Above him, he could hear the men unload heavy equipment onto what must have been some large heavy-duty vehicle. Had he not known better, Sam would have guessed it was a tank. Rapid footsteps approached the door of his room.
‘Now or never,’ he told himself, gathering his courage to make an escape attempt. If he could manipulate those coming to get him, he could make his way off the boat stealthily. The locks clicked from the outside. His heart pounded wildly as he got ready to pounce. When the door opened, Klaus Kemper himself stood in it, smiling. Sam lunged forward to tackle the loathsome captor. Klaus uttered, “24-58-68-91.”
Sam's attack instantly ended, and he fell to the floor at the feet of his target. A deep scowl painted Sam's brow with confusion and fury, but as much as he tried, he could not move a muscle. All he could hear above his bare and bruised frame was the triumphant snickering of a very dangerous man who harbored deadly information.
“I tell you what, Mr. Cleave,” Kemper said in that tone of annoying tranquility. “Because you have shown so much determination I will fill you in on what just happened to you. But!” he patronized like a forthcoming teacher bestowing mercy on a transgressing student. “But…you have to agree to give me no more reasons to have to worry about your relentless and ridiculous efforts at fleeing my company. Let's just call it… professional courtesy. You cease your childish behavior and in turn, I will grant you the interview of the ages.”
“I am sorry. I don't interview swines,” Sam retorted. “Your kind will never get any publicity from me, so go fuck yourself.”
“And again, here is where I will give you one more chance to rethink your counterproductive behavior,” Klaus repeated with a sigh. “In plain language — I will trade your compliance for information only I hold. Do you journalists not crave the… how do you say? Scoop?”
Sam held his tongue; not because he was obstinate, but because he was giving the proposition some thought. ‘What harm could it do to make this prick believe you are playing nice? He is planning to kill you anyway. You might as well learn more about the riddle you have been dying to solve thus far,’ he reckoned. ‘Besides, it is better than parading around with your bagpipe for all to see while you get pummeled by the enemy. Take it. Just take it for now.’
“If I get my clothes back you have a deal. Although I believe you deserve the punishment of looking on something you apparently don't have much of, I really prefer to wear pants in this cold,” Sam mocked him.
Klaus had become used to the journalist's incessant insults, so he was not easily offended anymore. Once he noticed that verbal piss-taking was Sam Cleave’s defense system, it was easy to let it roll off, if not to return the favor. “Sure. I'll let you blame the cold for that,” he retorted, pointing at Sam's obviously shy genitals.
Without relishing the effect of his counter-slur, Kemper turned and called for Sam's clothing to be returned to him. He was allowed to clean up, dress, and join Kemper in his SUV. From Riga they would be leading the way over two borders toward Ukraine, followed by a mammoth military tactical vehicle carrying a container specially designed for transporting the valuable remaining panels of the Amber Room to be recovered by Sam's associates.
“Impressive,” Sam told Kemper as he joined the Black Sun commander outside the local boat yard. Kemper was overseeing the transfer of the large Perspex container, maneuvered by two hydraulic arms from the lean deck of the Polish ocean vessel onto the huge cargo truck. “What kind of vehicle is this?” he asked, examining the enormity of the hybrid truck as he strolled along its side.
“It is a prototype by Enrick Hubsch, a gifted engineer from our ranks,” Kemper bragged as he accompanied Sam. “We modeled it on the American made Ford XM656 cargo vehicle from the late 1960's. However, in true German fashion, we improved it vastly by extending the original design with 10 meters more flatbed space and reinforced tensile steel welded along the axles, see?”
Proudly Kemper pointed out the construction above the powerful tires paired along the stretch of the vehicle. “The spacing of the wheels is expertly calculated to bear the exact weight of the container with structural leniency to permit the inevitable rocking brought on by a rocking water tank, so stabilizing the truck while driving.”
“And what is the giant aquarium for, exactly?” Sam asked as they watched the enormous box of water being hoisted onto the back of the military grade cargo monster. Thick bulletproof exterior Perspex was joined at each of the four corners by angled copper plates. The water flowed freely through twelve narrow compartments which were framed in copper as well.
Running along the width of the cube, the slots were prepared for one single amber panel to be inserted in each of them and kept separate from the next. As Kemper explained the contraption and its purpose, Sam could not help but wonder obsessively about the incident in the door of his holding quarters on the boat an hour before. He was eager to remind Kemper to disclose what he had promised, but for now, he tempered their tumultuous relationship by playing along.
“Is there some chemical compound in the water?” he asked Kemper.
“No, just water,” the German commander answered plainly.
Sam shrugged, “So what is this plain water for? What does it do to the Amber Room's panels?”
Kemper smiled. “Think of it as a containment measure.”
Sam locked eyes with him and asked nonchalantly, “To contain, say, a swarm from a hive of sorts?”
“How melodramatic,” Kemper replied, his arms folded confidently across his chest as the men secured the container with cable and cloth. “But you are not altogether wrong, Mr. Cleave. It is just a precaution. I do not dabble in risk unless I have considerable alternatives.”
“Noted,” Sam nodded affably.
Together they watched Kemper's men complete the loading process, neither engaging in conversation. Inside his mind, Sam wished he could tap into Kemper's thoughts, but not only could he not read minds, but the Nazi spin doctor already knew Sam's secret — and evidently more to boot. It would be superfluous to pry covertly. Something peculiar struck Sam about the way in which the small crew was laboring. There was no specific foreman, yet each man moved as if governed by particular commands to assure that their respective tasks were executed fluently and concluded at the same time. It was uncanny how they moved swiftly, efficiently and without any verbal exchange.
“Come, Mr. Cleave,” Kemper urged. “It is time to go. We have two countries to cross and very little time. With a cargo this delicate we cannot traverse the Latvian and Belarusian landscape in less than 16 hours.”
“Holy crap! How bored are we going to be?” Sam exclaimed, already fatigued by the prospect. “I don’t even have a magazine. Better yet, with a trip this long I could probably read through the entire Bible!”
Kemper laughed, clapping his hands in amusement as they climbed into the beige SUV. “Now reading that would be a colossal waste of time. It would be like reading contemporary fiction to determine the history of the Mayan civilization!”