The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  She planned to do the same thing here. She would bluff to her advantage.

  ‘May I ask you a question?’ she said to Ulster, who had just finished a rambling dialogue about the history of the Archives while lounging on one of Ludwig’s couches. ‘Jon said something to me when we first met, and it’s been bothering me ever since.’

  ‘Of course, my dear. What did he say?’

  ‘He said you guys were looking for some kind of treasure and needed my help.’

  Ulster sat upright. ‘He said what?’

  With her best poker face, she continued her story. ‘He said you were looking for a secret treasure or something, and he wanted to ask me some questions about Ludwig.’

  ‘Wait a moment! When did he say that?’

  ‘When he first came up to the house. You and DJ were still chatting on the slope, and Jon hustled over to introduce himself and apologize about noise from the helicopter. Remember?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ said Ulster as he stood and started to pace. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Then he asked about my job.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him I worked for the Bavarian Palace Department, and I’ve been …’ She paused for a moment, letting the tension build.

  He stared at her. ‘You’ve been what?’

  ‘Maybe I should wait until Jon returns. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’m doing something wrong here, like I’m going behind his back. Perhaps our discussion was supposed to be confidential.’

  Ulster rushed over to her side and patted her knee. ‘Nonsense! I can assure you that isn’t the case. Jonathon, David and I are in this together. If he felt you could help our cause, perhaps you can. Tell me, my dear, what is your area of expertise?’

  ‘Ludwig’s palaces,’ she answered honestly. ‘Over the past few years, I’ve worked at Linderhof, Neuschwanstein and the Munich Residenz. I know more about those buildings than Ludwig himself – mostly because they’ve done a lot of remodelling since his death.’

  Ulster laughed at her joke. He was a huge fan of historical humour. ‘What about his life? Are you familiar with his life?’

  ‘If you’re referring to Ludwig Friedrich Wilhelm von Wittelsbach, then the answer is yes. A famous historian once said, “To understand a castle, you must understand the king.” Obviously, that’s a difficult task with someone as complicated as Ludwig, but it’s a passion of mine. I’ve spent the last few years studying his letters and journals and the books from his private library, trying to learn about his life. Eventually, I reached a point where I knew more about Ludwig than some of the men I’ve dated. I know that’s pathetic, but it’s the truth.’

  Ulster leaned back on the couch. ‘Tell me, my dear, do you know the name of the historian you just quoted?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Petr. I don’t recall.’

  He smiled. ‘It was my grandfather, Conrad Ulster.’

  ‘Really?’ Her voice cracked as she said it. She honestly hadn’t known. ‘Here I am going on and on like a pompous windbag, and I used your grandfather’s quote as my thesis statement. I can’t imagine what you think of me right now!’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, I find you completely refreshing. During the past fifteen minutes, you have praised my article in The Times and quoted my grandfather. Fifteen years and fifty pounds ago, I might have thought you were flirting with me!’

  Heidi blushed, more embarrassed than a moment before.

  Ulster continued. ‘Tell me, did Jonathon ask you any questions about Ludwig before he left? Perhaps we can work out what part of our investigation you could assist.’

  She quickly replayed the conversation with Payne in her head. She hoped to find a nugget that would convince Ulster she could be trusted with information about their trip to Bavaria. Unfortunately, the only questions she could recall were asked after Jones and Ulster had joined the discussion. Instead of saying nothing at all, she decided to use them to keep the ball rolling. ‘If you remember, DJ wanted to know about fresh-water lakes that Ludwig might have visited around here. He seemed disappointed when I told him there were none. I thought maybe he was thinking about Schloss Hohenschwanstein, the castle Ludwig stayed at when Neuschwanstein was being built, since there was a large lake adjacent to the property, but that seemed to disappoint him even more.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

  ‘Then Jon asked me to translate the names of both castles into English. His ears seemed to perk up when I mentioned high swan stone and new swan stone as if that information was somehow important.’

  ‘Yes, my dear, I remember that, too.’

  ‘Then, I said-’

  Ulster interrupted her. ‘Actually, my dear, I was wondering if Jonathon asked you any questions that I wasn’t privy to. Those are the ones that would be most helpful to our cause.’

  Heidi stared at him, intrigued. Even though she didn’t know him very well, she knew Ulster was overly polite – one of the most well-mannered men she had ever met. Yet he had just cut her off in mid-sentence, right after she had mentioned the translation of the two names. In poker, whenever an opponent bet too quickly it usually meant he was hiding something. Suddenly, she wondered if Ulster’s interruption was his way of changing the topic, in the same way locking himself in the bathroom had been his way to avoid tough questions about his trip to Schachen.

  ‘Let me think,’ she said, hoping to buy some time.

  ‘Think away, my dear. I’m not going anywhere.’

  She leaned back on the couch and rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what she knew. High swan stone and new swan stone were simple translations. Anyone with a basic grasp of the German language could have done that for them, so it had to be something more than that. Okay, what led them to ask about the translations? The lake. They wanted to know about a lake that Ludwig might have visited on Mount Schachen. She told them there wasn’t a lake around here, but there was a lake that Ludwig had visited on many occasions by the other castles.

  Crap! She suddenly realized they weren’t the ones who had brought up the castles; she had brought up the castles. Maybe she was wrong about their interest in the translation of the castle’s name. Maybe she had misread their questions and Ulster’s interruption, and turned them into an elaborate wild-goose chase, one that would end with a vast treasure. Of course, that would be appropriate considering the subject matter. After all, Ludwig had a history of taking boring tasks and turning them into whimsical adventures. Perhaps she was doing the same thing here.

  Heidi opened her eyes and focused. Payne seemed interested in the word swan. She was well aware one of Ludwig’s many nicknames was the Swan King, but could there be another connection she was looking for?

  If so, what did it have to do with a treasure?

  A popular legend involved a series of mysterious letters – known as the black swan letters – Ludwig had sent to aristocrats throughout Europe. With his royal coffers nearly dry, Ludwig reportedly asked for their support in order to finish a secret project he had been working on. Since his reputation was better in foreign countries than in Bavaria, it was assumed that many noblemen answered his call, and riches came flooding in. Heidi had no way of knowing if the rumours were true, but if they were, there was a chance the money Ludwig had collected was still hidden somewhere since he was murdered before he could spend it.

  Could that be what they were looking for?

  The infamous black swan treasure?

  It would explain many of their questions and why Ulster had interrupted her right after she had mentioned the word swan. He was trying to shift her focus away from a key word.

  Heidi smiled to herself. Obviously none of this would hold up in a court of law, but in a game of poker, she had more than enough to work with. All she had to do was bluff a little more and see how her opponent reacted. So far, Ulster had shown an inability to lie, which was admirable in a friend but a serious problem in a game like this.

  She glanced at
him. ‘Now that I think about it, Jon did ask me something else. He wanted to know if I was familiar with the black swan.’

  Ulster tensed up. ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him I was quite familiar with the topic. I know all about the midnight letters, the mysterious project and his massive treasure.’

  Ulster turned bright red. ‘Treasure?’

  Heidi stared at him. She analysed the colour of his face, the crinkles around his eyes and the way his hands trembled slightly. This was a man with a major tell. ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!’

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘You’re looking for his treasure! The black swan treasure!’

  His face turned brighter. ‘I don’t know what you think you know, but …’

  She ignored his protest and continued her celebration by doing a small victory dance in the Turkish Hall, the same place where Ludwig used to prance around with his male servants.

  Ulster sighed. ‘Bollocks!’

  Heidi heard the word and couldn’t help but laugh. It was probably the closest a man like Ulster ever came to swearing. Suddenly feeling guilty for her behaviour, she collapsed on the couch next to him and patted his belly. ‘Don’t worry, Petr. Your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘It is?’ he asked, concerned.

  ‘I promise, I won’t tell a soul.’

  He glanced at her, hopeful. ‘You won’t?’

  She flashed a winning smile. ‘Not if you take me with you.’

  43

  Krueger didn’t give a damn about bystanders. As far as he was concerned, collateral damage was an acceptable part of war, and that’s what he was involved in: a goddamn war. Thus far, Kaiser’s men had taken out half his crew, which gave Krueger all the motivation he needed to be ruthless. If people got in his way, he was going to knock them to the ground, shove them into the river, or do whatever he had to do to complete his mission. If he failed, he knew Mueller would blame him, and that would be the end of Krueger’s career. Maybe even his life.

  Mueller was quite vindictive.

  Despite his incentive to succeed, Krueger had been reluctant to fire his weapon during the early part of the chase because of a severe shortage of ammo. He had a few rounds in his clip, but not enough to take desperate shots while running – especially while navigating the upper section of the gorge where the narrow trail twisted in and out of tunnels. Further up ahead, he knew the path widened and straightened. That’s where he had planned to make his move.

  But everything changed when he heard the gunshot.

  Krueger slammed on his brakes and stared at Hahn, the goon directly behind him. While gasping for breath, he asked, ‘Where did that come from?’

  Hahn gasped as well. ‘Back there somewhere.’

  Krueger stared at the short tunnel they had just run through. It had been cut through a narrow pillar of stone that jutted out like a peninsula into the river. ‘Where’s Meyer?’

  ‘He’s behind me.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

  Hahn shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been following you the whole time.’

  Krueger cursed to himself. Suddenly, he had a tough decision to make. Continue forward with Hahn as an armed escort, or send Hahn back to check on the gunshot. Obviously, if Krueger had known all the facts – that Payne had killed Meyer near the entrance to the gorge and was simply setting them up – there wouldn’t have been a dilemma. But since Krueger was in the dark about Meyer, he made his decision based on the survival of his crew. ‘You better go back and check on him. We need as many men as we can get to stop their chopper.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘But before you go, give me the rifle.’

  Hahn stared at the G36 he had acquired from Schneider, right after slitting his throat. The rifle gave him a sense of comfort. ‘But, sir-’

  ‘No buts!’ Krueger growled. ‘There are two men ahead of us. I’ll be damned if I’m going to face them with a handgun. Besides, you and Meyer can watch each other’s backs for a while.’

  He reluctantly traded weapons with his boss. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Now go! Check on Meyer before he’s dead!’

  Hahn nodded, then sprinted to the south, the opposite direction to the one he had been heading. For the first few seconds, he felt completely discombobulated, as if everything in the world had been switched round in order to confuse him. Suddenly, the Partnach River was on his right, and its water was surging towards him. His rifle was now a Glock. His boss was now behind him. And his current mission was to find his friend, not kill his enemy.

  It was almost too much for his brain to handle.

  Hoping to gather his thoughts, Hahn stopped inside the tunnel he had just run through – which was shorter and brighter than the earlier tunnels – and checked his weapon. The Glock 17, an Austrian-made pistol chambered in a 9x19mm Parabellum, was one of the most popular handguns in the world. Highly durable, it is a NATO-classified sidearm and is used by thousands of law-enforcement agencies round the globe. Unfortunately, the damn thing was useless without ammo, and a cursory check of the magazine revealed only three rounds to work with.

  ‘Scheisse!’ he grumbled in German.

  Pissed at Krueger for putting him in this predicament, Hahn shoved the magazine back into the Glock and walked forward. He would curse out his boss later, after he rescued Meyer from whatever mess he had got himself into. Using caution, Hahn stared at the rocky terrain from the shadows of the tunnel. The trail ahead was fairly straight for twenty-five feet, then it curled back to the left. If Meyer was in trouble, that was probably where.

  Suddenly, a thought dawned on him, one that would have come to him earlier if he hadn’t been so confused. Why risk his ass when he could call Meyer instead?

  Hahn pulled out his radio. ‘Come in, Meyer. Over.’

  Static filled the line for the next several seconds.

  So Hahn tried again. ‘Come in, Meyer. What’s your location?’

  Once again, static hissed from the speaker.

  Trying to improve reception, Hahn took a few steps forward, just beyond the edge of the tunnel. With an open sky above him, he hoped it would make enough of a difference that he would be able to talk to Meyer without having to risk his life.

  Ironically, his caution led to his death.

  From his perch above the tunnel entrance – where he had positioned himself on a narrow ledge – Payne waited until the goon was directly between him and the water. While leaning back against the rocks, he coolly lined up his shot and pulled the trigger. Fired at close range with a downward trajectory, the bullet tore through Hahn’s skull and face with so much force that it ended up fragmenting against the rocks underneath the water’s surface. A fountain of blood and brains splattered against the safety fence a moment before Hahn’s body slumped to the path, a few inches from his Glock and radio.

  Wasting no time, Payne leapt from his perch and shoved the corpse into the Partnach, the same river that had swept away Meyer’s remains. In death, the two goons were reunited in a watery grave. Of course, Payne couldn’t have cared less about their reunion. When his adrenaline was flowing and his life was on the line, he didn’t have time to think about what he had done. He was far too concerned with what he needed to do – like tucking the Glock into his belt and shoving the radio into his pocket. Both might come in handy somewhere down the line.

  By Payne’s calculation, there was only one target left: the man who had killed Collins near the intersection. Right now Krueger was trapped between Payne and Richter in the middle of a steep gorge, yet Payne knew the shooter could still do some damage. So far, Krueger had proven to be a pretty good shot. If he hunkered down in a crevice or inside a dark tunnel, he would be tough to root out in a short amount of time. That wouldn’t be much of an issue for Richter since he could keep running to the rendezvous point, but it would be a major problem for Payne. He simply didn’t have
time to run back up the mountain.

  To prevent that scenario, Payne wanted to trap the shooter in an open clearing, somewhere on the path where the guy couldn’t take shelter. Unfortunately, the one man who could provide Payne with the advanced surveillance he needed was currently running for his life. With no other options, Payne got on his radio and hoped for the best.

  ‘Come in, Junkyard Dog. Can you hear me?’

  Payne waited ten seconds before he tried again. ‘Junkyard Dog, stop your running and answer me. I need your help. Over.’

  Several seconds ticked by as he waited for a response. Payne was about to try one last time when the silence was finally broken.

  ‘Are you talking to me?’ Richter asked.

  Payne laughed to himself. In his excitement, he had forgotten whom he was dealing with. The truth was that most dogs were probably smarter than Richter. ‘Yeah, big guy, I’m talking to you. Are you somewhere safe?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I stopped inside a tunnel.’

  ‘What’s the path look like behind you?’

  ‘Like dirt, sir.’

  Payne smirked. ‘I meant, describe the terrain. Straight, twisty, narrow … ?’

  ‘Straight, sir. And pretty wide open. The canyon opens up further ahead.’

  ‘Good, that’s good. That’s what we’re looking for.’

  ‘For what, sir?’

  Payne ignored the question. For one reason or another, Kaiser’s men simply didn’t understand the risks of radio transmissions. With the proper equipment, radio signals were very easy to intercept. ‘Do you see anyone headed your way?’

  Richter peeked out of the tunnel. ‘Not right now, sir. No hikers or bad guys in sight. The path is all clear.’

  ‘And you’re sure you’re secure?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m dug in real good.’

  ‘Then catch your breath and hold your position.’