He listened with great concern. But all he could see was Rachel lying in a hospital, bleeding. What was going on? What had Rachel gotten into? How had Knoll found her? What happened in that mine? Were Marla and Brent in any danger? He needed to call his brother and alert him.
“Seems Jo Myers was right,” Pannik said.
“Did the reports mention Rachel’s condition?”
Pannik shook his head.
The helicopter flew first to the scene of the explosion—the mine entrance was deep in the forest at the base of one of the higher mounds. The nearest clearing opened a half kilometer to the west, and the rescue personnel were deposited there to hike back. He and Pannik remained in the chopper and flew east of Warthberg to a regional hospital, where Rachel had been taken.
Inside, he headed straight for her fourth-floor room. Rachel was dressed in a blue gown. A large bandage lay across her scalp. She smiled from the bed when she saw him. “Why did I know you’d be here?”
He stepped closer. Her cheeks, nose, and arms were scraped and bruised. “I didn’t have much else to do this weekend, so why not a trip to Germany.”
“The children okay?”
“They’re fine.”
“How did you get here so fast?”
“I left yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
Before he could explain, Pannik, standing quiet at the door, stepped closer. “Frau Cutler, I’m Inspector Fritz Pannik, federal police.”
Paul told Rachel about Jo Myers, Christian Knoll, and what happened to Danya Chapaev.
Shock invaded Rachel’s face. “Chapaev’s dead?”
“I need to call my brother,” Paul said to Pannik, “and have him watch the kids closely. Maybe even alert the Atlanta police.”
“You think they’re in danger?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to think, Rachel. You’ve got yourself into something really bad. Your father warned you to stay out of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy. I can read Ovid. He wanted you to stay the hell out of this. Now Chapaev is dead.”
Her face tightened. “That’s not fair, Paul. I didn’t do that. I didn’t know.”
“But perhaps you pointed the way,” Pannik made clear.
Rachel stared at the inspector, the realization clear on her face. Suddenly, Paul regretted chastising her. He wanted to help shoulder the blame, like always. “That’s not entirely true,” he said. “I showed the woman the letters. She learned about Kehlheim from me.”
“And would you have done that if you did not think Frau Cutler to be in danger?”
No, he wouldn’t have. He looked at Rachel. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Paul’s right, Inspector. It’s my fault. I wouldn’t leave well enough alone. He and my father warned me.”
“What of this Christian Knoll?” Pannik asked. “Tell me about him.”
Rachel reported what she knew, which wasn’t much. Then she said, “The man saved me from getting run down by a car. He was charming and courteous. I sincerely thought he wanted to help.”
“What happened in the mine?” Pannik asked.
“We were following Chapaev’s map. The tunnel was fairly wide, and all of a sudden it felt like an earthquake and an avalanche bisected the shaft. I turned back toward the entrance and started running. I only made it about halfway when the rocks knocked me down. Luckily, I wasn’t buried. I lay there till some hikers came in and got me.”
“And Knoll?” Pannik asked.
She shook her head. “I called out to him after the cave-in stopped, but nothing.”
“He’s probably still in there,” Pannik said.
“Was it an earthquake?” Paul asked.
“We have no earthquakes here. Probably explosives from the war. The shafts are full of them.”
“Knoll said the same thing,” Rachel said.
The hospital room door opened, and a stocky policeman motioned to Pannik. The inspector excused himself and stepped outside.
“You’re right,” Rachel said. “I should have listened.”
He wasn’t interested in her concessions. “We need to get out of here and back home.”
Rachel said nothing, and he was about to press the point when Pannik returned.
“The shaft has been cleared. No one else was found inside. There was another entrance, unblocked, out a far tunnel. How did you and Herr Knoll get to the mine?”
“We drove a rental car, then hiked.”
“What kind of car?”
“A maroon Volvo.”
“No car was found at the highway,” Pannik said. “This Knoll is gone.”
The inspector seemed to know something more. Paul asked, “What else did that policeman tell you?”
“That shaft was never used by the Nazis. No explosives were inside. Yet this is the second explosion there in three years.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning something quite strange is going on.”
Paul left the hospital and hitched a ride in a police car to Warthberg. Pannik tagged along. Being a federal inspector gave him certain rank and privileges.
“Similar to your FBI,” Pannik said. “I work for the nationwide police force. The locals cooperate with us all the time.”
Rachel told them Knoll rented two rooms in the Goldene Krone. Pannik’s badge gained immediate access to Rachel’s room, which was tidy, bed made, suitcase gone. Knoll’s room was empty, too. No maroon Volvo anywhere in sight.
“Herr Knoll left this morning,” the hotel proprietor said. “Paid for both rooms and left.”
“What time?”
“Around ten-thirty.”
“You didn’t hear about the explosion?”
“There are many explosions in the mines, Inspector. I don’t pay much attention to who is involved.”
“Did you see Knoll return this morning?” Pannik asked.
The man shook his balding head. They thanked the proprietor and stepped outside.
Paul said to Pannik, “Knoll’s got a five-hour head start, but maybe the car could be spotted by a bulletin.”
“Herr Knoll doesn’t interest me. The most he’s done right now is trespass.”
“He left Rachel to die in that mine.”
“That’s no crime either. The woman is the one I seek. A murderess.”
Pannik was right. But he realized the inspector’s quandary. No accurate description. No real name. No physical evidence. No background. No nothing.
“Any idea where to look?” he asked.
Pannik stared out at the quiet village square. “Nein,Herr Cutler. Not a one.”
Castle Loukov, Czech Republic
5:10 p.m.
Suzanne accepted the pewter goblet from Ernst Loring and wedged herself comfortably into an Empire chair. Her employer seemed pleased with the report.
She said, “I waited a half hour at the scene and left when the authorities started to arrive. No one emerged from the mine shaft.”
“I will check with Fellner tomorrow on the pretense of something else. Perhaps he will say if something happened to Christian.”
She sipped her wine, pleased with the day’s activity. She’d driven straight from central Germany to Czech, crossing the border and speeding south to Loring’s castle estate. The three hundred kilometers had been an easy two-and-a-half-hour trek in the Porsche.
“Very clever, maneuvering Christian like that,” Loring said. “He is a difficult one to lead.”
“He was too eager. But I have to say, Chapaev was quite convincing.” She sipped more wine. The fruity vintage was Loring’s own. “A shame. The old man was dedicated. He’d kept quiet a long time. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to silence him.”
“It was good to leave the child unharmed.”
“I don’t kill children. He knew nothing more than what the other witnesses at the market would report. He was my leverage to get the old man to do what I wanted.”
Loring’s face bore a heavy, tired look. “I wonder when it will end. Every few years we seem forced to tend to this matter.”
“I read the letters. Leaving Chapaev around would have been an unnecessary risk. More loose ends that would eventually have led to problems.”
“Regretfully,drahá , you are right.”
“Were you able to learn anything more from St. Petersburg?”
“Only that Christian was definitely in the Commission records again. He noticed Father’s name on a document Knoll was reading, but it was gone when he checked after Knoll left.”
“Good thing Knoll is no longer a problem. With Borya and Chapaev gone, things should now be secure.”
“I am afraid not,” Loring said. “There is another problem.”
She set her wine aside. “What?”
“An excavation has started near Stod. An American entrepreneur looking for treasure.”
“People don’t give up, do they?”
“The lure is too intoxicating. Hard to say for sure if this latest venture is in the right cavern. Unfortunately, there is no way to know until the cavern is explored. All I know is that he is in the generally correct area.”
“We have a source?”
“Directly on the inside. He has kept me informed, but even he doesn’t know for sure. Unfortunately, Father kept that precise information close to himself . . . not even trusting his son.”
“You want me to travel there?”
“Please. Keep an eye on things. My source is reliable, but greedy. He demands too much and, as you know, greed is something I cannot tolerate. He’s expecting contact from a woman. My personal secretary has been the only one to talk with him so far, and only by telephone. The source knows nothing of me. He will know you by Margarethe. If anything is found, make sure the situation stays contained. No trail leading out. If the location is unrelated, forget it, and, if need be, eliminate the source. But, please, let’s try to minimize the killing.”
She knew what he meant. “I had no choice with Chapaev.”
“I understand,drahá , and I appreciate the efforts. Hopefully, that death will be the end of the so-called curse of the Amber Room.”
“Along with two more.”
The old man grinned. “Christian and Rachel Cutler?”
She nodded.
“I believe you are pleased with your efforts. Strange, I thought I sensed a hesitancy the other day regarding Christian. Maybe a small attraction?”
She lifted the goblet and toasted her employer. “Nothing I can’t live without.”
Knoll sped south toward Füssen. There were too many police in and around Kehlheim to stay the night there. He’d fled Warthberg and returned south to the Alps to talk with Danya Chapaev, only to learn the old man had been murdered during the night. The police were searching for a woman who’d asked directions to the house yesterday and left the marketplace with Chapaev’s grandson. Her identity was unknown. But not to him.
Suzanne Danzer.
Who else? Somehow she’d picked up the trail and beat him to Chapaev. All that information Chapaev had freely provided came from her. No question about it. He’d been sucked into a trap and nearly killed.
He recalled what Juvenal said in hisSatires. Revenge is the delight of a mean spirit and petty mind. Proof of this is no one rejoices more in revenge than a woman .
Right. But he preferred Byron.Men love in haste but detest at leisure.
There’d be hell to pay when their paths crossed again. Bloody damn painful hell. Next time he’d have the advantage. He’d be ready.
The narrow streets of Füssen overflowed with spring tourists drawn by Ludwig’s castle south of town. It was an easy matter to blend into the evening rush of revelers searching for dinner and spirits in the busy cafés. He paused for a half hour and ate in one of the least crowded, listening to delightful chamber music echoing from a summer concert across the street. After, he found a phone booth near his hotel and called Burg Herz. Franz Fellner answered.
“I heard about an explosion in the mountains today. A woman was pulled out, and they are still looking for the man.”
“I won’t be found,” he said. “It was a trap.” He told Fellner what happened from the time he left Atlanta to the moment he learned of Chapaev’s murder a little while ago. “Interesting that Rachel Cutler may have survived. But it does not matter. She’ll surely head back to Atlanta.”
“You are sure Suzanne is involved?”
“Somehow she got ahead of me.”
Fellner chuckled. “Perhaps you are getting old, Christian?”
“I was not careful enough.”
“Cocksure is a better explanation,” Monika suddenly said. She was obviously on an extension.
“I wondered where you were.”
“Your mind was probably on how you were going to fuck her.”
“How fortunate I am to have you to remind me of all my shortcomings.”
Monika laughed. “Half the fun of all this, Christian, is watching you work.”
He said, “It appears this trail is now frozen. Perhaps I should move on to other acquisitions?”
“Tell him, child,” Fellner said.
“An American, Wayland McKoy, is excavating near Stod. Claims he’s going to find the Berlin museum art, maybe the Amber Room. He’s done this before with some success. Check it out just to be sure. At the very least you might pick up some good information, maybe a new acquisition.”
“Is this excavation well known?”
“It’s in the local papers, and CNN International ran several pieces on it,” Monika said.
“We were aware of it before you traveled to Atlanta,” Fellner said, “but thought Borya worth an immediate inquiry.”
“Is Loring interested in this new dig?” he asked.
“He seems interested in everything else we do,” Monika said.
“You’re hoping Suzanne will be dispatched?” Fellner asked.
“More than hoping.”
“Good hunting, Christian.”
“Thank you, sir, and when Loring calls to learn if I’m dead, don’t disappoint him.”
“Need a little anonymity?”
“It would help.”
Warthberg, Germany
8:45 p.m.
Rachel strolled into the restaurant and followed Paul to a table, savoring the warm air laced with a scent of cloves and garlic. She was starving and feeling better. The full bandage from the hospital had been replaced with gauze and tape to the side of her head. She wore a pair of chinos and a long-sleeved shirt Paul bought at a local store, her tattered clothes from this morning no longer wearable.
Paul had checked her out of the hospital two hours ago. She was fine except for the bump on her head and a few cuts and scrapes. She’d promised the doctor to take it easy the next couple of days, Paul telling him they were headed back to Atlanta anyway.