‘Care to be more specific?’
Ulster smiled. ‘If it’s okay with you, can I explain once we’re there? In case you haven’t noticed, my body wasn’t built for hiking. And I’d like to get there before Christmas.’
Moving at Ulster’s sloth-like pace, it took them twice as long to reach the bunker as it had the day before. Despite the cool morning air and the shade from the trees, Ulster was oozing so much sweat when they reached the site that he had to wring out his shirt. Thankfully, he had packed some extra clothes with the rest of his supplies – which included a laptop, a digital camera and a toolkit filled with archaeological equipment – and was able to change his shirt before he thanked Kaiser, whom he had never met before, with a massive bear hug.
After helping Ulster down the ladder, Payne led him to the back chamber where the crates had been stored for several decades. As a historian, Ulster viewed the site differently than Payne and Jones. Growing up near Germany, Ulster had toured dozens of Nazi bunkers over the years, so he knew what to expect and what didn’t belong.
At first glance he realized one important element was missing.
‘Where are the swastikas? There should be swastikas.’
‘Sorry,’ Jones joked. ‘We didn’t have time to decorate.’
Ulster moved about the room, studying the walls. ‘The Nazis were big proponents of symbolism. They marked everything they got their hands on. Obviously the swastika was their main symbol, but they had many others. The
Kaiser shook his head. ‘I found nothing like that.’
‘I’m glad. We don’t want to find any Nazi symbols.’
‘What about the crates? Wouldn’t they be marked?’
‘Without a doubt. As I said, they branded everything – including people.’
The comment hung in the air like a black cloud, nearly as palpable as the stench from the outer chamber. Even though Payne, Jones and Kaiser had served in the military, none of them could fully comprehend the death and destruction of World War Two. It had swept across Europe like a deadly wave, leaving absolute destruction in its wake.
‘So,’ Payne said, trying to lighten the mood, ‘tell us about your epiphany.’
Ulster smiled. ‘I was wondering when you’d bring that up. Fortunately, this is the perfect time to discuss it. Please, if you don’t mind, can you show me the open crate?’
Payne walked into the right-hand corner and held his flashlight above the van Gogh crate. During the night, the lid had been closed to protect the paintings inside. ‘It’s this one here.’
Ulster reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of XXL latex gloves that he had to stretch and pull over his chubby fingers. When he was done, he looked like a surgeon ready to operate. ‘When you told me about this crate, I initially panicked. Not only was I familiar with the paintings, but I knew all of them had been lost during World War Two.’
Ulster paused for a moment while he opened the crate. Just as Payne had promised, the underbelly of the lid had been marked with the Ulster coat of arms. Even though he had been expecting to see it, its presence still took his breath away.
Jones cleared his throat. ‘Go on.’
Ulster blinked a few times. ‘Wait, where was I?’
‘You were talking about the paintings.’
Ulster handed the lid to Jones, and then thumbed through the canvases in the crate. ‘Late last night, once I had a chance to ruminate a bit, I realized something crucial about one painting in particular.’
‘Which one?’ Kaiser wondered.
Ulster pulled out the masterpiece and held it in the air. As he did, he admired its beauty. ‘
Kaiser nodded. That matched the information he had learned from one of his sources. ‘Supposedly it was destroyed by fire in an air raid, way back in 1945.’
‘That is true,’ Ulster admitted. ‘But you’ve omitted the most important part of the story – at least as it pertains to my family. Where did this bombing occur?’
Kaiser shrugged. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
Ulster grinned. ‘Ashiya, Japan.’
Payne furrowed his brow. ‘Did you say
Ulster nodded. ‘It was owned by a Japanese industrialist.’
‘If that’s the case, how did the Nazis get their hands on it?’
Ulster grinned even wider. ‘Who said they did?’
14
Silence filled the back chamber as they waited for Ulster’s explanation, each of them wondering how a painting from Japan, believed to be destroyed in World War Two, had ended up in a secret bunker in Bavaria. Anxious to clear his grandfather’s name, Ulster explained: ‘Even though Germany and Japan were Axis powers, their relationship was based on a common enemy and little else. Other than a few diplomats stationed near Tokyo, there weren’t many Nazis in the Far East. Ground troops were far more valuable in Europe.’
Payne, who had a great understanding of the war from his Naval Academy education, nodded in agreement. ‘Japan wanted to control the Pacific. Germany wanted to conquer everything else. Their alliance was one of convenience, nothing more.’
‘If that’s the case, how did the painting end up here?’ Kaiser asked.
Ulster returned the masterpiece to the crate before he answered. ‘Towards the end of the war, Japan was repeatedly warned about an Allied super-weapon, capable of wiping out an entire city in a single blast. Fearing the destruction of their most important treasures, members of the Japanese upper class scrambled to protect their assets. Those who doubted the rumours hid their heirlooms in basements and bank vaults, more concerned about invading troops than atomic bombs. But those who believed the stories about the bomb made arrangements with men like my grandfather who were willing to protect their treasures until after the war.’
Payne grimaced. ‘Why didn’t you mention that last night?’
‘Why? Because I didn’t have any proof. Over the years, I’ve heard dozens of stories about my grandfather’s escape to Switzerland in the early 1930s. I know he returned to northern Austria and southern Germany a few years later and helped many of his friends get to safety, leading them through the Alps to evade Nazi patrols. According to my father, the people who made the journey weren’t allowed to bring anything with them except the most basic supplies. Everything else – heirlooms, artwork, jewellery – was stashed before they left.’ Ulster glanced around the bunker, wondering how something so large had been built without detection. ‘That’s what this place was for. To protect the treasures that were left behind.’
Payne rubbed his eyes, still not understanding Ulster’s happiness. As far as he could tell, they still faced a major uphill battle to clear his family’s name. ‘Please forgive my scepticism, but where’s your proof? Right now all we have is a crate filled with artwork that may or may not have been looted by your grandfather and fifty other crates filled with God knows what. Obviously I’m on your side and willing to give your family the benefit of the doubt, but the rest of the world is going to require a lot more evidence than a few anecdotes from the war.’
Ulster smiled, hoping to ease his concerns. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘Really? Then why are you so damn happy?’
‘As I mentioned earlier, I lacked tangible evidence at the time of your call, but things have since changed. Fearing the worst, I spent the entire night going through my grandfather’s papers, searching for anything that had to do with Japan. Early this morning, about an hour before my departure, I stumbled across a folder filled with correspondence from the rightful owner of the van Gogh. Suffice it to say, my grandfather was named legal guardian of the painting way back in 1945, and he figured out a way to smuggle it overseas. Once my lawyers sort through the paperwork, we will formally return the painting to Japan.’
‘Hold up,’ Payne growled. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone smuggle a work of art
Ulster laughed. ‘I thought the same thing until I read through the correspondence. Towards the end of the war, most Japanese shipping lanes were blocked by Allied troops, so there was very little getting in or out of the
