“It sounds like you’ve done that before,” Hummels pried.
She smirked, and a snort escaped her nose. “No. I’ve never stolen for personal gain. Only to recover what once belonged to someone else. That doesn’t mean I don’t keep company with thieves on occasion. It helps me stay on my toes and up to date on the latest security systems — and how to crack them.”
Hummels was impressed. He nodded and closed the gallery door behind him. “What about this?” he asked. “It’s a four-point locking system with a fingerprint keypad entry. Would be difficult to replicate that, and the bars extending into this steel door are solid steel rods. Only some heavy explosives could knock it down, and I don’t think that would be a good idea given the delicate nature of the treasure beyond. The integrity of the paintings would be at risk.”
“True,” she nodded. “But I have a device that can get by that fingerprint keypad.”
The two men looked at her as if she was crazy, dubious that such a device existed.
Adriana answered their unspoken questions. “It’s not that complicated. Your fingers leave an oily residue imprint on scanners like this one.” She pointed at the lock pad. Next, she sidestepped to her rucksack and pulled out a black box with four soft rubber points sticking out of the bottom. “When I put this on your screen, it will scan the residue and create a replica heat signature for the fingerprint scanner. It essentially duplicates the fingerprint in a matter of less than a minute.”
“Astounding,” Hummels said, admiring the device. “I suppose I should upgrade my locking mechanism soon as well.”
“Couldn’t hurt.” She placed the object back in her bag. “Retina scanners are the way to go, but there are a few people out there who are sick enough to cut a person’s eye out to get what they want.”
Koenig convulsed and instinctively grabbed one eye.
Hummels ignored him. “How much do those cost?”
“Depends. Personally, I think it’s best to go with a randomized password entry system. It changes every week automatically, and only you have access. It’s a little bit of old school and new school mixed together.”
“Wow,” Hummels sighed. “I thought I’d been doing pretty well keeping it all up.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “You have. This is a solid outfit you have here. And not everyone has access to what I have. Most can’t do the things I do.”
“Thank you. I truly appreciate your input.”
“You’re most welcome. And now, I have a favor I’d like to ask of you.”
The Austrian drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ll help you if I can. What do you need?”
Adriana ran through what to say in her mind. She knew it was a conversation that needed to be carefully navigated. “We came here because we believe there is a connection between your father and the missing Rubens. Did your father happen to leave behind any records or files, anything that might give us some insights as to whether he ever had possession of the painting?”
Hummels considered the request and sized her up. “Yes,” he said after a long, silent moment. “Yes, he left behind lots of things from those days.”
Koenig jumped in. “You said most of his things that had to do with the Nazis were destroyed.”
“That is true,” Hummels nodded. “But not everything. Financial records were something he kept. For what reason, I have no idea. In my opinion, those files were just as incriminating as a uniform with a swastika on the sleeve.”
“Herr… Friedrich,” Adriana corrected herself. “Would it be too much trouble to ask if we could see these files? It could really help us out a great deal.”
“I don’t see why not,” Hummels grinned. “After all, you’ve been very helpful to me. And for that, letting you see those records is the least I can do.” He turned around and faced a short hallway that made a sharp left and stretched around behind the gallery.
Hummels led the way with the two guests following closely behind him. “I kept the records in a fireproof room in the basement here. All of this,” he motioned at the walls, “is fireproofed.”
“Sounds like you wanted to protect these records,” Adriana noted aloud.
“Yes. Well, they are the last piece of my father’s legacy, most of which I did not care to keep around. But I figured there might be a day when I or someone else might want to sift through some of the things he had in storage.”
The host pulled a key ring out of his pocket and thumbed through a set until he found the one he wanted. He inserted it into the keyhole, twisted it, and turned the latch. The lock clicked inside the door handle.
When the door opened, a short burst of dry air escaped. It was laced with the scent of old cardboard boxes and paper. Two rows of lights came on inside automatically, bathing the room in a sterile fluorescent glow.
“We keep the humidity in this room under control for obvious reasons,” Hummels explained, putting the keys back into his pocket.
He was correct to do so, and both his guests knew it. Paper was a fickle and fragile kind of document. Things written on the surface could fade away in a matter of months under the right conditions. Adriana remembered a newspaper clipping she’d kept years before. It featured an article by someone she knew personally, and while not usually sentimental, she kept the paper. Six months later, after being kept in her garage within a box, she opened it up to look over the article again. The paper had browned and the ink faded. While she was able to salvage the piece, it was an experience that made her far more aware of the nature of record keeping.
Hummels entered the room first. Compared to the mix of rustic and modern décor the rest of the chalet featured, the room was as bland as possible. They were surrounded by painted concrete walls and ceiling. Adriana had been in a room like this before when she was looking through some school records in a place the staff called the vault. Along the side in one of the corners were six metal filing cabinets. They too were fireproof grade and also had locks for each stack of three rows of files. A table in the center with two chairs facing each other was the only other furniture. An old map of Europe hung on the wall at the room’s far end.
“Almost like you were expecting us,” Adriana joked, noting the table and chairs.
The Austrian smiled. “I assumed that if I, or someone else, ever came around to look through Father’s things, they would likely need some assistance. I’m glad to see my planning proved true.”
She walked softly over to the cabinets and examined the labels on each one. They were organized by year according to the tabs. “Do you have keys for these?” She pointed at the locks.
“Of course,” he said and stepped over to where she stood. Once again, Hummels fumbled through his keys and produced one of the smaller ones. He slid it into the circular port and turned it then pressed the button. The metal cylinder popped out an inch. “There. You should be able to look at anything inside now.”
“Thank you.”
Hummels stepped aside and returned to the front door. “I have a few matters I must attend to. Is it all right if I leave you two here to do your research?”
She nodded. “Yes. That will be fine. Thanks again, Friedrich.”
He smiled at her and bowed. “It is my pleasure.” Hummels disappeared through the doorway and closed it behind him.
Koenig flinched as the door shut. He turned back to Adriana and then the exit again. “It’s a little unsettling to be locked in this room with no windows and only one way out,” he said and waddled over to the cabinets.
She’d already begun flipping through the folders inside. “It will be fine,” Adriana said. “That door can be opened from the inside. We can leave whenever we want.”