A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

He barely escaped before Jane dropped the iron grate back into place with a thud. “One down.”

  “You almost took my fingers off.”

  “Move faster next time.” She was already standing over the second grate, yanking it up. “Get over here.”

  The second one revealed a heavy patch of slime, green and slick, plenty of which coated Parker’s fingers and hand when he pulled it out of the black hole. “No hidden box,” he said.

  “It has to be here.” Jane lifted the next iron grate. Halfway up, it slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor. She loosed a string of Scottish curses Parker couldn’t begin to understand.

  The grate was in three pieces. “Don’t worry,” Parker said. “Iron is brittle. These things probably break more than you realize. We can put it back and no one will notice until we’re long gone.”

  “You put it back, then. That damn thing is slippery.”

  “It’s a grate. Water runs through it. It’ll be fine.”

  “Check inside the drain.”

  He reached for the dark hole in the ground, then froze. Voices thundered from above.

  “It sounds like the door opened,” Jane whispered. She darted to the stairs and turned one ear up. “They’re speaking French. Castle employees wouldn’t speak French.”

  “Run up and see if the door fell open,” Parker said. “I’ll keep checking grates.” He dug into the next one, coming up with only the by-now familiar feel of a wet, dirty drain that was rarely cleaned. Standing up, he whipped his hands back and forth to get the worst of it off, then grabbed the grate. The things were heavy, with sharp edges at the worst places. One bit into his palm now. His grip slipped, and the grate dropped. He kicked it back into place.

  “Did you find it?”

  Jane’s voice made him jump. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He took a deep breath. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What was all that banging?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Anything going on upstairs?”

  “You were right. It was only a few tourists coming through. I don’t think they noticed the open door.”

  Parker lowered his voice as he looked at the stairs. “What if we’re wrong and there’s nothing hidden here?”

  At first, she said nothing, then her head dropped. “Don’t think that way. His message points here. I’m sure of it.”

  There were times to push, and times to back off. Either way, they’d find out shortly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  The grin on her face didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t give up.”

  Parker pulled the next grate and went to his stomach. Flat on the ground, phone in hand, he took a breath. And held it. No way.

  “Jane…”

  Jane’s shoes scuffed across the floor. When she spoke, her words seemed distant, as though she were still looking back at the stairs. “What is it?”

  He looked up into the back of her head. “Turn around. Down here.”

  “I don’t hear anyone coming.” She turned around. “What is it? Did you—”

  “Look in the drain.” He made room for her to join him on the ground. “Get down and look.” She hit the deck. “What do these look like to you?” he asked, one finger inside the drain.

  She followed along as he traced over what looked like scratches. “Marks in the rock,” she said. Then she gasped. “Deliberate marks. Those aren’t scratches.”

  “They’re carved letters. With numbers below.” His hand moved, and she saw it.

  A series of scratches, hidden in plain sight in the depths of a drainage pipe. Or at least that’s what Parker had assumed at first. The markings were faint, worn slightly from decades of rainwater. And not just any markings. The scratches were letters. Three familiar ones.

  “L.D.V.” Jane traced them this time. “Leonardo da Vinci. Like the tattoo Claus’s unit shared.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do the numbers below them mean?”

  A set of mixed characters ran beneath the initials. 4O 5R, then a horizontal line with what resembled an arrow at the end of it. “Any idea what it means?” he asked.

  She was flat on the ground beside him. Her lips moved, though no sound came out. Then she blurted out a string of unintelligible gibberish. “Vier oben funf richtig. That’s it.”

  “I have no idea what you said.”

  “It’s German. Vier oben funf richtig. Four up five right. Shorthand for a number and then a direction.”

  It all fell into place. “That’s not a letter at the end.” Parker jumped to his feet. “It’s an arrow. Telling us which way to look.” He reached down and hauled Jane up. “To find the starting point for the directions.”

  Jane wrapped her arms around him. “Parker, that is brilliant.” He barely had time to get his balance before she turned briskly. “We need to find the starting point. The arrow points to this side of the staircase.”

  His foot banged off the metal grate, knocking it even more askew; Jane was dragging him along too fast to replace it. Jane followed the arrow’s direction and ran her hands over the stones at eye level while Parker cast a wary glance toward the exit staircase beside him. The only exit. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Then start searching.” Her roving hands halted. “Any idea what we should look for?”

  “I’d say more chiseled lines. Letter or numbers, though my money is on letters. If anyone happened to see them, chances are they’d dismiss it as graffiti. All Claus had to do was hide it from the Nazis, not the staff.”

  “Agreed.” Jane stood on her toes. “You take low, I’ll take high. The arrow points here. Start looking.”

  Parker dropped to one knee, using his flashlight to inspect every crevice and crack. Problem was, there were plenty of them. At least fifteen stones stretched from floor to ceiling in each vertical column, some cracked in places, others worn smooth over time. He moved fast, examining the three columns of stone closest to the staircase. Jane worked on the higher stones, using her light to check for indications Claus left behind.

  Before long he was looking at the last column of stones before the staircase. Parker crouched on his knees and elbows to study first one stone, then the one above it, and onward. Halfway up, he turned to see Jane standing with hands on her hips. “Anything?” he asked.

  “No.” She turned his way. “I checked each row above your head. It’s possible we’re wrong. Could the arrow could be pointing another direction?”

  Parker’s heart sank. Gut instinct made him spin his words another way. “I bet you’re right. Start checking toward your left and I’ll follow once I’m done. We’ll check every stone in this room if we have to.”

  Jane’s mouth pinched. “Yes. We will.”

  She continued searching. Parker sighed inwardly, his knee protesting as he stood. The arrow could be pointing in a different direction, sure. Anything was possible. Then why don’t you believe it?

  This time he sighed out loud. Whatever Claus had left behind could be long gone, perhaps washed away. Or he could be pointing somewhere else entirely, counting on his sister to figure out what he meant. Who knew?

  His fingernail caught on the stone. Parker had one hand wrapped around the wall’s corner where it turned upstairs. He blinked, then scraped again, leaning around the corner to investigate. His nail stuck once more. He scraped again, squinted.

  “I found it.”

  Jane ran over, nearly spilling headfirst into the wall when she tripped on a flagstone. “Show me.”

  He picked more dirt out of the stone. “What does that look like?”

  “Initials. Like the drain, and his tattoo.” Her fingers brushed across it now, the heat from her hand warm on his. “L.D.V.”

  “Leonardo da Vinci.”

  The short side of this stone had the three familiar letters carved into it. Dust and moisture from the ground floor had trickled down over the years to fill in the scraped initials, rendering them invisible – until Parker had inadvertently scraped the dirt away, that is.

  “The mortar aro
und this stone is different,” Parker said. “It’s lighter.”

  “Claus removed this stone and put something behind it.”

  “He had the tools,” Parker said. He took a breath. Stay calm; do what Erika would have done. Try to poke holes in the theory first. “Claus came here when the town was securely in German hands. He would have had free rein to come down here and work.”

  Jane grabbed his hand. “Stop talking. Start getting this stone out.”

  “I need something sharp. Metal, preferably.” He looked over her shoulder. “That will do nicely.”

  The iron grate was rough, heavy, and perfect for gouging out mortar. “Watch the stairs. Tell me if anyone is coming and I’ll stop banging this stone to pieces.”

  “I’ll go to the top and whistle if anyone comes in.” She raced up, vanishing around the corner.

  One blow and the newer mortar crumbled. Whatever Claus had used to replace the original stuff was much softer. Another whack and the stone itself moved. Dust mushroomed into his eyes as Parker leaned into a final blow. Mortar disintegrated, the stone twisted free, and Parker’s momentum nearly sent him toppling over.

  He could see behind the stone, now twisted sideways and stuck. Dull metal glinted in the umber light. “Jane, there’s a metal box.”

  Jane rumbled back down and stood beside him. “Claus removed the back half of this stone. You can see the tool marks. He put the metal box behind it before re-mortaring.”

  “Can you get the box out?”

  Jane reached into the opening, though all she came back with were scraped knuckles. “It’s too small.” She heaved on the stone, pulling and grunting to no avail. “Stuck tight. Try shifting the stone to one side so I can slide the box out.”

  Parker wasn’t what he used to be in college, but he could still lift heavy things. He grabbed the stone and pulled. Then pushed. Then twisted until his arms ached. It didn’t budge. “This thing is lodged tight.”

  “Perhaps we need someone stronger.”

  He frowned. “Who do you know – oh. Right.” Her eyes had flitted toward the staircase. “Go get him. I’ll keep trying.”

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” Jane called over her shoulder as she vanished upstairs. “There’s no one in the tower,” she called back down. “I’m sending Nick down to help.”

  I’ll get this first. Jaw set, he dug in and tried ripping the stone free. No dice. Next, he tried to wriggle it back and forth. His neck muscles ached by the time footsteps reverberated off stone and Nick appeared.

  “Jane told me what you found. Any luck with that stone?”

  One final pull, then Parker admitted defeat. “No. It’s wedged in there.”

  Nick leaned over. “The metal box isn’t blocking it. Wait – I have an idea. We’ve been in this place long enough.”

  “Is Jane standing watch?”

  “Yes.” Nick leaned over and picked up the iron grate Parker had used to break the mortar away. “Now watch out.”

  Parker barely had time to move before Nick lifted the grate overhead and brought it down like righteous thunder. Two things happened. First, the grate broke in half. Then the stone exploded. One instant it was half-stuck in the wall, twisted at an angle tight enough they couldn’t get to the metal box. The next, Nick crushed it.

  Parker flailed in the dust cloud. “Damn. Nice shot.”

  Nick dropped the pieces of the iron grate with a clang. “Figured that’s faster. Stay here while I get Jane. Once she gets a quick look, we’re out of here.” He waved at the destruction. “Before someone finds this.”

  “Or before the Germans find us,” Parker said. His head was already buried in the new hole Nick had created.

  Nick pounded up the stairs as Parker reached for the box. The gray metal had a bluish patina after seven decades. Four short curved legs lifted it an inch in the air. The box was eight inches high at best, and half as wide. He pulled it out. It’s heavy. It definitely wasn’t empty.

  He opened it. Soft blue light flashed from inside, then red light sparkled. Parker flinched and gulped damp air. Gemstones. Sapphires and rubies. Rows of them. He scarcely heard the slow footsteps coming down the staircase.

  Parker didn’t look up. Not from the most beautiful, jewel-encrusted egg he’d ever seen. A Fabergé egg, one of the most recognizable jewelry pieces the world over. He turned to the stairs. “Jane, you’re not going to believe what’s in here.”

  “Put the box down.”

  Parker nearly dropped it instead. He looked up to find one of the Germans they’d evaded in Frankfurt holding Nick and Jane at gunpoint. A second man appeared behind him. A bandage covered the second man’s forehead, bruises visible beneath his eyes. The guy Nick had punched into next week was back, holding a suppressed pistol.

  “Put it down and step aside.” The first German shoved Jane, forcing Parker to grab her before she fell. The guy didn’t bother trying to push Nick. “Beside them,” he said, motioning to the box. This one had a three-day growth of grayish beard on his face, and his haggard face spoke of a man hell-bent on revenge. “If you do not put it down now, I will shoot you.”

  “Okay.” Parker let the lid fall shut as he set the box down.

  “They snuck up on me,” Jane said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry,” Parker whispered back. “We’re fine.” Hollow words, even to him.

  “Hands up,” the bearded one said, then ordered Parker and Nick to step back before his injured partner retrieved the metal box. “Open it.”

  Everyone stared. Gemstones of all colors flashed in the light. Blood-red rubies, the soft blue of aquamarine, emeralds of a brilliant green, and the blinding white of diamonds. Even the bearded man’s gun dropped down. He spoke in German, Parker catching the name Fabergé. Parker caught Nick’s eye as the gems dazzled. The big man shook his head so only Parker could see it. Not now.

  Parker had tensed, ready to spring. There wouldn’t be a better time than now. The Germans were mesmerized. Chances were the two would shoot them down here and leave their bodies. If not now, it was only a matter of time. He was so ready to attack that he fell forward, foot scuffing off the stone floor to break the spell.

  “Do not move.” The gun came back up, then the bearded man turned to his partner. “Give it to me.”

  The bearded man nodded toward Nick and Jane. “Shoot them. Shoot them all.”

  Parker didn’t hesitate. He had failed Erika in Ireland. Not again. He dove at Jane, catching a glimpse of a shadow coming down the stairs in the instant before he tackled her to the ground, covering her body with his as a gunshot boomed. Maybe this will give the others a chance.

  Only the searing pain never came. The metal slug never punched his back. Did he miss? Parker bounced on the ground and rolled, Jane screaming as he kept between her and the Germans and looked up.

  Nick swung at the bearded German. The one with the broken nose lay face down on the ground with blood pooling beneath his chest. A hole had been punched in his back. And Alexander Nichol was running down the stairs at speed, pistol in hand. He shouted at Nick. “Get out of the way!”

  That’s why the shot had sounded like cannons firing. Alexander was shooting. The bearded man had managed to get away from Nick, juking to one side before scurrying around the bigger man and scrambling deeper into the room. He ran away from the staircase as well, but it kept Nick between him and Alexander. The guy must have forgotten about Parker, because he was coming right past him. Parker got to one knee and clenched a fist. Tough luck, buddy.

  Twisting as he stood, Parker tucked his fist against his chest and threw his elbow out like a club. The German never saw it coming until it smacked him in the face. The man’s legs went up while his torso kept moving, going parallel to the ground as he flew. Arms and legs jumbled as he crashed off the flagstones and did not get up.

  Parker turned back in time to see Nick trip, his foot caught on half of the broken iron drain cover. Arms windmilling, he stumbled directly into the open d
rain. There was a sickening snap as one foot disappeared into the hole. Nick roared in pain.

  Parker was at his side in a flash. “Don’t move, Nick. Stay still.” The big man swore through gritted teeth. Parker turned to Alexander. “Check on that one,” he said, pointing to the bearded German. “Make sure he doesn’t get up.”

  Alexander ran over to the fallen German, bypassing his dead companion on the way.

  Jane appeared at Parker’s side. “How bad is it?”

  “Not good.” Parker knew ankles weren’t supposed to bend that way. “Help me get him free.”

  “I don’t need your damn help.” Nick shoved Parker aside, leaning his weight on his good foot. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

  “Stop moving this instant,” Jane ordered. “You’ll make it worse.”

  Whether out of shock or fear, Nick stopped.

  “Thank you,” Jane said. “I can field dress injuries. Let me handle this.” She knelt down by his ankle. “It’s broken, but you’re lucky. I don’t think it’s the tibia or fibula.”

  Nick grimaced. “I don’t feel lucky.”

  “You need medical attention.” She motioned Parker over. “Help me move his leg out of the drain.” Parker looped one of Nick’s arms over his shoulder and lifted the CIA man up to take weight off his injured leg, while Jane deftly maneuvered it free from the open drain. Nick barely made a peep. Once he was loose, Parker helped him stand up straight.

  “I can walk on it.” Nick shrugged free of Parker’s support and took a step. He staggered, gave a yelp of pain, and grabbed Parker again.

  “Stop being so thick-headed.” Jane grabbed one of Nick’s arms and slung it over her shoulder. “Let us help you upstairs. Unless you want the authorities to find you here?”

  Things moved quickly after Alexander came over to help. “The German is unconscious,” Alexander assured them. “That was an excellent elbow,” he said to Parker. “I suggest we hurry. We must leave before the authorities arrive. The gunshot cannot have gone unnoticed.”

  He scooped up the metal box and its contents, and the foursome made their way up the stairs with Jane leading the way. Nick hopped on one leg with an arm draped over Parker’s shoulders. A pair of terrified elderly tourists were huddled in the far corner of the Tower entrance room when the bedraggled crew barged upstairs. They didn’t follow when Alexander led the way out.