A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

  “You lost me with that one.”

  Jane laughed. “Maria von Trapp wrote a book about the Trapp family of singers that’s the basis for The Sound of Music.”

  “Salzburg or Vienna, then.” The thought that had been buzzing in his head grew louder. No sharper, still out of focus, but pushing for attention. “There’s something we’re missing.”

  “I’m sure there is. If Otto had any relatives we knew, any way of getting in touch with him other than calling his house, we could use his—”

  “—That’s it.” Parker snapped his fingers. “Do you remember the picture of Claus hanging on Otto’s wall?” She did not. “It was a photo of Claus and his sister outside a house. A house in Vienna. Otto told us.”

  “That’s positive,” Jane said. “It could mean Vienna is the answer. Or it could mean nothing at all.”

  “It wasn’t just any house. Claus’s favorite composer had lived there. Richard Wagner.”

  Jane’s hand shot to her mouth. “That’s right. I remember now. It makes perfect sense – they saw this house, the most musical place. At least for Claus.”

  “He loved Wagner’s music, and not because Hitler did.” Parker took Jane’s hand in his. She didn’t protest. “That’s not all. The picture they took in front of Wagner’s house? You could see the house number above the door.”

  A truck roared past them, horn blaring. “It was number seventy-two.”

  For a moment, neither moved. Her breath warmed his cheeks. Then he blinked.

  Jane did too. She grabbed his face with both hands and squeezed. “You are a genius, Parker Chase. Well done.” She sat back and coughed. “Now stop wasting time and get us to Vienna.”

  The Volkswagen cut across three lanes of traffic as Parker headed east toward Vienna. A sign gave the distance in kilometers. He did the math. “That’s roughly one hundred eighty miles. We’ll be there shortly after midnight.” He followed signs for the highway heading east and soon ran into a row of red lights. “Damn. The highway is right there.”

  “After we get through roughly half the traffic lights in Salzburg.” Jane reached for the dashboard. “The local news should be on now. Maybe they have a report about police activity at the cathedral.” Her voice dropped. “I’d like to know if Alexander is safe.”

  Monotone German filled the car after she fiddled with the buttons. Parker didn’t understand a word of it. “Give me the play-by-play.” They made it through one red light, only to face another three waiting. “Damn these lights. Look, there isn’t a single car—”

  “Quiet.” Jane slapped a hand over his mouth, only she missed and nearly poked his eye out. He navigated through one more intersection before she spoke again. “Parker, we need to leave.”

  “What? We are.” He pointed to the traffic signal. “This is the way out of town. I can’t run—”

  “The newscast reported a robbery and attempted homicide at Salzburg Cathedral.” The color drained from her face. “Homicide. Parker, they’re talking about us. They must be. We didn’t try to—” She stopped talking and covered her mouth.

  His chest went cold. Two familiar names amid the indecipherable German hit him like a right hook. “They said our names.” He cranked the volume. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Jane’s voice was a whisper. “We’re wanted for questioning related to the attempted homicide. How could they have our names already?”

  “The Germans chasing us must have told them. Who has connections like that? It has to be the stone I knocked over. They’ve turned that into attempted murder.” Had he not been scared out of his wits, he’d be impressed. “If they can get the police to—”

  Blaring horns cut him off. The light had turned green and drivers behind him weren’t happy.

  “Go. Now.” Jane pointed to the highway ahead.

  Parker hit it, tires chirping as they accelerated through one light, then another. A single traffic light stood between them and the highway to Vienna. It turned green as they approached. “Almost there,” Parker said.

  He took a breath. We got this.

  A siren yipped behind him. Red and blue lights flashed in his mirrors. Parker slowed as a police car raced up behind them. He clenched the wheel. Engine whining, the cop car swerved around them and raced down the street, tires squealing as it took the next turn at speed.

  Parker exhaled and hit the gas.

  Chapter 18

  Salzburg

  Adoration. A drug like none other. Frank Weidel soaked in every last second of it. His Austrian counterpart thumped Frank’s back in a manly embrace before Frank rode the wave of noise offstage to his waiting Mercedes. At ground level the blazing spotlights no longer blinded him, and he caught a glimpse of police cars congregated in front of Salzburg Cathedral, lights flashing under a full moon.

  When his door shut, Frank leaned back into the smooth leather and closed his eyes. This was their week. The National Freedom Party had the upper hand in these crucial few days before Germans went to the polls. His constituents would turn out in droves. With their ideological friends in Austria mounting a similar push for supremacy in Austrian politics, the future in this region of Europe was indeed bright.

  The privacy screen separating Frank from his driver lowered. “A call, sir. On your private line.” The man handed Frank his cell phone, which he had left with the driver.

  “Thank you.” He looked at the number while the privacy screen went back up. Bjorn von Storch was calling.

  Frank steeled himself. “Good evening, sir. I trust you saw the rally?”

  “I was otherwise occupied. Though initial reports are positive. From Austria, at least.”

  Frank bit his lip. “I am certain our base in Germany will respond as well. This type of exposure is what we need to change the narrative.”

  “I need not remind you our base alone is insufficient. We need to excite the nation, Member Weidel. Your current path is not doing so. Polls released this evening confirm it.”

  “What do they show?” Frank asked, puzzled.

  “Further loss of support from most demographics. You have failed to reverse this trajectory. We now face becoming a minority in the Bundestag, allowing Merkel and her allies to control the path forward. I do not have to tell you what that means for my goals.”

  Funny how von Storch phrased things. You have failed. My goals. Any failure bounced off the man, his inherited position in German society and his deep pockets working like Teflon to ward off blame. Of course, it then flowed to Frank Weidel, the public face of von Storch’s message. Which he was, like it or not. Von Storch had lifted him from obscurity, built the platform on which he shouted. And which he could fracture if needed. Frank shook his head. How he changed Germany for the better didn’t matter, as long as he did.

  “A temporary setback,” Frank said. “One we will—”

  “I did not call for your reassurances,” Bjorn said. “The momentum is against us. You are losing. Fortunately, my contacts in Austrian law enforcement have provided a way out. Pay close attention to this; it is your last chance.”

  A police car buzzed silently past his window, lights flashing as it headed back toward the rally. Or perhaps the Salzburg Cathedral. He pressed the phone against his ear. “I’m listening.”

  “Less than an hour ago three people entered Salzburg Cathedral and ascended the bell tower without permission. The details on what they did are not entirely clear, though their actions damaged a piece of stonework, which fell to the courtyard below. Police apprehended one of the individuals.” Papers rustled in the background. “A Russian national, name unknown. He is currently in prison claiming diplomatic immunity.”

  Why did any of this matter? “Do you know anything about him?”

  “I suspect he is connected to a faction of the Russian government. A faction not aligned with the Kremlin. At the moment he is in a private cell waiting for a representative from the Russian embassy to arrive.”

  “I see.” In truth, Frank saw nothing. “And
the others?”

  “I have a direct line to the lead authorities in Salzburg,” Bjorn said. “Based on surveillance video from the cathedral and surrounding traffic cameras, I believe the Russian’s two associates were Parker Chase and Jane White.”

  “The Russian.” Frank smacked his thigh. “That’s who shot our man in Nuremburg.”

  “It would appear. Which matters little now. What does matter is that Salzburg authorities found the Russian carrying an original Gutenberg Bible. They believe it was hidden inside the bell tower.”

  “This happened during the rally,” Frank said. “They cannot have gone far.”

  “Local authorities are searching the city. I convinced Salzburg police the falling debris constituted attempted homicide. All of the police forces are aware of the suspects’ names and descriptions. However, video footage loses them when they leave the cathedral and enter the rally crowd.”

  They had been at the rally. Less than a football field away while he was speaking. “If they came to Salzburg after leaving Nuremburg, the jeweled egg somehow led them here, to the Bible.” Gooseflesh rose on his arms. “My goodness, they actually found a Gutenberg Bible. That could be the spark we need. Perhaps I can help the search, play a role in their capture.”

  “An idea I considered and discarded,” von Storch said. “It will capture attention, yes, but not the required level. Our men discovered a note inside the Bible, written by the traitor Elser to his sister.”

  Von Storch read the cryptic letter from Claus to his sister. It made little sense to Frank. “What does he mean by we saw the most musical place? And how does that tie into the number seventy-two?”

  “Questions I asked as well,” Bjorn said. “My men interrogated the nephew in Berlin, roughly enough that he went to hospital. He did not reveal anything related to a vacation and I do not believe it is wise to accost him once more. Given this, I had Claus Elser’s army records reviewed. Extensive background research was done on the men and women drafted to his unit, including identifying all international travel. They located a trip to Vienna, and a particular affinity for Richard Wagner.”

  “Not unusual,” Frank said. “How do you know this?”

  “Claus Elser traveled to Vienna with his sister to visit Richard Wagner’s home. It is noted in his file, and our men listed a photograph of Frank and his sister in Vienna with their inventory of the nephew’s home contents. The photograph was taken in front of Wagner’s house.” It sounded as though von Storch took a heavy drink, smacking his lips afterward. “The house still stands today. The address is Hadikgasse Seventy-Two.”

  Frank jumped in his seat. “Elser was pointing his sister to Vienna.”

  “Which is also the last place any communications were received from Claus Elser’s unit. One day after the last message arrived at High Command, the bodies of every active unit member were discovered within a block of Wagner’s house. All except one.”

  “Elser escaped,” Frank said. “Were the others executed?”

  Bjorn fell silent for a long beat. “It was necessary to maintain secrecy. What matters now is this opportunity. Claus Elser left treasures on his path, stolen property of the Reich. He would not send his sister to Vienna without good cause. I believe Vienna represents the end of his path and is where you will find our salvation.”

  “Elser must have left something extremely valuable in Vienna. Do records exist of what remains missing from the re-appropriated cultural materials?”

  “They are unclear. Suffice it to say certain items of immense value are unaccounted for.”

  Frank waited, but that was all von Storch had to say. “If we find what Elser left, we can capture the nation’s attention.” It played out in his head. This he could handle. “Which will drive enthusiasm for our position and put us in an extremely positive light. The press will demand interviews night and day. It could change the tide.”

  “Only if you stop the American and the Scot from winning this race. It is in your hands, Member Weidel.” Bjorn’s voice lowered. “Will you do what is necessary to prevent other German families from feeling your pain?”

  As his car glided through the streets of Salzburg, Frank’s mind was elsewhere, drawn back to a Berlin street, years ago, as he fought his way desperately through a line of police officers toward a white tarp. The tarp covering his sister’s corpse. Frank closed his eyes.

  “I will.” How, Frank had no idea.

  “A true German. You will require assistance. Have your driver pull over now. A van will meet you in five minutes. Two of my men will take you to Vienna, where you will reach the end of Claus Elser’s path before the American and the Scot.”

  “Do you have a copy of the letter?”

  “It will be with my men, along with necessary supplies.”

  “Understood,” Frank said. “Once I uncover—”

  “There is an equally important task.”

  The words sent a chill through Frank’s chest. “What is it?”

  “Your two adversaries must be eliminated. They cannot be allowed to share what they have learned about Claus Elser, or to slander the name of our forefathers. My men will assist.”

  “You cannot truly—”

  “Member Weidel, I worry you do not understand the import of this mission.” Von Storch’s words turned hard as ice. “Our heritage evaporates before our eyes, overrun by the filth pouring in daily. I did not lift you from obscurity to see this opportunity go to waste. You have a chance to right past wrongs, to stop the decline of Aryan society. If you cannot see it through, then I will take all necessary measures. Any who are not with us are the enemy. I sincerely hope you are not among them.”

  A part of Frank that had grown steadily smaller since the day he’d met Bjorn von Storch finally vanished. He sighed. Perhaps von Storch was right. Greatness came with sacrifice. The faint echoes of his sister’s laughter floated through his mind. No step was too far if it prevented another innocent German family from experiencing that kind of pain.

  “I am ready to do what is necessary. For Germany.”

  “Yes, Member Weidel. For Germany.”

  The line went dead. Frank pounded on the privacy glass. “Pull over here. There has been a change in plans.”

  A van pulled alongside Frank’s car moments later. The side slid opened and Frank stepped out of his limousine and got in, eyeing the two men in front. As the van pulled back into traffic, one of the men reached back and handed him a sheet of paper. Frank read the final letter Claus Elser had written to his sister. A road sign flashed by. Three hours to Vienna.

  Three hours to a new Germany.

  Chapter 19

  Hadikgasse Seventy-Two

  Vienna

  “That’s the house. Claus and his sister were in front of the door.”

  They were seated in the Volkswagen with the windows rolled down, staring at the property. Parker recognized it even under the moonlight. Richard Wagner’s home, the one from Otto’s wall. Now the green grass was a sea of dark purple, and the windows glittered under a sky filled with stars.

  The street was deserted at this late hour. No lights burned behind any windows in sight, up and down the block. A gated cemetery lay across the street, partially hidden behind a small rise, with a single road leading inside. Not a soul moved anywhere.

  “Now we have to figure out what to do,” Jane said.

  They’d been over the letter again and again. Yes, they were in the right place, but with no idea of where to go next. Wagner’s house, now privately owned, appeared to house at least one business and a private residence. Breaking in was out of the question, and as Jane pointed out, if Claus had wanted his sister to go in the house, he would have made that clear. If all else failed they would return in the morning.

  Jane jumped when her phone buzzed. “A German number. Berlin area code, I think.”

  “Did you leave a message on Otto’s answering machine when you called to check on him?” Parker asked.

  “I did.” She put
the call on speaker. “Hello?”

  “Jane? It’s Otto. From Berlin.”

  “Are you okay? We were worried. What happened when your last call cut off?”

  “Two guys showed up asking questions about you. They had your picture. I didn’t realize their true intent until they came inside. I punched one, and after that it did not go well for me. I ended up in hospital, and I was there until yesterday. I received your message when I returned home. I meant to call earlier but was busy cleaning.”

  “Cleaning?”

  “The two men ransacked my home. Every room, every closet. All my possessions were strewn about. Nothing is missing so far. It is possible they were searching for the letters I gave you. If so, I am glad you have them. Speaking of them, how is your search progressing?”

  Jane met Parker’s gaze. “The short answer is ‘incredible.’ The full answer is much longer and I don’t want to risk telling you everything now. I promise I will once it’s safe.”

  “Safe? I hope you are being cautious.”

  “We are,” she said. “There’s one question I need to ask. Did Claus ever tell your mother anything about Vienna, or do you have a personal connection to the city?”

  “Vienna?” Otto spoke indistinctly to himself in German. “Not that I know of, beyond a trip they took to the city before the war.”

  A truck rumbled by, making the Volkswagen sway slightly.

  “I see,” Jane said. “That’s too bad.”

  “I am sorry I cannot help with Vienna, but there is another reason I called. It relates to the letters.”

  “What about them?” Parker asked.

  “There is another one. I forgot my mother used it as a bookmark in her Bible. I found it while I was cleaning today. It is the last letter he ever sent her from the war.”

  “What does it say?” Jane asked.

  “I will text you a picture of it. There is writing on only one side, and this letter is much shorter than the others. I hope it is useful.”