As they strolled up the meadow towards the main entrance, Payne focused on a cluster of buildings in the valley behind the King’s House. Their light grey roofs blended perfectly with the surrounding rock face, minimizing their presence in the alpine scenery.
Payne pointed at the compound. ‘What’s over there?’
‘That’s the Schachenhaus restaurant,’ Ulster answered without even looking. ‘In addition, there are several guest cabins for those inclined to spend the night.’
‘People do that?’ Jones asked as he shivered in his long-sleeved shirt. It was fifteen degrees colder than it had been when he boarded the chopper a few minutes earlier.
Ulster grinned. ‘For most people, it’s a lengthy hike to reach this site. After a four-hour climb, I’d be tempted to stay myself.’
‘But it’s cold up here,’ Jones complained.
‘Hardly!’ Ulster said, laughing. To prove his point, he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. ‘Smell that mountain air! It reminds me of Kusendorf.’
‘Really?’ Jones mumbled to himself. ‘It reminds me of Siberia.’
Familiar with Jones’s hatred of the cold, Payne decided to change the topic before Jones started to bitch. Because once that started, it was hard to stop.
‘So,’ Payne said to Ulster, ‘tell us more about the gartenhaus. It would probably be helpful if we knew what we were looking for.’
Ulster nodded in agreement. ‘According to my grandfather, Ludwig used a riddle to conceal the location. All we have to do is solve it, and we should be able to find the document.’
Payne smiled. ‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘Well, I don’t know about easy, but I think we have a decent-’
Jones interrupted him. ‘What’s the riddle?’
Ulster laughed at his oversight. ‘Yes! That would be helpful, wouldn’t it? Obviously the original version was written in Bavarian – or some kind of Austro-Bavarian dialect – which my grandfather eventually translated into Austrian German. That’s the language he spoke prior to moving to Switzerland. Later in life, he-’
‘Petr!’ Jones blurted. ‘You’re giving me a headache. Just tell us the riddle.’
Ulster blushed. ‘Sorry, David. I’m just excited.’
Jones immediately felt guilty and softened his tone. ‘And we’re excited, too. We really are. But we can’t help if you don’t tell us the riddle.’
Ulster nodded in understanding. Most of the time they humoured him and let him ramble on and on, but even a long-winded historian like Ulster realized that some situations called for brevity. And this was one of those times. Without any further introduction or additional background information, he honoured their request and revealed the riddle.
‘Where would a swan go on his journey home?’
23
Krueger couldn’t believe his luck. First the surprising appearance of Petr Ulster, and now this. Obviously, something significant was going on, and it was his job to figure out what. After three years of doing small jobs for Hans Mueller, he hoped this would be his ticket out.
Not that Krueger hated the Oberbayern region of Germany – it certainly had its charm. But ever since he had left the 10th Armoured Division of the German Army, he had always wanted to work in a larger city. Perhaps Frankfurt or Berlin. Or even Cologne. At this point, anything would be better than a seasonal town like Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The only time he saw local action was during the winter months when the big spenders rolled into town for skiing and Mueller needed extra protection to conduct business meetings on the slopes.
Other than that, Krueger was forced to fend for himself for six months a year. He ran a small crew of his own – mostly ex-military types – specializing in breakins and broken legs. Occasionally, when they were desperate for cash, they would steal a few cars and sell them to an Austrian associate who took them across the border before they were even reported missing. The money paid their rent for a few months and bought them plenty of beer, but in the grand scheme of things, Krueger realized the risks he took were never worth the reward.
For several weeks, Krueger had been looking for a way to make a name for himself, a way to get noticed by Mueller or one of his top lieutenants. He had considered all types of jobs, including a bank heist in Dusseldorf, an art theft in Stuttgart and a kidnapping in Dresden. Amazingly, during his legwork and advanced planning, he had never expected a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to surface in his own backyard. And yet, he was staring at it through his binoculars.
If he pulled this off, he’d be a legend overnight.
Kaiser’s plan was simple: get the gold off the mountain as quickly as possible.
Once it was safely on its way to one of his secure facilities, Kaiser would worry about the van Gogh crate and all the other heirlooms that Ulster wanted to transport to the Archives for documentation. After that, Kaiser didn’t care what happened to the items – whether Ulster returned them to the rightful owners, donated them to a museum or sold everything on eBay. As long as no one mentioned the gold or his involvement to the authorities, Kaiser would walk away with the biggest score of his life, the type of payday that would allow him to retire.
He could practically taste the pina coladas already.
As for Ludwig’s mythical treasure, it sounded like more trouble than it was worth – especially to someone who shunned the spotlight as he did. If Payne and Jones found something of value, Kaiser would gladly take his share, as long as it could be handled far from the public eye. The last thing he needed was his name and picture in every newspaper round the world. That’s what had happened to Payne and Jones when they found the Greek treasure, and they had been struggling with the attention ever since.
For a man like Kaiser, that type of notoriety would be a death sentence.
No, as far as he was concerned, he was more than willing to sell the gold and retire with a brand new Ferrari. Or twelve.
Krueger had gasped when he saw Kaiser’s face through his binoculars. Not only was Petr Ulster involved, but so was Mueller’s biggest rival. Could this get any better?
In the world of smuggling, Kaiser was king and Mueller sought his crown.
If Krueger played his cards right, he would be set for life.
Within minutes, he had summoned his local crew. Within the hour, they were dressed in camouflage and ready for battle. None of them knew the numbers they faced or the prize they were fighting for, but they trusted Krueger’s leadership and feared Mueller’s wrath.
For henchmen, that was all the motivation they needed.
Using two-way radios for communication, they entered the woods in pairs. Two men went to the left, and two to the right. Meanwhile, Krueger stayed near the base of the mountain. His job was to call the shots while keeping his eye on the helicopter parked near the path. Earlier there had been two choppers in the field, but one of them – carrying Ulster, his pilot and two other men – had flown up the mountain before Krueger’s crew had arrived.
As far as he was concerned, the timing was perfect.
Suddenly, there were four fewer men to worry about.
And Kaiser had stayed behind.
The crate of gold was far too heavy to carry up the ladder by hand. To hoist that much weight, a series of pulleys had to be rigged up. While two of Kaiser’s men fiddled with the equipment, the other three stayed hidden in the trees, keeping a close eye on the site.
Initially, Kaiser had considered carrying the gold out one bar at a time and repacking the crate outside. It certainly would have been quicker than building a winch. He had already made two trips on the off-road utility vehicle that had hauled most of their supplies – one to the chopper to retrieve a toolkit and a second trip to arrange the truck that would take the gold to his warehouse. But after giving it some thought, Kaiser had decided the extra time was worth it if it prevented his men from knowing what was inside the crate. Even though he trusted them, the sight of that much gold could do strange things to a man’s psyche. And the last thing he wanted was a setback of any kind, especially with this much money at stake.