The Secret Crown

a time, checking to see if they moved in any way. Unfortunately, they were firmly attached.

‘Now what?’ she whispered to Payne. ‘There’s nothing left to do.’

He tried to look up but couldn’t. ‘Tap on it again. Are you sure it’s hollow?’

She knocked on it again. She could hear an echo inside. ‘I’m positive.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I hate to say it, but maybe this statue is like a piggy bank. You have to crack it open to get at the savings.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t! I simply can’t! If I’m wrong about this and there’s nothing inside, I’ll never forgive myself. This boat is beloved by Germany. I can’t destroy it.’

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked.

‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t want anyone to destroy it. Come on, guys! We must be missing something. Ludwig was a builder, not a destroyer. We’re not supposed to break this! There has to be another option.’

The next minute was filled with silence. During that time, each of them glanced round the grotto, wondering if they were looking in the right place for Ludwig’s secret document. For all they knew, the swan riddle could have been pointing somewhere else. Perhaps the lake near Neuschwanstein where Ludwig had fed the swans as a child, or the lake where he had been murdered. None of them had even considered that as a possibility. Maybe the treasure was hidden near Lake Starnberg, and Ludwig had been killed while trying to protect it.

Then again, there was another possibility that none of them were willing to accept. Maybe, just maybe, the treasure was like so many of the things in Ludwig’s life.

Maybe it was just a fantasy.

57

Yesterday’s meeting in Hamburg had clinched a seven-figure deal that Mueller had been working on for weeks, yet he didn’t feel like celebrating when he got back to Berlin. No gourmet meals. No bottles of champagne. No whores or models. And all because of the news from Garmisch-Partenkirchen. That was the effect Kaiser had on his psyche. How could Mueller celebrate when his main rival was doing business in his backyard?

Short-tempered from lack of sleep, Mueller walked down the marble staircase of his palatial estate and found his assistant waiting near the kitchen. Mueller, who was dressed in silk pyjamas and a designer bathrobe, glared at him, letting the piss-ant know he shouldn’t say a fucking word until he’d had his morning coffee. Mueller poured himself a mug, then took a seat in his breakfast nook. The view through his bulletproofed windows did not brighten his mood. If anything, it made his mood worse since the outside sky was grey.

Stifling a yawn, Mueller took a sip of coffee. It was black, bitter, and steaming hot – just how he liked it. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total disaster after all.

‘Come here,’ he growled.

His assistant approached the table with caution. He knew how volatile his boss could be and didn’t want to provoke him. So he stood there, quietly, waiting for further instructions.

Mueller pointed to the chair across from him. ‘Sit.’

He did what he was told, while remaining silent.

‘Now speak.’

He opened a folder and glanced at his notes inside. ‘Here’s the latest from Garmisch. Krueger’s body showed up early this morning in the Partnach River. It was discovered in the gorge, not far from one of his associates. Their bodies got hung up on some rocks and were discovered by the police.’

‘How did they die?’

‘Krueger was shot at close range. The other man died from a broken neck. Autopsies are scheduled for later today. We’ll know more then.’

‘What else?’

His assistant flipped through his paperwork. ‘They found another body near the ambush site. According to our police source, the victim was dressed in camouflage like the driver of the caravan. His name was Lange. He was a known associate of Kaiser’s.’

Mueller held up his hand and spread his fingers wide. ‘That makes five. Five dead gunmen, and we don’t know what they were fighting over. Or do we? What’s this caravan you keep talking about?’

He flipped to another page. ‘Witnesses, including several employees at the Eckbauerbahn, reported a black man driving an off-road vehicle. He was hauling a soldier, four wooden crates and an unconscious man, who was being treated by a French doctor. They used the cableway to get off the mountain.’

Mueller stared at him like he was crazy. ‘They used a ski lift to escape?’

‘According to witnesses, yes.’

‘Who the fuck does that?’

The assistant shrugged, but said nothing.

‘Does the ski lift go over the gorge?’

‘No, sir. It’s east of the gorge by a considerable distance. Here, take a look at this.’ He reached into his folder and pulled out a map of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Several additions had been handwritten in coloured ink. ‘I marked the ambush site where the bodies were found and the location of the cableway. As you can see, the violence was spread out.’

Mueller stared at the map and tried to make sense of things. Two of Kaiser’s men had been killed in the initial ambush, which had occurred on a hiking trail above the gorge. Afterwards, the vehicle had headed east where its passengers had linked up with the cableway that took them to the Olympic stadium at the base of the mountain. Meanwhile, Krueger and his associate had gone in the opposite direction, perhaps trying to beat Kaiser’s crew into town by using a shortcut through the gorge. A solid plan, especially if Krueger had someone waiting down below – which would explain the presence of Krueger’s friend near the ski stadium. Of course, everything went to shit when Krueger and his associate were killed in the gorge. Without backup, Krueger’s friend was killed as well, overpowered by the crew from the cableway.

As far as Mueller was concerned, all that made perfect sense. The one thing that didn’t, the one thing that still eluded him, was what had attracted Ulster and Kaiser to Garmisch-Partenkirchen in the first place. ‘What was in the crates?’

His assistant shrugged. ‘No one knows.’

Mueller shoved the table forward, driving it into his assistant’s stomach. ‘Obviously someone knows, or there wouldn’t have been a gunfight!’

The assistant nodded while trying to regain his breath. Once he did, he grabbed some napkins from a ceramic holder and cleaned up the coffee that had spilled on the table. Mueller watched him with a mixture of amusement and contempt, wondering how someone could take that much abuse without fighting back. If nothing else, his assistant was loyal.

Mueller waited until the mess was cleared up before he spoke again. ‘What else?’

His assistant glanced through his folder. ‘Krueger got me thinking. He tracked down the chopper’s registration by using its tail number. That’s how he discovered Ulster’s involvement in the first place.’

‘So?’ Mueller snapped.

‘So,’ he said as he kept flipping pages, ‘I took it a step further. Most luxury helicopters are equipped with radio transceivers that are used to track the vehicle in case of theft. I gave Ulster’s tail number to our police connection, who reported the chopper stolen. That automatically triggered its theft transceiver, a small device that emits an inaudible signal that can be detected by police tracking computers throughout Europe.’

‘And?’

‘And the Bavarian State Police got a hit.’

‘Where?’ Mueller demanded.

His assistant finally found the sheet he was looking for. ‘As of thirty minutes ago, Ulster’s chopper had crossed the German-Austrian border.’

‘Shit! He’s probably going back to Switzerland.’

‘Actually, sir, the chopper was headed into Germany.’

Mueller stared at him. ‘Ulster had left, but is coming back?’

‘We don’t know about Ulster, but his chopper was in Bavarian airspace as of thirty minutes ago. Our source said he would call us with updates.’