A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

  “It is time for a change,” Bjorn said. “A jolt to the public consciousness, a moment to right our course.”

  Frank ventured a word. “If we capture the final news cycle leading up to the election then we can own the momentum to push us over the top.”

  “The question is how to make this happen. Opposition parties want to dominate media coverage, the same as we do. Which is why it is time for a change.”

  Frank’s stomach dropped. A change? Bjorn von Storch was not a man for half-measures. He was also Frank’s biggest donor by far, between the reported contributions and money funneled to him through less legitimate means. Frank couldn’t lose the funding now. It would guarantee disaster.

  “When did you last speak with our associates in the field?” Bjorn asked.

  “Not for several days now.” What did they have to do with this? “Have I missed a development?”

  “Several. Including an agent’s death in Nuremburg.”

  Frank sat bolt upright. “One of them is dead?”

  “His body will remain anonymous.”

  “What happened?”

  “Our team had the Americans under control in Nuremburg Castle. What happened in the castle is unclear, though it ended with one of our men dead and the Americans escaping. It appears another man came to their aid, a Russian we were unaware is assisting them.”

  Frank fell back into his seat. Russians? What did they have to do with this? “I’ve heard nothing about foreign involvement beyond the American and his Scottish associate.”

  “It is irrelevant. What does matter is what they discovered in the castle.” Bjorn’s voice dropped. “There is an opportunity, Member Weidel. A chance for you to change the course of this election. It is a chance you will not have again.”

  Frank perked up. “Did they discover evidence related to Elser’s trail?”

  “It is Elser’s trail. Our surviving man reported the Americans found a missing Fabergé egg. The same egg is listed on inventory records from Elser’s unit during the war.”

  Frank’s curiosity was piqued in spite of it all. “Claus Elser stole a Fabergé egg from his unit and hid it in Nuremburg?”

  “He did,” von Storch said. “And now it is gone. Along with the three who stole it. However, we also learned one of the Americans was injured. Their numbers are reduced.”

  “Do you have an idea of where they went?” Frank asked. “It must be to the next step on Elser’s path.”

  “Our team viewed video surveillance from security cameras around the castle. We spotted their license plate. According to a friend in border security, their car was recently seen heading toward the Austrian border.”

  “They must be closing in on what Claus Elser stole. The end of his path.”

  “A path I believe leads to a lost German treasure and a story to capture the public’s attention unlike anything in decades. What better way to show people their next leader is a man dedicated to leading Germany back to her rightful place in the world.”

  “Once our men catch them and recover what Elser left behind, I can—”

  Von Storch cut him off. “No. Not the men. You. This opportunity cannot be missed. You will uncover Elser’s path. You will find what he stole and restore the prizes from our glorious past.” His words came faster, almost breathlessly. “When this happens, Germans will see the truth of what we say, that our way is the only one for a stronger Germany.”

  Doubt prickled the back of Frank’s neck. “The politics of…acquired artifacts during the war are complicated.”

  “Nonsense. All that matters is you are the man to find what is missing. We can deal with the fallout of keeping it later. By then you will be elected, the National Freedom Party will control the Bundestag, and our momentum will be unstoppable. What the public wants is irrelevant after they vote.”

  This idea spelled disaster. But Frank had little choice. If he recovered a link to Germany’s past and captured a nation’s eye, the election could still be theirs. “Where do I go?”

  “We will know soon,” von Storch said. “The American and his associates will not survive for long. I have dispatched a team posing as law enforcement to handle them. Once they are eliminated and you have their find from Nuremburg, you will continue the search. Carry on to Salzburg, Member Weidel. And be ready. Germany is counting on you. I am counting on you.”

  Chapter 16

  Road from Nuremburg, Near German–Austrian Border

  Alexander pulled off twenty miles from the Austrian border. Parker rode in back while Jane occupied the front seat. When they’d first left Nuremburg Jane hadn’t said a word, sitting head down while she checked and re-checked Claus Elser’s last letter, researching any plausible explanation for how the Alexander III Fabergé egg had ended up behind a wall in Nuremburg Cathedral’s basement.

  Happily absorbed in her work, she ignored the others – until she needed help with a translation. Claus’s letter referencing Mozart contained a handful of words she didn’t recognize, forcing her to ask Alexander to help her. He did, and an alliance was forged. Alexander asked a question, Jane answered. Within twenty minutes they were trading theories on what Claus may have found or where his path led next.

  “We require a new vehicle.” Alexander drove slowly through a shopping center’s parking lot. “Nick was correct. This is too noticeable.”

  Jane frowned. “How are we going to do that? Ask nicely?”

  “I prefer a less direct approach.” Alexander parked beside a nondescript Mercedes sedan. “This should do nicely.”

  “It’s black,” Parker said. “Better than yellow. Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

  Alexander fished in his pocket and pulled out a key ring. “These will solve our concerns.”

  “Those look like computer chips.” The keys had metal frames, though that was where any resemblance to traditional keys ended. Each key was composed almost entirely of metallic fiber circuitry, like something out of a science fiction novel.

  “They mostly are.” Alexander retrieved a leather bag from the glove compartment and then opened his door. “These are transponder keys, which mimic the unique digital codes required to open modern cars. Ghost key is another term. These open any car built within the past decade by eleven manufacturers. Including Mercedes.”

  He walked around to Jane’s side of the yellow car, inserted one of the ghost keys into the Mercedes’ driver’s-side door and twisted. It opened. No alarms blared. “Care to join me?” he asked.

  Parker and Jane tumbled out of the garish yellow BMW and into their newly acquired Mercedes, Jane riding shotgun. Alexander fired the engine and had them back on the street in short order. Whoever had come to the upscale market for their organic smoothies was in for a surprise. A thought struck Parker as they headed for the highway.

  “New cars all have GPS,” he said. “Whoever owns this will call their insurance company and they’ll be able to track it in seconds.”

  “Correct,” Alexander said. “That is why these keys are equipped with geo-tracking software to disrupt the vehicle’s GPS signals. A manufacturer is unable to track the car as long as one of the keys remains within the vehicle. With the signal scrambled beyond recognition, it is impossible for them to track us.”

  Impressive, if it were true. “You have a lot of juice,” Parker said.

  Alexander’s eyebrows knitted. “Juice?”

  “Connections. Pull. You know, the right sorts of people.” They passed a sign indicating Austria waited fifty kilometers ahead. “Which makes me wonder why you’re really helping us follow Claus’s path. Why is a Russian with juice enough to follow our trail across oceans and continents, and who has the kinds of connections to get toys like those keys, interested in a German archeological mystery?” He leaned forward, between the front seats. “Cut the shit. Tell us why you’re really here.”

  Alexander’s hands twisted on the steering wheel. “This is personal.”

  “You’re Russian,” Parker said. “At lea
st you claim to be. What do you care about a German soldier with a conscience stealing from the Nazis? You don’t work for Putin, so it’s not about the government recovering a tsar’s gold train that may or may not be out there to find. How did you follow us all the way here and get awesome gadgets to steal cars?”

  “As I said, Parker. It is personal.”

  “We’re on the same team now. Do better than that.”

  Jane spoke up. “Putin dominates Russian politics. He doesn’t have a monopoly on them.” She flipped the passenger mirror down and looked at Parker. “There are opposition groups in Russia who despise Putin. You remember them; they have bad luck with radioactive materials.”

  “More Russians than you suspect have no loyalty to the president. I find my support among those groups.”

  Red light danced on the horizon as night fell, a few stars shining through an overcast sky. Gunmetal clouds cast rolling shadows across the ground.

  “How easily you dismiss my motivations,” Alexander said. “Let me tell you a story.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Russia has existed under different names since the ninth century. Or nine hundred years before the first shots were fired at Lexington and Concord.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Countless leaders have come and gone over the centuries. Yet though through it all, Russia survives. Vladimir Putin is but one in a long line of opportunistic criminals to seize power. All are despicable, or admirable, depending on your viewpoint, but they share one trait.” Alexander looked in the mirror at Parker. “They all fail. No one can bend Russia to their will. The Russian people are too strong.”

  “And you represent all Russian people?” Parker asked.

  “I am here for myself,” Alexander said. His voice took on a harder edge. “And my ancestors before me. We and millions beside us stood tall when Russia was attacked. First in the World War, then later in the Great Patriotic War.” He paused. “Or the First and Second World Wars, as you call them. It was during this time that the seeds of our current predicament were sown. Insurgents captured public favor at an opportune time, utilizing worldwide uncertainty to lead a revolt against Tsar Nicholas II.”

  “And paid for it by the millions,” Jane said. “Stalin didn’t turn out as advertised. Not that a tsar would have been better.”

  “No one worried about being pulled from their bed at night and shot without trial when tsars ruled,” Alexander said. “It may surprise you to know the resistance to Putin’s scarcely veiled dictatorship is alive and well in Russian. A bed of hot coals in need of air.”

  He paused. “Enough of politics for now. Jane, please open the glove compartment and get the bag I brought. Inside are a number of passports. I need you to find Dennis Korbel and Anna Kroos.” Jane opened the compartment and dug through the half-dozen or so document books until she found the right ones. “Pass Dennis’s book to Parker.”

  “Are these our new identities?” Parker flipped it open to find himself staring at a face that could be best described as ‘nondescript’. A vaguely genial, bearded Caucasian man, his hair color somewhere between black and brown, with an utterly forgettable face. He could pass for Dennis. In poor lighting. “You know this guy?”

  “He does not exist,” Alexander said. “However, the passport is real. These are for emergencies only and should withstand scrutiny.”

  Jane opened her passport. “Anna Kroos.” Then she bit her lip. “At least we have the same color hair.”

  “Women often receive less scrutiny than men,” Alexander said. “Though I hope these prove unnecessary. There are no hard borders between Germany and Austria. They are member states in the Schengen Area, inside of which passport and border control has been virtually abolished. These are in case we cross paths with the authorities.”

  “I hope they don’t expect me to speak German.” Parker closed the passport, tried to recall his new birthday, then opened it again. “I can’t even remember when I was born.” He slid Alexander’s gun under his seat. The Russian saw him do it.

  “I will talk if needed,” Alexander said. “With Jane’s fluency I am not concerned, and I hope these prove to be unnecessary. However, I prefer to overestimate my enemies. It is possible the Germans chasing us are not able to track passport use.” A sweeping curve guided them up the small rise ahead, the road seeming to vanish atop the hill. Trees began to crowd the road on their side, a forest pushing its limits, trying to regain lost boundaries. “It is also possible they can. As such, we will only use these passports if needed. Borders in the Schengen Area are not—”

  Parker cut him off. “Are those flashing lights?” He pointed to a tree visible above the hilltop. “Look. I see blue lights bouncing off…dammit.”

  A police car blocked the road ahead. One cruiser, the lights on its roof flashing noiselessly in the middle of the road. Orange cones had been set alongside it, forcing vehicles to pull partway on the shoulder to move past. “Is this a border crossing?” Jane asked. “They could have the police watching for us.”

  “The border is another kilometer ahead.” Alexander slowed as they approached. A single car had been stopped ahead of them. A uniformed officer stood at the driver’s side window, speaking to the driver. Another officer stood in front of the stopped car with his back to Alexander’s oncoming vehicle, looking down the road in the opposite direction. Before any of them could react, the man turned and spotted their car. His arms went up, waving in the universal language to slow down.

  The car seemed to shrink. Parker’s throat was tight when he spoke. “Why would they have a checkpoint this close to the border? Those are cops. They don’t stop you to say hello.”

  “We will soon know why.” Alexander locked eyes with him in the rearview mirror. “I will speak with them. Stay back in your seats; the passport photos should pass a cursory inspection. These officers may be here for any number of reasons.”

  “Whoever’s after us must have very real influence if they can co-opt the police to join the search.” Jane sat as though a board had been affixed to her back. “Look, they already waved that car through.”

  Alexander slowed as they rolled into the spot vacated by the car ahead. Sunlight reflected off the cruiser’s windshield. A solitary bird coasted past above them. When their vehicle stopped, Parker swore his heart could be heard for miles around.

  Alexander lowered his window and met the officer’s gaze. “Hallo.”

  “Reisepass, bitte.” The officer held out his hand, a bored expression on his face. After Alexander collected all three documents and handed them over, a brief conversation ensued before the officer walked away.

  Parker fought the urge to lean forward. “What did you ask him?”

  “Why we are being stopped,” Alexander said. “He said a child is missing in Nuremburg and was possibly abducted. They are watching roads out of the city. We can move on once he checks our passports.”

  Parker watched the officer walk to his car. He opened the driver’s door and got in while his partner stared at the tree line, as though the Mercedes didn’t interest him in the least. After a moment, Parker followed his gaze, turning to see limbs heavy with green leaves bouncing on a gentle breeze. The closest tree was fifteen yards away at most. He looked behind them to where a narrow opening had been carved into the forest, an access road of some kind.

  Take a breath. He did, though it did little to loosen his chest. The cop was likely almost done checking. As long as Alexander’s passports withstood this minimum level of scrutiny, they were good. The cop had barely even looked at them, leaning over for a brief second to study Parker’s face, lingering a beat longer on Jane and Alexander. No kids in the car, and the three of them hardly seemed like the kind of people who kidnapped children. Or at least he hoped not.

  The wind picked up. Grass rustled. Tree limbs shifted. And Parker saw a shadow in the woods. He squinted. What is that?

  “They’re done checking the passports,” Jane said. It sounded as though s
he was trying to speak without moving her lips. “He’s getting out of the car. Now they’re both looking at us.”

  “I can see them,” Alexander said. “Parker can as well. Do not say anything to the officer. If he talks to you, I will try to—”

  “Jane, do you see that?” Parker’s nose was nearly pressed against the window. “Look in the woods. Back maybe twenty feet. Wait, don’t be obvious about it.”

  Jane turned to the window, chin resting on one hand. “I don’t see anything. It’s dark in there.”

  “It almost looks like a building.” He blinked. “No, wait. I think it’s a car. Behind the trees. Yes, it’s parked back there. And it looks like there’s something on top of it. What would a…”

  Light flashed, as though the sun had bounced back off glass. His stomach dropped. “There’s a man holding a rifle on top of it.”

  Jane’s voice was breathless. “I see it now. He’s right there. What do we—”

  Alexander cut her off. “Where are the police officers going?”

  Through the windshield they saw the two uniformed officers run around to the front of their car and kneel down out of sight. Parker noted Alexander’s eyes grow wide in the rearview mirror. Then the shooting started.

  Gunshots filled the air. The familiar crack of a rifle bounced off the trees and birds took flight. Another blast, followed by a sharp pop and hissing air. Parker’s bottom dropped from beneath him. “They’re shooting out the tires,” he shouted. “Hit the gas!”

  Alexander punched it as a pistol cracked from beside the cop car. Parker jolted sideways, falling forward as another shot rang out. The car sank on one side; the cops had shot both tires out. Alexander fought the wheel, struggling to keep it straight as their engine whined. He lost the battle, foot staying on the accelerator as the Mercedes veered to one side and smashed into the parked police car with a crunch of strained metal. Glass shattered as more gunfire sounded.