Heidi continued. ‘The chalet was built between 1869 and 1872. Ludwig and his guests reached it on horse-drawn carriages or sleighs, depending on the time of year. The lone route up the mountain was called the Konigsweg. In English, that means the King’s Road.’
‘How did they get supplies up here?’ Jones asked.
‘The same way. Everything was hauled by horse.’
‘Even water?’
She shook her head. ‘Water is one of the few things they didn’t haul. Because of the large amounts of precipitation, they built a cistern to collect and store the melted snow to use throughout the year.’
‘Really?’ Jones said, trying to get the information they needed to solve the riddle. ‘I thought I heard there was a fresh-water lake up here. Somewhere Ludwig liked to go.’
She shook her head again. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking of one of his other homes. There was a fresh-water lake near Schloss Hohenschwanstein. He stayed there as a child with his parents.’
Payne’s ears perked up when he heard ‘schwan’ in the middle of the word. ‘What does that name mean in English?’
‘Schloss Hohenschwanstein? It means high swan stone castle. Later in life, Ludwig stayed there for several years while he was overseeing the construction of Neuschwanstein. It’s adjacent to the lake as well.’ She glanced at Payne, anticipating his next question. ‘And before you ask, Neuschwanstein means new swan stone.’
‘Thanks for reading my mind,’ Payne said.
Heidi smiled and opened the door. ‘Now, if you’ll follow me …’
Payne and Jones lingered on the porch for a few extra seconds as Ulster went inside.
Jones whispered. ‘That’s two homes with
swan
in the name. Either one could be the answer to the riddle. If so, we’re screwed. How are we going to find a document in a castle?’
‘Remember, the answer to the riddle is only half of the equation. First we find the
gartenhaus
, then we solve the riddle. Not the other way around.’
‘Crap! I forgot about the
gartenhaus
. All of these clues are confusing.’
‘That’s why pirates made treasure maps. They were too drunk to remember clues.’
Jones glanced at his watch. ‘Speaking of drunk, we could leave right now and be shit-faced by lunch. Just say the word, and we’re off to Oktoberfest.’
Payne stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. ‘What’s your problem? Normally you’re the one twisting my arm to fly halfway around the world to do stuff like this, not the other way around. Is something wrong?’
Jones blew on his hands and rubbed them together. ‘Besides the temperature?’
‘Yeah, princess, besides the temperature.’
Jones shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it. When I saw all those crates, I thought we were onto something. Now I’m not so sure.’
Payne patted him on the shoulder. ‘Do me a favour and hang in there a little bit longer. Don’t ask me why, but I have a feeling things are about to change.’
‘In what way?’ Jones asked as he opened the door.
Payne took a deep breath before he stepped inside the house. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But I can smell it in the air. Something big is going to happen.’
Schneider, one of Kaiser’s guards, spotted movement on the slope but decided not to call it in until he knew what he was dealing with. The woods were filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, and his colleagues had given him a hard time when he had sounded the alarm a few days earlier and it had turned out to be a deer. And not even a big deer. It was small and cuddly and looked like Bambi. Ever since then, his friends had called him ‘Aesop’ - the Greek storyteller who had created the fable about
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
in the mid-sixth century.
Needless to say, they found it funnier than he did.
Positioned a quarter of a mile from the site, Schneider crouched behind a thick beech tree and waited. Whatever was heading his way was heavy. He could hear twigs snapping and leaves rustling as it moved. In some ways he hoped it was a boar. He had seen Hogzilla in the bunker and had been amazed by its size. To see something that big running across the forest floor would be a sight to behold - and something he could tell his wife. She knew he had been working on a job near Munich for the past week but nothing else. In many ways, it was similar to his former career in the armed forces. Whenever he had called home, he was allowed to tell her personal things - how he was feeling, what he had for dinner, and so on - but nothing that would reveal his location or jeopardize the success of his mission.
But spotting a pig the size of a Volkswagen? As far as he was concerned, he could talk about that all night without getting into trouble.
Unfortunately for Schneider, the giant boar didn’t materialize. Instead he spotted a man, wearing bright-orange camouflage, heading his way.
‘Shit,’ he mumbled as he pushed the button on his radio. ‘Sir, I’ve got a situation.’
A few seconds passed before Kaiser responded. He was positioned near the bunker, watching his men assemble the equipment. ‘What’s wrong, Aesop? Is Bambi back?’
‘No, sir. A hunter, carrying a Remington 750.’
Kaiser swore under his breath. A few more minutes and they would have been ready to test the winch. Twenty more minutes and the gold would have been on its way down the mountain. ‘Where are you?’
Schneider looked at his
GPS
unit and radioed his coordinates.
Kaiser wrote them down. ‘Can you handle this, or do you need help?’
Schneider shook his head. The last thing he needed was for his friends to bail him out. If that happened, he’d never hear the end of it. ‘No, sir. I got this.’
‘Good,’ Kaiser said. ‘Stick with the script, and you’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Schneider? Call me when you’re done.’
Other than a few royal touches - like an upholstered toilet seat and an intricate wooden chandelier - the five rooms on the ground floor of the King’s House were spectacularly unimpressive. Simple wood panelling, made from Swiss pine, covered the walls, and most of the furnishings were plain and antiquated. Jones was so under-whelmed by the decor he compared it to a granny house, the type of place that had more cats than furniture.
His opinion instantly changed the moment they walked upstairs. Named the Turkische Saal by Ludwig, the opulent room filled the entire second floor and was protected by a velvet rope. Payne, Jones and Ulster crowded against it, gawking at the room for more than thirty seconds before Heidi stepped over the rope and started her lecture from the right-hand corner of the room.
‘This is the Turkish Hall, inspired by
One Thousand and One Nights
, a collection of folk tales from the Islamic golden age that included ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’, ‘The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor’, and ‘Aladdin’s Wonderful Lamp’. In English, the story collection is often called
Arabian Nights
.’
Heidi walked to the edge of the colourful oriental rug that covered the wooden floor. Besides the periphery of the room, the only part of the floor that wasn’t covered was the very centre. A giant hole had been cut in the rug so it could be slipped over a large golden fountain that looked like it belonged in a hotel lobby instead of a Swiss chalet. The sound of its trickling water could be heard throughout the hall.
She continued. ‘This is where Ludwig threw elaborate birthday parties for himself, all with an
Arabian Nights
theme. Sometimes his servants sat on the floor, smoking hookah pipes, while others played Arabian music or pranced around in the nude. Meanwhile, Ludwig lounged on the luxurious couches that line the walls, often wearing outfits from Arabia.’
She moved deeper into the room, careful not to step on the rug as she pointed out a series of golden vases that were nearly as tall as she was. Each of them was stuffed with colourful arrangements that resembled tiny palm trees. ‘From where you are standing, it’s probably difficult to see what these are made of. Instead of using flowers, which would have had to be hauled halfway up the mountain, the king used peacock feathers. Aren’t they just lovely?’
Ulster nodded, then raised his hand as if he were on a high-school field trip and needed permission to speak.
Heidi looked at him and smiled. ‘Did you have a question?’
Ulster shook his head. ‘Actually, my dear, I was hoping for a favour.’
‘A favour? What kind of favour?’
He glanced over his shoulder, paranoid. ‘Normally I wouldn’t think to impose, but considering the scant crowd and my passion for the subject matter, I was wondering if I could remove my footwear and tiptoe across the room for a closer look?’
She winced, unsure. ‘I don’t know …’
He raised his hand again, this time to swear the truth. ‘I promise my socks are clean.’
She giggled at Ulster’s enthusiasm. He was like a little kid. ‘Fine, but if we hear anyone coming, you have to hustle behind the rope. I could get in a lot of trouble.’
‘I’ll be careful, I promise,’ Ulster assured her as he dropped to the floor to remove his boots.
Meanwhile, Payne backed up towards the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, Heidi. I’ll stand guard. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks, Jon. I’d appreciate that.’
‘See how that works? When you’re nice, I’m nice,’ Payne teased.
Heidi smiled. ‘I’m not the least bit surprised. My dog is like that, too.’
Jones laughed loudly. ‘Jon is like a dog. That’s funny.’
‘Not as funny as the animal he compared you to,’ she insisted.
Jones stopped laughing. ‘He said what now?’
Heidi winked at Payne, who was slightly embarrassed. ‘Actually, I better stay out of it. I’ll let you guys discuss it among yourselves.’
Jones looked at him seriously. ‘You think I’m an animal?’
‘Heidi,’ Payne said, hoping to change the topic, ‘before you run off, can I ask you a question about the room?’
‘Sure,’ she said, grinning ear to ear.
‘You said Ludwig used peacock feathers because he didn’t want to haul fresh flowers up the mountain. Why didn’t he get them out of the garden?’
‘What garden?’ she asked.
‘Isn’t there a famous garden up here?’
‘Oh, you mean the Alpengarten auf dem Schachen.’
‘
Gesundheit
,’ Jones cracked.
Payne ignored him. ‘If you say so.’
She explained. ‘The Alpengarten auf dem Schachen is an alpine garden maintained by a botanical society from Munich. The garden has over a thousand types of exotic plants from as far away as the Himalayas.’
Payne nodded. It was the garden that Ulster had mentioned earlier, the one that led him to believe that this house might be the
gartenhaus
that Ludwig had referred to in his notes. ‘Why didn’t they get the flowers from there? Isn’t it close by?’
‘It’s real close, but it wasn’t built until
after
Ludwig’s death. Don’t quote me on this, but I think it was built around 1900. I can find out a specific date, if you’d like.’
He shook his head. ‘Nope, that isn’t necessary.’
‘You got that right,’ Jones whispered to Payne. ‘No garden means no dice. We’re looking in the wrong place.’
Schneider stepped out from behind the beech tree and stared at the man walking towards him. In his hands, Schneider held a Heckler & Koch G36, a German 5.56 mm assault rifle. It was the preferred weapon of the Bundeswehr, the unified armed forces of Germany.
‘Halt!’ Schneider ordered in German.
Weber, one of Krueger’s men, stopped and threw his hands in the air.
‘What are you doing here?’ Schneider demanded.
‘I’m hunting deer,’ Weber lied. ‘Have you seen any?’
Schneider ignored the question. ‘You have entered a restricted area. You must turn back immediately or I am authorized to place you under arrest.’
‘For what? I have the proper licence to hunt,’ Weber claimed.
‘Not for here, you don’t.’
‘Why? What’s going on? Is everything all right?’
‘Everything is fine. We are merely conducting military drills on the mountain. This area is restricted because it isn’t safe for civilians.’
Weber cleared his throat and spat on the ground. ‘It isn’t safe for you, either. Not with hunters roaming around.’
Schneider raised his weapon. ‘Sir, don’t make me use force! I’m asking you to
leave
.’
Weber grinned. ‘But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.’
‘Sir, if I call for backup, you’ll be sor—’
Before another word could be said, Weber’s partner emerged from a clump of trees behind Schneider and slit his throat, using a nine-inch hunting knife with a serrated edge.
Blood gushed from Schneider’s neck as he gurgled and slumped to the ground. As he fell, he squeezed his trigger and fired several wild shots from his G36. Although he didn’t hit his targets, the sound of automatic gun fire and the strafing of the nearby trees echoed through the mountain air like warning drums in a primitive culture. The sound was so loud and distinct it could be heard inside the bunker and as far away as Mount Schachen.