The Grey Falcon

by J. C. Williams

  “Okay. I’ll have Popper show it around. I’ll go see our boatman Cattrel. Personally. Good job , partner. I doubt he’ll come back, but you should still look out.”

  “Yeah, I will. But Dickie, here’s the odd thing. He was looking mostly at Chad’s things. He took pictures. I think he’s looking for Chad.”

  “Shit. Why?”

  “We think, that they think, that Chad saw something.”

  “Did he?”

  “Not that he remembers.”

  “Tell Chad to be careful.”

  Sandy noted he didn’t say Chip.

  “I will. Hey, I missed the pub session where Popper was to explain the nickname. Where did it come from?”

  “Oh yeah. Good story. Beer was involved. Many pints.”

  “I assumed so,” Sandy said.

  “Then there was this contest to see who could down the most jalapeno poppers.”

  “Did our friend win?” Sandy asked.

  “Right on that, Sandy. But a little later there were some additional poppers, if you get my drift. Both ends.”

  “Ugh, Dickie. How do I get that image out of my head? Hey, Adrien called with info on Colbert. He was an electrician in France.”

  “You were right then,” Dickie says. “I think you found a connection to the museum robbery.”

  “He did time in France,” she added.

  “Robbery?”

  “Sort of. Stolen car. I’ll ask Stacker to show Baywater’s picture around Welton. Maybe we can get a connection.”

  -----

  Chad waited to board the plane to Dresden. He thought about Sandy’s response to his tale of Malta, the historical find, and their escape. She asked ten questions. Police questions. Professional.

  Then she gave him a long hug and told him he’d better get his act together and make sure he came back to her. What a woman. What a friend. What a life partner.

  He turned his thoughts to Dresden and Mrs. Christoph Rauch. Peter said that she was not happy with the police questioning, so he suggested that Chad talk with her.

  He needed an interpreter. Chad called Harry.

  “Barrison, here.”

  “Harry, it’s Chad. How are you?”

  “I am doing very well. Yourself?”

  “C’mon Harry. The arm? The pain?”

  “What are you? A doctor?” He laughed.

  “Are you still on the pain pills?”

  “Of course.”

  “What kind of hotel bill are you running up on my card?” Chad asked. His card was a new one provided by the Professor and he wasn’t worried about getting money to pay it. He just wanted to poke at Harry.

  “No worries. It’s taken care of. I called the Minister. He said he’d cover it.”

  “Ah, Harry. You may have given away your location.”

  “I’m not there, Chad. I have a friend. I have our luggage. Hey, and I have your information.”

  “Wonderful. What have you got?”

  “I’ll send you an email with a Google map. I spoke with Sonja Maric. You remember her? Good looking historian we spoke with?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Hah. You didn’t notice she was a historian, maybe. Here is a summary. His capital was Krusevac.”

  “Where is that?” Chad asked.

  “It’s two hundred kilometers south from Belgrade. A couple hours drive, for us, in today’s world. Chad, the Serbian Empire at that time was huge. It included part of what is now Bosnia, part of Croatia, all of Montenegro, Albania, and Macedonia. Amazing and surprising to me, it also included most of Greece.”

  “I did not realize that.”

  “The route he would take to Prishtina, for the Battle of Kosovo, would take him through three key cities that were part of his kingdom. They are Novo Brdo, Niš, and Prilepac. Niš of course was where we went with Valmir. It is a natural point to cross the Southern Moravian River to go to Kosovo. But Prilepac looks to me to be almost as good a place. I don’t know what roads were in existence at that time over the river and through the mountains. If you go by size though, Niš would be the place to stop. It has a hundred eighty thousand people, Prilepac is only a small village of five hundred.”

  “Then it makes sense why Valmir is exploring Niš. What about monasteries?”

  “Lazar founded many monasteries and churches. He was very popular with the Orthodox monks. Two I picked out are ones he had built within the last fifteen years of his life. One, Gornjak, is a hundred kilometers to the north of his capital. The other, Ravanica, is only fifty-seven. That is where his remains are interred now.”

  “Interesting,” Chad said thinking rapidly. “How long would it take to get to Ravanica from Krusevac at that time?”

  “H-m-m. An army would take two days, but by horse, a small contingent, just a day.”

  “What is the topography like there?”

  “It is in the Kucaj Mountains.”

  “I like it. That’s where I’ll be, Harry. Maybe tonight. Most likely tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get ready.”

  “You rest Harry. I’m going alone.”

  “Who will interpret?”

  “I’ll get by. By the way though, that’s why I called. Do you know of a German translator in Dresden that I can use today?”

  “Chad, I like that you think I know every translator in every European city.”

  “Don’t you belong to any International society of translators? I can only imagine your meetings, everyone talking at once.”

  “Archer, show some respect for my profession. Why do I even help you?”

  “Sorry, Harry. Maybe you can ask your MI6 friends.”

  “I told you I flunked out.”

  “Oh that’s right. Can’t fight, but you sure can drive, Harry.”

  “Thank you. I’ll find someone for you, Chad. I’ll text you. How soon?”

  “Let’s say one o’clock.”

  “Dreizehn hundert. Thirteen hundred, in German. Get with the program, Chad.”

  “Thanks, Harry.”

  Chapter 49

  “Dickie, I got a hit on my intruder,” Sandy said.

  “Who is it?”

  “Max Alton. Forty-two. Last known address in Manchester. He did two six-month sentences for assault. Wait, no it was for Actual Body Harm . H-m-m. Looks like he was a collector for a lender. Loosely tied to organized crime. Several arrests and no convictions for assault and theft. Victims recanted. Nasty guy. That was his exciting life from age twenty to thirty. Then he went independent. Private investigator. How can that be with a felony conviction?”

  Dickie answered. “He had to be clean for five years and then he can get a license.”

  “Looks like he lives on the edge of the law, based on the number of times he was pulled in for questioning.”

  “Anything like murder?”

  “Suspicions in missing persons and his connections to them.”

  “He sounds smart. Knows just how far to go. And, how to get away with it.”

  Sandy concluded, “We’ll have to get something hard on him. All we have now is B&E.”

  “Alright. Send the info to Liverpool. I will work with Popper. My man, Angus Cattrel, is somewhere on the water. We have a constable watching the dock.”

  “Okay. Hey, Dickie. I feel like we have to move fast. Should I contact Manchester? I’d like to get eyes on Alton, but I don’t want to spook him. We may have to set a trap if we don’t find hard evidence. Even if we place him in Liverpool and Welton, it’s circumstantial.”

  “Your instincts are good, Sandy. Let’s see where we are at the end of the day.”

  “Right.”

  -----

  Max Alton hung up after getting a message from one of his watchmen. He dialed Zevic.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s me. My team followed him to Heathrow. They bought tickets to get past security. He’s flying to Dresden.”

  Zevic was surprised. And, quiet.

  “That mean something to you?” Ma
x asked.

  “No. Thanks.” Zevic hung up. He didn’t think they could have connected the porcelain thefts back to Dresden. Perhaps he was wrong. But, then again, if the redhead was an Interpol agent, it could be something else. Damn. He hoped it wasn’t the death of Pajovic’s son, Christoph Rauch. That could create connections that would be disastrous, particularly if the meddlesome Interpol agent was the one doing the connecting.

  Zevic called Max back. “Max, meet me in Dresden.”

  -----

  Archer had never been to Dresden. All he knew were five things. First, it had been a center of industry and culture before the world wars. Second, it was firebombed and destroyed in 1945 by the UK and the USA. Three, Kurt Vonnegut’s book, Slaughterhouse Five, was based on that. Four, it was in Russian hands after the War. Five, it had been rebuilt over the last twenty years into a beautiful city with over a million people in the area.

  Chad carried only a backpack. It was half empty. He counted on his luggage from Malta. He hoped Harry was not so loopy as to lose it. Outside the airport, Detective Peter Roesler picked him up.

  “Thank you for coming, Chad.”

  “Oh, thank you for letting me look into this. I am thinking I would like to see the museum and Rauch’s burned house. Would that be okay? I expect to have an interpreter at thirteen hundred. From what you suggested, I think it’s best I do this with Mrs. Rauch without the official police around.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. We are thirty minutes from the city center. The museum is there.”

  -----

  “I’m sorry, I do not know art. Is this a famous painting?” Chad asked. He stood at the bench where witnesses had placed Rauch before his death.

  “It is a Correggio,” Peter said.

  “I see. Why are there benches in front of some and not others?”

  “There are two reasons. One is that the more popular ones sometimes have several people waiting, so a bench helps those that need rest.”

  “And the second reason?” Chad inquired.

  “Please observe this painting from where you stand. What do you see?”

  “I see a Nativity scene. The light shines bright on the Madonna and baby.”

  “It is titled The Holy Night. Now sit. What attracts your attention?”

  “Certainly the mother and Christ child. But the angels stand out. The painting has a more religious and holy look.”

  “Stand again and look,” Peter told him.

  “Ah. The shepherds and animals are arranged to funnel my attention to the Madonna and Child.”

  “It is almost as if Correggio painted it for the two different views. Hence the bench.”

  “You appreciate art, Peter?”

  “I do. I studied it when I was young, but I realized early that I needed a profession to pay bills.”

  “The witnesses. Where were they at?”

  The Detective walked Chad to the left of the painting. Chad looked back at the bench and the painting. He moved forward, then back. Left the right.

  “Are photographs allowed?” Chad asked.

  “No flash.”

  “Did any of the witnesses take pictures?”

  “They did and we looked at them. All were of the back of Rauch’s companion.”

  “Could you sit on the bench, Peter?”

  When he was seated, Chad took a picture.

  “See what I mean from the angle?” Peter said.

  “Yes, but look at this.”

  “Chad showed Peter the photo he took with his phone. “Look at the painting and not the people. I can just see a slight reflection from the glass. I wonder if any of their photos of just the painting could be enhanced to show a face.”

  Peter was excited. “We will look.”

  Chad then walked the path they suspected that Rauch took to the stairwell. Chad went down the stairs, then up the stairs, but nothing occurred to him.

  “What route would you take if you were the other man?” Chad asked. “Where is the porcelain displayed?”

  “The display is on the floor below us. However, Adrien has determined, at your suggestion I understand, to track all the pieces that were in the museums that were robbed. At the time of the murder the ones here were in a preparation room, in the basement. A last cleaning before packing. I will show you the way there. We will go to a different stairwell. We assume he would have been frightened by the victim falling back through the door.”

  In the basement, Peter stopped before the restoration room. He volunteered, “It is a secure room. There is a lock that requires a code and an alarm. The day of the murder, the window on the door was smashed with a fire extinguisher. The museum security alarm had already sounded, so no one heard it. The room was checked. Nothing was missing. Down the hall is a maintenance and housekeeping locker room. We believe some clothes were taken by the intruder and then he easily left in the commotion.”

  The museum official with them opened the room. Peter let Chad walk through it. When Chad finished walking the room, Peter asked, “Anything?”

  “No. I assume this table held several pieces of porcelain?”

  “Ja,” the museum official answered.

  Peter sensed Chad wanted to talk, but not with the four other people in the room. He asked all but his partner to give them some privacy.

  Chad began, “Peter, we came to the conclusion in Lyon that Rauch wasn’t purchasing the briefcase. We concluded he was blackmailing or selling a secret for a briefcase full of money. Leaving the envelope in here confirms that, I think. What would be the problem if you were stopped and had the money? There could be many reasons to have money. Trespassing would be the bigger issue.”

  “I agree. So what do you think was in the envelope that we all conclude was left here?” Peter asked.

  Chad responded, “I don’t know. Something that would incriminate me if I were caught with it? So I distance myself from it?”

  “I agree. Secrets, confidential information, information about a crime, stolen securities, rare documents? All these occurred to us. However, we cannot see how Rauch had any access to anything like that.”

  “H-m-m-m,” Chad was thinking.

  “Perhaps you can explore that when you speak with his wife.”

  “I will.”

  Chad continued to think. Peter waited patiently.

  “Something bothers you?” Peter asked.

  “Risk and reward. If the items were valuable enough to pay a lot of money for, you risk never finding them again or someone else finding them by leaving them here. If you get stopped with them, it is bad. Each is a risk. What is the greater risk?”

  “I think leaving them,” Peter answered.

  “Me , too,” Chad agreed.

  “Therefore you propose that whatever it was there was a greater risk to take them with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would fit that condition?” Peter asked.

  “What if the items were innocent in themselves but if found with the intruder they would have a not so innocent connection?” Chad had one thing in mind. Photos. It all came back to photos.

  “Like what?” Peter asked.

  “Let’s give it some thought today. Let’s also get Adrien to think about it.”

  “Vereinbeit,” Peter said. “Agreed.”

  “On to Rauch’s house?” Chad asked. “I have thirty minutes. Time for a quick lunch?”

  “Plenty of time. I know a good sausage stand,” Peter smiled. “You buy.”

  ------

  The second flight from London landed. Zevic met Max and they rented two cars. Then they met one of Zevic’s contacts for weapons. Another of Zevic’s people called and reported that the police just left the museum. Zevic guessed the next stop.

  Chapter 50

  Chad drove the loaner auto from Peter, picked up his interpreter, Kari, and used the GPS to drive to the apartment house where Mrs. Rauch lived.

  Kari was a student at a law school in Bonn. She was spending her summer at home in
Dresden and worked part time as a law clerk and part time as a tourist guide. Chad explained the circumstances to Kari.

  “Her husband was killed at the Dresden Museum. The police originally pursued evidence that led them to believe Christoph Rauch was into drug distribution. I don’t think so. I want to learn more about him so I can get to the truth. Mrs. Rauch, Elsa, is understandably not in a cooperative mood with the police.”

  “Danke. That helps me. I heard about that murder.”

  Kari explained the districts of Dresden and where they were going in relation to the city center.

  “I am confused about the center of the city,” Chad commented. I’ve heard it called Altstadt and Neustadt. Isn’t that old city and new city?”

  “On one side of the river the city was restored after the bombing. That is the Old City. Across the river, the debris was cleared and a new city was built. Both are beautiful.”

  They continued to talk about Dresden and her studies and her life. Chad didn’t see the two cars that followed him. That was because they were a mile back. They knew where he was going.

  -----

  The apartment house where Elsa Rauch lived with her two children was built in the eighties during the cold war. It was grey and stark but solid and had cheap rent.

  Building three, floor two, number 3276, looked from the outside like all its neighbors. Chad knocked. A thirtyish, thin woman who looked tired answered the door. Bags and wrinkles under her eyes and premature greyish streaks of hair spoke of a stressful life.

  “Hello,” Chad began. “My name is Chad Archer. I have come from London to speak with you about your husband.”

  Kari began to translate, but Mrs. Rauch closed the door.

  “Geh weg,” she said.

  Chad looked at Kari.

  “Go away,” Kari translated.

  “Thought so,” Chad said.

  Chad knocked softly. “Mrs. Rauch. I am not the police. I am an archeologist.”

  He waited.

  The door opened a crack. She said something. He caught the word polizei.

  Kari translated, “Are you with the police? Do you work for them?”

  Chad was careful and honest with his answer.