A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

  Nick didn’t blink.

  The Russian offered a sad grin. “I see.” He studied the paved path at his feet. When he looked up, he met each of their eyes in turn. “My name is Alexander Nichol. My story is about mercenaries, betrayal, and a vanished fortune.”

  Chapter 14

  On a park bench in the middle of Nuremburg, Parker listened to a story unlike anything he’d ever heard.

  Alexander Nichol cleared his throat. “In late 1917 the Russian Civil War erupted after the monarchy was abolished by Emperor Nicholas II’s abdication. The two parties involved were the Red Army, or Bolsheviks, led by Vladimir Lenin, and the White Army, a group that hoped to restore the Romanov dynasty.”

  “I don’t need a history lesson,” Jane said. “Explain why you’re after us.”

  Alexander’s gaze lingered for a moment on Jane. “The Civil War ended in 1923. My story begins in summer 1918 when the Red Army laid siege to the Russian city of Kazan. Lenin wanted Kazan as a point from which to support the front lines as they existed at the time. Supply the troops, choke off enemy resources, and win the war.

  “But Lenin had other motivations for taking the city,” Alexander said. “There was a rumor brought by White Army spies that the White Army had made a decision to move most of the former tsar’s gold from St. Petersburg to Kazan. They feared St. Petersburg was too close to Russia’s western border, and therefore vulnerable to attack. A train moved the gold to a Kazan bank vault. Five hundred tons of gold.”

  “Hold on,” Parker said. Numbers flashed through his head at a dizzying pace. “A ton is just over thirty thousand ounces. At today’s prices, that’s almost fifty million dollars. Which means that train had something like twenty-five billion dollars’ worth of gold on it.”

  “As I said, enough to win a war.” Alexander’s words picked up steam. “Enough that Lenin laid siege to Kazan. When his forces overran the city in the summer of 1918, they opened the vault and found it empty. Not a single bar of gold remained.”

  Parker jumped as though electricity filled his spine. “The single gold bar at Claus’s house. It was from the tsar’s personal gold hoard.”

  “Perhaps,” Alexander said. “I am not certain. I do know the White Army sent the gold to Siberia, guarded by their Czechoslovakian allies.”

  Jane’s combative tone vanished. Now she sat on the bench within arm’s length of Alexander, listening intently.

  “The Czechs saw the end was near and they were stuck guarding a deposed ruler’s treasure,” Alexander said. “These troops also became convinced they were moving in the wrong direction. They were tired of fighting, and concerned they would spend the winter months in Siberia.”

  “About the harshest place you could,” Parker said.

  “The train carrying the gold became stranded in a town called Irkutsk,” Alexander said. “When the Red Army caught up with them, the Czechs had two choices. Fight to defend the gold, and likely die. Or throw down their arms and buy passage back home, leaving the Russians to fight it out.”

  “I know what I’d choose.”

  Alexander nodded. “So they traded gold for their freedom. However, the Czech troops decided the Red Army would not miss a small amount of gold, so while terms of surrender were negotiated, they loaded a portion of it onto a different train back to St. Petersburg. The Bolshevik Red Army never noticed, the gold slipped out, and the Czech troops were released.”

  Nick spat in the grass. “Why do I know that’s not the end of this story?”

  “You are correct.”

  Parker raised a hand. “Hold on. What happened to the main contingent of the tsar’s gold? The part Lenin’s forces recaptured from the Czechs.”

  “It went to Lenin’s treasury, playing no small part in his eventual victory.”

  “And the second, smaller train?”

  “Evidence proves the second train returned to St. Petersburg. My intelligence indicates St. Petersburg was only the beginning of the journey this gold took across Europe. The Czechs decided to move the stolen gold out of Russia via ship through the Baltic Sea, then around Denmark to the North Sea, docking in Northern France. Then the gold once again moved via train, this time into Belgium.” Alexander fell silent.

  “Where something went wrong,” Jane said.

  “Correct. By this time the gold was guarded by only a handful of men. The small number was necessary to avoid detection. Once in Brussels, the men waited for directions on the next move.” Alexander gritted his teeth. “At this time all communication from the men ceased. Later it was determined they were killed. Their bodies were eventually located in paupers’ graves.”

  “So the gold stayed in Brussels?” Parker asked.

  “It did not remain in Brussels,” Alexander said. “I am not certain what happened to it.”

  Jane spoke up. “Germany occupied Belgium for most of World War One. After 1918, Belgium would have been in shambles. Economy in ruins, entire towns destroyed, and little infrastructure to help revitalize the nation. Locating an anonymous railcar would be nearly impossible.”

  “Or make it relatively easy to relocate.” Alexander shifted in his seat, pulling against the bonds. He turned to Nick.

  Nick shook his head. “No chance.”

  “This happened in the fall of 1918,” Alexander said. “The next whispers of this gold did not surface for nearly thirty years, when a German communication was intercepted by Russian intelligence.” Alexander held Nick’s gaze. “Several of our men were part of this intelligence team.”

  “You’re part of a secret group within the Russian government,” Nick said. “Hidden in plain sight for nearly a century.”

  “Our numbers are small, though with the current state of Russian politics, large enough to effect true change. The kind needed to save Russia.”

  “How does all this tie into Claus Elser?” Parker asked. He looked to Jane, willing her to stay silent. Time to see exactly how much the Russians knew about Elser and his service.

  “Claus Elser was part of a German unit that handled stolen cultural artifacts. Men and women from the civilian population forced to support the Nazi thieves. Each person in the unit was tattooed on their arm with a design alluding to Leonardo da Vinci. For years we have scanned medical records of suspected German expatriates in developed countries who are of the right age.”

  “Hold on,” Jane said. “You found Claus Elser by hacking medical records on an international level?”

  “Yes,” Alexander said. “Claus, or Carl, as he was called, was of the correct background and age. Once we realized Carl Ellis did not exist until 1944, we suspected he was a German soldier. The records mentioned his tattoo, so men were sent to investigate. There was an accident. The mission did not go as planned.”

  “Your inept goons killed Claus,” Parker said. “I saw it.”

  “For that, I am truly sorry. Now only one living person is linked to the missing gold.” He looked at Parker. “You.”

  “Which is why you followed us,” Parker said. “You think I can lead you to the gold.”

  “Yes. Claus Elser had gold bars in his house,” Alexander said, “thus confirming our suspicions. As to how he came to possess them, I cannot say.”

  “What about the Germans?” Nick asked. “How do we know you’re not working with them?”

  Alexander spoke between gritted teeth. “I would never associate with such filth.”

  Nick chewed his lip. “Trouble is, I don’t trust you one bit.” He grabbed the man’s thumb and pressed it against the screen of his government-issued phone, which clicked. “You’re staying here. We’re leaving.” He got to his feet, motioning to Parker and Jane to follow him.

  Only after the three had safely exited the park and rejoined the crowds on the street did anyone speak. “Was that a good idea?” Jane asked.

  Nick held up his phone. “I took his thumbprint for analysis. The guys at home are already on it, along with searching the name Alexander Nichol. We’ll see if a word of his
story is true.”

  They crossed the road, Parker’s head on a swivel as buses roared past. “Could be he’s working with the Germans. Our best bet is to stay ahead of anyone chasing us, including Alexander.”

  Nick pulled them under the protective cover of an office building’s entrance. “Jane, we need you to find the next clue. Speed is our only advantage.” Nick stood with his back to the street, providing a perfect human shield.

  “Listen to Claus’s next letter to his sister.” Jane dug in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “It used the Baskervilles code again, with false biblical scriptures on the bottom. Claus points his sister to a specific building. One that still stands today.”

  Her fingers settled softly on Parker’s forearm and her eyes shifted, looking over his shoulder toward the center of town. Parker turned to look. “Claus tells her to visit Nuremburg Castle.”

  A cluster of medieval buildings stood atop the elevated ridge jutting up from the city center, their fortified stone towers and high walls rising alongside wide buildings. Built on the most defensible geographic feature in sight, the soaring structure provided vantage points along the length of the perimeter.

  “The castle dates from the thirteenth century,” Jane said. “It’s one of the most formidable ever built.”

  “Big place,” Nick said. “Any idea where we go?”

  “See the tallest tower?” Jane asked. Parker and Nick did. “That’s called Sinwell Tower. Whatever Claus left behind is in there.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of tower to search.”

  “I expected you to say that,” Jane said. “The interior has changed a lot over the past eight hundred years. You can climb to the observation tower via a wooden staircase. Which is not original.”

  “There have likely been a dozen iterations of that staircase since the Tower went up,” Parker said. “With hundreds of workers poking around. Whatever Claus left would have been discovered by now.”

  Jane’s fingers tightened on his forearm. “Then it’s a good thing for us Claus told his sister to go into the tower basement. She’s supposed to look in a storm drain.”

  “Are tourists allowed in the basement?” Nick asked.

  Her grip on Parker’s arm loosened. “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” A motorcycle roared past, and Parker grabbed Jane’s hand. “We’ll get down there.”

  Nick grunted. “Fine. We didn’t come all this way for nothing.” He turned to face the street, lines creasing his forehead as Parker and Jane flanked him on either side. “Any idea who runs the place?”

  “A government agency.”

  Nick gave what passed for a smile. “I know a thing or two about how governments operate. Let’s go.” Nick lifted his hand as a taxi appeared and stepped directly in front of it, giving the driver no choice. Tumbling inside, Jane folded herself into the middle seat between the larger men and spoke in German to the driver.

  “Tell him to drop us a few blocks away,” Nick said. “We need to look around before going inside.”

  Jane did, the driver gassed it, and shortly dropped them halfway up the steep road running to the castle entrance. Shops and restaurants lined the sidewalk, a more touristy part of town than what lay below. Parker lifted a hand, shielding his eyes against the falling sun as he looked for anything out of place. Not that he had a clue what that might be.

  “Anything?” Nick’s question rumbled from behind him.

  Light reflected off the traffic cameras, which seemed to be at every intersection. “No.” Parker glanced at Jane, who shrugged. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  Nick started up the hill. “Use your instincts. You’d be surprised how well they work.”

  Nick led them into the castle, dodging packs of visitors with selfie-sticks held out like knights’ lances. Open gates greeted them, along with an overly peppy girl who thrust castle maps into their hands. The stone archway overhead cast a wide shadow while they crossed the threshold between the thick walls. An open stone courtyard brought them to a small medieval layout within the castle walls.

  “The tower is that way,” Jane said. She held up her map. “There’s nothing on this about a basement.”

  “Then we find it on our own,” Parker said.

  No one accosted them on their route through the castle grounds. Jane followed Nick’s advice and stuck close to the walls, protecting their backs until they stood at the base of Sinwell Tower. As one, they all craned their necks back, looking to the very top. Stones dark with age mixed with soft brown blocks to form a circular tower that had been standing for over eight centuries. Red tiles formed an overhanging roof, above which sprouted a single-floor top level. The conical roof covering this uppermost floor had a weathervane spinning slowly on a pole at the very top.

  “If there’s a basement, it likely has just one entrance,” Nick said. “Easy to get trapped in a place like that.”

  “It’s over there.” Jane pointed to an open wooden door. A group of ten people exited as they watched.

  “Let’s think for a minute,” Nick said. “Claus’s letter points to a storm drain. Any idea which side?”

  “The north side,” Jane said. “Beyond that, I have no idea. This castle must have rudimentary sewers to move rainwater.”

  Nick stood still; his head moved slowly, scanning everything around them. Parker did the same, though without any clear idea of what to look for. An elderly Asian couple stood not twenty feet away, one of them pointing at Nick. Not surprising, considering he was as big as both of them stacked together. Other than that, no one paid them the least bit of mind.

  “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Parker said.

  “Neither do I.” Nick heaved a sigh. “You two go in and find what Claus left. I’ll stand watch outside. I’m too big to fit into a sewer anyway.”

  “Fit into the sewer?” Parker said, his voice rising. “You know where they probably empty? Out the side of the castle and down over the cliff.”

  “Stop worrying,” Jane said. “I’ll handle it if needed.”

  No one waited inside the tower entrance. All the castle employees they’d seen, with their matching smiles and dark shirts, milled about the grounds now, leaving visitors to enjoy the castle. It wasn’t as though anyone could damage the castle or steal anything. The stones had been there for centuries. They weren’t going anywhere. Which meant Parker and Jane were free to ignore the EINFAHRT VERBOTEN/NO ENTRY sign attached to an unobtrusive door at the far side of the tower wall. Parker jiggled the handle, not surprised to find it unlocked. Germans tended to follow the rules.

  “After you.” Parker held out a hand. He turned around, flashed Nick the okay sign. Nick nodded and vanished out the front door to watch for signs of trouble.

  Jane’s phone light came on as they slipped through the door, intensely bright in the darkness. “Close it behind you.” She flicked a switch, sending power to bulbs running down the curving staircase. The steps disappeared out of sight around a bend. “Use the handrail,” Jane said. “These stairs are slick.”

  Parker followed her around the curving wall. Hair rose on Parker’s arms as the air temperature cooled. Around they went until the walkway ended in a wall of blackness. It appeared to open into another room, though any light cast by the bulbs overhead vanished mere feet into the gloom. All they could see were a few stones comprising the floor, worn smooth with age.

  Jane stopped at the bottom. She took one step to the side, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Hold on,” Parker said. “I can’t see—”

  Light exploded. He clamped his eyes shut. “What the hell?”

  “There had to be a light switch somewhere,” Jane said. “I should have warned you.”

  He blinked rapidly until the room came back into focus. It wasn’t much to see. “This is the basement?”

  “What did you expect?” Jane asked. “They had to dig this out by hand.”

  They were
in a single-story room. The stone walls sweated moisture. Metal grates had been placed on the floor at even intervals around the room’s circumference. Parker’s heart rate picked up. “Those look like storm drains.” Then a warning sounded in his head. “We won’t be able to hear Nick down here.”

  “Then we’d better search quickly.” Jane was already on her knees, poking at the closest grate. “You go that way. I’ll meet you at the far end.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “You’ll know when you see it.” Her flashlight was down between the bars of the metal grate. “Don’t drop your phone,” she said. “You can’t see anything without it.”

  He leaned over his first grate, phone clenched in a death grip. Iron bars thicker than his thumb overlapped, though not so close together his hand couldn’t fit through. A first scan of the drain revealed nothing but a wet stone slope for water to run down. It looked like the thing hadn’t been touched by human hands for a decade. His shoes squeaked as he hurried toward the next grate.

  “Did you lift the grate?”

  Parker turned to see Jane staring at him. “What?”

  “The grates move.” She demonstrated, heaving one of them up to expose the opening. It clanged off the floor with a resounding bang. “Lift the grate and check inside. Claus could have secured a package underneath the floor.” Jane reached in until her arm disappeared to the shoulder. “Nothing in this one. You have longer arms, though. Get over here and check.”

  The crud covering her arm when it came out of the hole didn’t bear considering. “How would he secure anything well enough to stay in place for seventy years?”

  “Tape. Bolts. Thermite welding.” Jane flung green slime off her hand. Some of it hit his shoes. “Any number of ways. Just check.”

  Parker hopped up and hurried to Jane’s side. The last thing they needed was a porter hearing them messing around down here and coming to investigate. Lying flat on the ground, Parker finger-walked his hand into the drain until his shoulder threatened to stick in the opening. “Nothing.”