A few seconds later, Jones pulled out another oil on canvas. The most colourful of the three, it depicted a painter on his way to work, walking down a bright gold path as he carried his art supplies. The background was filled with green and yellow fields and majestic blue mountains.
‘Painter on the Road to Tarascon,’ Kaiser announced, ‘painted by Vincent van Gogh in August 1888, destroyed by fire in World War Two.’
Jones nodded and returned the painting to its slot. He was about to pull out another when Payne grabbed his arm and told him to wait.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jones wondered.
Payne turned towards Kaiser. ‘Did you say it was destroyed in World War Two?’
Kaiser nodded, wondering when they would catch on. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘And the first one?’ Payne asked.
‘Burned in 1945.’
‘What about the second?’
‘Vanished from Germany in 1937.’
‘Shit,’ Payne mumbled as the dates fell into place. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
Jones looked at him, confused. ‘What’s wrong?’
Payne raised his voice, which echoed through the chamber. ‘What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Kaiser promised us treasure but brought us to a goddamned Nazi bunker.’
Jones’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘He what?’
‘Think about the dates and where we are. All this shit was looted in the war.’
Jones glanced at Kaiser. ‘Please tell me he’s wrong.’
Kaiser shrugged. ‘I hope he is, but I honestly don’t know.’
Payne raised his voice even louder. ‘Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it? You bring us to a Nazi bunker, filled with stolen artwork and who knows what else, and you’re going to pretend you’re not sure? Son of a bitch, Kaiser! What in the hell were you thinking? Did you really think we’d want to get involved with this shit?’
Kaiser took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. ‘As a matter of fact, I did.’
Payne laughed sarcastically. ‘Really? You honestly thought we’d want to get involved with Nazi loot? Why in the world would we do that?’
‘To save a good friend of yours.’
‘To save you from what?’ Payne growled.
‘Actually,’ Kaiser said, ‘I’m not the friend who needs to be saved.’
11
The comment caught Payne completely off guard. For the past thirty seconds, he had been lecturing Kaiser about their involvement with a cache of stolen art in a Nazi bunker – only to discover that something else was going on. Something to do with one of Payne’s friends.
Suddenly, their mission was a lot more urgent.
‘What do you mean?’ Payne said, trying to remain calm. ‘Who needs my help?’
‘A close friend of yours,’ Kaiser assured him.
‘Who?’ he repeated, this time a little louder.
‘Before we get to that-’
‘Now!’ Payne demanded, veins popping in his neck. ‘Tell me now, or I swear to God I’m going to-’
‘Jon!’ Jones shouted as he stepped in front of Payne. ‘You need to calm down.’
‘Excuse me?’ Payne barked, towering over his best friend.
‘You heard what I said. Calm the fuck down.’ Jones emphasized the word down by drawing it out for an extra beat. ‘We’re on the same side here. There’s no need for threats. Take a deep breath, and let Kaiser explain.’
Payne followed his advice, trying to relax. Although he rarely lost his temper, it occasionally flared up whenever he felt lied to or deceived. Factor in a friend in danger, and his anger was easy to understand. ‘Who needs our help?’
Not wanting to be the messenger, Kaiser swiftly moved towards one of the crates. He raised the lid that Jones had removed a few minutes earlier so they could inspect the underside. ‘See for yourself. Look at the lid.’
In the dim light, it was tough to see the mark inscribed on the lid. It wasn’t until Jones stepped closer that he noticed a coat of arms on its underbelly, a symbol vaguely familiar to him. Branded into the wood several decades earlier, it depicted an eagle with sharp talons holding a sword in one foot and a scroll in the other. On its chest, the bird wore a striped shield emblazoned with a smaller symbol. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the letter U.
Suddenly, everything made sense to Jones: Kaiser’s deception, the half-truths, the total need for secrecy. In a flash, Jones knew whom they were there to save.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he mumbled under his breath.
Payne heard the comment. ‘What’s wrong?’
Jones tapped on the symbol. ‘Do you recognize that?’
He shook his head. ‘No, should I?’
Jones nodded. ‘It’s the Ulster family crest.’
The name hit Payne like a sucker punch, temporarily leaving him stunned. ‘As in Petr Ulster? Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, Jon, I’m positive. I’ve seen it on one of his rings.’
‘The stolen art belongs to his family?’
Off to the side, Kaiser nodded in confirmation. ‘As soon as I saw the symbol, I sealed the site and called you. I know how close you are to Petr. And I know what would happen if his family was ever linked to the Nazis. The Archives would be tarnished for ever.’
*
Built in Switzerland by Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, the Ulster Archives was the most extensive private collection of documents and antiquities in the world.
Unlike most private collections, the main goal of the Archives wasn’t to hoard artefacts. Instead, it strived to bridge the ever-growing schism that existed between scholars and connoisseurs. Typical big-city museums displayed 15 per cent of their accumulated artefacts, meaning 85 per cent of the world’s finest relics were currently off-limits to the public. That number climbed even higher, closer to 90 per cent, when personal collections were factored in.
Thankfully, the Ulster Foundation had vowed to correct the problem. Ever since the Archives had opened in the mid-1960s, it had promoted the radical concept of sharing. In order to gain admittance to the facility, a visitor had to bring something of value – such as an ancient object or unpublished research that might be useful to others. Whatever it was, it had to be approved in advance by the Archives’ staff. If for some reason they deemed it unworthy, then admission to the facility was denied until a suitable replacement could be found.
It was their way to encourage sharing.
For the past decade, the Archives had been run by Petr Ulster, Conrad’s grandson. He had befriended Payne and Jones a few years earlier when the duo was at the facility conducting research for one of their missions. During their stay, a group of religious zealots had tried to burn the Archives to the ground. Their goal had been to destroy a collection of ancient documents that threatened the foundation of the Catholic Church, including evidence about the True Cross. Fortunately, Payne and Jones managed to intervene, thwarting the attack and saving the facility from irreparable damage.
Now it appeared they would have to save the Archives again, but this time, from a self-inflicted wound.
Payne grabbed the lid and studied the Ulster family crest. A sword in one talon and a scroll in the other, it represented the family’s role as guardians of history. ‘This has to be a mistake. Petr has done more for the preservation of history than anyone I know.’
‘Maybe so,’ Jones said. ‘Then again, who knows what his ancestors did?’
‘But that’s what doesn’t make sense. Petr has told me countless stories about his family, all of them positive. I can assure you, he reveres his grandfather as much as I revere mine.’