But then the tranquility was shattered.
Maggie screamed.
Everyone scattered as a bat flew past them.
Veronica took a deep breath. Be calm for your children. That’s what Carsten would do. She put her arm around an embarrassed Maggie and pulled her tight to her side.
“Bats are cool!” her brother tossed a little salt onto his sister’s wounded pride and began chasing after the bat until Eddie horse-collared him.
After putting their hearts back in their chests, they soldiered on, struggling to catch their breath in the thin air. Their path ended at a thick, steel door built into the cave wall. It looked like an airtight door that might be found in a submarine. This time Eddie didn’t need to be asked, he twisted a steering-wheel-type device on the door like he was making a hard left turn. After some more grunting and groaning, the heavy door unlatched and opened inward.
This room was not dark, in fact, it was glowing. Veronica took one step inside and her mouth dropped.
Chapter 29
Veronica wandered toward the glow. It looked like a miniature version of pictures she had seen in her textbooks.
“The Amber Room,” she exclaimed with astonishment.
“I figured that an art history guru like yourself would know better if it’s the real deal,” Flavia answered. “I found the materials stored underground here in sealed crates. I didn’t know what it was at first, but when I figured it out, I tried to put it together just as it last looked in the photos.”
Jamie made a mad dash toward one of the chairs, but Veronica grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. You can dress them up, but you just can’t take them to a lost treasure once described as The Eighth Wonder of the World, she thought with a shake of her head.
“Be careful,” Flavia warned. “The amber is very brittle.”
“Just amazing,” Youkelstein chimed in. “Shortly after the German invasion of Russia, the Nazis gained control of the treasure. They maintained it at the castle of Königsberg, until January of 1945 when Hitler gave the order to move it. So the treasure was loaded into crates, which were last seen at a railway station in Königsberg. There were rumors it was put aboard the Wilhelm Gustoff, which was sunk by a Russian submarine. Some believe it never left Königsberg, which was destroyed by the Royal Air Force that April, while others believe it was burned by the Red Army.”
“Wow—raise your hand if you had Rhinebeck in your missing treasures pool,” Zach quipped.
Veronica lightly ran her hands over the porcelain fixtures. “I mean, it could be the real deal, but I’m a student, not an expert.”
“Well, consider this to be your final exam,” Flavia said. “These caves are filled with paintings and other works of art that were stolen by the Nazis during the war. But for obvious reasons, I’ve never had the opportunity to authenticate them.”
“What was your reaction to finding this cave, and all it entailed?” Zach asked like a reporter.
“Like I said, I wasn’t a Nazi expert when I moved here. And while I have a good eye for art, I am no historian. I thought they must be Gus’ secret art collection—he’d given many paintings to St. Marks, so I knew he’d been a collector. I thought it would be a nice tribute to him to hang them in my gallery.”
Youkelstein looked shocked. “You hung priceless stolen paintings in your art gallery!?”
“Obviously I didn’t know they were stolen. At least until a customer complimented me on my exhibit to honor paintings stolen by the Nazis. She was also impressed with how exact my replicas looked.”
“So let me get this straight,” Zach interrupted. “You claim to have stumbled upon this cave after moving here full-time, but you had owned this place for over twenty years. So how did these artifacts remain in such pristine condition?”
“I’m sure the subterranean conditions down here helped, along with the lack of light. And I certainly wasn’t the one who constructed these airtight rooms. I believe someone was taking care of the art for all those years after Gus’ death. The cave had a curator.”
“Any idea who that would be?” Zach asked.
“Yes, I think it was Ellen.”
“What makes you think that?”
Flavia began walking away. “You need to follow me.”
Chapter 30
Part of Veronica wanted to hightail it home. She was kicking herself for taking Ellen’s bait. Her only objective was to protect Maggie and Jamie. And by bringing them here, she feared she’d done the opposite.
But the other half was intrigued by the stolen art, and was attracted to the mystery. The old Veronica was shining through the cracks.
Maggie must have noticed her inner turmoil and nudged up beside her. “You okay, Mom?”
“How could I not be? I’m surrounded by all the things I love—you and Jamie, amazing art, Uncle Eddie … okay, two out of three isn’t so bad.”
They had a good smile at that one—no comedian cracks this time.
The motif inside Flavia’s farmhouse was sort of an eclectic mix of Miami Vice and Colonial Williamsburg, but of course it worked.
Flavia disappeared into a long hallway, leaving the rest of them standing in a rustic kitchen that featured a tempting wine bar. The hallway was lined with paintings and Veronica couldn’t help wonder if they were also stolen. Flavia returned minutes later, carrying a pile of papers and envelopes and dropped them on the kitchen counter, reminiscent of when Veronica scrambled to pay the bills at the end of each month.
“These are letters between Gus Becker and Ellen Peterson,” she announced.
Veronica picked up the first one, dated March 28, 1953. The letter was addressed to Philip and signed by someone named Andrew.
“I don’t understand,” Veronica said. “These aren’t from Ellen.”
“Yes they are,” Youkelstein said, pulling the letter close to his face. “Philip and Andrew were names of Apostles. They are using their aliases.”
“When I first found them, I was confused myself,” Flavia explained. “I thought that perhaps Andrew and Philip were lovers who owned the farm prior to Gus. But then one day someone showed up to connect the dots.”
“Carsten,” Veronica blurted out.
Flavia nodded. “He traced a return address on one of the envelopes he’d discovered in the back of Ellen’s closet when they were moving her to Sunshine Village. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at either, but when we cross-matched them to the letters I’d found, we realized that we now had both ends of the letter chain. It became clear that Philip was Heinrich Müller/Gus Becker, and Andrew was Ellen. We assumed they had a secret love affair, but little did we know how much further it went.”
Eddie didn’t want to hear of any affair, or anything that would disparage his memories of Ellen and Harold Peterson. He stormed out of the room, almost knocking Zach over in the process.
Veronica thought to go after him, but thought better of it. She returned her focus to the letters, and when she began to read, she realized that when it came to the Peterson family, Eddie was the least of her worries.
Chapter 31
March 28, 1953
Philip,
I can’t tell you how much your letter made my blood pulse. I have not heard from you in eight years. You always taught me about the importance of faith, but your capture after the war tested mine. I’m sure that working for the Americans could not have been easy for you, but at least you were safe and able to continue to fight the Russians. They are truly the most dastardly of all the earth’s creatures.
The plan has carried on in your absence. Thank goodness that the Korean conflict has finally ended, so we can move toward the endgame. Josef is now fourteen and living with the family that was created to care for him. But I must tell you that our son has his mother worried. I’m told his indiscretions are a unique American phenomenon called teenagers. But on the rare occasions I’m able to visit with him, I see trouble in his eyes. I think he needs you … his father.
My next words are the one
s I’ve avoided since receiving your correspondence. I have married. A good man named Harold—an honorable police officer like yourself. He knows nothing of the group or why we were sent to America. We don’t share the same fire as you and I did, Philip, but he is sturdy and the best friend I could ever imagine. We have a son named Harry Jr., who is now four years old. I can only hope that one day he will get to meet his brother Josef.
I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you once again. Although, I know secrecy will be paramount for any such meeting.
Love always, Andrew
October 6, 1959
We did it, Philip! We married off our son. What a grand day! I never thought it possible that all the still-living Apostles could be in the same place at the same time. I joked with Bartholomew during dinner that it was our version of The Last Supper, and he responded that he was just glad that no secrets were revealed with so much champagne being consumed. Harold mentioned you when we returned to the city. He was very impressed with the security you provided for the wedding, especially how well organized it was. I could imagine the two of you being great friends under different circumstances. Unfortunately, he can never know who you are. Who we are!
I can only hope this union sets Josef in the right direction. Thaddeus looked beautiful and now that two Apostle families have joined, we are prepared to take our rightful place. I felt Peter beaming down on us. He must have been so proud—he’s the one who anointed him the Chosen One, and despite Josef’s many stumbles, I still believe in Peter’s prophecy. And now we will become grandparents! I wish we could celebrate such a proud moment together, but I understand the situation, as we all do. I was relieved that they had the ceremony before she showed too much. That could be quite a scandal in the high society Josef has now joined. But anything to take the focus away from their true identify is a blessing.
December 1, 1963
I haven’t been able to bring myself to write you, Philip. But I’m so relieved that you’re finally out of the hospital. I feel the need to be by your side, but we both know that’s not a possibility. Harold has focused on my recent depression. He doesn’t know I was down about being unable to help my Philip.
Otto found evidence that traced your stroke to Thomas. I know this is not a surprise to you, or any of us. But this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to Thomas’ sins against the group. As we might have suspected, he was plotting his takeover since before the war ended, and was responsible for your capture by the Americans, while also plotting with Judas to murder Peter. Trust was always Peter’s downfall, and both of us did warn him of Thomas’ true intentions. I know it’s no consolation to you, Philip, but we brought you some semblance of justice. Thomas is no longer a threat to us, or anyone.
The recent news of the death of President Kennedy was shocking. It made me think of his mother—I can’t even fathom what it must be like for a mother to witness her son being murdered. It made me feel blessed that Josef is alive and healthy, although his relationship with this Olivia woman worries me. I am not one to argue against a mistress for a powerful man, but having a child is complicated and dangerous, as you know, especially with her working for the Americans. But I am glad you have got to spend time with Josef these last few years, and I must say I am excited about our new granddaughter, even if I have reservations about the mother. Get well, my love.
Veronica glanced at Flavia. Her ice princess persona was beginning to melt. Her mother was the Olivia that Ellen spoke of, the mistress who was to have a child with Josef. That would make Heinrich Müller her grandfather, and it suddenly made more sense as to why he left the farm to her. It would also explain the trips her mother made to Rhinebeck and her recollections of Gus Becker’s son—he was Flavia’s father.
Which meant that Flavia and Carsten did have something in common after all—Ellen Peterson was their grandmother.
Chapter 32
Veronica’s journey through history brought her to the 1970s. A time of bell-bottoms, shag carpets, and much tragedy for Ellen Peterson. The loss of her children caused a seismic shift in Ellen’s thinking.
September 26, 1972
I’m sorry that I haven’t written in so long, Philip, but I hadn’t the strength to lift a pen. The death of our son has sent me into the depths of despair. I need to be in your arms—it’s the only tonic that could possibly ease the pain. It hurt me so much that your condition wouldn’t allow you to attend our son’s funeral.
I feel you are the only person I can trust now. Every motherly instinct I have is telling me that someone from within the group was responsible for his death. I am the first to admit that his worst enemy was himself. The drugs, the floozies, and his utter lack of ambition and self-discipline, I feel are a reflection on me as his mother. I failed him. The group failed him.
I am suspicious of all the Apostles, Otto included. But I will act like a grieving mother until I get more proof. What type of vicious animal would shoot a man right in front of his son?
August 4, 1975
Maybe I deserved this, Philip. But I would have rather been hit by a lighting bolt than lose another son. I tried to shield Harry Jr. from the secrets of the Apostles, but I couldn’t protect him from his own violent and self-destructive nature. I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘nature versus nurture’ since Harry’s death, wondering if I passed these genetics to both my children. The police say she killed him in self-defense and I have no reason to doubt that. I knew what he had become, I wasn’t naïve, and it happened long before that night. It is part of the dark cloud that has been following me since we came to America. And now both my children have been the ones to pay the price. Harold Sr. is devastated. Some days I worry that he will harm himself. He is oblivious to the dark legacy I’ve brought to my children.
I will spend the remainder of my days on this planet protecting the family that I have left. It will be our secret that I no longer support the Apostles. My only dedication now is to raise my grandson Carsten, and his half-brother Edward. They are my last chance to bring light into my darkness. You must do the same for our granddaughter.
Veronica made eye contact with Flavia from across the room. Her humanity was coming more into focus each moment, even if Veronica didn’t want to admit it.
And Veronica actually found some sympathy for Ellen. She had dedicated the last part of her life to protecting Carsten from the truth of his heritage, only to have him find a box of letters in the back of a closet, sending his curious mind on a dangerous mission. That’s the thing about being a mother—you can do all the right things and offer fortress-like protection, but in the end, the world can be cruel and random, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Veronica looked at Maggie and Jamie, and realized no matter what she did, she couldn’t guarantee their safety. She felt helpless.
Zach addressed Flavia, “You said you cross-checked these letters against the ones Carsten Peterson had found. The ones that Müller wrote to Ellen. Can we see those?”
“I don’t know where they are. They were in his possession the last I knew, but they weren’t on him when he died, and were never found, as far as I know.”
“We need to re-construct Carsten’s last day. That’s our best chance to lead us in the right direction,” Zach said, sounding assertive.
Veronica didn’t think Maggie or Jamie should be reconstructing the day their father died, and sent them out to “play” with their Uncle Eddie. Jamie was itching to join his police partner ever since Eddie bolted from the house, and eagerly ran to the door. Maggie didn’t go willingly, but after a spirited debate she relented. She was picking her battles carefully.
“It was the first time I’d seen Carsten scared,” Flavia said softly. “He informed me that we’d stumbled into a dangerous situation and that he no longer wanted me involved. I fought him, of course, but he was a stubborn one. Seeking help, he went to his boss at Sterling Publishing, Aligor Sterling, who as you know, is an expert on the subject.”
The comment almost sent Veroni
ca through the chimney. Flavia read her look. “It’s not what you think—Sterling told him that he couldn’t help him. So Carsten took up the search alone and began confiding in a mystery source he’d found through his research. And before you even ask me, he refused to tell me the name of the source.”
Just the mention of Sterling seemed to irritate Youkelstein, who “pulled an Eddie” and stomped angrily into the next room.
“Where did he go on that final day?” Zach asked.
“He left to meet his source in Poughkeepsie. I should have followed him, and I’ve regretted not doing so ever since.”
“What was the game plan after Carsten met his contact?”
“We were supposed to meet up later that night for a strategy session at the motel room he was using in Poughkeepsie. But when I got there …”
Flavia didn’t need to finish the sentence. She began to tear-up and Veronica did the same. She wasn’t sure if she was crying for Carsten or because Maggie and Jamie had to grow up without a father.
“And that’s where the trail ends?” Zach asked.
“Not exactly,” Flavia said, and once again had the group’s full attention. “I found a note in his pocket before the paramedics arrived. It listed a meeting in Bedford, New York with someone named Rose. I have no idea if it was a first or last name. It was dated from the previous day, but contained no details.”
“Was this Rose his contact? The one he went to meet in Poughkeepsie?”
Flavia shrugged. “I have no idea. Like I said, he didn’t tell me the contact’s name. And with all the aliases these people use, who knows if Rose was the real name, or even if it was a man or woman. I don’t even know where I’d start looking.”
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