A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

  His heart beat faster as he returned to his search. “Find anything?” he called out.

  “You’ll know when I do,” Jane said. “What about you?”

  “Not yet.” He did a half-circle around the bell, looking from top to bottom. When he made it back to the starting point he nearly tripped over Jane, who had crouched down to shine her light inside the thing. “I didn’t see anything,” he said.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not here.” She ignored his hand as she stood. “I didn’t find anything either.”

  Alexander called from across the room. “There is writing on this wall.” Jane shouldered Parker aside as she darted over. “Here, along the wall.” He pointed to an opening in the exact middle of the top row of stones. “See?”

  “Sixteen twenty-one. That’s when these bells were cast. It’s a dedication marker.” She lowered the penlight. “I don’t think Claus left that behind.”

  “Look beneath the year.”

  Jane’s light came back up.

  “Is that graffiti?” Parker asked. “It’s a number. Seventy-two.” He turned to Jane. “Any idea what that means?”

  Jane didn’t respond.

  “It may be from Claus,” Alexander said. “However, we must be prudent. It is impossible to confirm he wrote it.”

  Parker leaned out of the tower’s wide opening. The police cars were still moving toward the cathedral – or were they en route to the rally? Most likely a disturbance call from the rally, he told himself. Nothing more. He lingered, and the lights kept coming. They were close enough now to light up the belfry. A faint haze of blue and red brought the stones to life. He looked down one last time before stepping back; the cathedral courtyard was still mostly empty.

  He stopped, one hand still on the ledge, as a tiny section of stone sparkled in the colors of rubies and sapphires. “Jane. You need to see this.” Hair flew everywhere as her head shot up. “Recognize those?”

  “Those are – oh my. It’s the same as on Claus’s tattoo.” Three letters had been chiseled into the block.

  LDV.

  “Leonardo da Vinci,” Jane said.

  “This is from Claus,” Alexander confirmed. “It fits. And a corner stone is the easiest to remove.”

  “And then replace without it being obvious,” Jane finished. “You see any cracks in the mortar?”

  “None.” Alexander stepped back. “It is smooth. Far more so than one would expect after centuries exposed to the elements.”

  “Help me find something to break that open,” Parker said. There was a storage chest beside the entrance hatch, most likely for the caretakers. He flipped it open to reveal a wide variety of tools, their purpose indecipherable. Not that it mattered. He grabbed what may have been a massive wrench. The damn thing was heavy – that’s what counted. “Stand back.”

  “You’re just going to smash it?” Jane asked. “We have no idea what’s in there. It could be fragile.”

  “I’ll break off the edge first.”

  “What if you destroy something inside?”

  “Did you forget the part about how we’re trapped up here? I’ll be careful.” Jane’s heart was in the right place, he knew. Maybe her head was too. Either way, who knew how long they had before the weight of two governments crashed down on them. He hefted the tool up and swung. It crashed against the stone with a reverberating boom, blurring his vision, rattling his teeth, and sending a shower of pebbles around the room. He blinked hard and surveyed the damage. “That’s it?”

  A corner of the stone had evaporated. Jane brushed rubble away, then clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle a shriek.

  “What is it?” Parker asked.

  “It’s hollow.” Jane dug to reveal an opening. “You can see inside. I can’t tell if there’s anything in there. Try to break the side off.” She stepped back. “Carefully.”

  Parker looked to Alexander. The Russian lifted his eyebrows. What can you do? The ungainly tool went back up. Parker tried to aim in the dark, and he knew he’d missed a split second before it crashed down. The hammer blow landed squarely in the middle, and this time the stone cracked in half. One side stayed in place. The other dropped over the side of the bell tower. Parker leaned out in time to see it bounce off the bell tower wall. Once, twice, then it hit the ground and exploded with a bang like – well, like a big, heavy stone falling from two hundred feet up. It was dark down there. Hard to see if anyone was around.

  “Did that hit someone?” Alexander asked. “I did not hear any screams.”

  “Neither did I. I don’t see anyone down there. At least not – shit.”

  He’d been so focused on the deadly bomb he’d dropped that the flashing lights didn’t register. Three police cars roared to a stop on the narrow street fronting the cathedral courtyard. Six uniformed officers jumped out. Three moved toward the cathedral’s front doors, while the other three headed for the rally, circling the crowd on a path for the stage.

  “We need to go,” Parker said. “Right now. The cops are here.”

  Jane’s voice cut through the drumbeat of his thudding heart. “Impossible.”

  “I’m serious, Jane. There are police officers coming to the cathedral right now—”

  She grabbed his waist and pulled. “Look.” Jane held a book in her other hand. A big book. A foot tall, and half again as wide.

  “What’s that thing made out of? It’s huge.” The cover looked almost metallic in the moonlight, with square decorations running along the exterior.

  Jane didn’t acknowledge anything he said. She pushed a leather bag into his hands, which must have covered the big volume at one time. Heavy pages crackled as she turned them, revealing golden trimming and dense script on every page. Parker twisted his head to look. Was that a picture?

  “An illuminated manuscript.” Alexander craned his neck to get a better view. Without warning he dropped to one knee. “It is impossible.”

  Parker bent over to join him, but was unable to get a good look. “Is it written in German?”

  “It’s Latin,” Jane said. “I can’t believe he stole it.”

  Alexander actually sounded excited as he responded. “There are several copies which have never been publicly revealed. This may be one. It is in remarkable—”

  Parker dropped the leather sack and grabbed each of them by a shoulder. “Stop with the gibberish.”

  Alexander stood up. Jane didn’t move. “It is a Bible,” he said. “A Gutenberg Bible.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Some of the earliest books ever produced using movable type, the bibles printed by Johannes Gutenberg in the mid-fifteenth century were among the world’s most valuable books, a physical representation of what most believed to be the most influential invention of the past millennium. They were, to many, priceless.

  “I saw a complete copy in Paris. This is identical.” Jane carefully turned pages. “The artwork is magnificent.” She clutched the Bible to her chest with both hands and stood. “This book is one of the most significant finds of the century. There hasn’t been a complete—”

  The rally crowd erupted in a roar of cheering, cutting her off. Parker turned to look down at the courtyard. What he saw made his blood freeze. Police officers stood gathered around the fallen stone.

  “We have to move. Right now,” he said again. Jane tried to argue when he picked up the leather satchel and shoved it into her arms. “No time. Put that book away and get going.”

  “Hold on.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the book. “This fell out. It’s not a page from the Bible.” She glanced at it and her eyes widened.

  “It must wait.” Alexander said as he looked over the edge of the tower. “If we get back to the hallway and into the main cathedral floor, we can use one of the rear exits.”

  “It won’t take those cops long to realize where the stone came from,” Parker said. “What if they’re already climbing to meet us?”

  The Russian’s mouth took a hard line. “Let us hope
that does not come to pass.”

  Shoot a cop and seal their fates. Brilliant. Parker pushed past Jane as she tucked the loose page carefully back into the Bible, then slid down the ladder at speed. “Shut the hatch after you,” he yelled to Alexander. He cleared the first set of stairs as the hatch banged shut, Jane close behind. Around and around they went, fast enough to make him woozy halfway down so that he bounced off the curving walls.

  Stumbling more than running down the creaking stairs, they made it to the bottom in one piece, pushed through the door and raced to ground level. Heavy breaths filled the silence as they stared at each other. “The cops could be outside now,” Parker said.

  “This is our only exit,” Alexander said. “We have no choice. I will go first.” He clapped a hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Steady now. We are almost there.”

  Alexander opened the door and walked out, Parker on his heels. They walked into a nearly empty cathedral. No one looked their way, including six police officers coming through the front door a hundred yards distant.

  “This way.” Alexander pivoted smoothly. “The door is through there,” he said, pointing. “We can go around and the police will never—”

  “Halt! Nicht bewegen!”

  The sound of running footsteps echoed off the cathedral walls as the cops headed straight for them.

  Parker grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled. She didn’t argue, but he looked back to find Alexander rooted to the spot. “Hurry up,” he shouted.

  Then Alexander did the strangest thing. He dug in his pocket. “Take these.” The Volkswagen’s keys jangled as they bounced off Parker’s chest. “Give me the Bible. I will distract them.”

  Jane was too dumbfounded to argue when Alexander snatched the book. “This is for my family,” he said. “You must see it through. I will be fine.” He turned, took a step toward the oncoming policemen, then stopped. “Thank you both. It has been an honor.” With that, he took a hard left toward the main altar, screaming in Russian as he moved.

  Jane’s mouth hung open. “What is he—”

  “Giving us a chance.” Parker pulled her toward the back door, shoving the car keys into his pocket alongside the key he’d found in Claus Elser’s journal and had carried ever since. “Don’t waste it.” He didn’t bother turning around to see if Alexander’s ploy had worked. If it didn’t, they’d know soon enough.

  Ten seconds later, warm night air enveloped them as Parker lowered his shoulder and barged through a rear door. Jane followed, and when he looked back an instant before the door slammed shut Parker counted three cops headed their way. Alexander had cut their numbers in half.

  “Head for the rally.” Jane didn’t argue as they picked up steam. Moments later, they heard the door soon banging open behind them. They had less than a hundred-yard head start, with three times that distance to cover before they could disappear into the rally crowd. Parker’s arm strained as he pulled Jane along, unwilling to let her fall behind. We’re gonna make it.

  The few pedestrians in the courtyard watched with stunned looks as two lunatics raced through the cathedral courtyard. Then they backed away when the police came barreling after them. Lungs burning, Parker imagined neither the police shooting him nor jail cell bars clanging shut. Instead he saw Jane, alone and afraid, locked up with no one to help her. All while unknown German forces worked to make sure what they had discovered never saw the light and was securely buried once more.

  He’d promised Hugh he would keep Jane safe. Right now that meant escape.

  He slowed down as they reached the edge of the crowd, hoping to stop drawing attention to himself and Jane. Still holding her hand tightly, he dodged between sweaty people shouting at full volume. Parker was ten rows deep before he looked back. The cops stood along the crowd’s perimeter, necks craned as they searched in vain for the pair who were now no more than two raindrops in this sea of people.

  Ducking his head, he pushed into the thick of it, shouldering his way doggedly through hundreds of sweaty bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the stage. At the other side of the platform, the crowds cleared ever so slightly and he spotted open ground ahead.

  “Hold on,” he told Jane, and felt her grip his hand more tightly. Shoulder down, he abandoned the duck-and-move act for a blitz, plowing through the mass of rally-goers at pace with his precious cargo in tow. And then, with a final shove and a grunt, he and Jane stumbled out into blessedly empty space.

  A giant roar washed over the street at their back as they walked, panting, toward where Alexander had parked. Then the crowd quieted again as whoever was on the podium shouted with the fervor only politicians and religious men could summon. Whatever he said worked. The crowd exploded once more. Parker and Jane turned to see signs waving, flags whipping in the breeze, and then turned and kept walking, leaving it all behind. Like shadows, they folded themselves into Salzburg’s dark streets beneath the light of a rising moon.

  Ten minutes of the fastest sedate walking either of them had ever done brought them to the parked Volkswagen. Everything looked the same. No one suspicious in the shadows.

  “What about Alexander?” Jane asked.

  Parker reached into his pocket and took out the keys Alexander had tossed at him. “Whatever happened, he gave us these for a reason,” said. “To keep going.” He pressed the fob to open the car doors and then slid behind the wheel. Jane climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Where do we go next?” Parker asked. “You only saw the Bible for a few seconds, and I broke the stone in half before we could see if anything was written on the inside.” He smacked the dashboard. “Dammit. If we needed a second clue from that Bible to decipher the next message, we’re stuck.”

  Jane sat with her hands folded. “I never told you.”

  Parker lifted an eyebrow. “Told me what?”

  “Claus Elser’s letter pointing us to Salzburg was the final one. There are no more.” Her thumbs circled each other, round and round.

  “We’re out of clues. How are we supposed to keep going?” Then a different idea hit him, somehow worse than the others. “What if that Bible was the final stop on his path?”

  “It wasn’t.” Jane’s voice was scarcely a whisper. “Time to go.”

  “Go where?” Despite the void inside him, the utter feeling of emptiness nothing could fill, he started the engine. “We have no idea what comes next, or if there’s even another place to go.”

  “Remember that little sheet of paper we found inside the Bible? I read it.”

  He’d completely forgotten. “What did it say?”

  Parker signaled as he pulled on to the street. Few cars were out right now, though when the nearby rally ended the streets could become nearly impassable. They needed to get out of here.

  “Claus told his sister to make sure the Bible was preserved. Then he asked her if she remembered where they went on vacation together before the war.” She paused. “It was odd. He referred to it as where we saw the most musical place.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Not entirely. Other than his signature he wrote a single number in place of the normal biblical verses. Seventy-two. Only that number.” Jane bit her lip. “Same number that we saw in the bell tower.”

  Traffic picked up as Parker navigated away from the rally area. An intersection appeared ahead with signs pointing to different highways. Even though he couldn’t afford to waste any, Parker needed time. He pulled off to the curb. “We can figure this out.” One look at Jane’s face made it clear she wasn’t certain. “Come on. You and me? We got this.”

  Cars whizzed by inches from his window while Jane contemplated Parker’s outstretched fist. He’d about given up when she bumped it with her own. “You’re right. We do have this.”

  “That’s more like it. Now, think. We don’t know what the letter is trying to tell us. Unless Otto happens to know where his mom and uncle went on vacation before he was born, we’re out of luck there.”

  “I assume Otto’s still in
the hospital,” Jane said. “We don’t know what the letter means, but we’re not completely helpless.” She pulled Claus’s letters from her pocket. “Claus wrote the final letter in the spring of 1945, less than a month before Allied forces arrived. Austria was liberated within two months, and the German High Command surrendered almost immediately thereafter. Claus’s unit had very little time to travel after Salzburg.”

  Parker rubbed his chin. “Russian forces came from the east. Americans and British from the west. Salzburg is less than ten miles from the German border. The historical timeline suggests we need to focus on Germany and Austria.” He sighed. “Which is way too much ground to cover without any other direction.”

  “That’s not all we know,” Jane said. “Remember Claus’s unit. German army leaders knew the war was lost by now. I don’t think they would order a group of soldiers carrying looted treasure back to Berlin. That would only lead to it being recaptured.”

  Parker watched headlights passing by. His chin hairs made a raspy sound as he rubbed his fingers through them. “Didn’t hundreds of German officers escape prosecution after the war? They could have planned to wait until after the biggest names were hanged at Nuremburg, then gone back to collect these treasures.”

  “Dozens of high-level Reich officials escaped or were released after the war. They went all over the world, mainly to South America, but also to the U.S., Switzerland.” She looked up. “And Austria. A country notorious for being sympathetic to Nazis.”

  Now Parker ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, let’s say it’s Austria. How do we narrow it down from there?” An idea buzzed softly at the back of his head. He grasped for it, but the thought slipped away.

  “We figure out what Claus meant in his note.” She recited it once more. “He specifically said we saw the most musical place. It’s an odd phrase. Saw.”

  “He must be talking about a place they visited,” Parker said. “An opera house? Or a concert hall?”

  “Austria is more about who than where. Mozart was born in Salzburg. He came to prominence in Vienna, along with Beethoven and Haydn. If we think about when Claus was younger, we also have to consider Maria von Trapp, who lived in Salzburg.”