A Tsar's Gold (Parker Chase Book 6)

by Andrew Clawson

  Jane twisted her hand. She grunted, leaning into it. “It’s stuck.”

  “Let me try.” He tried to slide in and got an elbow for his trouble.

  “I almost have it.”

  Jane’s tongue stuck out between her teeth. The key shook, close to breaking.

  “Jane, I don’t think—”

  It turned with a sound like a newly licensed driver grinding gears. Jane fell into Parker’s shoulder before bouncing back. They both stared at the box. “Saint Andrew above,” Jane said. “It worked.”

  She grasped the lid and tried to lift it. For a few seconds the lid fought back, and then suddenly it sprang open with a piercing shriek, almost taking Jane with it. Parker grabbed her waistband before she toppled headlong into the open grave. He pulled her back so they could see what Claus had left behind.

  “Is that gold?” Jane’s voice was hushed.

  “Gold bars,” Parker said. The metal was a dull yellow under his flashlight. “There’s writing on it. Cyrillic.” He touched a curious etching on the closest bar. “And this symbol is the same as what I saw in Claus’s house.”

  “It says Nicholas II. The last emperor of Russia. This chest is filled with these bars.”

  “Ten of them. One bar of gold is worth almost six hundred grand.”

  Jane gasped. “This chest has six million dollars’ worth of gold in it?”

  “Yep. Same with the other two, I’d guess. So a little under eighteen million in this grave.”

  “Eighteen million dollars.” The sliver of moonlight that had snuck through the clouds vanished, leaving them in shadow again. “Eighteen million.” She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting. “If you’re correct, and there’s the same amount in the other grave, that’s thirty-six million total. No wonder Claus hid these.”

  “Claus Elser did not find this gold, Dr. White. He stole it.”

  Parker twisted as a strange voice filled the night. One hand went for the gun at his waist as he spun around to find a pistol in his face. He stopped moving.

  Chapter 20

  Vienna

  “Elser stole what Germany had rightly claimed during the war. He betrayed the unit he was sworn to serve.” The pistol’s muzzle was aimed between Parker’s eyes. “Do not move, Mr. Chase. You are wanted for murder. The authorities will not be upset if you die here. Hands out.”

  The man spoke English with a distinctly German accent. Parker did as he was told and extended his hands slowly. He stumbled slightly as he moved and had to put a hand on the ground to catch himself. He cringed. The man’s gun had a suppressor; no one would even hear the shot that killed him. Two other men stood with the stranger, one on either side. One had his pistol trained on Parker and the other pointed his at Jane.

  “Thank you.” The man lowered his weapon. His companions did not. “Please back away from the chests. You as well, Dr. White. Over here.” He waved toward the headstone, waiting until Parker and Jane stood on either side of it. “That will suffice.”

  He switched to German, none of which Parker understood, but the words set one of his companions in motion. A man nearly as wide as he was tall aimed a flashlight at the open chest. The guy moved lightly on his feet for a man that size. The three intruders spoke rapidly again in German before the one who seemed to be in charge went over and hefted a gold bar. The flashlight cast enough light to let him see the man’s face in profile. Parker looked harder. You’re familiar.

  Jane must have had the same thought. “Frank Weidel?” she said.

  The man jerked back as though bitten by a snake. Then he relaxed. The scowl vanished, his back straightened, and he looked down his nose at them both. “Yes.”

  “What are you doing here?” Jane asked.

  “Saving Germany.” He looked directly at Parker. His gun remained pointed at the ground. “Our nation has lost her way. Germany is at a turning point; will we remain German or lose ourselves?” His eyes narrowed.

  Jane kicked dirt at the chests. “You think these chests will answer that? You’re losing because people don’t like you. The only thing you stand for is keeping other people out and your shortsighted ideas in. Your problem is that Germans are too smart to fall for it.”

  Weidel pointed a finger at her like it was a loaded gun. “You have no idea what this will do. Germany has been desperate for change, for a leader to show the world we are greater than our neighbors. We barely have a say in how the European Union functions, squabbling with Britain and France when we could take our place as a global superpower.”

  “I’ve never heard that one before,” she said. “Let me know how it goes.” Her hands dropped. “You think coming here with a few thugs and a gun is going to change things?”

  A ripple crossed his face. “We do what we must to succeed. It is not so complicated. This lost treasure is discovered, I am on the front page of every paper, and next week my supporters drive the National Freedom Party to victory.” He shrugged. “Not so complicated.”

  While these two debated politics Parker edged back so that he was touching the headstone. He caught Jane’s eye and she did the same. His heel clipped something; Jane’s broken shovel handle. He stepped over it, tucking the toe of his shoe under the stick. The gun he’d tossed out of his waistband when he’d stumbled a minute ago was a couple of feet away.

  The thick guy hunched over the open box said something to Weidel. The politician nodded. “You’re right.” When the kneeling man displayed a different gold bar, Frank leaned close and muttered under his breath. Parker caught the world Russland and nothing else. Russia.

  “This isn’t even German gold,” Jane said. Her voice had a frantic edge. “Nazis stole this from Russia, along with everything else we found. You’re crazy if you think dredging up a tsar’s gold will help you win an election.”

  “You would be right, if I wanted to claim this for Germany,” Weidel said. “Others may feel differently about this find. The world is fascinated by Nazis, repugnant as they are. I don’t need this gold, Dr. White. I need attention. That is what this gold will buy when I return it to Russia. Not sympathy. I don’t need to tell you which will bring more votes.”

  Parker dug his foot farther under the broken shovel handle. “You guys must be in a hard spot if you need this so badly.” In truth, he had no idea about Frank Weidel’s politics or his party beyond what Otto and Jane had discussed. But if the guy was out chasing stolen Nazi treasure to win his race, things were dire indeed. And desperate men didn’t make sound choices.

  The wind had picked up, sending scraps of clouds across the sky. Dapples of moonlight raced over the grass. A dog barked in the distance.

  “I could not control the national narrative, Mr. Chase. Until now.” He waved his pistol at the chests. The gun in his hand suddenly seemed a lot more dangerous. “You have no idea what the people swarming over our borders are capable of.” A weight seemed to settle on Weidel’s shoulders, as though the man were trying to convince himself as much as Parker. “Germany requires protection from her enemies. We take steps to ensure no harm comes to Germans before we worry about others.” He sighed, and his voice fell. “We can change before it is too late. Before others suffer like I have.”

  Behind him, the wide man moved on to the second chest. Metal screamed as it opened. Weidel moved to see the gold bars inside, and the other man standing across from him did the same. Parker caught Jane’s eye. He glanced to the shovel handle lying across his foot. She nodded. Weidel wasn’t going to let them leave here tonight. These three men were tied to the German team dogging their steps. They had to be. Frank knew about the Fabergé egg and the Gutenberg Bible, and he’d come to Vienna to see what Claus had left there. These guys had no intention of letting Parker or Jane tell their story. And why would they? Hell, Parker and Jane had already dug their own graves right here.

  Parker played his only card. “You can have the gold. Take it. We don’t care.” He barreled on before Weidel could respond. “And wait until you see what’s in the las
t chest.”

  Weidel didn’t take the bait, but the thick guy did. He stepped right over to the chest without waiting for orders. Everyone watched as he reached for the lid.

  Everyone except Parker. He took a breath and caught Jane’s eye, and she blinked. Do it.

  Parker kicked the broken shovel handle at her chest. She grabbed it as he dove to the ground; he scooped up his pistol as he hit the dirt. All this happened as a cloud ran across the moon and shrouded them in darkness. Parker rolled over and pulled the trigger.

  The man standing by Weidel shouted, but it was only a flesh wound. Parker twisted and fired at the wide man, the pistol bucking as his bullet went wide. Sparks flew off the chest in front of wide man’s leg. Parker rolled and rolled until he hit something solid. Then the suppressed gunfire began.

  Bullets buzzed. Dirt clods erupted all around. Get small. He couldn’t stay here long, not with only this tombstone for cover. He stuck his gun out and ripped off a few covering shots without aiming. The incoming fire stopped. He searched the darkness for any sign of Jane.

  Movement behind a nearby stone grabbed his attention. Jane had taken cover, lying flat on the ground. She lifted the broken shovel handle, then two fingers of her other hand pantomimed someone walking moving toward their two assailants. Was she crazy? Going after two armed men with a stick? It didn’t matter how many Scottish staff training sessions she’d taken; that thing wouldn’t stop bullets. He waved her off as the next round of shots blasted his pathetic hiding spot, the tombstone quickly turning to dust. Again Jane made a little walking motion with her fingers, and again he waved back no. She shaped her hand into a pistol and mimed firing it nonstop.

  Great idea. I give covering fire as she rushes them and gets shot. His throat nearly seized up when she started counting down. Three. He gestured with both hands, pleading with her to stay put. Two. Jane got her feet underneath her. One. She looked at Parker. Then ran.

  Damn her. He fired two random shots, the incoming bullets paused, and he rolled away. He rose to one knee and fired. Frank Weidel ducked behind a tall headstone while the other gunman ducked behind a stone like Parker’s. One man shouted in German. Parker popped his head up, caught a glimpse of the wide man circling around to one side, then Weidel fired rapidly and forced him back down.

  The wide guy would have a clear shot in seconds. The man circling around was headed to where he’d last seen Jane. Barely armed, determined to do something, she would be dead soon and he couldn’t stop it. Dead, the same as Erika. Both killed while he watched.

  Weidel kept firing. Parker clenched his teeth. You’re not helpless. Not yet. The other guy hadn’t made it around far enough to get a clear shot. Which meant Parker had one chance.

  Do what they least expect. Here goes nothing. He waited for Weidel to reload again. Parker dashed around the far side of his tombstone shield and directly at him, betting his life – and Jane’s – on Frank Weidel faltering.

  And falter he did: suddenly Weidel stumbled back. Whether or not he simply fell, Parker never knew. Parker dropped down and turned to look for the other guy, who couldn’t have predicted Parker’s suicide run. He hadn’t. The guy stood up from behind where Parker had been only moments ago as Parker aimed and pulled the trigger three times. Every shot missed. The guy smiled and raised his weapon.

  Jane materialized from the darkness behind him. The shovel handle twirled in her hands, coming down on his arms and knocking the gun away before she smashed the stick across his head. The man staggered sideways, giving Parker a line of fire. Two shots this time, both flying true. He landed in a heap and didn’t move.

  Parker sensed movement to his side as Weidel rose to one knee and fired. His forearm blazed with pain as a bullet shredded skin and muscle. Parker’s gun flew wide as he clamped a hand to his wound, landing out of reach again beside a tombstone. He fell heavily on his backside, clutching the furrow cut through his forearm.

  Weidel’s face was hard now, unreadable. He lowered the gun, then raised it again halfway. And paused. Parker stared at him through a haze of pain and realized he was looking into the eyes of a man out of his depth. Frank Weidel had no idea what to do. Until Jane forced him to decide.

  Jane was a blur as she ran at Weidel, holding the broken shovel in one hand like a javelin. Frank swiveled the gun her way an instant after she threw it, screaming like a warrior queen. He flailed and slipped in the grass. The improvised spear flew past his torso, close enough to shave chest hair. Then Weidel regained his footing and lifted the gun, aiming at Jane as she barreled toward him.

  Parker exploded up and went airborne, injured arm extended. Weidel turned and fired as Parker grabbed the pistol. A bullet ripped past Parker’s face. Head up, eyes open, he tackled the politician, crushing him backward under the momentum of his weight. They rolled. Parker latched on to Weidel’s arm with all his strength, shaking and twisting until another shot rang out. He felt blood pouring from his wound.

  When the world righted itself again, Parker was on top of Weidel, the gun was gone, and Parker didn’t have any more bullet holes in him.

  Jane was beside them now. She raised an arm, twisted to the side, and landed a crushing elbow strike on Weidel’s jaw, knocking him out on the spot. She turned to Parker. “Are you hit?” She grabbed his shoulders, then let go just as fast, looking him frantically up and down. “Did he get you?”

  “Only my arm.” Parker scooped up Weidel’s gun before getting slowly to his feet, clamping a hand over his injury. “What about the other two?”

  “They’re dead,” Jane said. “Get up. We need to find a doctor.”

  Parker opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again when he saw three men walk over the crest of the hill. “Behind me.” He put himself between Jane and the intruders and took aim at the nearest man, thirty yards away. Were these guys cops?

  All three stopped, then did the strangest thing. They raised their hands.

  “Mr. Chase.” The lead man spoke in Russian-accented English. “We are not here to hurt you. The emper— Alexander ordered us to find you. Are either of you injured?”

  Alexander? “Are you armed?” Parker asked. The man said they were. “Put your weapons on the ground.” To his surprise, the three men did as they were told. Jane ran over and collected the guns. “Come here,” he said after she was safely away from them.

  Again, the men followed his orders, walking right to him. Jane covered them from behind. Their hands stayed up the entire time. Moonlight glinted off the ruby red rings each man sported.

  “Close enough,” he said when they were ten feet away. Too far to lunge at him, close enough he wouldn’t miss a shot. “How did you find us?”

  “We spoke with our…with Alexander.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “Yes. Authorities apprehended him when you separated at Salzburg Cathedral. He was released after establishing his diplomatic immunity, then contacted us. The authorities who confiscated the Gutenberg Bible you recovered have him under surveillance. Otherwise he would be here.” The man nodded at Parker’s gun. “Will you please point that at the ground?”

  “What?” He’d forgotten he still had it up. “Yes, sure. Sorry.” He lowered the weapon, and the men put their hands down. “Is Alexander okay?”

  “He is unharmed, praise God.”

  Jane walked around the men. She didn’t return their weapons. “How do we know you’re on our side?”

  “Alexander sends a message. He hopes Claus’s letter, which you found inside the cover, guided you to the last stop on his path.” The man looked around him. “I believe it did.” He turned back to Jane. “Though not without help from Otto.”

  “How do you know about Otto?” Jane asked.

  “Once you mentioned Otto’s name, we monitored his cellular phone.”

  She took a step back. “You know about the final letter.”

  The man nodded. “That is how we found you. Unfortunately, we arrived too late to help.” He pointed to Fr
ank Weidel. “Is he the German politician?” Parker confirmed he was. “Interesting. What happened?”

  Parker gave him a short recap, starting with trespassing and digging up graves, then having the Germans arrive right after they unearthed the final chest. Weidel began to stir as his story ended.

  “We must restrain him.” The Russian spoke rapid-fire in his native language, and in seconds Frank Weidel had been handcuffed to the closest corpse with a strip of cloth tied around his mouth. He wasn’t going anywhere. “He will not bother us,” the Russian said. He turned back to Parker. “You opened the chests?”

  Parker hesitated. Could he trust these guys? He recalled Alexander running away, taking the police with him so Parker and Jane could escape. Right now he badly wanted to trust someone, to have an ally in this fight. And at the end of it all, he was shot, exhausted and thoroughly sick of being chased. The hell with it. “Yes. We found gold bars. Russian gold.”

  “Are you certain?” the leader asked. Parker said he was. “We must verify this.”

  Parker waved at the chests. “Have at it.”

  Each Russian walked over to a chest. They flipped them open at the same time and had uniform responses – unblinking, incredulous stares at the fortune in front of them. While they gawked, Parker and Jane had a whispered, furious discussion about the remaining grave. In the end, they agreed. No reason to keep the secret.

  “That’s not all of it,” Parker said. The three men jumped up like electricity had surged through the dirt. “Claus Elser’s letter identified another grave.” He pointed. “That one.”

  “There is another shovel?” the lead Russian asked. Jane retrieved Parker’s shovel and tossed it his way. “We will handle this.” He paused, then bowed his head at each of them in turn. “Thank you. From us, and many other Russian patriots.”

  The heartfelt gratitude threw Parker for a loop. Who are these guys?

  A beat later, two of the Russians moved so fast Parker couldn’t keep up. One dug like a machine in the second grave. The other raced over the hill to the park.