“You are most kind,” Alexander murmured.
“And of course, your success in retrieving the chalice would depend upon secrecy.”
“Rest assured I shall do everything in my power to unravel this mystery. Yet what if the chalice is not recovered?”
Karlovich spread out his arms. “Then perhaps you would consider arranging to have a suitable sum of compensation paid. Such money would of course be devoted to the most noble of church purposes.”
“I understand,” Alexander said quietly, wishing that were so.
“I have no idea when others might discover that the chalice you returned is not in truth the reliquary. I can only hope that my purpose in life has been accomplished by then, and that I have been called to my eternal home.”
Alexander rose in confused defeat. “Please be so kind as to give me a few weeks. I shall come back to you, either in person or through Dr. Rokovski. I know the market in religious antiques quite well, and I shall try to draw out this piece by posing as a buyer. Failing that, I am of course most willing to offer some financial compensation, however meager it may be in comparison to your loss.”
CHAPTER 25
The next morning dawned clear and bitterly cold. Jeffrey and Katya joined Alexander in the tiny alcove of the shop for coffee and commiseration, their conversation marked by numerous pauses and deep sighs.
Alexander stood and went for a mope about the shop, murmured from up by the front window, “How on earth did this happen?”
“It’s not your fault,” Jeffrey said for the hundredth time already that day.
Alexander chose not to hear him. “Forty years in the antiques trade, and here at the crown of my career I am confronted with accusations against which I have no defense.”
“And when you were doing it for charity,” Jeffrey added. “It wasn’t even business.”
Katya reached in her carry bag, brought out a yellow legal pad, and announced, “It seems to me that what we need most right now is clear thinking.”
Alexander’s tone was querulous. “How am I to defeat an accusation I cannot make public?”
“It’s not just the chalice,” Jeffrey agreed. “If this gets out, all our Polish sources are going to shrivel up like a dried prune.”
“Not if,” Alexander said, returning to the alcove and dropping into his seat. “When.”
“The way to defeat this problem is to solve it,” Katya replied crisply. “We must outline all the possibilities. Everyone is a suspect.”
“This is absurd,” Alexander declared, but could manage no heat.
“We have to trace the line of possession of the chalice,” she insisted. “We must examine every opportunity and motive for theft.”
Jeffrey recalled her finding the Rubens in a crowded basement vault and felt a slight lift to his spirit. “What are you suggesting?”
“First, we have Karlovich,” Katya said. “From the sound of it, he’s not a totally stable character.”
Alexander snorted. “You simply cannot go about accusing the curate of Cracow’s central cathedral of being a thief.”
“He accused you, didn’t he?” Katya scribbled busily. “Then there’s the three of us.”
Alexander raised his hand at that. “Let us just say here and now that we trust one another, shall we? I don’t care to see my world upset any more than it already is.”
Katya nodded agreement. “So it was in your flat for one night—”
“Where no one entered,” Alexander replied. “Not even the porter. Security in my building is meticulous.”
“Then we have those people with access to the shop,” Katya went on.
“There’s the three of us,” Jeffrey mused. “Plus the cleaning lady—no, she was off the week the chalice was here before it was moved to the bank. I remember because I had to vacuum and dust. Then there were our customers.”
Alexander showed the first hint of renewed interest. “Did you ever allow a customer to be alone in the shop?”
“Not for an instant,” Jeffrey replied emphatically. “Not ever.”
“No, nor I. And I must say, I found myself especially vigilant with the chalice here, although I suppose we have several other items that approach it in value.”
“What about when you were traveling back from Cracow?” Jeffrey asked. “Did you set it down?”
“Not in any place, not at any time,” Alexander replied. “I shall not take you through the rather gruesome details, but suffice it to say that I suffered several indignities rather than part with the case for even a moment.”
“We need to see if our security firm has any videotapes left of those days,” Katya said, scribbling away. “Although they usually erase them once a week, I believe they told me.”
Jeffrey looked at her. “You talked to the security firm?”
She did not raise her eyes from the pad. “This is my job now, Jeffrey. Security is a part of it. Okay. Could someone else have gotten into the shop?”
“In off-hours?” Jeffrey shook his head. “All Mayfair would have heard the alarms.”
“No alarm system is foolproof, of course,” Alexander responded, “but ours is very dependable. If someone did break in, it would have to be a very skilled thief. A professional. And no such professional would swap one valuable for another. And allow me to assure you, the chalice I returned to Cracow is unmistakably precious.”
“He also wouldn’t have left the shop’s other valuables intact,” Jeffrey agreed. “The same goes for entry into Alexander’s flat. Some of his antiques are first-rate.”
“Right.” She continued writing and went on. “Then there was the photographer who shot the pictures for our invitation.”
“I remained by the chalice throughout the session,” Alexander replied. “I have also checked the photographs most carefully. All I can say is that the two signets facing the camera were identical. Five are not in view; of them I can say nothing at all.”
Katya made swift notes. “That brings us to the transportation to and from the bank vault. Then you have the display. Then the return of the chalice to the church, and that afternoon until the discovery of the switch.”
“Barclay’s Bank is above question,” Alexander replied. “Their reputation is certainly more valuable than the threat of scandal over one item.”
“A king’s ransom of valuables is stored in their Charing Cross vaults,” Jeffrey agreed. “Why go to the trouble of switching just one item?”
“I positively concur,” Alexander said. “And as for attracting the attention of international thieves, how did they come to hit on us so swiftly?” Jeffrey shook his head. “We only had the chalice for how long? Four weeks?”
“We did publicize it widely in magazines and publications,” Katya pointed out. “Not to mention the three thousand invitations to the gala.”
Jeffrey felt a sinking feeling. “What about Greenfield?”
“What are you saying?”
“I think we’ve got to include him. It was his idea to put the chalice in the bank’s vaults.”
“I certainly cannot confront the man directly,” Alexander objected. “And unfortunately the bank won’t tell us any details unless I give them ample reason, which would of course raise the threat of scandal. The question is how to speak with him without making this nightmare any more public.”
“But could he have made a switch?” Jeffrey felt an inward cringe. The thought of a friend stealing from them sickened him.
“In the bank?” Alexander pursed his lips. “If there was an accomplice in the bank, perhaps. What might be more likely is in the arrangements regarding the display case.”
“We were so busy with the gala details,” Katya agreed.
“I can’t think of any moment from the time the bank security people brought in the three treasures to when they were actually sealed in the cases that they were left alone.” Alexander seemed to dim slightly. “But we were all so busy. It is possible, I suppose.”
“I hate this,�
� Jeffrey declared. “Greenfield is a friend.”
“He is a somewhat distorted character, but I agree, he is indeed a good man at heart. I cannot imagine—” Alexander shook his head, sighed, “But I suppose we must.”
“And the security people who guarded the display case in the ballroom,” Katya added. “We’ll need to speak with them as well.”
Alexander regarded her gravely. “Painful as this exercise is proving to be, my dear, you have instilled in me a morsel of hope. For that I must thank you.”
“The atmosphere has lightened in here a thousand percent,” Jeffrey agreed.
“It’s really nice,” Katya confessed, “feeling a part of all this. Even in the middle of such a bad time, I truly feel fortunate.”
“As do we,” Alexander said gravely.
“Hang on,” Jeffrey said, straightening in his chair. “Did whoever took the chalice know about the secret compartment?”
Alexander nodded. “I quite agree. We must also consider the fact that it was not an antique, nor silver and gold, which lured the thief. This may be the key. The replica of the chalice, or whatever it is that I looked at, is impeccable. To make a forgery like this would take a tremendous amount of preparation.”
“And time,” Katya agreed.
“And effort,” Alexander continued. “I examined the chalice in the curate’s office quite carefully, I assure you. If it was a forgery at all, the work was remarkable, the materials first-rate. I would have staked my reputation that I was looking at a product of fifteenth-century craftsmanship.”
“So the thief was possibly after the fragment,” Jeffrey agreed. “But who would have known about it?”
“We also have to ask ourselves who would be willing to go through all this trouble for such a relic,” Katya urged.
“Even Karlovich didn’t know about the secret compartment until two days ago,” Alexander protested.
“He said,” Katya replied.
“I can’t see why he would allow such an item out of the country if he knew about the relic,” Jeffrey said.
“There were too many other items in the collection to choose from,” Alexander agreed.
“Unless he had a reason,” Katya said.
“Let’s not allow ourselves to become carried away,” Alexander said. “Karlovich is a bit off-balance, there’s no question about that. But we can’t go along blaming him. The fact is, we are responsible. What we have to come to grips with, assuming we all trust one another, is that we let the chalice out of our protection and our control—either when we sent it to the bank vaults or at some other moment along the way.”
“So what do we do now?” Jeffrey asked. “The police aren’t of any use to us.”
“Quite the contrary,” Alexander agreed. “But perhaps, just perhaps, greed will work on our behalf.”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose that we pose as buyers of ancient religious artifacts and let the thief or his accomplice come to us.”
“You’re going to pay to get it back?”
“I am certainly prepared to do so,” Alexander replied.
“But why would anyone who stole something from you try to sell it back to you?”
“Not us in person, of course. We shall have to utilize the services of a front. We shall make other arrangements. Much more discreet.” Alexander leaned forward. “Now here is my plan.”
CHAPTER 26
Kurt settled the last of Erika’s suitcases in the trunk of the car, paused, and looked down at the compartment’s contents. There were four cases made of battered cardboard and vinyl, two for Erika and two for Ferret. Little enough to show for a pair of lives. Kurt shut the lid with a solid thunk and felt a curtain come down inside himself.
His attention fastened on a newly erected billboard that towered above the road and the colonel’s shabby cottage. It proclaimed in giant letters and bright colors the wonders of a certain washing powder. He smiled without humor, compared the capitalist slogan with those of his Communist days. The colors and words were different, but the intent was more or less the same as far as he could see—to convince the unbeliever that something was true. Were they lies? Kurt kicked at the icy ground, remembered a lesson from his early training—the easiest lie to sell was the one wrapped in a covering of truth.
“We’re Building the Germany of Our Dreams.” That one had been a favorite during his teen years. For a time it had been plastered almost everywhere. The propagandists had slapped it across acres of buildings. They had competed over who could erect the largest billboard, all in red and white and fiercely, angrily proud. Then had come “There Is One Germany and We Are All Working for Her Development.” As prophetic a statement as he had ever heard, although perhaps not in the form the propagandists had intended. The year before the Wall fell it had been, “Our Ambition Is a Strong and Unified Socialist Germany.” Take out the word socialist, and the ambition had come true.
Ferret scuttled from the cottage. He nodded to the colonel leaning against the doorpost and said something Kurt could not hear. The colonel made no response. Ferret turned with a minute shrug and hurried down the muddy path. A battered overstuffed briefcase was clasped up close to his chest like a child with a favorite toy.
Ferret approached the car, stopped, and peered up at Kurt through the over-thick lenses. “You know the plan,” Ferret said. It was not a question.
“We have gone over it a dozen times,” Kurt replied. “More.”
“At this stage, I prefer repetition to mistakes.” Bundled within his oversized coat, Ferret looked more than ever like a bespectacled mole. “You will stay here—”
“And await your word,” Kurt interrupted, boredom fighting for place with irritation. “You will call if the amber is found.”
“When,” Ferret corrected. “When the amber is found, and when the agreement is made. Until that moment, you will not allow the colonel out of your sight.”
“Then I shall contact the Schwerin lawyer as we discussed, and then travel to Poland.” Kurt cast a sideways glance back to where the old man hunched in the house’s shallow doorway, out of the bitter dawn breeze. The colonel’s shanty stooped and swayed beneath its burdens of neglect and age.
Kurt watched the Ferret bundle himself into the passenger’s seat. He shut the door, nodded a farewell. Then he turned to where Erika waited by the hood of her car, the little plastic taxi sign now permanently removed. He said, “The final departure.”
“I never thought this day would come,” she replied. “After Birgit found the man, I still could not believe it was real. Even now I wonder.”
“That was her name?” Kurt asked. “Birgit?”
Erika had a momentary start, then saw his smile. “You made a joke.”
“A poor one.”
“It does not matter what you know now. We shall not return.”
“No,” Kurt agreed. “Any regrets?”
She looked out over the icy landscape, admitted, “Some.”
“I was not necessarily speaking of the departure,” Kurt said.
“Nor I.” Erika’s gaze returned to him. “Some nights I wonder if anything will ever come of all this.”
“Nights are the time for me to wonder how it will be to live the life of an alien.”
It was Erika’s turn to smile. “We have been that since the Wall’s collapse. It is our fate. The place we choose to reside no longer matters.”
He walked her around to the driver’s side, opened the door, said, “I also find myself wondering about our new residence.”
“Where do you think we shall go?”
Kurt pointed with his chin toward the waiting Ferret. “He likes Argentina. They’ve fifty years of experience in burying German records.”
“Nazi records, you mean.”
He did not deny it. “Ferret and I, we had contact with them once. Trying to get hold of old documents in another treasure hunt.”
“They did not help, did they?”
Kurt shook his he
ad. “We kept the contact, though. The man let us know he could be used for buying other papers.”
“He said that?”
“Passports, drivers’ licenses, even birth certificates if the price was right.” Kurt lifted his eyes to tree boughs slumped beneath their loads of snow and ice. “At the time, of course, we saw no need for such things—”
“And never thought you would,” Erika finished, a wry bite to her words.
“And I suppose you had perfect vision when it came to such events.”
Her good humor remained. “Naturally. That is why I’m here.”
He subsided. “I suppose Buenos Aires would be an acceptable place to have been born.”
“Now that our own homeland is no longer,” Erika agreed, climbing in and starting the car. She reached for the door, said, “You know, I think I might just learn to like being rich.”
CHAPTER 27
Andrew opened the door for a heavily laden Jeffrey and Katya, then led them through his shop to the back office area. “This the lot?”
“Nineteen books on the crucial subjects,” Jeffrey said, setting down his load next to the oversized art books he had brought by the week before. “Katya’s box has some prints and imitation artifacts.”
“To add a bit of atmosphere,” Katya said.
Andrew gave her a look of mock injury. “Atmosphere? And what does my little world have now?”
“A beautiful feel,” Katya replied. “Truly.”
“You know the way to a man’s heart,” Andrew said. “Pity about the choice you’ve made. Choice of men, that is.”
“I think I did rather well,” Katya replied smugly.
Jeffrey was too frantic to share in their banter. “You understand these books are on loan?”
“Not part of the fee, I take it.”
“Not on your life. A couple I had to borrow, several I haven’t been able to read yet myself. And some of these have been out of print for over a century.”
“All right, lad,” Andrew replied easily. “Speaking of fee, we haven’t gotten around to discussing that.”
The Amber Room Page 22