The professor glanced back at it, still unsure.
“These folders aren’t labeled very well, Professor,” she returned his attention to the subject at hand.
“There are so many,” he gasped and stepped closer. “And all from the year 1938?”
She gave a confirming nod. “Looks that way. I guess we divide and conquer.”
She pulled out a thick stack of folders and plopped them down on the table. A cloud of dust billowed out from the table’s surface. Adriana waved her hand around to clear away the particles.
Koenig coughed for a few seconds and pulled his shirt up over his nose. He copied her by grabbing his own fistful of folders and placing them on the table, wary now of the years of dust that had accumulated. “What are we looking for?” he asked.
“Anything that would have a significant financial sum next to it. If we’re lucky, Hummels’s father would have written down the name of the painting next to the purchase.”
Koenig raised his eyebrows doubtfully.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “I know we’re not that lucky. Just keep your eyes open for anything remotely curious.”
Each of them slid into a chair and started looking through the documents, one painstaking line at a time. At first, the minutes dragged by slowly. Then they turned into hours. Every time Koenig or Adriana finished a folder, they set it aside and moved on to the next. Occasionally, one of them would stand up and stretch just to get the blood circulating through their body. And each left the room once to use the facilities, partially out of necessity and partly to make sure they really could get out of the room as they hoped. The door was, as suspected, unlocked, and the bathroom was just down the hall on the left. Once, about ninety minutes into their research, Hummels came by to check on their progress. He was polite and didn’t prod too much, instead electing to let them continue their diligent work.
The hour was getting late. Adriana rubbed her eyes and checked her phone. It was nearly midnight. Koenig’s eyes were beginning to droop, and she knew hers would follow soon. So much travel and energy over the last few days had taken its toll.
“This is like finding a needle in a haystack,” she said after nearly an hour of silence.
“Indeed,” Koenig said in a tired voice.
They’d only come across a few entries of interest, but after closer examination those were written off and dumped in the pile. The stack of potential leads grew shorter by the minute.
Adriana opened another folder and ran her finger along a list of names and letters. She stopped halfway down the page. Her eyelids blinked rapidly to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She took a deep breath and stemmed her excitement. “Professor, I think we have something.”
13
“I hope this isn’t some kind of joke,” Koenig said. “I am honestly too tired and not in the mood anymore.”
“You were never in the mood.” She flashed him a quick grin. Her energy caught a second wind. “Look here. See this?”
Her finger tapped the line where five letters were written. In another column in the same row, a sequence of numbers accompanied them.
“PPR, T, and V.” He said the letters aloud and then rattled off the numbers. “You think this PPR means Peter Paul Rubens?”
She shook her head. “It sure seems like it.”
The two gazed at the writing and processed it for a minute.
“What do the numbers mean?” Koenig asked finally. “And the T and V? I don’t understand why that would be there.”
She shrugged. “It could be the person’s initials Hummels sold it to. Or maybe someone he trusted with the painting.”
“And the numbers?”
“I don’t know. That couldn’t be the amount he paid or was paid for the painting. Could it?”
Koenig rolled his head. “Possibly. How many digits is that? Eight.” He answered his own question. “That would be a lot of money, even for this day.”
He was right. It would be a great deal of money. Something didn’t add up. What had Emil Hummels been trying to hide, and why would he keep a record of it in these folders?
“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” the familiar voice of their host entered the room suddenly. Adriana and Koenig both started and stood up straight, surprised they didn’t hear Hummels open the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Were you able to find anything? I’m going to be retiring to my quarters soon. You are both welcome to stay here in the guest rooms. In fact, at this hour, I doubt you’ll be able to find much in the way of accommodations in town.”
“That is very kind of you,” Adriana said. Fatigue loomed over her, ready to pounce again at any second and push away the renewed burst of energy that had come with the potential discovery. “We found a strange entry here.” She pointed at the anomaly.
Hummels brightened visibly and walked over to the table to see what had caught their interest.
“See?” she asked. We think this is for the Rubens, but we don’t know what these other letters or numbers mean. It’s clear what the PPR stands for.”
The host leaned closer to the paper and stared at the line Adriana pointed out. “Yes. It would certainly seem that is an inventory sheet with the Rubens listed. My father was a meticulous man. He kept lists of everything, right down to our silverware.” Hummels stood erect again. “I can’t be certain, but I believe the T and V could stand for a bank called Tohn and Volmer. It’s one of the oldest banks in Switzerland. My father had accounts there, at least from what I gathered. On more than one occasion I saw him working with letters or paperwork from that bank.”
“If what you’re saying is correct, that would mean these numbers are probably a bank account.” Koenig said.
Adriana gave a short nod. “Exactly. Friedrich, where is this Tohn and Volmer Bank?”
His forlorn expression told them it wasn’t nearby. “It is in Zurich, which is a shame because you just drove from that area.”
“I don’t mind the drive,” she said. “We’ll need to get there tomorrow. Koenig?” She faced the professor. “Better get some sleep. We leave right after an early breakfast.”
Koenig didn’t argue.
“To access this account,” Hummels interrupted, “you will need someone who is authorized. Without proper identification, the bank will not let you see whatever it is this account is holding.”
He made a good point. Banks were stringent about those kinds of things, especially Swiss banks. There was no way Adriana would be permitted to access the account. They were at a dead end. Unless…
“I will come to Zurich with you,” Hummels declared. His eyes went from one guest to the other, almost as if he were asking permission. “I have the appropriate credentials since the account belonged to my father. I should have no problem getting you what you’re looking for.”
Adriana stole a glance at Koenig and then returned her eyes to Hummels. “Friedrich, I appreciate your offer and your help, but when I find that painting, I can’t let you have it even though your father purchased it. It has to be exchanged with the Belgian.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “My dear, I do not need that painting. Nor do I care. I have enough money and enough artwork. If assisting you will aid in getting your father back, then that is the least I can do. Besides, you have already given me some wonderful advice about my gallery and how to make it more secure. So,” he clapped his hands, “we will leave for Switzerland in the morning. I will show you to the guest rooms so we can all get some rest before the big day ahead. Is this acceptable?”
“Sounds good, Friedrich. Thank you. We really appreciate your help.”