The bulldozer juddered to a halt at the entrance to the chamber, its headlights forcing everyone except Tom and Archie, who could barely see it, to hold their hands in front of their faces, shielding their eyes from the glare. Abruptly, first the engine, then the lights were killed.
Ten heavily armed men emerged from behind the bulldozer, like infantrymen following a tank. To Tom's surprise, they were all wearing white chemical-warfare suits. They looked strangely robotic as they fanned out through the chamber, their faces masked and inscrutable.
Two of them approached Renwick and frisked him. Hecht, meanwhile, jerked his head in the direction of the car that Tom and Archie were in. Immediately, two of the armed men ran to the door and opened it, indicating with a wave of their guns that Tom and Archie should jump down. Once outside, they were frisked at gunpoint, then shoved toward Renwick, who stood silently glaring at Hecht, his eyes brimming with rage.
One of the men in white now made his way to the middle of the chamber. He was carrying a briefcase, which he placed flat on the ground. Flicking the catches open, he re-
moved what looked like a large microphone and held it in the air above his head while consulting the screen of a small computer inside the case.
Moments later, he called out in German and, with a relieved sigh, the men pulled off their hoods and discarded their respirators.
One man, however, remained hooded, his face still concealed by a mask. Unarmed, he walked slowly up to Hecht. Suddenly, the two men threw their arms around each other and embraced warmly, patting each other on the back. Tom could just about make out the hooded man's muffled words and Hecht's reply.
"Well done, Colonel."
"Thank you, sir."
The two men broke off and saluted each other smartly.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Archie exploded. "Who are you people?"
The masked man turned to them and pulled back his hood before sliding his mask off his face.
Tom spoke first, his voice strangled and disbelieving. "Volz?"
"Who?" Renwick spoke for the first time, his eyes flicking from Hecht to Volz's stout frame.
"He runs the private bank in Zurich where Weissman and Lammers had hidden the map," Tom explained.
Volz ignored Tom, however, and approached Renwick.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Herr Renwick — or do you prefer Cassius? Colonel Hecht here has spoken very highly of your efforts over the past few months."
"Is this some sort of joke?" Renwick hissed through clenched teeth.
Tom couldn't help but give a rueful smile. Despite their desperate situation, surrounded by armed men in an abandoned mine deep under an Austrian mountain, it was good to see Renwick finally on the receiving end of the sort of duplicity that he so regularly served up to others.
"No joke, Cassius," said Volz.
"Then what is the meaning of this?"
"You don't recognize my voice?" There was a pause, then Renwick's eyes narrowed. "Dmitri?"
"As I said, it's a pleasure to meet you finally."
"What is this circus?" Renwick snapped. "We had a deal. We agreed, no tricks."
"We agreed to lots of things," Volz replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But that was when you thought you had something to bargain with. The situation has, I'm sure you'll agree, changed somewhat."
"Why are you dressed up in that gear?" Tom interrupted their exchange. "What exactly were you expecting to find down here?"
"At last, an intelligent question," Volz said with a clap. "And one that you can help me answer. Would you be so kind as to open that crate." He pointed at one of the crates Hecht's men had unloaded earlier.
"What?" Tom's voice was uncertain.
"You heard me. Open the crate," Volz insisted, grabbing a crowbar off one of his men and tossing it to Tom. "Open it now."
Tom approached the crate indicated by Volz. Like all the others, it had some sort of identification code and a swastika stamped on one side. He slipped the crowbar under the lid and levered it up. It rose a few inches, the nails shrieking as they were pulled free. Tom repeated the procedure on the other side, and the lid came off and flopped to the floor.
The crate was packed with straw, which Tom removed in big handfuls until he was finally able to make out a dark shape. He reached in. It felt soft and silky. He pulled it out.
"A fur coat?" Archie said disbelievingly as Tom held it up. "Is that it?"
He leaped to Tom's side and leaned into the crate, pulling out first one coat, then another and another, flinging them over his shoulder.
"This can't be right," he said when he had reached the bottom of the crate and stood up to survey the mound of black and brown and golden furs. "There must be a mistake."
Renwick was staring at the pile disbelievingly, his eyes bulging.
"Open another one," Volz said gleefully. "Any one. It won't make a difference."
Archie grabbed the crowbar off Tom and opened another crate.
"Alarm clocks," he said, holding one up for everyone to see before dropping it back inside with a crash.
He opened another. "Typewriters."
Then another. "Silk underwear." He held up a bra and camisole before throwing them at Volz. They fell well short.
"Okay, Volz, you made your point," Tom said slowly.
"Surely Lasche told you these were some of the items that were loaded on the train?" Volz asked with a shrug. "I don't see why you're so surprised."
"Don't play dumb. Where is it?" Renwick demanded.
"Where is what?" Volz said, in mock confusion.
"You know damn well what," Renwick snapped. "The Amber Room. Why else do you think we are all here?"
Volz laughed. "Ah yes, the Amber Room. Amazing how that myth refuses to die."
"It's not a myth." Renwick fired back.
"No need to feel foolish. Thousands have fallen for the same deluded fantasy. And I'm certain thousands more will follow."
"You're saying it doesn't exist?" Tom asked. "I'm saying it was destroyed in the war."
"Rubbish," said Renwick.
"Is it?" Volz sniffed.
"It was moved to Konigsberg Castle. Everyone knows that. Then it vanished. It was hidden."
"It didn't vanish and no one hid it. If you must know, it was burned. Burned by the very Russian troops who'd been sent to recover it. They overran Konigsberg Castle in April 1945 and, in their haste, set fire to the Knight's Hall. They didn't know that the Amber Room was being stored there. Just as they probably didn't know that, being a resin, amber is highly flammable. By the time they realized what they had done, it was too late."
"If that story were true, it would have come out before now," Renwick said dismissively.
"Really? You think the Soviets would freely admit that their own troops destroyed one of Russia's most precious treasures? I don't think so. Far easier for them to accuse the Nazis of having hidden this irreplaceable gem than face that particular embarrassment. You may not believe me, but I've seen the Kremlin documents in the Central State Archive of Literature and Art that confirm it. Not only did the Russians know that the Amber Room had been destroyed, they used it as a pawn in their negotiations for the return of valuable works of art from Germany."
Volz's eyes shone brightly, and Tom could see that, on this point, at least, he was telling the truth. Or at least he believed he was.
"Then what are you here for?" Tom asked slowly.
"For that," said Volz, pointing at the second car. "Show them, Colonel."
Hecht grabbed the crowbar from Archie and approached the side of the car. He forced the end in between two of the wide wooden planks and levered it sideways. The wood splintered noisily. Then Hecht snapped off more planks, creating a large jagged hole in the side of the car. But instead of being able to see through into the car, as Tom had expected, they were confronted by an expanse of dull gray metal. Something had been built into the walls.