“Mr. Kahlenberg is one of the most famous collectors in the world.”
“I knew that, but I didn’t know he had a museum. I thought…”
“He has a museum, and he wondered if it would interest you to see it.”
“Very much. I would love to see it.”
“And you, Mr. Edwards?”
“Sure… thanks.” Garry kept his expression dead-pan, but like Gaye, he had been startled.
Gaye got to her feet. “Is it far from here?”
Again Garry caught a jeering expression come into the dark eyes. It came and went so quickly unless he had been watching closely he wouldn’t have seen it.
“You are standing on it,” Tak said.
“You mean it is underground?”
“That is correct.”
“May I bring my camera, Mr. Tak?”
He shook his head.
“I regret not.” He turned. “Will you follow me, please?”
He entered the lounge and walked into the corridor.
Gaye and Garry exchanged swift glances as they followed him. They all got into the electric trolley and Tak drove down the long corridor, past the big lobby and front door of the house and on down the corridor.
“Here is where Mr. Kahlenberg has his quarters,” he explained as they drove past several doors. He stopped the trolley by what appeared to be a blank wall and got out. Watching him closely, Garry saw him put his fingers under the ledge of one of the big windows. The wall he was facing slid back to reveal double doors. As he approached these doors, they slid open.
“Mr. Kahlenberg is a cripple,” Tak explained, regarding Gaye. “All doors in his quarters are electronically controlled. This is the elevator that takes us down to the museum.”
The three entered the green satin lined cage. There were four different coloured buttons on the control panel. Garry watched Tak press the green button and the elevator descended smoothly and silently. While it descended Tak pressed the red button, paused, then pressed the yellow button.
“What are all those buttons for, Mr. Tak?” Gaye asked innocently.
“The green button controls the elevator. The yellow button turns on the lights in the museum and the red button turns off the alarm,” Tak told her.
“Thank you… you’re marvellously well equipped.”
The doors slid back and they entered a cool, vaulted chamber.
“Would you wait here for a moment?” Tak said and he crossed to a grey painted door. He spent a minute or so at the door, his
hands busy, his body concealing what he was doing.
Again Garry looked at Gaye, lifted his eyebrows, then looked away as Tak turned.
“The museum contains many priceless treasures,” he said. “We have taken every precaution against theft. This door that leads into the museum is armour plated and specially treated to make it impossible to cut into. The walls either side are five feet thick. The lock to the door is controlled by a time switch which is set every night at 22.00 hrs. and no one can open the door until 10.00 hrs. the following day. Please come in.”
They followed him into a vast domed ceiling room, lit by diffused lighting. On the walls hung many pictures. Gaye recognized a Rembrandt, several Picassos and a number of Renaissance masterpieces which she was sure she had seen in the Uffizi, the Vatican museum and the Louvre.
“These aren’t the originals, Mr. Tak?” she asked.
“Of course they are the originals.” Tak frowned as if annoyed by such a question. “I told you Mr. Kahlenberg has the finest private museum in the world. The inner room will amuse you more I think.” He led the way through the picture gallery and entered another vast room.
In the middle of the room stood a four metre high Buddha in shining gold.
“This is an interesting piece,” Tak went on. “It comes from Bangkok. During the last war, the Japanese, knowing it was in the city, searched for it, but the priests were too clever for them. They moved it to a lesser temple and covered it with dirty cement. Although the Japanese visited this temple they failed to recognize what they were looking for.”
“You mean this is solid gold?” Garry said, gaping at the glittering figure.
“Yes, it is solid gold.”
He led them around the room, pausing to explain various objets d’art. Garry had no knowledge of art treasures, but even he was impressed by what he saw.
“But surely that is one of the panels of Ghiberti’s Gates to Paradise,” Gaye said, pausing before a beautifully carved panel on the wall. “What a wonderful copy!”
“The copy is in Florence, Miss Desmond. This is the original,” Tak said, an acid note in his voice. “And this statue of David by Bernini is also the original. The copy is in the Bargello in Florence.”
Gaye was so startled by the effrontery of this remark, that she turned away. It was then she caught sight of the Caesar Borgia ring in a small glass box on a pedestal in the lighted alcove. “And what is this?” she asked, moving to the glass box and peering at the ring.
“The Caesar Borgia ring,” Tak said. “It was made by an unknown goldsmith at Borgia’s request. It is a poison ring and so the story goes, the goldsmith was its first victim. To test its efficiency and to stop the man from talking, Borgia gave him his fatal handshake while wearing the ring. There is a needle hidden in the cluster of diamonds and this scratched the victim’s hand while he was shaking hands with Borgia. Ingenious, don’t you think?”
“Those were cruel, horrible times,” Gaye said with a little grimace. “Is it dangerous now?”
“Oh no, Miss Desmond. It would have to be recharged with poison before it could be dangerous, and I doubt if the needle is now sharp enough to scratch.”
He led them on, showing them a beautiful alabaster unguent jar which he told them came from the tomb of Tutankhamen. They spent a further half-hour in the museum and then Tak, looking at his watch, suggested they might like a drink before dinner. He led them from the museum, closed the door and Garry watched him spin the dial, scrambling the combination; then they took the elevator up to the corridor. He drove them back to their suite and after accepting their thanks, said a servant would conduct them to the main terrace in an hour and a half and left them.
The time now was 19.3o hrs. and they both went out on to the terrace.
“I want something short and strong,” Gaye said sitting down. “A vodka martini on the rocks.”
“I’ll dig for that too.” Garry began to mix the drink. He filled two cocktail glasses and carried them over to the table and sat down. Did you spot the TV snoopers in both rooms?”
“No… did you?”
“Yes. Fennel said there were six monitors and therefore six rooms in the museum. Tak only showed us two of the rooms. You know, Gaye I’m liking this less and less. I have an idea we could have walked into a trap.”
Gaye looked startled.
“Surely not! He wouldn’t have shown us what he did if he is really suspicious of us.”
“That’s what puzzles me. He must realize we have guessed most of those exhibits have been stolen. Then why did he let us see them? Why did he tell us how the elevator works and about the time lock? He must know we will talk about this visit when we leave unless…” He paused, frowning, then shook his head.
“Unless… what?”
“Unless he’s not going to let us leave.”
Gaye stiffened.
“He can’t keep us forever. Garry, do talk sense.”
Garry sipped his drink.
“All right, but I don’t like it. If Fennel and Ken weren’t out there, I’d be worried. I’m going to talk to them.” He got up and went into his bedroom.
Gaye waited. She was also puzzled that Tak had taken them into the museum, but she wasn’t worried. She told herself that Kahlenberg was so confident about his safety precautions, he didn’t mind strangers seeing his museum.