‘How much longer?’ Kaiser asked his men.
One of them answered. ‘Five minutes at most.’
‘Before you haul up the crate, put some extra nails in the lid. It’s a bumpy ride down the mountain, and I don’t want it popping open en route.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Kaiser stared at the device they were building. It didn’t look sturdy to him. ‘Actually, before you even touch the crate, I want you to test this contraption out.’
‘On what, sir?’
‘On Hogzilla. If it can handle the pig, it can handle the crate.’
As far as Krueger was concerned, the biggest stroke of luck had occurred during his early-morning call to Mueller. At the end of their conversation, Krueger had asked Mueller how often he wanted to be updated on the situation, and Mueller had told him that he was heading into an important meeting and didn’t want to be disturbed for the next several hours.
Mueller had even used the phrase no matter what.
At the time, it didn’t seem important since the odds were pretty slim that anything significant would happen before lunch. After all, Ulster had arrived that morning, and the other chopper had been around all weekend. Krueger had assumed this would drag on all day.
Of course, Kaiser’s presence was a game changer.
Normally, Krueger would have been required to notify Mueller, who would have taken control and flown in an outside crew to make sure things were handled properly. If Krueger was lucky, he would have been given a finder’s fee and a pat on the back. Certainly not a new position in the organization. But thanks to Mueller’s explicit instruction, Krueger could handle the situation however he saw fit.
And in his mind, that meant two things.
A gun in his hand and a bullet in Kaiser’s brain.
24
As they walked up the meadow towards the King’s House, Payne repeated the riddle to make sure he had heard it correctly. ‘Where would a swan go on his journey home?’
Ulster nodded. ‘Any thoughts?’
‘Yeah,’ Jones cracked, ‘Ludwig liked swans way too much.’
‘I told you he was obsessed.’
‘I know you did, but I think it’s weird. I mean, swans don’t even taste good. You know how people say most things taste like chicken? Well, swans don’t. They taste like shit.’
Ulster laughed in agreement. As a gourmand, he had tasted swan on multiple occasions but had never enjoyed the bird. To him, the meat was stringy and tough, and had a fishy aftertaste – even when it was covered in gravy. ‘Hopefully, you didn’t partake in England.’
Jones shook his head. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because every swan in England is sovereign property of the queen. Until last century, killing one was a treasonable offence.’
‘The queen owns every swan? How does she remember their names?’
Ulster ignored the question. ‘Technically, she owns every unmarked swan in the United Kingdom except the swans of Orkney, which is an archipelago in northern Scotland. According to an old Udal Viking law, Orkney swans are the property of the island’s residents.’
Payne glanced at Ulster. ‘And what does this have to do with Ludwig?’
‘Nothing,’ he admitted. ‘I just thought it was interesting.’
‘Well, for the time being, maybe it would be best if we focused on Ludwig instead of the Vikings since we just flew up the mountain to visit his house.’
‘Yes, of course. I apologize for my rambling. Let us focus on the riddle.’
Payne asked, ‘How do you want to handle this? Do you want to walk the grounds, looking for possibilities? Or do you want to brainstorm the answer to the riddle and go from there?’
Ulster gazed at the house. ‘Which would you prefer?’
‘You tell me. You’re the historian.’
‘Personally, I think it would be best if we determined the solution before we scurried round the site. However, I’m not sure that is feasible. Obviously, I’ve given the riddle some thought, and the most logical answer is a swan’s nest. That’s where a swan would go on its journey home. After all, that’s where cygnets are hatched.’
Payne furrowed his brow. ‘What’s a cygnet?’
‘That’s the technical name for a baby swan.’
Payne shrugged. ‘If you say so. I don’t know much about swans.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jones admitted. ‘But a swan’s nest is his home.’
Ulster sighed. ‘Unfortunately, that means we can probably rule out “nest” as the answer. By definition, a riddle is a puzzle in the form of a question. If the obvious answer were the solution, it wouldn’t technically be a riddle. It would merely be a question.’
Jones blinked a few times. ‘Believe it or not, that actually made sense.’
Payne stayed focused. ‘If it isn’t a nest, what could it be?’
Ulster considered other possibilities. ‘I guess it could be a body of water. After all, most swans build their nests along the shore. Perhaps Ludwig had a favourite spot in mind.’
Payne turned and studied the grounds that surrounded the King’s House. Because of the steep slope of the peak, melting snow flowed down the mountain and collected in natural ravines. ‘If that’s the case, we’re in the wrong place – unless there’s a hidden lake around here.’
Ulster shook his head. ‘Not that I know of, but we can certainly ask.’
Jones re-entered the conversation. ‘I know you’re going to think I’m joking, but is Swan Lake a real place?’
As little as Payne knew about swans, he knew even less about ballets and classical music. ‘I don’t know. Is it?’
Ulster answered. ‘That’s an interesting question. Geographically speaking, there isn’t a modern lake in Germany that goes by that name. However, the story of Swan Lake is based on an ancient German legend. Who knows? Perhaps there used to be a Swan Lake in Bavaria that is now called something else.’
‘I’ll tell you who would know: a man obsessed with swans,’ Jones said.
Payne nodded. ‘Good point.’
Ulster continued. ‘Speaking of Swan Lake, did you know the main character in the ballet was actually modelled after Ludwig? Tchaikovsky, the Russian composer who created this classic in 1875, was fascinated with Ludwig’s life and followed it from afar. In many ways, the two of them were quite similar. Both were sexually confused dreamers who escaped reality by venturing into a dream world. Tchaikovsky had his music, and Ludwig had his castles.’
Jones asked, ‘Did they ever meet?’
Ulster shook his head. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘But the ballet was written before Ludwig’s death?’
Ulster nodded. ‘Roughly ten years prior.’
Jones pondered the timeline. ‘I know Russia and Germany weren’t exactly allies, but I would think a music lover like Ludwig would have been familiar with the production.’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Perhaps he even recognized bits of himself in the main character?’
‘Probably.’
Jones gave it some thought. ‘If that’s the case, do you think the riddle could have something to do with the ballet? Could there be a clue in there?’
Ulster shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Just to be safe,’ Jones said, ‘can you explain the basic plot? I honestly can’t remember what Swan Lake is about.’