Treasure

by K. T. Tomb

  “How would you know that, Evan?” Robert asked sternly.

  “Again, you were just a baby at the time, Robert, but it was easy to notice those who closed too many of the estate houses and sent their staff home; others who hid in the country and missed the London social season altogether, sold their London houses for next to nothing. I went to every one of them and brokered deals for whatever items Miyako saw and liked. I arranged the meetings to view the collections; she made her selections and purchased them. I arranged the transportation to her freight forwarder and received my cut.”

  “Didn’t you realize that the things she liked were turning up stolen or missing after she had selected them?” Oscar asked.

  “You see that’s just it. At the beginning, nothing she selected was stolen; other items went missing, though, months after she would buy from the estate.”

  “You eventually put it all together didn’t you?” Chyna concluded.

  “It took me a while; but yes, I did, and I confronted her about it. She didn’t deny a thing, she just offered me a million pounds to keep my mouth shut, keep making the introductions and shipping the items. That’s exactly what I did.”

  “Evan, I can’t believe you,” Robert said sadly, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Don’t judge me, Robert! I had a family to support.”

  “Go on,” Chyna encouraged.

  “Well, it went on like that for three years. All the time they were steadily packing the shipping container that is mentioned in those papers. During the renovation at Dordogne, she called me to say that she had acquired everything she needed but was still looking for that one special piece; she wanted something that had very deep history attached to it. A showpiece, her coup de grace; she wanted something from the Montgomery estate.”

  “So you introduced her to Sir William,” Chyna said.

  “I did and I told her that I didn’t want to know about whatever she bought, stole or shipped from the place.”

  “I remember records of several paintings being sold at that time, mainly because they were very valuable, but father told me they had been payment for a debt and he never liked them, so the chance to recover the actual money was too good a chance to give up.”

  Chyna laughed sarcastically.

  “They were probably the alibi for getting in with your father and a chance to see the entire collection. When she got the job to catalog and display the antiques, she would have known exactly where the armor was and the extent of the security at the estate.”

  “She set you up from the inside,” Oscar added.

  “What did you do when the armor turned up stolen?” Robert asked Evan.

  “Nothing. I had taken her million pounds. I did let her know that I wouldn’t be working with her any further once the container left Southampton; she agreed to that and she didn’t call me again for a year. Since 1979, Miyako has called me every year to remind me of our agreement. I understood, by no uncertain terms, that she and whoever she worked for are very dangerous people.”

  They sure had been… at least for a while. We put a stop to all that though, Chyna thought as she closed the lid of her laptop and sat back in her chair.

  Epilogue

  There was a knock on Chyna’s office door and when she looked up, it was Tony. She smiled broadly at him as she took her glasses from her face and placed them on the desk.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said cheerfully. “You ready for lunch?”

  They had agreed to have lunch together in the Sultan Ahmet Park and they had both been looking forward to it all morning. As Chyna answered his question, Tony noticed the piles of paper she had clearly been wading through since she had returned to work that morning.

  “What’s all that?” he asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of her desk.

  “Apparently last week, everyone was so busy getting ready to attend Sir Robert’s party over the weekend that no one remembered there was still actual work to do. These are all the requests that have been coming in since the IchiCo bust.”

  “Those are all legit?”

  “I’m sifting through and these are the result of the first sorting. I already took out all the crackpot theory emails and the requests to come out to help locate the spirits of long lost relatives.”

  Tony laughed and then stopped to look at the expression on her face.

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  Chyna nodded.

  “I think I’m going to give these to Sirita, though. Lana arrived with the new guy, Mark Gunnar, last night and Oscar is out at the base on tactical maneuvers, but the four of them are supposed to be having an investigators meeting this afternoon. I think they should choose the next job.”

  “Really?” Tony asked skeptically. “Why’s that, Babe?”

  “I’m considering staying home for the next couple of assignments; I’m tired,” she replied.

  Tony didn’t say a word more. He stood up, took her hand and led her straight out of the office. When they returned from their lunch in the park, all of Chyna’s team members had descended on the Found History office. They were chattering away around the meeting table as Sirita poured coffee and chimed in every now and then.

  “Aren’t they just so precious?” Chyna said in her best rendition of a southern accent.

  Tony laughed so loudly at her quip that everyone at the table turned to look at them.

  “How’s it going, Boss Lady?” Lana asked as she hurried over to hug her friend.

  “It’s going good, girl,” Chyna replied. “How are the wedding plans coming?”

  “They’re all done!” she said proudly. “Ted’s mom and my mom stepped in, took all my ideas and ran with it. Everything is booked, ordered, fitted; only thing left to do in some cases is pay and that ain’t none of my business.”

  She laughed at her own wit and smiled broadly at Chyna. She was so glad to see Lana happy; they both had such high-stress jobs and the imminent danger from day to day was enough to get even the most positive person a little dour every now and then.

  “Well, now it’s time you all did some work around here; the ‘British Holiday’ is over.”

  “Yeah, it’s about that time,” Lana agreed. “Umm, Chyna and Tony, this is Mark Gunnar. He’s our new junior investigator; if it all works out, he’ll be on the Istanbul team to back up Chyna and Sirita.”

  “Nice to finally meet you, Mark. Welcome to the team,” Chyna said.

  “Yeah, good to have you,” Tony added, shaking the man’s hand. He couldn’t help but give him the once up and down. It was clear that Tony still wasn’t keen on the idea of a handsome, blond Finnish man working so closely with Chyna.

  “Here are the requests that are possible next jobs for us. We need something lucrative and we need something for the whole team. We also need something that can be a good opportunity for Sirita to engage her logistics skills, Oscar to practice his tactical training and for Mark to get a good understanding of how we operate in the field. Discuss!”

  Chyna decided to walk Tony out; it was grossly inappropriate not to kiss him goodbye after their lovely lunch together, but even more so to do it in front of a roomful of employees. When she returned to her desk, she had three new emails in her inbox. Two were from Sirita but the third caught Chyna’s interest; it was from a woman she had met briefly at Sir Robert’s party the previous weekend. She was the daughter of a Norwegian oil magnate whose company, Lothbruk Investments, donated two hundred and fifty thousand pounds to The Angevin Foundation’s historic buildings restoration fund every year. The subject of the email was ‘Ivory Bow’.

  Chyna clicked on Thyri Ragnarsson’s email and read it.

  Good Afternoon Chyna,

  Greetings from Oslo. Firstly, I’d like to take the opportunity to formally thank you for taking my friend Mark Gunnar under your wing. He proved a big help to me and my team some time back and he seemed to have caught the adventure bug. I’m still not sure why he didn’t take up the position we offered him in Atlanta
, but I’m nonetheless happy that he has found a place at Found History.

  The main reason for this email, however, is regarding a lead for a new investigation. I received a direct request from some friends of my grandfather’s who wanted my team and me to help them track down a lost family heirloom. Unfortunately, I’m absolutely up to the neck at Lothbruk negotiating a pipeline merger and the Alphas are otherwise engaged in Mongolia. Usually, I would just insist that the team leave their present assignment as soon as it is completed and go directly to the next, but the client can’t wait that long. He will need a team to meet with him before he leaves Sweden for his annual family holiday to the Seychelles two weeks from today.

  It should be an interesting assignment for your team, Chyna, and unless the unexpected happens, which is sort of our modus operandi situation; it should be a pretty straightforward one as well. The client has an interest in some of the possessions of Queen Christina of Sweden, items from her childhood and her early reign and has recently inherited a treasure trove of personal and historic items related to her. Somehow he has gotten it into his head that there are some crucial pieces missing from the collection; in particular a hunting bow that was a gift from her father; a pure white, ivory bow. He needs investigators to dig up the truth and if it exists, to recover it.

  Let me know if your team is available for the job so that I can send over the details immediately.

  Thanks,

  Thyri Ragnarsson

  Chyna sent the email to the printer and stood up from her desk. She retrieved the paper on her way out the door and went directly to the table where the others were sitting, going through the pile of email requests she had given them and arguing amicably.

  “Okay,” Chyna said loudly so they would hear her. “Forget what I said earlier about discussing those emails. We have a referral and this is what we will be doing next.”

  Chyna put the paper down on the desk and looked at Lana and Mark, who were seated beside each other.

  “This one came from Miss Ragnarsson at Lothbruk Investments in Oslo, Norway. And, as is her usual style, it is an offer we can’t refuse.”

  The End

  Chyna Stone returns in:

  The Ivory Bow

  Return to the Table of Contents

  THE IVORY BOW

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  A Chyna Stone Adventure #6

  The Ivory Bow

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  The Ivory Bow

  Diary of Karl Wiligut

  Denmark, 1943

  There is but one stop left on our way to Germany now. It has been a long and tiring, yet fulfilling journey for me. I can now look my ancestors in the eye when I die and say that I did everything I could for the sake of our family.

  They were glorious people, my ancestors. Yes, it’s true. We were here before the others—before the ones who destroyed us. They germinated on this earth like vermin who fester in the darkness, waiting to crawl out of their holes and consume anything precious in their path. They eliminated us and those who had been our friends.

  Liars! That is what they all were. Usurpers! Yes, that is the word for them—usurpers. If it had not been for their pretentious, blasphemous ancestors, my family would still be relishing in the glory that we so deserve. We would not have fallen into their treacherous hands to be pillaged, plundered and destroyed to the point of oblivion. The true faith would still be thriving in and nourishing this world: my faith, our faith.

  The Adler-Wiligoten was significant, yes. Back when they had lived, there had been three suns driving the earth, and their friends had consisted of all the high and mighty of the time, like dwarves and giants. Two nights ago, while I was talking to them in my sleep, witnessing all their power through my mind, I had even had a vision of a unicorn!

  Times have not always been favorable to us, though. Before we had arisen from a deep slumber, the world had been plunged into war and chaos. There was rampant bloodshed, and people seemed to have lost their vision of a true, loyal, greater life. Red flowed like rivers, and screams permeated the air as it howled through the night and wailed in the valleys.

  I like to believe, just as my ancestors did, that there is a greater power driving us on our path, and everything that happens is a conspiracy of that entity to bring about change, which is constant. When the world had fallen into chaos and ruin, we had arisen. The Adler-Wiligotens had taken control of the wheel and turned it to follow peace. We drove the darkness out of the world and filled it with divine light. The rivers had been red until we purified their waters. The skies had been black until it was us who had stopped the burning fires. The air had resounded with howls until we had nursed the wounded and paid homage to the dead. Peace thus befell the land once again, and the true German culture was born, as was the true religion—Irminen religion.

  Our God Krist was our savior. We had professed his deeds, his love to all who would pay heed. We had worshipped him with all our faith and compiled his teachings in our own book until we were cheated and overrun by Wotanists. They destroyed our temple at Goslar and took over the cities. They butchered the people mercilessly and converted those who survived.

  Thus, Krist became Christ and our teachings came to be known as the Bible. What was left of us was a once mighty people brought low and left to flounder about in the darkness, sans God and sans faith.

  However, with our latest discovery, it seems that all has not been lost. This miracle of nature is what my ancestors had talked about in my dreams. I knew they would help me. I knew that they wouldn’t leave their only heir in the darkness. With Christina of Sweden’s Ivory Bow, I have the chance to salvage the last of our dignity and restore to our family our lost wealth and pride.

  Ever since I was appointed the Standartenfuhrer in the SS, I had occupied myself with finding the only thing I knew I could bring back at the time. Legend has it that when Christina, Queen of Sweden abdicated her throne to convert to Christianity, she was not left with much. Her path to Rome put her through Denmark, with whom Sweden’s relations were tense. She left her castle attired like a man, and could not take such belongings as would have her identified as a Swedish queen. Thus, she had had all her books, valuables and other paraphernalia shipped prior to leaving.

  It is said, however, that she also possessed an ivory bow which was replete with magical powers. When in the hands of the right person, it could wield such great power that whoever commanded it would be made the master of the universe. It was too dear to her heart to have it shipped off with the rest of her belongings. So, she had decided to carry it with her on her journey.

  But the fear of being recognized was too great to overcome. The bow’s reputation preceded it and many avaricious eyes started hunting for it as soon as their correspondent minds learnt of Christina’s abdication. Heartbroken and reluctant, Christina had to sell the bow off to an unknown buyer midway through her journey. After that, there had been so sign of the bow.

  It was this artifact, this source of immense power that I had been searching for. Since being relieved of my duties in the Schalaraffia, I have obsessed over the Ivory Bow, which I know would bring me such power as would help me establish Irminism in the world once again.

  That was my reason of convincing the Nazi army to accompany me in my expedition to Denmark. Through treacherous forests and mountains we wandered, talking to historians and common folk alike to try to get some hint as to where the bow could be. We had found it only three days ago, resting in all its glory in a wayward cave. A family of guardians had been watching it a long time—the buyer’s family, I believe—and there had been a skirmish. As determined as the Nazis are, they butchered the guardians and took the bow. It lies with me now as I write; as does a fear that has festered in my heart since the day I saw them function in the cave.

  I have started to believe that I might have committed a grave mistake by letting the Nazis know of
the bow’s existence and its powers. The kind of atrocities I have witnessed in my years pale in comparison to what these men—nay, soldiers—are capable of. I have never seen any as cruel and heartless as them. Thus, it is evident that the thoughts of their power and actions trouble my mind so.

  They have notified their commander of our conquest, and I believe it is not mere whispers I overheard a little while ago. They have an ulterior motive of which I’m not aware, and I fear it has something to do with my salvation. It was hard enough to get the bow away from them long enough to write this.

  What I am sure of, though, is that I need to be prepared. No matter what they might have promised me or what kind of faith they might have shown in my quest, I have witnessed people change in the face of power. They might be advocates of the supremacy of the Aryans, but I cannot trust them.

  I believe they will change too.

  ***

  Worthersee, Germany, 1943

  Oh, the horror of it! Oh, the shame!

  I knew the Nazis would change for the worse. Nine years since the fateful return from Denmark and not one day has passed peacefully. Their promises to me were just what I had feared they would be—falsifications. All they wanted was power, but they did not know what to do with it when they had it. I had not realized it then, but they'd had something else in mind entirely, and their plan was already set nine years old.

  The Fuhrer had wanted blood, and he went for it as soon as possible. After my “retirement” under the pretext of poor health, I left for Aufkirchen in 1939, and then Goslar in 1940. I presently reside in terrorized oblivion in Worthersee, devoid of all the comforts I had hoped the discovery of the bow would bring me.