confidence if things went badly.

Nobody came but Hassan Sordeau did – “ahh nice to meet you again Mr Denham” Bernie interjected “what can I get you sir?” “Orange juice please” he replied as he moved over and sat down by Fin who was draining the last of his second refill of coffee. “I will come straight to the point Mr Denham – I want to buy the armada chest that you bought at Hopwood’s” Fin observed the stranger in greater detail and noted that he was probably early fifties, about five foot ten and well dressed in a grey worsted suit- “two questions Mr Sordeau, firstly why didn’t you buy it at the auction and secondly why do you want it so badly?” Sordeau stroked his closely cropped beard, turned to Fin and replied “I wasn’t sure how far you would have gone to at the auction Mr Denham and I want it for sentimental reasons – it once belonged to my family” This uttering seemed much rehearsed and whilst the first part was probably true the sentiment angle seemed an obvious lie. It was at this point Fin made his decision “OK Mr Sordeau if you want it that badly you can have it for £950”. Fin noticed an obvious twitch followed by a noticeable body relaxation when the Moor had absorbed this information, he had obviously hit the right button with the price, far too little to alarm him that he had already found the dagger and enough to be seen to profiting nicely from the stranger’s mistake. 

“That’s a big profit Mr Denham” “indeed Mr Sordeau but that is what I want – it’s a well-made piece and I don’t mind hanging on to it”  “how about £850?”  “Sorry it’s got to be £950 or I will keep it” Fin was taking a certain amount of delight in playing him particularly as he knew that anyone from Sordeau’s  part of the world made a habit of the ritual of  haggling – but Fin knew Sordeau had to have it and stuck to his guns. “Was it empty Mr Denham or were there any odd bits and pieces in it?” “No completely empty not even an old blanket” “very well Mr Denham – you have a deal – you drive a hard bargain can I take it now?” “Not today Mr Sordeau its in my lock up and I have another auction to view but I can deliver it tomorrow afternoon if you like and I would prefer cash please”  “certainly Mr Denham I understand – please deliver it to this address at shall we say 3pm? Fin took the business card and agreed.