said if wurst and curry could mesh together into something so delicious, then so could a German and an Indian. Don’t you agree?’
Beads of perspiration formed on Kapur’s forehead. Whether it was from the spices or his nerves, he wasn’t sure. ‘Yes, sir. I wholeheartedly agree.’
Mueller grimaced as he grabbed the contraption. Its base squeaked softly as he pulled it across the wood. ‘Unfortunately, my Indian friend, your first payment was due one month after your arrival in Berlin, but according to my assistant, you have failed to hold up your end of the bargain. You have not paid a single Euro.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. But there’s a- ‘
‘Don’t!’ Mueller growled, all the compassion gone from his face. ‘Do
‘But, sir! If you-’
Before he could utter another word, Kapur felt one of the guard’s arms wrap round his throat. Instinctively, Kapur raised his bound hands and tried to fight him off – tried to gouge out his eyes or do anything he could do to loosen his grip – but it was the biggest mistake of his life. While Kapur was flailing and fighting for air, the other guard grabbed Kapur’s penis and shoved it into the contraption.
Kapur’s eyes doubled in size when he realized what was about to happen.
Meanwhile, Mueller smiled as he clutched the handle.
10
The second door was identical to the first. Same weight. Same concrete. Same recessed handle. It was as if the bunker’s architect had shopped at a buy-one-get-one-free sale before he had started the project –
They weren’t sure but hoped the back room would provide some answers.
To prove his worth, Jones opened the heavy door without any help, a process that took twice as long as Payne’s effort on the first door. Afterward, despite being out of breath, he stared at Payne and said, ‘Maybe we don’t need your muscles after all.’
‘Sure you do,’ he replied. ‘I’ll be the one who carries you out when you collapse.’
‘Thanks,’ Jones wheezed. ‘That’ll be pretty soon.’
Payne smiled and turned towards Kaiser, who was standing behind him in the tunnel. ‘If you don’t mind, why don’t you take the lead? Show us why we’re here.’
‘I’d be happy to,’ Kaiser said as he squeezed past the duo. ‘Just so you know, none of my men have been back this far. What you’re about to see is between us.’
‘How do you know?’ Payne wondered.
‘How? Because I trust my men,’ he said harshly. Then, as if he suddenly remembered whom he was talking to, Kaiser caught himself and grinned. ‘Plus I told them there’s going to be a lie detector test once we leave Bavaria, and if any of them fail, they’ll lose a limb.’
Jones glanced at him, unsure if he was kidding. ‘How does that work? Do they pick a limb ahead of time, or do you spin a giant wheel of body parts if they fail?’
‘Cross me someday and find out,’ Kaiser said with a wink.
Payne laughed, but Jones didn’t – still not sure if he was joking.
‘Anyway,’ Kaiser said, ‘let me show you what I found.’
Following the beam of his flashlight, Kaiser led the duo into the back room. Roughly twenty feet long and thirty feet wide, its walls were made of the same concrete as the outer chamber. Besides the width and length, the main difference in the construction was the height of the ceiling, which was a mere seven feet tall. Standing six- foot-six in hiking shoes, Payne instinctively crouched until he was certain he could walk upright without banging his head. After that, his focus shifted to the room’s contents instead of the room itself.
Payne stared in fascination at the dozens of wooden crates of varying sizes that lined the back wall. They were stacked in neat rows, one on top of the other, like Lego blocks from another time. Until recently, the crates had been covered with long canvas tarps, which Kaiser had folded and stored along the left wall. Other than that, the rest of the room appeared empty.
Excited by the possibilities, Jones hustled towards the stacks with childlike enthusiasm. He shone his light on the first crate he came across, expecting it to be open and overflowing with valuables, but its lid was nailed shut. Undaunted, he hustled to the next crate, which was slightly larger than the first one, and discovered it was sealed, too. The same with the next one, and the one after that. All of them appeared to be sealed.
Jones glanced over his shoulder, confused. ‘What’s in the crates?’
Kaiser looked at him and shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ Jones blurted.
Kaiser shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Hold up,’ Payne said, trying to understand. ‘You flew us four thousand miles on a private jet, but you don’t know what’s in any of these crates? Sorry, but I don’t buy that for a second.’
‘Actually,’ Kaiser admitted, ‘I know what’s in one. That’s all it took.’
‘Which one?’ Jones demanded.
Kaiser pointed towards a crate in the far right corner. It had been moved a few inches from those nearby, like a book pulled from a crowded shelf and then hastily returned. From where Jones was standing, the crate looked sealed like the others. Upon closer inspection, he realized the lid had been replaced but hadn’t been reattached.
Jones turned and faced Kaiser. ‘Let me see if I got this straight. The contents of this box compelled you to fly us here overnight, but worried you so much you didn’t open any of the others … Please tell me it’s not cursed.’
Kaiser grimaced. ‘Define cursed.’
Payne furrowed his brow. He had known Kaiser for more than a decade, and in all those years, he had never seen him act so strangely. Cautious, yes. But never bizarre.
‘Listen,’ Payne said to him, ‘it’s obvious there’s something going on that we don’t understand. Do you want to fill us in, or should we open the box and find out for ourselves?’
‘Just open the box. We can talk when you’re done.’
Jones grinned. ‘Can one of you hold my light?’
Payne nodded and stepped forward, hoping to get a closer look.
Measuring nearly four feet in height, width and depth, the crate was made of old wood and free of exterior labels. Rope handles, common on boxes from yesteryear, dangled from its sides like elephant’s ears. Overall, the crate was in remarkable shape – completely free of cracks or scuffmarks of any kind. Whoever had placed it there had done so with respect.
Using both hands, Jones removed the lid and placed it on a neighbouring crate, careful not to damage either. With questions dancing in his head and adrenaline surging through his veins, he rushed back to Payne’s side, and they gazed into the box together.
At first glance, they were less than impressed. The crate’s interior was equipped with seven strips of plywood running from left to right, forming eight vertical slots extending to the bottom of the crate. All the slots, which were roughly six inches wide, were filled with a mixture of hardwood panels and unframed canvases. Due to the darkness of the bunker and the depth of the slots, they had no idea what they were looking at until Jones removed one of the objects and held it in the beam of Payne’s flashlight.
‘Holy shit,’ Jones gasped as he stared at the oil painting on panel. The Impressionist masterpiece depicted five sunflowers – three in a green vase and two more lying in front of the vase – painted against a royal-blue background. The colours were so vibrant and the brushwork was so unmistakable that both of them recognized the artist.
‘Is that a van Gogh?’ Payne whispered to Jones.
Kaiser answered for him. ‘It’s called
With his heart pounding in his chest, Jones carefully returned it to its slot and pulled out another. This one
