“And Karol Borya and Danya Chapaev?” Monika asked.
“These two were the most troublesome of all, though I did not fully realize until just recently. They were close to the truth. In fact, they may well have stumbled onto the same information we found after the war. For some reason they kept the information to themselves, guarding what they considered to be secret. It appears hatred for the Soviet system may have contributed to their attitude.
“We knew about Borya from his work with the Soviet’s Extraordinary Commission. He eventually immigrated to the United States and disappeared. Chapaev’s name was familiar, too. But he melted into Europe. Since there was no apparent danger from either, we left them alone. Until, of course, Christian’s recent intervention.”
“Now they are silenced forever,” Monika said.
“The same thing you would have done, my dear.”
Suzanne watched Monika bristle at Loring’s rebuke. But he was right. The bitch would surely kill her own father to protect her vested interests.
Loring broke the moment and said, “We learned of Borya’s whereabouts about seven years ago quite by accident. His daughter was married to a man named Paul Cutler. Cutler’s father was an American art enthusiast. Over the course of several years, the senior Cutler made inquires across Europe about the Amber Room. Somehow he tracked down a relative of one of the men who worked here at the estate on the duplicate. We now know that Chapaev provided Borya with the name, and Borya asked Cutler to make inquiries. Four years ago those inquiries reached a point that forced us to act. So a plane was exploded. Thanks to lax Italian police authorities, and some well-placed contributions, the crash was attributed to terrorists.”
“Suzanne’s handiwork?” Monika asked.
Loring nodded. “She’s quite gifted in that regard.”
“Does the clerk in St. Petersburg work for you?” Fellner asked.
“Of course. The Soviets, for all their inefficiency, had a nasty tendency to write everything down. There are literally millions of pages of records, no telling what is in them, and no way to efficiently scan them all. The only way to ensure against curious minds stumbling across something interesting was to pay the clerks for attentiveness.”
Loring finished his coffee, then set the porcelain cup and saucer aside. He looked straight at Fellner. “Franz, I am telling you all this as a show of good faith. Regretfully, I let the present situation get out of hand. Suzanne’s attempt on Christian’s life and their joust yesterday in Stod is evidence of how this could continue to escalate. That might eventually bring unwanted attention to both of us, not to mention the club. I thought that if you knew the truth we could stop the battling. There is nothing to find regarding the Amber Room. I am sorry about what happened to Christian. I know Suzanne did not want to do it—she acted on my orders—what I thought necessary at the time.”
“I, too, regret what has happened, Ernst. I will not lie and say that I am glad you have the panels. I wanted them. But a part of me is joyous they are safe and intact. I always feared the Soviets would locate them. They are no better than Gypsies when it comes to preserving treasure.”
“Father and I both felt the same. The Soviets allowed such a deterioration of the amber that it is almost a blessing the Germans stole it. Who knows what would have happened if the Amber Room’s future had been left to Stalin or Khrushchev? The Communists were far more concerned with building bombs than preserving heritage.”
“You propose some sort of truce?” Monika asked.
Suzanne almost smiled at the bitch’s impatience. Poor darling. No unveiling of the Amber Room lay in her future.
“That is exactly what I desire.” Loring turned. “Suzanne, if you please.”
She stood and walked to the study’s far corner. Two pine cases rested on the parquet floor. She carried them by rope handles to where Franz Fellner sat.
“The two bronzes you have admired so greatly all these years,” Loring said.
Suzanne lifted the lid to one of the crates. Fellner fished the vessel from a bed of shredded cedar and admired it in the light. Suzanne knew the piece well. Tenth century. Liberated by her from a man in New Delhi who stole both from a village in southern India. They remained among India’s most coveted lost objects, but had safely rested in Castle Loukov the past five years.
“Suzanne and Christian battled hard for those,” Loring said.
Fellner nodded. “Another fight we lost.”
“They are yours now. As an apology for what has happened.”
“Herr Loring, forgive me,” Monica said quietly. “But I make the decisions relative to the club now. Ancient bronzes are intriguing, but they do not hold the same interest for me. I’m wondering how this matter needs to be handled. The Amber Room has long been one of the most sought-after prizes. Are the other members to be told?”
Loring frowned. “I would prefer the issue remain among us. The secret has stayed safe a long time, and the fewer who know the better. But, under the circumstances, I will defer to your decision, my dear. I trust the remaining members to keep the information confidential, as with all acquisitions.”
Monika sat back in her chair and smiled, apparently pleased with the concession.
“There is one other item I want to address,” Loring said, this time specifically to Monika. “As with you and your father, things will eventually change here, as well. I have left instructions in my will that Suzanne shall take over this estate, my collections, and my club membership, once I am gone. I have also left her enough cash to adequately handle any need.”
Suzanne enjoyed the look of shock and defeat that invaded Monika’s face.
“She will be the first Acquisitor ever elevated to club membership. Quite an accomplishment, would you not say?”
Neither Fellner nor Monika said anything. Fellner seemed enraptured with the bronze. Monika sat silent.
Fellner laid the bronze gingerly back into the crate. “Ernst, I consider this matter closed. It is unfortunate things deteriorated as they did. But I understand now. I believe I would have done the same under the circumstances. To you, Suzanne, congratulations.”
She nodded at the gesture.
“On telling the members, let me consider the situation,” Monika said. “I’ll have an answer for you by June’s meeting on how to proceed.”
“That is all an old man can ask, my dear. I will await your decision.” Loring looked at Fellner. “Now, would you like to stay the night?”
“I think we should return to Burg Herz. I have business in the morning. But I assure you, the trip was worth the trouble. Before we go, though, may I see the Amber Room one last time?”
“Certainly, old friend. Certainly.”
The ride back to Prague’s Ruzynè airport was quiet. Fellner and Monika sat in the Mercedes’s backseat, Loring in the passenger seat next to Suzanne. Several times Suzanne glanced at Monika in the rearview mirror. The bitch’s face stayed tight. She was obviously not pleased by the two elder men dominating the earlier conversation. Clearly Franz Fellner was not a man to let go easily and Monika was not the type to share.
About halfway Monika said, “I must ask your forgiveness, Herr Loring.”
He turned to face her. “For what, my dear?”
“My abruptness.”
“Not at all. I recall when my father turned over membership to me. I was much older than you and equally determined. He, like your father, found it difficult to let go. But if it is any conciliation, eventually he fully retired.”
“My daughter is impatient. Much like her mother was,” Fellner said.
“More like you, Franz.”
Fellner chuckled. “Perhaps.”
“I assume Christian will be told of all this?” Loring said to Fellner.
“Immediately.”
“Where is he?”
“I really do not know.” Fellner turned to Monika. “Do you, liebling?”
“No, Father. I haven’t heard from him.”
They arriv
ed at the airport a little before midnight. Loring’s jet waited on the oily tarmac, fueled, ready to go. Suzanne parked beside the aircraft. All four of them climbed out and Suzanne popped the trunk. The plane’s pilot clambered down the jet’s metal stairs. Suzanne pointed to the two pine cases. The pilot lifted each and moved to an open cargo bay door.
“I had the bronzes packed tight,” Loring said over the whine of the engines. “They should make the trip with no problem.”
Suzanne handed Loring an envelope.
“Here are some registration papers I prepared and had certified by the ministry in Prague. They should be of assistance if any customs officials make an inquiry at the landing strip.”
Fellner pocketed the envelope. “I rarely have inquiries.”
Loring smiled. “I assumed as much.” He turned to Monika and embraced her. “Lovely to see you, my dear. I look forward to our battles in the future, as I am sure Suzanne does.”
Monika smiled and kissed the air above Loring’s cheeks. Suzanne said nothing. She knew her role well. An Acquisitor’s place was to act, not speak. One day she’d be a club member and could only hope her own Acquisitor conducted himself or herself similarly. Monika gave her a quick disconcerting glance before climbing the stairs. Fellner and Loring shook hands, then Fellner disappeared into the jet. The pilot slammed the cargo doors shut and hopped up the stairs, closing the hatch behind him.
Suzanne and Loring stood as the jet taxied toward the runway, the warm air from its engines rushing past. They then climbed into the Mercedes and left. Just outside the airport, Suzanne stopped the car on the side of the road.
The sleek jet shot down the darkened runway and arched into the clear night sky. Distance masked any sound. Three commercial jets rolled across the tarmac, two arriving, one leaving. They sat in the car, necks cocked to the right and up.
“Such a shame, drahá,” Loring whispered.
“At least their evening was pleasant. Herr Fellner was in awe of the Amber Room.”
“I am pleased he was able to see it.”
The jet vanished into the western sky, its running lights fading with altitude.
“The bronzes were returned to the glass cases?” Loring asked.
She nodded.
“Pine containers packed tight?”
“Of course.”
“How does the device work?”
“A pressure switch, sensitive to altitude.”
“And the compound?”
“Potent.”
“When?”
She glanced at her watch and calculated velocity against the time. Based on what she believed to be the jet’s ascent rate, five thousand feet would be just about—
In the distance a brilliant yellow flash filled the sky for an instant, like a star going nova, as the explosives she’d placed in the two pine crates ignited the jet fuel and obliterated any trace of Fellner, Monika, and the two pilots.
The light faded.
Loring’s eyes stayed off in the distance, where the explosion occurred. “Such a shame. A six-million-dollar jet gone.” He slowly turned toward her. “But the price to be paid for your future.”
FIFTY-TWO
Thursday, May 22, 8:50 a.m.
Knoll parked in the woods about a half kilometer off the highway. The black Peugeot was a rental, obtained in Nürnberg yesterday. He’d spent the night a few kilometers to the west in a picturesque Czech village, making a point to get a good night’s sleep, knowing today and tonight were going to be arduous. He’d eaten a light breakfast at a small café, then left quickly so no one would recall anything about him. Loring surely possessed eyes and ears everywhere in this part of Bohemia.
He knew the local geography. He was actually already on Loring land, the ancient family estate spanning for miles in all directions. The castle was situated toward the northwest corner, surrounded by dense forests of birch, beech, and poplar. The Sumava region of southwest Czech was an important timber source, but the Lorings had never needed to market their lumber.
He retrieved his backpack from the trunk and started the hike north. Twenty minutes later Castle Loukov appeared. The fortification was perched on a rocky mount, high above the treetops less than a kilometer away. To the west, the muddy Orlík Stream inched a path south. His vantage point offered a clear view of the compound’s east entrance—the one used by motor vehicles—and the west postern gate used exclusively by staff and delivery trucks.
The castle was an impressive sight. A varied array of towers and buildings rose skyward behind rectangular walls. He knew the layout well. The lower floors were mainly ceremonial halls and exquisitely decorated public rooms, the upper stories littered with bedrooms and living quarters. Somewhere, hidden among the rambling stone structures, was a private collection chamber similar to what Fellner and the other seven members possessed. The trick would be finding it and determining how to get inside. He had a pretty good idea where the space might be, a conclusion he’d made at one of the club meetings based on the architecture, but he still was going to have to search. And fast. Before morning.
Monika’s decision to allow the invasion was not surprising. She’d do anything to assert control. Fellner had been good to him, but Monika was going to be better. The old man would not live forever. And though he’d miss him, the possibilities Monika presented were nearly intoxicating. She was tough, but vulnerable. He could master her, of that he was sure. And by doing that he could master the fortune she’d inherit. A dangerous game, granted, but one worth the risks. It helped that Monika was incapable of love. But so was he. They were a perfect match, lust and power all the mastic they would need to bind them permanently.
He slipped off the backpack and found his binoculars. From the safety of a thick stand of poplar trees, he studied the castle’s entire length. Blue sky backclothed its silhouette. His gaze angled off to the east. Two cars appeared on the paved road, both winding up the steep incline.
Police cars.
Interesting.
Suzanne dropped a freshly baked cinnamon bun on the china plate and added a dab of raspberry jam. She took a seat at the table, Loring already perched at the far end. The room was one of the castle’s smaller dining spaces, reserved for the family. Oak cases filled with Renaissance goblets lined one of the alabaster walls. Another wall was encrusted with Bohemian semiprecious stones that outlined gilded icons of Czech patrons. She and Loring were eating alone, as they did every morning when she was there.
“The Prague newspaper is headlined with the explosion,” Loring said. He folded the newspaper and set it on the table. “The reporter proposes no theories. Merely states the plane exploded shortly after takeoff, all aboard killed. They do name Fellner, Monika, and the pilots.”
She sipped her coffee. “I am sorry about Pan Fellner. He was a respectable man. But good riddance to Monika. She would have been a blight to us all, eventually. Her reckless ways would have developed into a problem.”
“I believe you are right, drahá.”
She savored a bite of warm bun. “Perhaps the killing may now end?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“It is a part of my job I do not relish.”
“I would not expect you to.”
“Did my father enjoy it?”
Loring stared at her. “Where did that come from?”
“I was thinking about him last night. He was so gentle with me. I never knew he possessed such capabilities.”
“Dear, your father did what was necessary. As you do. You are so much like him. He would be proud.”
But she wasn’t particularly proud of herself at the moment. Murdering Chapaev and all the others. Would their images linger in her mind forever? She feared they might. And what about her own motherhood? She’d once thought that a part of her future. But after yesterday that ambition might need adjustment. The possibilities now were both endless and exciting. The fact that people died to make it all possible was regrettable, but she could not dwell on it. Not anymore
. It was time to move forward and her conscience be damned.
A steward appeared and crossed the terrazzo floor, stopping at the table. Loring glanced up.
“Sir, the police are here and wish to speak with you.”
She glanced at her employer and smiled. “I owe you a hundred crowns.”
He’d wagered her last evening, on the drive back from Prague, that the police would appear at the castle before ten. It was 9:40.
“Show them in,” Loring said.
A few moments later, four uniformed men strolled briskly into the dining hall.
“Pan Loring,” the lead man said in Czech, “we are so happy to learn you are well. The tragedy with your jet was awful.”
Loring rose from the table and stepped toward the police. “We are all in shock. Herr Fellner and his daughter were guests here last evening for dinner. The two pilots have been in my employ many years. Their families live on the estate. I am about to visit their widows. It is tragic.”
“Forgive this intrusion. But we need to ask some questions. Particularly, why this might have happened.”
Loring shrugged. “I cannot say. Only that my offices reported several threats made against me during the past few weeks. One of my manu-facturing concerns is considering an expansion into the Middle East. We have been involved in some public negotiations there. The callers apparently did not desire my corporate presence in the country. We reported the threats to the Saudis and I can only assume this may be related. Beyond that I cannot say. I never realized I had so violent an enemy.”
“Do you have any information on these calls?”
Loring nodded. “My personal secretary is familiar with them. I have instructed him to be available today in Prague.”