The Crypt Trilogy Bundle

by Bill Thompson

  He decided to start at the end of the book. He knew from research that two important things happened in the last week of August 1944. After a successful push westward by the Soviets into Romania, on the 23rd the deposed King declared a coup, removing the Axis-aligned dictatorship. King Michael put Romanian troops at the disposal of the Allies, and on August 31 the Soviets entered Bucharest.

  Nicu’s final entry on August 31 confirmed it. The Red Army is in the city. I shall remain at my post, awaiting orders from Reichsmarschall Göring.

  To make things easier, Paul created a brief list of dates, trains, origin and destination points, and brief cargo descriptions.

  There were no train movements listed for August 31, the day Soviet troops seized Bucharest and the last date shown in the stationmaster ledger. There had been no trains from August 23rd to 30th except troop transports, all heading from the eastern front back to Germany. These were defeated German soldiers returning home. For them, the war was over and they had lost.

  King Michael’s coup happened on August 23. Before that day train movements were consistent. Three or four trains a day would come and go through Bucharest. Paul took his summarization back to July 1, then stopped. A clear pattern had emerged. During those final weeks before the Axis lost Romania, almost every train that arrived in Bucharest carried gold, artwork, statuary and the like. And every train left Bucharest empty. Valuables were obviously being offloaded and stored at the station in Bucharest in increasing numbers. The sheer volume of crates must have been staggering.

  He scanned forward down his abbreviated list, trying to see when this pattern of offloading ended. Seeing something interesting, he turned to the stationmaster log entry for August 21. He wanted to know what Nicu had written.

  The particular train of interest was the Pride of Aachen, named for a western city in Germany near the Belgian border. Its number was RE3862 and it had thirteen cars, every one empty upon arrival. It had come from Sofia, Bulgaria, although Paul knew from other entries that Sofia might have been simply the last stop before now but not the actual city of origin.

  Hours later this train left Bucharest, each boxcar fully loaded with GO, ST and GE. Gold, statuary and paintings. Its destination was very close. It was going to Sinaia, Romania, only eighty-five miles away.

  How odd, Paul thought. He looked back at his other entries; every train was traveling between major cities. All of them except this one. This train’s destination was a place he’d never heard of.

  He felt prickles on his skin as he searched Wikipedia. Sinaia was a town of only ten thousand people nestled in the mountains of central Romania. People came in the winter to ski, and the best method of transportation was to take the train from Bucharest. The trains ran back and forth only between the capital and the resort town. They went no further.

  It seemed an unusual destination for a thirteen-car train filled with gold and artwork. He eagerly scanned his abbreviated listings for the trains between August 21 and 31.

  This train never returned.

  Paul struggled not to let his mind run wild, but so far everything that should fit, did fit. He ran through the facts as he now knew them.

  1. A massive quantity of gold, statuary and paintings was stored at Bucharest North Station during July and early August. It seemed as though the Reich was building up a storehouse of treasure.

  2. On August 21 the deposed King was two days from executing a coup that would remove Romania from the Axis. Things were nearly finished for the Reich in general, particularly in Romania.

  3. On that day, August 21, the only empty train to arrive here in months, a train with thirteen boxcars, came to Bucharest and left fully loaded with gold, statues and paintings.

  4. That train was scheduled to make a short eighty-five-mile trip to the tiny town of Sinaia, a remote place in the mountains best known for its winter sports activities.

  5. That train and whatever cargo it carried stayed there. It never came back.

  He’d found it. Too many things fit. This was no coincidence. This was the Ghost Train.

  He could see the rainbow, but he didn’t have enough information to find the pot of gold. Yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Paul had left Nicu’s funeral as soon as the girl ran past his pew. At the back of the sanctuary he pushed out the door through a group of Japanese tourists, intent on keeping her in sight. It was a beautiful afternoon and there was considerable pedestrian traffic in this area of shops, sidewalk cafés and museums. Despite the crowds, he dropped in a block behind her. Tailing another person was something he knew how to do well. He stayed close enough to see her but sufficiently far back in case she turned around.

  Two streets down from the church, she stopped suddenly and looked back to see if anyone was following. She’s beautiful, Paul thought as he saw her face for the first time. Wearing a trench coat with a trendy scarf tucked in the belt, she was young, sultry, dark and enticing. Paul slowed to an easy pace and continued walking. She darted into a restaurant and he moved quickly; he had no idea who this woman was or if she knew how to lose a tail. He didn’t want to miss her.

  A bell jingled when he opened the front door. Just inside, a maître d’ greeted him.

  “Good afternoon. Table for one?”

  Paul glanced around but didn’t see her. “The lady who just arrived. Where is she?”

  “Oh, are there two in your party? She made a quick trip to the loo. Your table is in the back – she asked for a quiet place.” He pointed to a side room hidden from passersby who might glance through the front windows. It was perfect for someone on the run.

  There was no time to lose. If there was an exit by the toilets, she could be gone already.

  “Where’s the loo? I need to use it myself.”

  As he pointed to a door, it swung open and the girl came out. The maître d’ said, “There she is now! Miss…”

  Paul stopped him. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks.” He slipped between the tables and took her arm lightly. “Good to see you, darling. Let’s go sit down.”

  The place was packed with customers, none paying them any attention. She looked up as a ruggedly handsome stranger took her arm lightly. She jerked away and exploded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!” Diners turned to look, presuming they were having a spat.

  Paul whispered, “Shh. After that episode at the church, I doubt you want to cause another scene here.” He steered her to the table and pulled out her chair. As they sat, she began to cry.

  “My God, I should never have come back. You’re a policeman, right?”

  “Far from it. You’re safe – no fears. I want some information.”

  “So exactly who are you?”

  “Let’s be civilized, shall we? Let’s order a glass of wine while we talk. In fact, I’ll buy your lunch. I can’t imagine anything better than spending time with a beautiful girl who’s afraid I’m a policeman! That should make for an interesting discussion!”

  He ordered a nice Alsatian white. When it was poured, he held his glass across the table. Since she was stuck with him for now, she clinked it. It could be worse, she decided as they ordered lunch.

  He began by explaining a little about himself. He was Paul Silver, an American businessman living in London. He was fortunate enough to have time and resources to indulge his passions – adventure and artifacts.

  He’s wealthy, she gathered.

  “I enjoy discovering things that have been lost or hidden or forgotten. I’ve been to ancient cities in Central American jungles, I discovered a knight of the Round Table hidden in a crypt in London, and I’ve done a handful of other things most people would find boring as hell but I find irresistible. I also collect unusual things – not necessarily expensive or priceless items, but rarities that catch my eye. For instance, I own a bracelet worn by Cleopatra, a dagger attributed to William the Conqueror–”

  She interrupted him. “Enough for now, Indiana Jones. Presuming your name reall
y is Paul Silver and you’re being honest about yourself, you aren’t a policeman. Right now that’s all I care about. You’ve told me what you like to do. Now tell me what you were doing at Nicu’s funeral. I didn’t see you there. And why did you follow me?”

  The more they talked, the easier the conversation flowed. There were a lot worse things she could be doing than having lunch with this interesting, good-looking stranger. She just had to be careful.

  With a laugh he said, “I’ll give you a little more background; then it’s your turn.” He said he was interested in the Nazi trains that had carried priceless objects across occupied Europe. According to news reports, one of them, hidden for decades, had maybe been located. Ground-penetrating radar had indicated there was a train inside a mountain in Poland.

  “In my research I found out Nicu Lepescu was the stationmaster in Bucharest. I presumed he was long since dead. By now he’d have to be over a hundred, but when I first searched, I didn’t find an obituary. If he was still alive, I wanted to find him. Bucharest was a huge transport center for the Nazis. Maybe he knew about a trainload of treasure that came through here on its way to a hiding place.”

  She flinched imperceptibly and he picked up on it. It was subtle, but she had definitely reacted when he mentioned hiding things. She knew something about this.

  He continued, smoothly blending fiction and fact as he’d done his entire life. “I came to Bucharest to find out more, learned his funeral was today, and I attended in order to see how much family he had. I had planned to talk to them, to ask if they could help me.”

  “How did you hear about the funeral?”

  “Strictly by chance. When I was ready to come to Bucharest, I tried to find Nicu’s address online. I was surprised to see he had recently died and that his funeral was today.”

  Nicu’s obituary had listed his relatives: a deceased son Ciprian and three grandchildren. One of those was a man who was of great interest to Paul. That man was Philippe Lepescu, whose home was shown as Lucerne. From their past association, Paul knew Philippe’s father had been named Ciprian. This was no coincidence. Paul decided to go to the funeral, see Philippe in person and confirm it. Then he would settle their unfinished business.

  He stopped to take a sip from his wineglass. As he paused, she jumped in with a question.

  “Instead of staying to talk to the family, you decided to follow me? That doesn’t add up. Your mission was to get information from Nicu’s heirs, but you left when you saw me run out of the church. Why?”

  He had to make this sound good. He had never intended to talk to the family. He came simply to get a look at Philippe.

  “I followed you because of the outburst. I watched it all from the back of the church. The priest stopped the eulogy when that older woman yelled at you. I followed you because maybe you could give me information. The family obviously knows you. At least the woman does. I wondered who you were – maybe a relative? I had no idea, but I took a chance you’d know something about Nicu’s background since you attended his funeral.

  “Enough about me! I’m here with a beautiful lady and I don’t even know your name. Or what you have to do with Nicu. Or why you were so worried I was a policeman!”

  Her new identity was so fresh and so expensive she didn’t want to reveal it needlessly, so she used her real name. “Mr. Silver, I’ll bet you a million dollars I don’t know everything about you! As far as who I am, my name is Adriana Creed. I was Nicu’s companion for the last three years. I’ll tell you why I worry about the police, but first I need to give you background.”

  “So you were his caregiver?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not a nurse, and Nicu already had a housekeeper, that old bitch who yelled at me in the church. She always figured I was out to take his money.” She caught herself. “Not that he had much money. I was very young compared to Nicu, and Mrs. Radu thought I was a sponger. But I became his friend. We talked, we did things together, took walks together, went to lunch together. That kind of thing.”

  Paul asked how they met and became so close. She explained she was a Romani making a living as a fortune-teller. Nicu’s lawyer had randomly picked her to tell him about his future. She had liked the spry old man from the beginning and guessed he liked her too. She held back a lot, including his loathsome past and the gold bars he’d given her.

  As she continued, his mind wandered. How could Nicu not have liked her? She’s intelligent, attractive, sexy – and she’s young enough to be his granddaughter. Any man would have appreciated attention from her. Even a very, very old one.

  “I think my being there made him happy. His appreciation and gratitude made me want to spend even more time with him. He was generous to me – he gave me money, which helped with my rent and living expenses – but our friendship wasn’t about that. I would have wanted to help him regardless.”

  Paul glanced at his watch. Two hours had flown by like minutes. After a delicious lunch and a second bottle of wine, they lingered in the now-empty restaurant, conversing over coffee as easily as two old friends.

  “Do you think his grandchildren would help me learn more about Nicu’s past?”

  She laughed out loud. “Those three? No, they won’t help you. They couldn’t if they wanted to. They don’t know one thing about Nicu. They are the leeches. Nicu told me he hadn’t seen them in fifteen years. Do you know when they finally came to see him? When he was dying, so they could take whatever he had. That’s when I stepped out of the picture. They’re vultures. Predators. I’ve never actually met any of them,” she lied. She knew one of them, and she knew him well.

  “I knew Mrs. Radu, the housekeeper, of course. I saw her every day. But the grandchildren never came around, not even the oldest one – Milosh – who Nicu said lives right here in Bucharest. They think Nicu has money. And maybe he does, although I can’t see how. He hasn’t worked in years, since he got out…” She stopped abruptly. She’d said too much.

  “Got out of where?”

  Adriana paused. As the time passed, she was feeling very comfortable with him. Regardless, Paul Silver was a stranger, a man she’d just met. She couldn’t afford to tell him everything, so she continued, weaving lies in with the truth.

  “Long ago he was in prison for many years. Something about war crimes, I think. He never mentioned anything about his incarceration and I didn’t ask. After his release in the early seventies, I presume he had enough assets set aside to live without working. Maybe he made good investments over the years. Who knows? He had enough for himself and gave me a little too. He was a kind man.”

  Paul thought about what Nicu Lepescu had been. Maybe there were other reasons he was financially secure after his imprisonment. A lot of Nazi officers helped themselves to things when they could. He was in charge of a major depot along the Nazi train route, a station where gold was stored overnight. There was so much stolen property in those days it would have been impossible to keep an eye on everything.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked, smiling.

  “Just processing everything. You said you stepped aside when he was dying and the grandchildren appeared. Did he die at home?”

  He’s going to find out anyway. “No. He died in a hospital jail cell.”

  Paul was confused. “What? The man was over a hundred years old and he was in jail?”

  “He killed a drug dealer in the Ferentari ghetto.”

  “That’s crazy. The police would never be able to pin a murder on an old man.”

  “There wasn’t any ‘pinning’ to it. He did it. He was arrested at the scene, murder weapon in his hand, covered in blood, and with a dead body on the floor next to him. He confessed then and there. I was afraid you were a cop because … well, because I was there too.

  “I made a rash decision when Nicu shot the guy. Rather than staying around to talk to the police, I decided to move on. I regret that I never saw him again. Two months after he was jailed, another inmate beat him savagely. He was put in a priva
te hospital cell, the family was notified, and that was that. Two days later he was dead.”

  “Was Nicu an addict? Did he murder his own dealer? And why in hell were you there?”

  “Let’s stop right here, okay? I just met you, under circumstances you must agree are strange. You show up here claiming that you want to know about Nicu’s past and you just happen to attend his funeral. You follow me instead of staying with the family, whom you want to talk to. You ask me a lot of questions that are beginning to make me really nervous. I’ve told you enough. Once I find out exactly what you’re doing here and what you want from me, we can go from there. I’m going to the loo. Back in a flash.”

  The waiter cleared the table and went to retrieve the brandies Paul ordered. When the server walked away, Paul reached for her coat and rummaged through the pockets. He pulled out her passport, a return air ticket to Amsterdam and a key card from the city’s downtown Marriott Hotel. Knowing she would return any second, he opened the passport to the photo page and read her name and nationality. He replaced it just as she rounded the corner.

  When the server set the brandies down, she grinned, struggling vainly not to like him as much as she already did.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk? I hardly know you. Should I be wary?”

  “Wary of me? You know better! I’m not a policeman; that should give you comfort. I’m just a guy who likes a little adventure.”

  Suddenly her countenance turned serious. She took his hand in both of hers and said earnestly, “I have absolutely no idea who you are. I know what you’ve told me, but is that the truth? Only you know that. I should be cautious. I should be afraid of strangers. But for some reason I feel comfortable with you – maybe it’s all the alcohol you’ve forced upon me! I have always had a difficult time trusting people. It’s hard with you too, since you burst into my life just three hours ago.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I made a decision in the loo a minute ago. I decided to do something totally out of character. I don’t know what it is about you, Paul Silver. I want to get to know you better, whoever you are. So for now let’s stop this interrogation.”