Tracker

“And this treasure was never found.”

“Which struck my father as odd, since this theft was so well known, as was its fate. And the mouth of the Morava River is quite shallow that time of year, made even shallower by a two-year-old drought at the time. To my father, it seemed like someone would have found those heavy crates before the river mud claimed them.”

“But your father had another theory, didn’t he?”

Her bright eyes found his. “He thinks the treasure was never removed but hidden somewhere here in Budapest, stashed away until Erhard Bock considered it safe to return. Of course, that never happened, and on his deathbed, Bock hinted that the treasure was still here, claiming it was buried below where even the claws of the Jewish dead could reach it.”

Tucker sighed. “Like they say, once a Nazi, always a Nazi.”

“Then, two days ago, my father left me a cryptic message on my answering machine. Claimed he had made a breakthrough, from a clue he had discovered in some newly restored archive of the university’s library, something from the Prague cave.”

“The Prague cave?”

A nod, then Aliza explained, “The university library here contains the largest collection of Jewish theological and historical literature outside of Israel. But when German troops marched into the city, they immediately closed the rabbinical university and turned it into a prison. However, just before that happened, the most valuable manuscripts were hidden in an underground safe. But a significant number of important documents — three thousand books — were sent to Prague, where Adolf Eichmann planned the construction of a Museum of an Extinct Race in the old Jewish Quarter.”

“What a nice guy.”

“It took until the eighties for that cache of books to be found in a cave beneath Prague. They were restored to the library here after the fall of Communism in 1989.”

“And your father discovered something in one of those recovered books.”

She faced him, scrunching up her face. “In a geology text, of all places. On the message, he asked for my help with the British Ministry to obtain satellite data. Something my father in Hungary couldn’t easily access.”

“What sort of data?”

“Ground-penetrating radar information from a U.S. geophysical satellite. He needed a deep-earth scan of the district of Pest on the far side of the Danube.”

She glanced out the window toward the river as the spread of the city glowed against the coming night. “After I got that message, I tried calling him for more details, but I never heard back. After twenty-four hours, I got concerned and asked a friend to check his apartment. She reported that his flat had been ransacked, torn apart, and my father was missing. So I caught the first flight down here. I spent the day with the Hungarian police, but they had barely made any headway and promised to keep me informed. When I got back to my hotel room, I found the door broken open, and all my luggage searched, the room turned over.”

She glanced at him. “I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know who to trust, so I fled and ended up at the square. I was sure someone was watching me, following me, but I thought maybe I was being paranoid. What could anyone want with me? What were they looking for?”

“Did you ever get that satellite information your father asked about?”

Her eyes widened, and her fingers went to the pocket of her coat. She removed a tiny USB flash drive. “Is this what they were looking for?”

“That, and possibly you. To use you as leverage against your father.”

“But why? Where could my father be?”

Tucker stared down at the cell phone on his knee. The party that Kane tracked had reached a parked sedan beyond the historical district. He saw Kane slow to a stop and slink back into the shadows nearby. The leader was easy to spot, leaning against the hood, a cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Maybe these guys can tell us,” he said. “Do you speak Hungarian?”

“I do. My family is from here. We lost most everyone following the deportation of Hungarian Jews to Auschwitz. But a few survived.”

He patted the bed next to him. “Then listen to this.”

She joined him and stared at the live feed on the screen. “Who is filming this?” She leaned closer. “Aren’t those the men who were following me?”

“Yes.”

She squinted up at him. “How—?”

“I had my dog track them. He’s outfitted with a full surveillance package.”

His explanation only deepened that pinched look. Rather than elaborating in more detail, he simply turned up the speakerphone so the audio from the video feed could be heard. Traffic noises and a whisper of wind ate most of the big man’s words, but a few coarse phrases came through clearly.

Aliza cocked her head to the side, listening.

Tucker appreciated the long curve of her neck, the way her lips pursed ever so slightly as she concentrated.

“What are they saying?” he asked.

She spoke haltingly, listening and speaking at the same time. “Something about a cemetery. A lost Jewish cemetery.” She shook her head as the man ended his call and vanished into the sedan. “He mentioned something at the end. A street. Salgotarjani.”

As the car pulled away, Tucker lifted the phone and pressed the button, radioing to Kane. “Return home. Good boy, Kane.”

Lowering the phone, he watched Kane swing around and begin backtracking his way to the hotel. Satisfied, he turned to Aliza.

“I’m guessing that trio went rogue. Some faction heard about your father’s inquiry, about his possible breakthrough in discovering that lost treasure trove. And they’re trying to loot what was already looted.”

“So what do we do? Go to the police?”

“I’m not sure that’s the wisest plan, especially if you want your father back alive.”

She paled at his words, but he didn’t regret saying them. She had to know the stakes.

“Now that they’ve lost your trail, they’ll run scared.” He saw it even on that grainy footage. “The police are already investigating the disappearance of your father. Since they came after you, to use as leverage, that suggests he’s still alive at the moment. But now with the police closing in and you nowhere to be found, they’ll act rashly. I fear that if they can’t get what they want by tonight, they’ll kill your father to cover their tracks. Likewise, if he gives them what they want, the end result may be the same.”

“So there’s no hope.”

“There’s always hope. They’re scared and will be more apt to make a mistake.”

And be more dangerous, he added silently.

“Then what do we do?”

“We find out where they took your father. That street you mentioned. Do you know where that’s located?”

“No. I don’t know the city that well.”

“I’ve got a map.”

He retrieved it and spread it on the bed.

She leaned next to him, shoulder to shoulder, her jasmine perfume distracting. “Here it is,” she said. “Salgotarjani Street.”

He ran a finger along the dead-end street. “It lies near the center of Pest, and it looks like it runs adjacent to…” He read the name and looked at her. “Kerepesi Cemetery. Could that be the lost Jewish burial site you heard them talking about?”

“No. I don’t see how. Kerepesi is the oldest cemetery in all of Hungary.” She shifted her finger closer to the Danube. “This is the Jewish Quarter, where you’ll find most of our burial plots. It’s a good three miles away from Kerepesi Cemetery.”

“Then I’ll have to take Kane and check out that street myself.”