He sat down abruptly, but another hand had been held high during his final words, and Ruth recognized its owner. A stocky woman with gray hair in a tight bun came to her feet, speaking into the console, but with her eyes roving from person to person as she spoke, also in German.
“My name is Dr. Elsa Dornbusch. I am from the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, which comprises the Bode, the Pergamon, and the Natonal Gallery. I have listened to Dr. Kloster with, I must admit, a touch of surprise that he did not end his pretty speech with a ‘Heil Hitler!’ and more than a little admiration for his utter and complete gall. While he is perfectly correct in wondering why this meeting was convened, or, rather, why any of you who are present attended, he failed to include himself in that number. I cannot imagine why Dr. Kloster is here. Certainly not, I hope, merely to fill our ears with the nonsense we have just been subjected to. He says the treasure was taken from the Berlin Zoo, which today is in West Berlin, and therefore it belongs to the Dahlen. I have seldom heard anything that ridiculous, even from Dr. Kloster. He might equally say the treasure was deposited there by a man named Herman, and therefore the treasure is his because he has an uncle named Herman!”
There was a slight titter from the audience, quickly muffled. But Dr. Elsa Dornbusch had not intended anything humorous and she frowned, her lined face remaining as uncompromising as before. Across the conference table from her, Dr. Kloster had reddened slightly, but he managed to remain calm, his thick fingers tapping nervously on the table. Dr. Dornbusch disregarded her opponent and continued.
“Dr. Kloster compounds this farcical position by stating that the treasure was given to the Museum of Ancient History — which I concede it was — and that since that museum was located in what is now West Berlin, again the Dahlen can claim ownership. On that basis they could claim ownership of just about everything in the shops on the Kurfürstendamm because that avenue is also in West Berlin. What idiocy!”
She paused to glare around, as if to dare anyone to even smile. Her audience watched her carefully, as one might watch a ticking package, wondering what might come next. She went on, satisfied with the attention she was getting.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, let us look at some facts. The treasure was, indeed, given to the Museum of Ancient History, but that museum, of course, was not the Dahlen. The Museum of Ancient History, as we all know, was destroyed during the war and was never rebuilt. The Schliemann treasure, therefore, cannot return to that museum. But it was given to Germany, and it must therefore remain in Germany. But where? Obviously at the Staatsliche, not anywhere else. Let me explain. Prior to the war, all cultural activity in the city — the theaters, the concerts, the galleries, the museums” — she paused to look at Kloster as if challenging him — “the important ones, that is — were located in that section of Berlin — not East Berlin or West Berlin, but simply Berlin — that today is part of the German Democratic Republic. This is true. I doubt if even Dr. Kloster would deny it. And Potsdamer Platz, which Dr. Kloster went to great lengths to point out is in West Berlin, is less than half a mile from the Staatsliche, at the very edge of the zone, while being as far from the Dahlen in both distance and in conception, if we consider the museum there that no longer exists, as the moon!”
She paused to sip water and then went on in the silence.
“The proper museum — German museum — to lay claim to the treasure is the Bode, which is part of the Staatsliche. Here is one of the finest collections of ancient treasures in the world, on a par with the Hermitage, the British, or the Metropolitan. It is the logical place for it. It is the moral place for it. And may I finish by saying — with less belligerency than Dr. Kloster, I hope, but with equal fervor and total intent — that that is where the Schliemann treasure is going to end.”
She sat down to silence. Ruth McVeigh involuntarily glanced toward Gregor Kovpak. The white-haired man at his side was leaning over, obviously asking Kovpak something. Ruth saw Kovpak answer in apparent good nature, and then return his attention to the discussion, while the white-haired man sat back, a frown of uncertainty on his face. Ruth became aware that other hands had been raised during her lapse. She reddened a bit and wondered who had been first, finally selecting one at random. The man who rose was heavy-set, with a pock-marked face and a fierce-looking mustache, but with a rich and surprisingly friendly voice. He smiled around the table before beginning, his hands idly caressing the back of his chair as he spoke.
“My name is Dimitrios Jacoubs. I am afraid I do not represent any particular museum, nor do I have all the letters after my name that you illustrious people do. However, I represent the Greek government, so I ask your indulgence to hear me out—”
He paused, seeing the frowns of non-understanding on everyone’s face, seeing hands reaching out, punching buttons on the consoles. He shrugged apologetically as the reason came to him. He had been speaking Greek, a language not on the translator. He changed to French, apologizing, and repeated himself. Then he continued.
“I have listened to the two people who have just spoken, and I can understand their differences. I can also understand their problem. Basically, what I believe they are saying is that neither one of them has a decent claim to the collection; that this poor treasure, its former home no longer existent, is without a place to lay its head, so they both want to adopt him. Well, possibly I can resolve the problem for them, because I should like to present my case for Greek ownership of this poor orphan, which I am sure everyone here will recognize as far more legitimate than the claims presented by the previous two speakers.”
He sipped water and smiled at his waiting audience as he picked up the thread of his argument.
“I should like to take you back to when the treasure was first discovered and brought to Greece. Yes, friends, it was brought to Greece and remained there for some years before it was given — without the right to give — by Heinrich Schliemann to a German museum. I say without a right to give, because the discovery of this treasure was a joint effort by Heinrich Schliemann and his wife, Sophie Engastromenos before her marriage, and a Greek. And Sophie Engastromenos wanted the treasure to be given to Greece, desperately wanted it. Her husband’s will prevailed, but the desire of a husband is not necessarily a legal right, not concerning a property that was found jointly and therefore should have been disposed of jointly. Now, when Heinrich Schliemann died, Sophie was his heir, and as such was now the full owner of the treasure. But Sophie Schliemann was a dutiful wife, and although her wishes should have been the ones that dominated, she allowed the treasure to remain where it was. The Greek government, however, is under no such compulsion to allow the situation to remain.”
He shrugged and spread his large hands.
“You may wonder why the Greek government has taken so long to press their claim to this collection. In the first place, at the time that Heinrich Schliemann donated the treasure to Germany — a treasure it was not his alone to donate — the German government was a powerful state, and we certainly had no intention of going to war over a collection of ancient artifacts. At that time, also, the German state was an entity. Today that is no longer the case. We have, in fact, heard representatives of the two German states arguing ownership today. The fact is, the Germany to whom Schliemann gave the treasure no longer exists. The thought that Schliemann would have given his treasure to West Germany, is doubtful; he wanted it to go to the country of his birth, and he was born in Neu Buckow, in Mecklenberg-Schwerin, which today is in East Germany. And the thought that Schliemann would have wanted his treasure to go to a Communist regime is unthinkable.”