by Murray Segal
“Relax. We are just the advance crew. We have flown up from Washington. The rest of the group is driving up from Boston and will be here within a few hours. Don’t worry. You will be safe with us and we will able to match whatever the bad guys bring to bear. We’ll bring the plane into the hanger and wait for the Boston crew to get here before you turn on your cell and call the Exeter PD. In the meantime, can I get you some coffee?”
“Sure, I’ll have a cup.”
“And I’ll have some tea if you have it.”
“Coming right up.”
After they have moved the plane into the hangar we chitchat about meaningless everyday events. About an hour goes by before the Boston crew arrives in a caravan of three black SUVs. I count 4 agents in each car. I still wonder about being undermanned but I probably would feel the same if there were a hundred of them equipped with armored vehicles and tanks.
“Ok, now turn on your cell and make the call to the Exeter PD.”
We make the call which lasts only a few minutes. After speaking to the Chief, I hang up and look to Erickson.
“Do you have any idea when the Nazis will be here? How will we know when they are approaching?”
“Obviously. I can’t know for sure. However, if they have all the resources you think they do, I expect they would fly here to Frenchville in their jet. Anticipating that, we have another car and a four-man crew outside near the taxiway. They will call us when the plane lands. We already have technical information from their flight plan on what we think is their plane. Our crew will take control of the plane to cut off any possibility of escape and depending on the number of guys that exit the plane, some of the agents will follow them and back us up. They are dressed in jump suits as though they were mechanics and technicians working on the airport.”
“He had barely finished speaking when his cell beeped. “
“OK, we will be ready.”
“The plane is approaching the landing strip. Everyone outside and take up you places behind the wind blocks out front.”
The crew scrambles outside and when the door is open I can see that they have set up some barrier like devices. I guess they are supposed to block the exhaust blast from a jet plane. The overhead door comes down as Erickson turns to us.
“You will be safest here in the plane so don’t move until I say so. We are in the very back section of the hangar. We have left two agents inside near the door, just in case the Nazis manage to breech it. That’s highly unlikely. Just to make sure that the three of us are safe. You can see that I have an automatic weapon as a last resort. I’m sure that I won’t need to use it.”
He puts his cellphone to his ear and nods his head up and down.
“They are here and have parked the plane out front. Six guys have left the plane and are cautiously approaching the door.”
We hear a loud and commanding voice on a bullhorn.
“Put down your weapons. You are surrounded and can’t escape.”
And then the sound of gunfire.
“All clear, Agent Erickson,” comes a voice over the bullhorn
“You guys stay here. This is a crime scene that I don’t want polluted. I’ll come get you in a short while.”
When he leaves, I start to get out of the plane.
“Murray, are you nuts? That was the FBI that ordered you to stay here. What part of that didn’t you understand?”
“Aw. I’m going to stay in the hangar. But you know I am a reporter and I just want to take a peek.”
As I step down out of the plane, I am confronted by a scene from a horror movie. The pavement is littered with bodies. There is what seems like a river of blood. The FBI Agents have cordoned off the area and are busily processing the scene, taking photographs and measurements. When I go back into the plane, I notice a couple of bullet holes in the top of the hangar door. Whew.
“Don’t go anywhere near the door, hon. It’s a nightmare,” I caution. “There are bodies everywhere and judging by the amount of blood on the pavement, none of the Nazis survived.”
“Not a sight I want to see. I’d have nightmares forever.”
It’s 30 minutes before Erickson returns to the plane.
“My guys are working on the scene and will be here for hours. Now, the first thing I need from you two are separate statements about what happened here today. The second thing I need is to know everything about the plundered art treasures and how you learned about them. But since they are in a foreign country, I want to wait on that until a representative of the State Department gets here. She is on her way here now but won’t be here for a few hours.
“I’ll get you some pads of paper and pens so you can sit in the cabin and handwrite your statements. Don’t compare notes with each other. We know what you each remember about these horrendous events will not be the same. Don’t worry about that because they never are. More coffee and tea? There are some FBI special sandwiches back in that small fridge in the corner. Not the Stage Deli in New York but they are not bad. Help yourself.”
We sit down and jot descriptions of today’s events as best we can. We follow instructions and don’t compare notes. It takes us 45 minutes before both of us are finished. We sit and rest our weary bones for another hour while the Agents continue to work the scene. Before too long I hear a siren outside and when I look I see some local police officers arrive. I also see an elderly gentleman in what looks like hospital scrubs. I judge him to be an undertaker or the coroner or both.
We are both starting to tire. I catch Erickson a bit later and ask him if we can go find a motel for the night.
“Look, we are going to be here all night and you are welcome to stay here. Not the Ritz but reasonably comfortable. That will give us time to talk to Rita Carlson, the State Department Rep. who will be here within the hour.”
“Well ok, just so we will not be in your way.”
“You certainly won’t. There are some Kindles back there if you want to read.”
Neither of us is very much interested in reading as you might well understand.
“Why don’t I get the MDTW out of the car so we can be ready for Carlson when she arrives?”
“No, I don’t want you out there but if you give me the keys I will send of the Agents to get it.”
“Here are the keys. There is a typewriter in the trunk. You might as well bring it in here.”
They retrieve the MDTW a few minutes later and set it on a desk. Janice and I sit staring at it for a while.
“Who would have thought that our whole world would be turned upside down when that typewriter walked in the door?”
“Changed our lives but we will recover. I wonder whose lives will be turned inside out when the plundered art is recovered. How will the world know who the art belongs to? I can visualize a long drawn out process with no logical conclusion.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You never know, Jan, there might be some records discovered with the art that traces the sources.”
“Maybe. But even if there is, there will still be a difficult, maybe impossible job of tracking the heirs to the original owners.”
“That’s true enough.”
We drink more coffee and tea and just ponder what might happen to this treasure trove.
“I hope the art is not buried in some storage warehouse while the records are searched. Now that I think about it, one or more travelling exhibits would be a great solution. Let everyone in the world get an opportunity to see it. Why don’t we present that idea to the State Department? Maybe our suggestion would carry some weight because after all where it not for us, the art might be buried forever in the mansion belonging to the Nazis. A terrible thought.”
“I’m with you on that one. Make sure we don’t forget to suggest that to her. In fact, let’s start off the conversation with that suggestion and hope it does not get tied up in some bureaucratic mish mosh.”
“We are still a newspaper writer and a university professor. We could let the world know about our idea. Some ligh
t on the idea might apply some measure of pressure. We are not without resources and we let them know that. Yes?”
“Yes. I’m with you. We should prepare a lecture at the UMPI and a newspaper story on the subject when we stop on our way home.”
“Much as I would prefer to go straight home, I think using our positions up here makes good sense. Let’s work on that now instead of trying to find something to read on the Kindle.”
It’s ninety minutes before Carlson shows up. In that ninety minutes, we have helped each other produce a detailed outline for her lecture and the written text for a Star Herald feature story.
Erickson introduces us and we sit down around the desk to talk. She is smartly dressed and very official looking. She is business-like and in demeanor.
“Nice to meet you two. I’m sorry that I am late but hopefully this won’t take too long and you can be on your way home. First, I’d like to thank you in behalf of the State Department. You have put yourselves in great danger and done a great service to our country and the many people who will benefit from the recovered art treasures. I am sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“Not a problem,” I reply. “We have made good use of the time to prepare a University lecture for Janice and a feature newspaper story for me on our run in with the Nazis. We are going to stop in Presque Isle on the way home.”
“First, can we go over how and what you have found out about the stolen art?”
“Ok.”
I lead her through the process by which I obtained the MDTW and then how I discovered the clue to its location in Buenos Aries.
“I am aware of most of that information. We have a team on our way now to the Palacio Paz. Our team will notify the local authorities but only after the art is in our possession.”
“What will you do with it after that?”
“We have not decided yet but we will undoubtedly take it out of the country and then put it in storage somewhere.”
“That’s what I thought. Let me suggest another idea concerning what to do with the art instead of sending it to a warehouse for who knows how long. Identifying the original owners and then their heirs could take a very long time. All this while the art is hidden from the world. I would respectfully suggest that you think about our idea. Break up the artwork into several manageable travelling exhibits and give millions of people the opportunity to see them. I’m sure this would put the State Department in a good light.”
“That is an interesting idea. I like it and will recommend it to the powers that be.”
“If you don’t need us for anything else we would like to start our trip home.”
“Thank you so much for your help and cooperation. Have a safe journey home. I will try to let you know what happens from here on in.”
We thank her and then find Erickson to thank him and let him know that we are on our way.
“I don’t know about you Jan, but I am pooped and I want to stop overnight at the first decent looking motel we find.”
“Lord, yes.”
That turns out to be the Gateway Motel in nearby Madawaska. By the time we get there and find a bite to eat we are both as exhausted as we never had been before. Before we get in bed we call the kids to let them know we are safe. Then, we are sound asleep before we know it. Too tired to do anything more than hold onto each other. After breakfast in the morning we drive south on Route I. We make a small detour to the west and stop at Big Al’s. We stay only long enough to briefly update him on the happenings at Frenchville and then drive to Presque Isle. The very next day Janice delivers her lecture at UMPI and I drop off the feature story at the Star Herald. It takes me an hour to make the rounds at the paper. After that it’s back to UMPI, where I pick up Janice and we begin the trek to Exeter.
I keep wondering how and why the location of the treasure ended up in the MDTW in the first place? Will we ever know?
Did the Nazis have a spy in Enrico Fermi’s Office?
If so, why didn’t he simply let his associates know directly instead of using the uncertain means of the Million Dollar Type Writer?
How will the search for the original owners of the art treasures be found? Will they ever be found?
What will become of Herman Biggs?
Does this group of Nazis have associates who will try to retaliate against us?
Will our ordeal ever be over?
THE END