The Crypt Trilogy Bundle

by Bill Thompson

  “Hitler’s bomb shelter? I’ve read about it.”

  “Then you know it was built to be the most secure place in wartime Germany. The walls, floors and ceilings were solid concrete eight inches thick. It was a lavish air-raid shelter for prominent Nazis. Hitler and his mistress, Eva Braun, retreated there when the Allies swept into Germany and ended the war. Undoubtedly you know both committed suicide in the Fuhrerbunker.”

  “And it was all destroyed in 1959. Correct?”

  Franz Deutsch smiled like a child with a secret. “Not exactly.” He explained that a good deal of the bunker had indeed been destroyed at one time or another in the years following the war.

  “The place was so well built even explosives couldn’t fully destroy it. There’s a lot left – a meandering maze of hallways and perhaps a hundred rooms. When the Allies destroyed part of the bunker, they found secrets. Some of the walls are false – there are hiding places everywhere. Hitler had much to hide, and some historians think the bunker still holds secrets. I can tell you this – I agree with them. It’s just waiting for someone to investigate. No one’s been inside for years.”

  “But the part where Hitler and his cronies had their quarters was destroyed, correct?”

  “East Berliners weren’t particularly forthcoming in those days, but if they can be believed, with the help of the Soviets they removed everything Hitler had gathered down there in his bunker – furniture, artwork and vast numbers of books, for instance. Anything the Reich had stolen was presumably returned to its owners and the rest ended up in boxes, now stored in the basement of the German Historical Museum. Were the Communists completely honest about what they took and what they did with it? You be the judge,” he concluded with a cynical laugh.

  “Mr. Silver, I’m willing to help you because you’ve offered to help me with a project that’s very dear to my heart. I believe the Nazis stole far more from my people than has been recovered. If I may change the subject, could I hear your thoughts about what you are willing to contribute to help us continue searching?”

  Paul spoke for fifteen minutes about the charitable work of a Swiss trust he’d become involved with several years ago. In reality it was his, lock, stock and barrel, but no one would ever be able to tie the trust to him. He explained that the trust funded archaeological projects and he occasionally suggested suitable avenues for grants. A contribution had recently helped him gain a concession to excavate at Piedras Negras, Guatemala, and he had made a significant find there, he told the minister.

  “Perhaps we can do the same here,” he said, wrapping up his presentation. “I’d like to ask them for a million dollars, with more later if needed. Would that be enough to help a renewed search for missing valuables?”

  It certainly would, the minister said enthusiastically. Whatever Paul’s involvement might be, Deutsch believed Paul had the power to influence the trust’s donations. He told Paul about a non-profit that had been established in Munich for repatriation of stolen property from Jews and other displaced persons in occupied countries.

  “I can think of no organization more highly respected or well run than this one. They will be good stewards of the trust’s donation and use it well, I promise you.”

  “One more thing, Minister, if I may. I’d like to visit the Historical Museum. Are there items from the war that aren’t on public display that I might be able to see? I’m thinking specifically about the logs of wartime train movements.”

  Herr Deutsch jotted a quick note on a letterhead, signed it and handed it over. “Hans Steffen is director of the museum. You’ll find him a cordial man, full of information and willing to help in any way he can. Given your particular interest in the Nazi trains, ask him to see the records stored in the basement. I’m told many of them are detailed ledgers of train movements, kept by the stationmasters at major cities in Germany and the occupied countries. This note from me will allow you to see the off-limits storage facility.”

  Paul agreed to speak to the trustees and contact the minister about their decision. The minister was truly grateful for this American’s help, and regardless of the outcome, he had already decided to give this man access to information no one had seen for decades, not even the minister himself. It wasn’t for lack of desire, he reflected alone in his office. It simply hadn’t been a priority. There was so much work to be done that the tantalizing Fuhrerbunker always got pushed to the back burner.

  Maybe this American swashbuckler would find something interesting. The minister certainly hoped so.

  ——

  Thanks to Herr Deutsch’s note of introduction, Paul spent the next three days in the basement of the German Historical Museum. Like most others, it was a repository for a hundred thousand items of significance, most of which would never end up on public display. Steffen, the director, was a jovial man in his fifties who gave the introductory letter a quick glance and said with a smile, “The Minister of the Interior is my boss. Have to keep the boss happy, right? Your wish is my command, Herr Silver!”

  Paul said he was here to learn more about the trains that had carried stolen things – gold, personal property, masterpieces of art and sculpture, relics taken from churches, and the like. He explained that the Nazi gold train article that made front-page headlines had caught his attention.

  “I’m an amateur adventurer.” That modest admission really wasn’t true, since Paul had been involved with some unique discoveries in recent years. “If there is one gold train, who’s to say there isn’t another?”

  The director said, “I agree. And I suppose you’re particularly interested in Die Geisterbahn.”

  “Die Geisterbahn? The Ghost Train? I’ve never heard of it.”

  Steffen continued, “Not many people have. It was so secret that even today no record of it has ever turned up. Would you like to hear the legend?”

  “I have all the time in the world for a treasure tale! I’m intrigued already just hearing the name!”

  “The story goes like this. Nineteen forty-four was a disastrous year for the Axis powers. It marked the beginning of the end for the Reich. By late summer the Allies were advancing quickly. They had liberated places such as the Crimea, Rome and Cherbourg. They pounded cities in Italy with one bombing mission after another. German forces were retreating and surrendering all across Europe. Prisoners in concentration camps were being liberated. Do you see, Herr Silver? Everything was falling apart at once.”

  Steffen explained that for over a year trainloads of booty had been moved here and there at Hitler’s whim, usually to hide things he wanted to display someday in his Fuhrermuseum. While this was happening, there was something else – a top-secret project called Operation Geist, the Ghost. According to the legend, a secret tunnel was under construction somewhere in occupied Europe. When it was finished, a long train would be driven inside, a train filled with riches beyond one’s wildest dreams, to be hidden away until the ascendancy of the Fourth Reich. A new Germany would rise from the ashes of the Third Reich.

  The tunnel was finished, a railroad junction was built, and everything was ready for Operation Geist to begin. If Germany faced defeat, Hitler had only to give the order and a train code-named Die Geisterbahn – the Ghost Train – would be loaded and sent to the secret location. The railroad siding would be dismantled, tracks removed, and everything would wait until the time was right.

  By August 1944 Allied troops were so close to victory that Hitler ordered the implementation of Operation Geist. Along with a fortune in gold bars, the Nazis would hide the most important paintings in existence – dozens of Old Masters created by the world’s most famous artists. This would be the single most valuable shipment in history, and it would be shipped on a train.

  “It was code-named the Ghost Train because it didn’t officially exist. Presuming the legend is true, no one has any hint of where it is, even what country it might be in. Not a word about it has ever been found in Nazi records, although in fairness there are still thousands of things st
ored in the basement of this museum that have never been examined.”

  Paul commented, “I’m sure you’ve seen reports recently of a train hidden inside a mountain in Poland. Why couldn’t that be the Ghost Train?”

  “Here’s what I think. The Soviets captured Warsaw in January 1945. The war was all but over for Germany by then, and by May they had surrendered. I think Operation Geist happened earlier, at the latest in summer 1944, and it wasn’t in Poland. The Soviets were liberating concentration camps in Poland by then. The Allies could arrive at any moment. I’m ruling out Poland because the Ghost Train could have been seized before it ever got to its destination. I believe it’s somewhere else.

  “The train also wasn’t hidden in Germany or Austria, I believe. Hitler couldn’t risk putting it so close. If Germany and Austria surrendered, which was becoming ever more likely, the Allies would leave no stone unturned in the Fatherland. They would have found it. So where is it? I think it’s in a more remote location, and it’s not in central Europe. Bulgaria and Romania are my top choices. It also wouldn’t have been hidden in a country occupied by the Fascists. If Hitler had wanted to put the train there, he would have had to ask his pal Mussolini. This was a top-secret German project, meant to ensure the existence of the Reich and the Reich alone. I can hear Hitler declaring, ‘To hell with the Fascists!’”

  He paused to take a breath. “Am I boring you to tears?”

  Paul shook his head. “Are you joking? You can’t stop now! This is getting more and more interesting by the minute.” He was impressed by the director’s research and the theories made perfect sense. “Please keep going!”

  Steffen broke into a huge grin. He was as excited to tell the story as Paul was to hear it. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he continued.

  “I created a timeline of Allied victories in 1944. By that summer things were so bleak that Hitler had to realize defeat was imminent. He would have ordered Operation Geist, and Reichsmarschall Göring, the man in charge of handling stolen artwork, would have carried it out.

  “Now about the recent news article, that Polish train story you mentioned. It’ll take more than an old Nazi’s tale to make me believe that train exists. He won’t tell the government where the train is hidden until they promise him a big cut. He claims to have been there in 1945 and he saw the train himself. I don’t believe it. Why did he wait until he’s an old man to reveal the secret? Why didn’t he go get the train in the sixties or the seventies, when he was young and could have enjoyed his treasure? I’m a total skeptic about the Polish train, but on the other hand, I firmly believe the Ghost Train exists.”

  He leapt from his chair. “The more I think about this, the more excited I get. Enough talk for now! Ready to begin your adventure? Follow me!”

  They took an elevator down two floors to a huge room crammed with rows of floor-to-ceiling shelving. Each row was numbered, and thousands of boxes were arranged neatly on the shelves, each of those carrying an identifying number. It took Steffen only a moment to guide Paul to the correct area.

  “All the boxes beginning with 44 and 45-GUT are the ones you’ll be interested in, I think. Forty-four is the year 1944. That’s when the Nazis started moving plunder to tunnels and caves where the Allies wouldn’t find them. GUT stands for Güterwagen, or freight car in English. These boxes hold stationmaster logs – the records of train movements throughout the Axis nations. They’re very detailed; there will be a train, then a detailed listing of every single car on it and what the cargo was. I looked at a few and found them interesting but ultimately boring as hell, frankly. I hope your search is more intriguing!”

  He showed Paul to a table and chair provided for researchers and handed him a business card. “Here’s my cell phone number. I’ll be upstairs in my office. Just call if you need anything and I’ll come right down. Don’t keep me wondering, Paul! Let me know if you stumble across something interesting! I won’t get any work done today anyway, knowing you’re down here searching for treasure!”

  From more than a dozen boxes marked with the “GUT” designation, Paul picked the earliest. Inside were five huge ledgers, each containing page after page of handwritten entries. A natural linguist, Paul’s fluency in German allowed him to easily read the line items. The cover of the top book in that box bore the name “Hamburg” and the code 44-GUT-058. The first page showed the beginning and ending dates of the book and the stationmaster’s name. Each also had a legend explaining abbreviations for the cargo in each car. Although he had prepared himself for what he knew he’d see, it was nevertheless a sobering reflection on those dark days of human history to observe what the trains had carried. Before the war, freight trains in western European countries moved cattle, machinery, automobiles, oil and the like. Now that the war was underway, these Nazi trains transported far different cargoes.

  There were two dozen abbreviations. Some were the usual ones for livestock or timber. But there were others. He saw GO for gold. ST stood for Statuen, or statues. Paintings were abbreviated GE for Gemälden.

  Then he saw ones that engulfed him in sadness. JU represented Juden, the Jews. PG stood for politischer Gefangene, political prisoners. Thousands of human beings became two-letter entries in a stationmaster’s ledger book.

  Each page represented one train. At the top was a one- or two-line header with the train’s name, registration number, origin city and destination city. Below the header were ten, twenty, sometimes fifty lines. Each line was one train car with abbreviations for its cargo.

  Paul flipped through a few pages. There were many entries whereby an entire train carried the cargo Juden.

  Jews. Human cargo was moved from towns all over occupied Europe to camps such as Topovske Supe, Serbia, or Kistarccsa, Hungary, just two of many concentration camps the trains went to. One showed up the most – Oswiecim, a Polish name he recognized immediately. In German it was called Auschwitz, the horrific Nazi extermination camp where so many Jews had perished.

  There was a trove of information in these ledgers. Many of the listings indicated the boxcars were filled with artwork and the like. Other trains carried nothing but gold bullion.

  On the afternoon of the third day he was still poring through boxes. He had looked through the logs for the station at Sofia, Bulgaria, but he saw nothing that would indicate the Ghost Train might have been hidden there. At last there was only one box left. He pulled it off the shelf and opened it. The first book’s cover said “Bucharest.” This box would contain the ledgers from occupied Romania.

  Something got his attention immediately. Unlike Sofia, Bucharest was one of the few terminals where trains offloaded cargo for storage. He’d seen it in some other books – an entry would record an incoming train loaded with goods. It would arrive and stay for a week. Or perhaps its cargo would be stored, then moved onto a different train. None of these trains carried prisoners – their cargoes were always plunder, the spoils of victory.

  Last night one thought had kept Paul awake. If trains offloaded cargo at a station, how did the Nazis ensure the safety of that valuable cargo? Now, as he read entry after entry describing storage in Bucharest, he wondered about it again.

  He’d been sitting for two hours and he needed a break, so he took the elevator to Hans Steffen’s office. Paul asked how the Nazis protected their gold and artwork.

  Steffen explained, “It was fairly simple. During my research, I learned how it worked. Local citizens were terrified of the brutal Nazis who guarded the trains. If people even got close to a boxcar, they’d be shot. Despite the inherent security created by the guards themselves, a few train stations – Berlin, Vienna, Prague, Belgrade and Bucharest, for example – were outfitted with secure, heavily guarded rooms where Nazi plunder was stored short-term. Maybe it would be there for a day – maybe a week. Once instructions were received from Göring, the cargo would be on its way somewhere else.

  “The larger things – artwork, statues and the like – often remained in the boxcars. Gold bars we
re always offloaded into these vaults. The rooms were so well-constructed and so closely monitored that there is no record of a single bar ever being lost.”

  Understanding it now, Paul returned to the basement. He finished skimming the other books from Bucharest and saw nothing special. As he started to replace the ledgers in their box, he noticed a piece of paper lying in the bottom. Apparently there had been another book, but now there was simply a placeholder where it had once been stored.

  44-GUT-1411

  January 2, 1944

  August 31, 1944

  Nicu Lepescu, SS

  Stationmaster

  Bucharest, Romania

  This ledger has been moved to the Fuhrerbunker at the request of Reichsmarschall Göring

  August 31, 1944

  He studied the piece of paper for several minutes, not fully comprehending what this could mean.

  An SS officer named Lepescu had been stationmaster? Could it be possible? Lepescu was a common Romanian surname. Was it simply a coincidence? As he’d done often in the past three days, Paul used his phone to search the web. He entered Nicu Lepescu, Nazi and 1944. The answer confirmed it: Nicu Lepescu was indeed stationmaster from January 2 until the Soviets entered Bucharest on August 31. He also was a Nazi storm trooper, a member of the SS elite, and he had served at Auschwitz under Commandant Rudolf Hoess before being transferred to Romania.

  When the Red Army liberated Bucharest, Nicu Lepescu was presumed to be a mere stationmaster. Therefore he was not detained or questioned. In 1951, the Allies learned he had been an official at Auschwitz and was one of Hitler’s Nazi storm troopers. He was arrested for war crimes, convicted and spent twenty years in prison.

  The article ended with a biography. Paul homed in on a single word.

  Ciprian.

  Nicu Lepescu had had a son named Ciprian. Was this the same Ciprian Lepescu whose own son had been named Philippe, the man who had been Paul’s thieving partner a couple of years ago? He’d have to search public records to find that out. First he must finish his research here. This missing book, the record of Stationmaster Lepescu, suddenly became the one book Paul wanted to find.