Rhineland Inheritance (24 page)

She looked long into his eyes and said quietly, “I'm a lot better at hellos than goodbyes, soldier. If you expect me to get used to your risk-taking, this is one little habit you're going to have to learn to live with.”

“I hope you give me the chance,” he replied.

“Come back to me,” she replied, “and we'll see.”

Jake arrived at the stockade sweaty and clammy; coming back to the place of his ordeal hit him harder than expected. As he was posting guards, a crowd of Germans gathered. They approached, asked of his health, showed him quiet respect. One old veteran from an ancient war even threw him a rusty salute. Jake responded with smiles and a few words, and found himself settling, centering, drawing from them the strength he needed.

By the time Karl appeared he was feeling ready. “Where have you been?”

“Checking up on one last possibility,” the dusty, grime-streaked boy replied. “It's no good.”

“Then round up your gang,” Jake said, “and have them circulate among these people. None of my guards speak German. Tell them all we're going to be using dynamite, and that they should stand well clear.”

Over the next quarter of an hour, Jake watched and waited as Parker and his two assistants wired the brig for demolition, and Karl's gang completed their passage through the throng. The crowd, however, did not disperse. As word circulated of what was about to happen, the gathering took on a carnival-like atmosphere. The crowd pointed and chattered and waved whenever Jake happened to look their way.

When Pierre joined him, Jake gestured toward the throng and asked, “Do you have any idea what this is all about?”

“You're the one who speaks their language,” Pierre replied. “But I suspect they don't like Connors' men any more than you do.”

“So?”

“Perhaps they think you are getting rid of the bad guys once and for all.”

Jake mulled that over. “Don't contradict them.”

“I wouldn't dream of it even if I could,” Pierre assured him.

“And when you return to base, see if you can get word back to Connors that this is why we've blown up the building.”

“That, my friend, is a grand idea. Consider it done.”

Parker came hustling over. “Sorry it's taken so long, sir. See, the problem was, we've got this massive vault sitting right on top of where the second vault is supposed to be. So I had to figure out some way to blow a hole through to the bottom vault without shifting the support and sending the whole caboodle down.”

“And you've done it?”

Parker grinned through the grit encrusting his face. “Sure hope so, sir.”

“All right.” Jake turned and surveyed the crowd of civilians. “Karl hasn't had much luck shifting them.”

“They'll listen to you, Jake,” Pierre said, pointing to the nearest jeep. “Stand up there where they can see you.”

Jake did as he was told. Once he came into view, he raised his hands for silence and said in German, “I owe every one of you who was here last night a debt of thanks.”

“Friendship is built upon mutual debts, Captain,” called a stranger's voice.

“You are all friends,” he agreed. “And I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose any. So while we rid this city of a certain blight, I ask you please to disperse. And if you will not disperse, please go behind the next screen of buildings.”

When the crowd had scattered, Jake turned around. “All right, Parker. Let's blow this sucker to the moon.”

“It'll be a pleasure, sir,” he said, and shouted, “Take cover!”

When the warning had reached the entire periphery, Parker attached the second wire to his trigger, checked the grounds once more for strays, ducked behind the jeep where Jake and Pierre were crouched, and pushed the plunger home.

The explosion rocked the site. Debris rained down for a full thirty seconds.

As Jake picked himself up, he said to Parker, “For your sake, I hope you didn't overdo things, soldier.”

Parker answered with his customary grin. “So do I, sir.”

“Let's take a look.”

Lazy wafts of dust drifted in the unaccustomed warmth of a sunny, windless day. Jake carefully crept forward, up the front stairway, and to the other side of what remained of the entrance. A hole had been blasted neatly through the former floor of the front hall. It gaped black and gloomy at Jake's feet.

“I set the blasts for two holes, front and back,” Parker said. “In case one didn't strike pay dirt.”

“Let's see what you've uncovered,” Jake said, his voice tight with excitement. “Somebody get me a rope and a light.”

Pierre was at his elbow. “Don't you think someone else should go down first and check things out? Like me, for instance.”

“Not a chance.” Jake wheeled around, ordered, “Secure that line to the axle of a jeep.”

“You've had a hard night,” Pierre pointed out. “I, on the other hand, slept like a baby.”

“Rank has its privileges,” Jake replied. He accepted the rope and the light, and called out, “Stand back and give me room.”

Jake scrambled down the steep ledge into the cellar vault, and dropped the line through the gaping hole blown in the floor. He slithered down hand over hand, ignoring the pounding in his head. Dust clung to his face and filled his nostrils. When he felt solid ground beneath his feet, he reached for the portable lamp and switched it on. In the instant that followed, his discomfort was utterly forgotten.

Jake had landed in the central hall of a chamber that stretched the entire length of the former bank. It was sectioned into concrete-walled compartments with stout mesh doors. Each portal bore a neatly printed placket stating a name and a series of numbers. Jake walked toward the nearest door and shone his light through the mesh. He trained the beam back and forth across the compartment and saw row after row of floor-to-ceiling shelves.

The shelves were filled with treasure.

Paintings were stacked like files against the back wall. Gold and silver baubles dripped and hung like ornamental spider webs from overcrowded ledges. There were so many objects so tightly packed together that Jake could not discern all that was there. The wealth of empires and the legacies of centuries were crammed in like innumerable trinkets at a costume jewelry emporium.

“Jake? Are you all right?”

Reluctantly Jake turned his eyes from the sight. He walked over to stand beneath the hole. He looked up and said to Pierre, “Go for the trucks.”

Pierre hesitated. “You are certain?”

“This is it,” Jake replied. “Hurry.”

Chapter Twenty-five

By the time Pierre returned with the convoy, Jake and his men had erected a series of tents; they extended in two unbroken lines from either hole to the front and back streets. Once the lines were set in place, men worked in utter secrecy, passing the treasure from hand to hand to waiting trucks. As soon as one truck was full, it moved forward to be enclosed by guards, and another empty one took its place.

Jake supervised one line of heaving, sweating men; Pierre the other. Morrows acted as a roving spotter, keeping an eye on everything, making sure that no one became greedy, watching out for anything unexpected. The trapped air within the enclosures was soon smelly and stifling, but the men did not slow down. Even when Jake ordered a halt or change of shift, they left their work with reluctance. The same air of electric urgency held them all.

Jake was on his second break, sipping a cup of soup prepared by the field kitchen, when Morrows caught his eye and motioned him over to the other side of the building.

Once Jake was out of sight of the others, Morrows said quietly, “Get a load of these, sir.”

Jake stooped down. Five thick leather sacks the size of basketballs were gathered at Morrows feet. “What have we got here?”

Morrows bent and loosened the thong holding the neck of one sack. He thrust one hand in, and came out with a fistful of gold and silver coins. “All five are just the same, sir.”

Jake stared at the wealth for a split second, then came to what he would later recall as his first command decision. “Sergeant, these sacks do not exist.”

“Sir?” Morrows asked, then snapped to with the light of understanding. “Right, sir. Figments of my imagination.”

“Exactly. Stay here.” Jake rose up, walked to the far corner.

He beckoned to Karl, who lay sprawled in exhaustion with several of his gang. Even after a full night and a morning of searching for passageways, they had insisted on helping with the loading. At that point, Jake could not have refused him anything.

When Karl joined Jake and Morrows out of sight of the others, Jake pointed to one sack. “This is yours if you like. Coins will be easier to use in these times than treasure,” he said. “But it's your choice.”

“It is much wealth,” Karl said, reluctant to touch it.

“Hide it carefully,” Jake ordered him. “If you like, when I return, we can talk about how you might divide it up. But the decision is yours. Yours and your gang's.”

When Karl was gone, Jake hefted one sack and said to Morrows, “Those other three are for you and the men.”

“Sir?”

“I can't spare you, Morrows,” Jake continued. “So you'll have to find someone you can trust to stow this away.” Jake's voice turned very stern. “When it comes time to divvy it up, I expect it to be done with complete fairness. Can I trust you with that responsibility?”

“Of course, sir,” Morrows said, looking in wonder at the sacks.

Jake motioned to the sack in his hands and said, “This is for the people out there.”

“They saved your life,” Morrows said, nodding his understanding.

“No. I'm worried about the children. They need all the help they can get to survive this winter. And the next one.”

“I understand, sir,” Morrows said, but his voice was troubled.

“What's the matter,” Jake demanded impatiently. The sack was proving to be very heavy. “Even split up among all the men, that is going to come to a hefty bonus. They may also receive a share of the reward someday. But I want them to have this now. It's all we can safely spare, Sergeant. These
other items would do nothing but attract attention and put everyone at risk.”

“Oh, it's not that, sir,” Morrows replied. A shadow crossed his brow as he looked out beyond the barriers to the crowd watching with the patience of people with nowhere to go. Then he turned back to Jake and said, “I'll get Simpkins and Vance to handle this. And thank you, sir.”

Jake nodded, then picked his way out of the building and on beyond the barriers. To his relief, he had no problem finding Frau Friedrichs. He walked up to her, trying to hide the strain of holding the sack, and said quietly, “Come with me, please.”

Once they were well clear of prying eyes, Jake set the sack down, loosened the thong around its neck, and showed her what was inside. “You once told me your neighbors screamed at you because of your past,” he told her. “If I entrust this to you, I want your solemn promise that it will be shared with all in need, without prejudice.”

She gaped at the wealth. “This is Nazi gold? After all I have lived through, you wish to give me Nazi gold?”

Jake nodded. “Use it for the children and the people in most dire need.”

She raised her head and searched his face for a long moment. “Someone should write a song to help us remember what you've done, Captain.”

“I just want to help the children,” Jake replied.

She bent over and retied the sack, lifted it to her shoulder, and said solemnly, “For the children. Upon my own son's life, I promise. For the children.”

Chapter Twenty-six

A soldier banged down the tailgate of the truck and flipped back the canvas cover. “We're nearly there, sir.”

Jake rolled over, struggling to unzip his sleeping bag. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine, sir.”

His mind showed its customary reluctance to shift into gear. “In the morning?”

“Yessir.” A steaming mug was thrust under his nose. “Captain Servais said to give you this, and to tell you that there's a refill waiting just outside.”

“Thanks, soldier.” Jake raised himself up to a sitting position, accepted the mug, took a sip, blinked in the bright sunlight. As the world gradually came into focus, he gave thanks once again for the beautiful weather.

They had driven all night. The road had been full of potholes, rutted and bombed-out, poorly marked and icy. But at least there had been no more snow. Jake had forced himself to remain awake through the first three checkpoints, but when their documents and stories had gone unquestioned, he had given in to rising fatigue.

“If they ask,” Jake had told Servais, “we are transporting a specially sealed shipment for General Clark in Frankfurt. No one else may touch it. Any problems have to be referred to the general personally. Nobody else.”

“I heard you discussing all this with Sally before she prepared the documents,” Pierre reminded him. “I have also heard you give the same story at three different checkpoints. Now climb in back and get some sleep. You're dead on your feet.”

Jake had awakened at the next checkpoint, heard all proceeding smoothly once more, then allowed himself to fully relax. No guard had chosen to question a convoy of this
size carrying authentic documents and under the orders of General Clark himself.

Now it was morning. And they had arrived.

Jake crawled out of the truck and walked over to where Pierre stood surrounded by a group of drivers. Troops hung from the backs of their trucks or loitered alongside, heeding Jake's strict orders to keep the vehicles fully manned at all times. A kitchen detail made its slow way down the long line of trucks and jeeps, serving coffee and what passed for army oatmeal.

To his right stretched a seemingly endless high fence, beyond which rose the main Frankfurt base. It appeared less than half finished, with dirt tracks winding off across vast partially open fields to partially constructed buildings and hangars.