Once the final arrangements were made, the four men were able to hide in the trucks of the ‘Stars and Stripes’ drivers as they were ferried from location to location until reaching Innsbruck. The treasure laden truck Heber had hidden in the church’s garage was now outfitted with a proper driver, and sent through a second network of ratlines to Genoa. It was the most dangerous of the three ratlines but with ID’s from the Americans and with the truck now touting the Stars and Stripes logo, it had the best chance of success. Bormann had originally wanted all of them to travel with the truck in order to stay with the gold and not let it out of his sight. But ratline officials were steadfast and warned him of the dangers. He finally relented and they were sent on another route; one more arduous but it would have them skirt the major roads and Allied patrols scouring the area for ex-Nazis.
ONCE THE MEN ARRIVED in Innsbruck they were hastily moved to a safe house just outside the city limits in a small town called Natters. Here they stayed at the Church of St. Michael to rest and were issued their forged documents in order to prepare for the final portion of their journey to Genoa. They were supposed to stay for a week and recover from their tiring journey but a greedy Police Chief necessitated the church to move them quickly. After three short days they were driven by the parish priest, another ratline member, across the border to Verona, Italy where they were able to catch the night train to Genoa. Once in Genoa they were ushered to the Casa Del Pellegrino Monastery, just on the outskirts of the city. The Monastery would be their next to last stop.
The incident with the Police Chief in Natters was an unfortunate one, but one that had to be dealt with swiftly and harshly. It fell to Perluci to make sure the police Chief had an accident.
The ratline had to keep moving its product safely, hundreds more were depending on it………
CHAPTER 86
SEPTEMBER 1945: GENOA, ITALY
“Buongiorno! Good morning!” said Licio Gelitoni emphatically as he greeted his weary guests. “My I get you some coffee?” he asked as he poured himself a cup from the thermos he had produced.
Each nodded with a slight smile.
Licio signaled Antonio Perluci to remove the pastries from the paper bag he had placed on the counter.
His guests had arrived at the Genoa docks from their Casa Del Pellegrino Monastery waypoint only an hour before. The monastery being the last of the six “ratline” waypoints they had to pass through on their way down from Salzburg.
They could smell the sea air. To them it meant freedom. The sounds of a bustling seaport were all around them as they sat in the brick building overlooking the main harbor.
“Well, I have good news,” beamed Licio. “Your monies have been deposited in the Vatican Bank. You will be provided with your next set of documents and ships passage to Paraguay, Lebanon or Syria. My apologies but those are the only choices. Paraguay will be about a two-week wait until the next ship departs. Departures to Syria and Lebanon will leave within the next day or two.
Bormann conferred with Heber, Myers and Drunz. After several minutes each agreed that Lebanon would be best for the moment.
“When do we leave?” Bormann asked, speaking for the group.
Gelitoni looked to Perluci. “What’s the timeframe?” Perluci pulls a worn note pad from his pocket, flips through several pages. “We have the Jamaica Star leaving Genoa in two days, arriving Beirut five days after setting sail.”
Bormann smiles. “That’s the one for us. But we will require the trucks cargo relabeled as church property. We don’t want to be searched when we leave Genoa or after our arrival in Beirut.”
It was Perluci’s turn to smile. “For an additional $50,000 US, we will do as you request. No questions asked. The Vatican owns its own import/export company in charge of loading the cargo. We also, shall we say, have the government inspector on our payroll.”
Bormann nods, knowing his cargos value to be in the tens of millions. “Done,” he replied emphatically.
Using the import-export company they were able to move the gold from Genoa to Beirut.
Heber, Myers and Bormann, each assumed the disguise as a priest for their escape from Genoa. Drunz stayed behind for the moment to work in Vatican City. He still had some unfinished business to attend to. He would catch up with them in a week or two.
Once in Beirut they trucked their ‘church property’ up the coast to the small Lebanese town of Shinot Berat, and the home of a Vatican operative, Mohamad Hafi, for storage and their later use.
For the next several years, this was to be their new home.
CHAPTER 87
PRESENT DAY: SHINOT BERAT, LEBANON
Standing outside Hafi’s Beachfront villa, its gates still wide open, Dan peered around the compounds wall. He was rewarded with the moving truck no more than fifty meters from where he stood and the front door of the villa wide open. He turns to Nora and Jim. “Something’s not right here,” he said. “The whole place is wide open and not a single guard in sight.
Jim nods. “I have a quick forming plan if you are interested?
“I’m all ears,” replied Dan. Nora concurs.
“Okay. Dan and I will enter the villa through the open front door. Once in, we take the path of least resistance. Nora, I need you to drive the car up here to block the driveway so the moving van can’t exit. After that, come up and assist as needed.”
Dan started to protest. Jim cut him off with the wave of his hand. “Trust me. She can handle herself. Nora’s a Black belt. I’ve seen her take down men twice her size.”
Dan looked at her in a new light. “My kind of woman,” he said smiling. “Like I said before, if I were twenty years younger……”
Nora smiled, then she looked to Jim. “At least your friend here has taste. More than I can say for you.”
“Again you pick the wrong time and place,” replied Jim. “Let’s just get through this.”
Nora smiled before sprinting down the street for the car.
Dan and Jim now approached the front door.
MIKEL WAS PROVIDING final instructions to the movers as they stood in his kitchen sipping on cool drinks, admiring his ocean view. “The boxes are full of ancient carvings I inherited from my father,” he lied to them. “Each box weighs about 15 kilo’s, so they are heavy.”
The head mover, an older man of about fifty, nodded to Mikel. “My sons and I have been in business for fifteen years,” he said, patting each on the back. “We will take great care in moving your treasures, sir.”
“Great, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“May I ask where Mr. Tanir Hafi is?” the elder man said politely. “I wish to thank him for using our services. For many years I also performed work for his father, Mohamed, that was, before he died so suddenly.”
Mikel wiped his brow. “Yes, well….he had urgent business in Beirut,” he lied. “I am to meet with him tonight for dinner.”
The older man was determined. “I also notice his men are missing. He never leaves his house unguarded. Is he alright? We all heard about the Israelis trying to come ashore last night.”
Mikel saw his opening. “Yes. The Israelis trying to come ashore last night did put a fright into him. He decided to take his men and go to Beirut for his business.”
The older man nodded. “I don’t blame him.”
Mikel fingered the 9mm at the base of his back.
The old man said something to his sons in Arabic, they both nodded as they walked back to the front door to start loading. “Am I to understand it’s only the wooden boxes by the front door, Sir?” inquired the man.
“Correct,” replied Mikel. “As I stated on the phone, we will be going to the airport at Beirut and loading them onto my personal jet.”
Mikel now pulled out a bottle of Arak, an anise-flavored liqueur, from under the counter and produced two glasses. ‘Shall we toast to our success?” said Mikel.
The old man smiled as he looked to the front door, his sons out of view. “You are most
humble, Sir,” he replied as he joined Mikel in a quick toast.
JIM WAS FIRST THROUGH the door, seeing nothing but a mass of wooden boxes piled about four feet high. He used his weapon to lead the way as Dan followed closely behind. They were approaching the kitchen when they overheard Mikel talking with the movers. Jim indicated they should flatten themselves up against the living room wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and next to the wooden boxes.
Two of the movers walked right past them as they prepared to load the boxes. Jim silently approached the one closest to him, tapping him on the shoulder with his 9mm, the man turned thinking it was his father only to be rewarded with the 9mm in his face. Jim placed his index finger to his mouth indicating for him to stay quiet.
The man nodded slowly in response, his mouth agape.
Jim then indicated for him to tap his brother on the shoulder. The other bother turned to see Jim with the 9mm pointed at both of them. Each raised their hands. Dan came around with some curtain ropes from Hafi’s window treatments, tying up their hands and having them sit back-to-back on the floor before ripping two pieces from the curtains and then placing a piece into each of their mouths in order to silence them.
MIKEL PLACED THE ARAK back under the counter. Mikel pointed to the living room and the front door. “Shall we proceed?” he said.
The old man nodded as he turned and walked into the room only to see his sons tied up. A look of shock spread across his face as he saw Dan stuffing pieces of curtain in his son’s mouths. “What are you doing?” he said aloud.
Mikel was right behind him, pushing the old man to one side as he withdrew his weapon, now pointing it at Dan and Jim.
Mikel had caught them off-guard, Jim now raising his weapon and pointing it at Mikel. ‘Drop your weapon,” Jim commanded.
Mikel laughed at him as he now grabbed the old man, holding him in front as a shield, pointing his weapon to the man’s head. “I will shoot this innocent man if you don’t drop your weapon,” he replied.
Dan looked to Jim. “Do as he says Jim, We don’t kill innocents. It’s not our way.”
“I’d listen to your partner if I were you,” said Mikel, smiling.
Jim tossed his weapon to the floor.
Mikel pushed the old man away from him. “Pick up the weapon for me,” he said to the old man. “Slowly, and with two fingers only. Then bring it to me.”
The man did as instructed before handing the weapon to Mikel who simply placed it in his pocket.
Mikel was all smiles. “Okay, you three walk single file through the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. The old man can lead the way.”
Mikel followed them from a safe distance. As he walked into the basement, Jim could now see the bodyguards lying on the floor, their hands tied up behind their backs; he started to wonder his fate.
Once in the basement, Mikel had the old man get some rope from the corner, the same area where he discarded it after tying up the bodyguards. He then indicated with his weapon for Jim and Dan to sit on the floor beside the bodyguards.
NORA PEEKED AROUND the open front door only to see the wooden boxes to her left, the movers to the right. “Which way did they go?” she whispered to the two sons, them still tied up, and each with a cloth in their mouth.
One evidently understood English, using his head to gesture towards the kitchen area.
Nora patted the man on his head as she cautiously approached the kitchen, listening for any signs they were close, hearing nothing. Satisfied, she cautiously walked into the kitchen. On a counter by the stove was a butcher block knife holder. She grabbed the biggest knife she could find. Off to her left a door was ajar and she decided to approach it slowly, the knife leading the way. As she did, she could hear Mikel ordering someone to tie up his prisoners.
He must have Jim and Dan, she thought to herself.
From the doorway atop the steps, Nora leaned down for a better view, rewarded with a glimpse of Jim and Dan spread-eagled on the floor, an old man approaching them with rope in his hand. At the bottom of the steps stood Mikel, his back to Nora.
Jim was the first to notice Nora. He had to cover any noise of her attempting to sneak down the steps to surprise Mikel. He started talking to Mikel.
“So what do you plan on doing with all of that money upstairs?” he said loudly, not waiting for a response. “I’m guessing it’s going to be deposited into one of those big Swiss accounts.”
Nora carefully made her way down the steps, Jims booming voice helping cover any possible noise she made.
“You’re right on that,” replied Mikel as he watched the old man as he tried to tie up Jim and Dan.
Jim laughed aloud nudging Dan who was watching the old man, him now noticing Nora approach.
Mikel sensed something was amiss, following Dan’s gaze, turning in time to see Nora’s approach but his gun still pointing towards Jim and Dan.
Nora was quicker. She hurtled the remaining four steps and managed to deliver a quick blow to Mikel’s neck with her foot, the blow causing his gun to misfire before he collapsed to the ground. Mikel was on all fours trying to regain his breath when Nora applied a quick one-two flurry of karate kicks to his face and head rendering him unconscious.
Jim immediately jumps to his feet and grabs the ropes from the old man, now using them to tie up Mikel. Nora looked over to where Dan still sat on the floor. As she walked over to him he suddenly slumps over to the floor. She could she a blood stain where he was clutching his chest.
“Oh my God,” screamed Nora. “He’s been shot again.”
Mikel’s bullet had found a target.
Jim hurriedly tied up a still out cold Mikel, kicking his gun out of reach before he ran over to where Dan lay. He quickly checked Dan’s pulse, not detecting one. “You can’t die on me you Irish bastard,” Jim said softly, tears welling up in his eyes. “We’ve been through too much to have this happen now. We still have a lot of places to visit.” He started CPR. After several minutes, Nora took a turn working on him. After a minute or two, Dan suddenly opened his eyes, gasping for air and then coughing a bit of blood in response, the blood spilling down his mouth onto his neck. “Shot twice in two days,” Dan said faintly. “I should play the lottery.”
“I knew you couldn’t leave us yet you Irish bastard,” said Jim, smiling at his friend. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”
Nora kissed Dan softly on the cheek. Dan turned ever so slowly towards Nora, a half smile upon his face as he said weakly, “I got the girl in the end didn’t I?”
Nora nodded. “If you were twenty years younger, I’d be honored,” she said with tears welling up in her eyes.
Dan grinned. “Jim, either you marry this girl or I will,” he said softly, the color fading fast from his face. “She’s a keeper. Kicks ass….,” he said, before coughing several times. “…. and takes names.”
Jim placed his left arm around Nora as he held tightly to Dan’s hand knowing it wouldn’t be long.
Nora had tears in her eyes as she buried her head into Jim’s shoulder. “You could learn a thing or two from this gallant man if you wanted to,” she said. “He knows a good woman when he sees one. When will you wake up and realize what you have in front of you?”
Dan coughed once more, the blood trickling down his lips. “She’s definitely a keeper, Jimmy,” he said softly, the words trailing off. “Just to let you know, I killed Perluci,” he whispered. “He was responsible for killing a lot of innocent people. So I just up and killed the bastard,” he said, the blood flowing freely as he coughed. “Perluci would have double crossed us in the end,” he paused, looking at Jim. “I enjoyed both your father’s, and your company. I’m going to miss our animated discussions. I also want to thank you for our little……. adventure. You have been a good friend. And,” he looked to Nora, searching absently for her hand, Nora grabbing his, holding it tight. “You better marry this girl. She’s a keeper. I just wish I could be at your wedding…... bury me at home,
please….” his words trailing off ever more. “You also …….know what to do with my share…” he said before he closed his eyes for the last time.
Jim squeezed Nora tightly upon realizing his friend was indeed dead. It wasn’t the first time he had lost someone in the field, and it wouldn’t be the last. After several minutes he turned to the old man, him standing above them wondering what he had gotten himself involved in. “You still have a job if you want it,” Jim said. “Load the truck and take it to Beirut as planned and we will pay you double what this piece of shit was going to pay,” pointing over to Mikel where he lay, still out cold.
The father smiled upon realizing he and his sons were not about to suffer the same fate as Mikel.
“We are not criminals,” Jim said. “We are going to see that most of what’s upstairs is returned to its rightful owners.”
The father bowed slightly as he brought his hands up to his mouth as if in silent prayer. After several seconds, he responds: “It would be an honor, sir,” he said, now taking Jim’s hand, shaking it vigorously.
Jim looked to his friend, Dan, as he lay dead on the floor. He made a sign of the cross over him. “Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand,” he said softly before turning to the old man. “Okay, let’s get cracking before anything else happens. We have three hours before our window of opportunity closes,” he said, looking at his watch.
Jim knew they were going to make it. Dan was looking out for them.
CHAPTER 88
THE DRAKE HOTEL: CHICAGO IL
For almost 100 years The Drake Hotel has stood at the top of Chicago’s Magnificent Mile as a pillar of high society. Built in 1920, The Drake Hotel is still considered one of the most luxurious hotels in Chicago, designed as a grand dame of hotels with unusual magnificence – it was said there was nothing like it in appearance. A timeless property draped in old world charm; from its crystal chandeliers to its mahogany woodwork. Anybody who was somebody knew if you wanted to make a speech in Chicago, this was the place to do it. Yes, this is where Myers would make his announcement.
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