The Secret of Excalibur

‘We can keep them out,’ said Staumberg unconvincingly.

‘If they want to get in here, they will,’ Chase said. ‘They’ve already killed people looking for this thing - and tried to kill us, too.’

‘If this piece of the sword really is here, we have to keep it out of their hands,’ Nina pleaded. ‘It’s very important that the IHA get it first - it could lead to a discovery as important as Atlantis.’

Staumberg stared out of the window for a long moment before responding, his shoulders visibly slumping. ‘Very well, I will let you see the cellar. But before I do . . . I must insist on your complete discretion.’

‘You have it,’ Nina assured him. ‘Everything will be absolutely confidential.’

‘Very well.’ Still reluctant, Staumberg spoke in German to Kurt, who nodded and opened the study door to show them out.

They descended the spiral staircase and went through double doors at the back of the great hall, passing along a corridor before descending two flights of stairs to the lowest floor. Kurt switched on the lights, dim bulbs illuminating a low stone passage. ‘This way,’ said Staumberg, going to a heavy oak door on the right. He swung it open, revealing the room beyond. It was a wine cellar, as Nina had expected - but on a grand scale, wooden racks holding literally thousands of bottles lining both sides of the room.

‘So his big secret’s alcoholism?’ Chase whispered to Nina.

Kurt led the way to the far end of the long room, Staumberg behind him. He looked back at Nina. ‘The reason I ask for secrecy is . . . well, my reputation, both as a member of the Staumberg family and as a businessman. Only a few of my most trusted friends have seen what is in here.’

‘As I said, this will be confidential,’ she said, now intrigued.

‘Good. Good.’ They reached the end of the room, where there was a door. For a moment Nina wondered if what lay beyond was the hidden room on the plans, but that made no sense. The back wall was made from wooden planks, not stone; no attempt had been made to disguise it, and it seemed relatively recently built.

Kurt took a key ring from his pocket and flicked through it, finally selecting a particular key and unlocking the door. He opened it, revealing nothing beyond but darkness. Nina sniffed the air as an odd mix of scents emerged from the mysterious room. Wood, leather, some sort of polish, the faint tang of old candle smoke . . .

Staumberg took a long breath as Kurt entered the room. ‘Well . . . come in.’ He stepped aside for the others to enter as the butler switched on the light.

Nina, first in, stopped abruptly as she took in the contents of the room. ‘Oh . . . my,’ she muttered, struggling for words.

Chase, on the other hand, could barely contain his laughter. ‘Bloody hell.’

They had entered a dungeon.

But not some medieval torture chamber; this was a thoroughly modern affair, blood-red walls and a floor of glossy black tile, full-length mirrors strategically placed so the occupants could always see themselves reflected. A wooden bench, padded with red leather and fitted with numerous thick restraining straps, dominated the centre of the room. A long rack by the door held dozens of whips and paddles, and on a table near the back wall was a row of what Nina at first took to be oversized black candles before realising they were in fact quite terrifyingly large dildos.

Chase couldn’t hold it in any more. ‘Oh, Christ!’ he cackled. ‘Your own personal S&M dungeon? No wonder you wanted to keep it quiet!’

Staumberg’s face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘You promised you will not tell anyone about this!’

‘I won’t, I won’t! Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping secrets. But Jesus, this is a pretty impressive setup.’

‘Not quite the word I would have used,’ said Nina through her fixed grin.

‘Hey, come on, every man’s got a hobby. Some blokes play footie, some’ve got model trains, and some . . . well, it takes all sorts.’ He glanced at Kurt, who was standing silently by the door. ‘So, Kurt, are you the master or the servant in here?’

‘Eddie!’ Nina cried. But the tiniest hint of a smile on the butler’s otherwise impassive face made it perfectly clear there was one room of the castle where the roles were reversed.

‘This is all very . . . personal,’ said Mitchell impatiently. ‘But can we get back to why we’re here?’ He strode past the bench to the back of the room. ‘If there really is a hidden chamber, it’s behind this wall.’

Avoiding Chase’s amused gaze, Staumberg joined him, putting a hand on the red paint. ‘This is stone, as far as I know. I never noticed anything different about it.’

‘We’ll need to knock through it.’

‘With your permission, of course,’ Nina quickly added to Staumberg.

He considered it, then gave a resigned grunt. ‘Very well, ja . . . But you will repair it after?’

‘Send the IHA a bill,’ Chase advised as he and Nina walked to the wall. He bumped a clenched fist against the painted stone. ‘Seems solid.’

‘Do you have any tools?’ Mitchell asked. ‘Hammers, or pick-axes? ’

‘Yes,’ Staumberg replied. ‘Kurt can get them.’

‘Or we could just whack it with this,’ said Chase, pointing at the largest of the dildos. ‘One hit with that’d knock anything down. Christ, it must be three inches thick.’ He smirked at Nina. ‘Nearly as big as mine, eh?’

‘Widthways or lengthways?’ she replied, deadpan.

‘All bloody right,’ scowled Chase, one-upped, as Mitchell laughed. Even Staumberg briefly smiled. ‘Let’s see what’s on the other side, then.’

Kurt brought a long-handled rubber mallet and a pickaxe. Chase delivered the first blow, slamming the mallet against the wall. Staumberg winced, but the damage immediately revealed that Mitzi’s theory had been correct - there was indeed a space behind the wall, the stones caving backwards. Another blow, and one fell away into the blackness beyond with a crunch.

Chase waited for the dust to settle, then shone a torch through the hole. ‘It’s not that deep; I can see the back wall. Less than three feet.’ He shifted position, angling the beam downwards. ‘And there’s something in here! Looks like boxes under a tarp.’ He moved back. ‘Jack, give me a hand.’

Mitchell obliged, hooking the pick behind more of the stones and pulling them out until the hole was just large enough for Chase to edge his upper body through. Torch in one hand, he carefully lifted a corner of the dusty tarpaulin.

Grubby wooden crates rested underneath. The stencilled symbol of a swastika immediately told him the local legends had been true all along.

‘I think what we’ve got here is . . . Nazi gold,’ he announced as he slid back out.

Staumberg appeared to be stricken by a sudden migraine, and Nina understood why. There were international laws relating to the discovery of Nazi materials - especially those which had been stolen from other countries. ‘We’ll have to tell the Austrian government about this. I’m sorry.’

‘I know, I know.’ Staumberg rubbed his forehead. ‘But can you please give us time to move our, ah, equipment to another room before you do?’

‘I think that would be fair, considering how helpful you’ve been.’

He smiled in faint relief. Meanwhile, Chase and Mitchell expanded the hole, pulling out more stones to reveal six crates in all. Chase removed the tarpaulin, finding a leather-bound ledger hidden beneath. A brief flick through the pages revealed an itemised list, all in German. ‘What do you reckon this is?’

Staumberg examined it. ‘It is a list - a list of everything in the crates!’

‘German efficiency,’ Chase joked.

Staumberg’s eyes widened as he read further. ‘It really is treasure - there is gold, silver, jewellery, religious relics . . .’

‘What about the sword?’ Mitchell demanded. ‘Does it mention a sword?’

The Austrian kept reading. ‘Yes, here! “Jewelled sword hilt with gold and silver decorations, blade broken. Obtained Koroneou, claimed to be of historic significance.” There is also an estimated value in marks, and - and it even says which crate it is in.’ He looked through the hole as Chase directed the torch beam over the stencilled