"Yes, sir," Hirn said enthusiastically.
"Fine," Kluge said. "Now, before we can leave on this expedition, I need one last thing."
"Sir?"
Blue eyes washed in gray fixed on the young skinhead.
"I need you to steal a block of wood."
THE STOLPE FAMILY castle was a huge old-world edifice resting on a jagged slab of rock in the Harz Mountains in the Niedersachsen region of north-central Germany. It sprawled morosely across the craggy mountain peak in hideous contrast to the beautiful early-winter countryside through which they had just passed.
As they drove up the winding black road to the castle's front entrance, Remo noted the only thing that might have made the scene complete would have been a dose of crackling lightning and a couple of howling wolves.
"I don't want to sound rude or anything," Remo said as they passed beneath the rusted portcullis and into the spacious inner courtyard, "but this has got to be the crummiest castle I've ever seen."
"It has been in my family for generations," Heidi countered, a faraway look in her azure eyes. Remo could tell by her tone that she didn't disagree with his assessment. Following Heidi's instructions, he took the smooth path that skirted the inner battlements. Remo parked their rented car near the massive stone entrance to the tall, circular donjon.
"What is that?" the Master of Sinanju asked in disgust as they exited the car. He pointed to a deep furrow that had been carved along the exterior wall of the inner tower.
Heidi's cheeks flushed. Remo was surprised that the woman who had been so brave and ruthless in South America and Korea could be embarrassed.
"My uncle's idea. He was the last Stolpe to live here. It is supposed to be a moat."
"A moat?" Chiun asked. "At the interior? Tell me, girl, why was your uncle not committed to an asylum? This defacement is obviously the work of a deranged mind."
Again Heidi didn't argue.
"He thought that this was the image of a castle people would like. You see, we are forced in better weather to rent out to tourists," she said sadly.
Remo couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "That's a shame," he said, consolingly.
"A shame?" Chiun scoffed. "It is a crime. A fine home like this should never be turned over to fat American hamburger eaters and their squealing offspring."
"I agree." Heidi nodded. "And it will not be again if we are successful. Come, the carving is in here."
She led them up the half-dozen steep steps and through the rounded door frame of the old dungeon wing.
"This building predates the time of Otto the Great," Heidi remarked as she led them through a narrow corridor.
Chiun snorted.
"Did I say something wrong again?" Heidi asked warily.
"It's just that Otto wasn't so great as far as we're concerned," Remo said. "He used us to help him beat back the Magyars and enslave the Poles and the Bohemians, but then he got all caught up with the Church of Rome. Which," he said to Chiun, "I don't think is all that bad an idea."
"Spoken like one who was raised by virginal wimple wearers," Chiun commented.
"The nuns weren't so bad," Remo said defensively.
"Go on," Chiun said, striking his chest. "Defend them if you feel you must. Each ungrateful word twists the knife further into your poor old father's ailing heart."
"Put a sock in it, Tallulah Bankhead," Remo suggested.
The corridor ended at a narrow staircase. This led down into the old dungeon of the castle. At the bottom of the stairs, a replica of an old-fashioned wooden door was slightly ajar. Flickering torchlight, as well as hushed voices, came from within the room beyond. There was the sound of metal scraping against rock.
"There should not be anyone here," Heidi whispered.
Remo pressed his fingers to his lips. He and Chiun slipped down the staircase, making no more noise than a pair of thousand-year-old spirits. Heidi followed on tiptoes.
The voices grew louder as they neared the open door.
"How am I supposed to know?" someone said in German. "He said it was behind one of these."
"I checked those already," insisted another.
Remo-who was the only member of their group not fluent in German-stuck his head around the door frame. He caught sight of three figures inside one of the dungeon cells. Their actions were illuminated by a burning torch that had been jammed into a metal hoop in the wall.
Remo was surprised to find he recognized the trio of skinheads. Each of the three men he had met at the Schweinebraten Bier Hall carried a crowbar that he was jamming into the large fissures between the stones of the cell wall.
"Wait here," Remo whispered to Heidi. Curious, he sauntered into the room along with the Master of Sinanju. The men in the cell were so engrossed in their work that they didn't notice their visitors.
Remo paused near the rusted bars of the cell. He leaned against the open door.
"Hey, fellas," Remo said brightly. "What are you doing nosing around in here?"
The trio of skinheads nearly jumped out of their skins. As soon as they saw who it was who had spoken to them, their initial surprise rocketed into the stratosphere of abject terror.
Three separate hands flashed instinctively for three separate noses.
"Good," Remo said, stepping into the cell. "We don't have to get reacquainted. What are you doing here?"
The cell was small. Too small for much maneuvering. In spite of that, Erwin's fear of the terrifying Nazi killer got the better of him. As Remo approached, he took his crowbar in a double-handed grip and swung it fiercely at Remo's head. At least, that was Erwin's hastily hatched plan.
However, at the point where the crowbar should have made contact with Remo's face, something went desperately wrong. Remo's head was no longer where it was supposed to be.
Even as his eyes were registering the dull afterimage of Remo ducking out of the way of his mighty swing, Erwin's momentum was carrying the heavy crowbar in a wide arc. The bar whizzed around the cell, slamming with a loud finality into the forehead of the third skinhead. The man dropped like an undercooked strudel to the damp stone floor of the cell.
Erwin's brain was trying to register what his body had just done. He stared dumbly down at the corpse of his friend. So amazed was he by what had transpired that he didn't feel the crowbar being plucked from his hands. He only briefly became aware of the metal rod as it was bent over the back of his skull. Then he was no longer aware of anything.
Remo tossed the twisted crowbar onto Erwin's body.
"So much for Larry and Curly," he said dryly. Remo turned to the surviving skinhead.
"We were sent to find a block of wood," Hirn blurted out. His hand was still over his bandaged nose.
"This was what they were after," Heidi Stolpe said, excited. She stepped past Chiun and made her way into the cell.
Heidi tugged at a rusted manacle that was secured to the wall. It pulled away easily, along with the facade of the rock beneath. A hollow behind revealed the contours of yet another section of the Siegfried carving. Heidi took out the wooden block, handling it with great reverence.
"Whoever they are working for must know at least part of my family's history to know of this hiding place," she said, examining the block.
"Of course," Remo said sarcastically. "Isn't everyone in on this dink-ass treasure hunt of yours?" Heidi and Chiun weren't listening to him. The Master of Sinanju had padded into the cell behind Heidi. Both of them were observing the carvings in the surface of the ancient petrified wood. They quickly left, arguing about the true location of a river.
Remo turned his attention back to the lone skinhead.
"Who sent you?" he asked Hirn.
"What?" Hirn asked, startled. He had been watching Chiun and Heidi bicker.
"If you're hard of hearing, I can match your ears to your nose." He reached for the sides of Hirn's head.