The Secret Crown

‘Please take a moment to glance about this chamber. The room we’re standing in is filled with more information about Ludwig than a hundred modern textbooks. And all the history you see here is completely unfiltered. It’s as if we stumbled across the tree of knowledge and were given permission to pick the fruit.’

Heidi nodded in agreement. ‘I love Munich as much as the next gal, but I’m with Petr on this one. We’ve barely had time to read any of the letters. Who knows what we could learn?’

Jones looked to Payne for support. ‘Jon?’

Payne took a deep breath. He knew his friend wouldn’t be happy. ‘Listen, I respect your hunches, you know I do. But right now we’re not even sure if Hauser and Sons still exists. I mean, it’s a long way to travel for a store that might have closed its doors in 1890.’

‘Yeah, but-’

Payne cut him off. ‘Even if I voted for you, we still would have lost the tiebreaker.’

‘Tiebreaker? What tiebreaker?’

‘Petr owns the chopper.’

Jones growled and snatched the receipt from Ulster’s hand. ‘In that case, I’m taking this and walking to Oktoberfest.’

Payne laughed. ‘Have a nice hike. Don’t talk to strangers.’

Ulster waited until Jones had left the room and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. Then he glanced at Payne, concerned. ‘Good heavens! Is David miffed at me?’

Payne shook his head. ‘Relax. When he comes back, everything will be fine.’

Ulster gasped. ‘Comes back from where?’

‘Don’t worry! He didn’t go to Oktoberfest. If I had to guess, he went outside to get some air. Trust me, when he returns, he won’t even mention Munich.’

Jones climbed the ladder on the far side of the tunnel and opened the secret hatch. Thirty seconds later, he was sitting on the fake tree stump and glancing at his waterproof cell phone. Reception had been nonexistent in the grotto and the tunnel. Now that he was outside, he could finally make a call. He quickly entered a number from memory.

‘Research,’ said Raskin from his office at the Pentagon.

Jones instantly recognized his voice. ‘Randy, my man, it’s David Jones. I wasn’t sure you’d be working this late. I’m glad you’re on duty.’

Raskin typed away furiously. ‘Let me see if I got this straight. You’re happy that I’m working the graveyard shift. That’s awfully sweet of you.’

‘Come on, man. You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Then how did you mean it?’

‘I meant I’m glad you’re the one on duty because I need your expertise.’

Raskin adjusted the microphone on his headset. ‘Damn, DJ, that’s even worse! You’re glad I’m working the graveyard shift because you want to use me. You didn’t even say hello or ask how I’m doing. Yet you expect me to jump to attention.’

Jones groaned. ‘Wow! You, Jon – everyone’s giving me shit today.’

Raskin leaned back in his chair. ‘Please tell me you aren’t getting a divorce. I’m too old for joint custody.’

‘No, nothing serious. Just a disagreement about something we’re doing.’

Raskin played dumb. ‘Something you’re doing, where?’

‘Germany.’

‘Really? What are you doing in Germany?’

‘Long story. I’ll tell you about it some other time.’

‘Maybe you should tell me right now. You know, since you need my help.’

Raskin had a better security clearance than he did, so Jones wasn’t worried about him blabbing to anyone. Still, Jones was reluctant to tell him anything too juicy. ‘I wish I could, but I’m temporarily sworn to secrecy. As soon as I get permission, I’ll be happy to fill you in.’

‘I can respect that. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I can respect it.’

‘So,’ Jones said, ‘about that favour of mine …’

Raskin cracked his knuckles. ‘Fire away.’

‘I’m staring at a receipt from 1886. I was hoping you could tell me a little bit more about the store itself. What business they were in and so on.’

‘What country?’

‘Germany.’

Raskin opened a database on one of his screens. ‘What city?’

‘Munich.’

‘Munich,’ he mumbled as he dragged a chunk of data from one screen to another with his mouse. ‘Please tell me you have a name or address. Otherwise, this is going to take a while.’

‘Actually I have both. The store was called Hauser and Sons, and it was located on a road called Briennerstrasse. It’s the oldest road in Munich.’

‘Whoop-dee-fuckin’-doo. The age of the road doesn’t help at all. But do you know what would help? If you could spell that for me. That would help a bunch.’

Jones laughed and spelled Briennerstrasse. ‘Anything else?’

‘Just give me silence, so I can do my thing.’

The sound of typing filled the line for several seconds. Every once in a while, Raskin would curse at one of his databases, but it was usually followed by some sort of taunt that let the computer know who owned its ass. To Jones, it was like a progress bar on a computer screen. When the taunts increased, it meant Raskin was getting closer to the end.

‘So,’ Raskin eventually said, ‘do you want the good news or the bad news? Because I have a little bit of both.’

‘No games. Just tell me.’

‘Hauser and Sons was a family-owned jewellery store that opened in 1845. It stayed open until 1933 when the National Socialists – i.e. the fucking Nazis – took control of Germany. After that, the city of Munich changed dramatically. As you know, the Allies bombed the shit out of the city during World War Two. I’m talking seventy-plus air raids, not to mention a ground assault. By the time we took control of Munich in 1945, the city was mostly rubble.’

Jones cursed under his breath. He had been confident the receipt would lead them to Camelot. Now he’d have to go down below and admit his mistake to everyone. ‘What about the Hausers? Are any of them still around? Maybe I can-’

‘Hold up! I’m not done. The best part is yet to come.’

‘Sorry, my bad. Please continue.’

Raskin collected his thoughts. ‘As usual, our government felt guilty about blowing up a city, so Uncle Sam rebuilt Munich with American tax dollars. Which, on a personal note, didn’t sit well with my grandparents since they were Jewish. Seriously, do you know how many holiday meals were ruined by stories about the past?’

Jones smiled. ‘You’re Jewish, I’m black, let’s move on.’

‘Anyway, it didn’t take long for Munich to start thriving again. In 1955 Hauser and Sons opened a new store at a new location, which is still open today.’

‘Please tell me you’re serious.’

‘Of course I’m serious. I just sent the address to your phone.’

‘That’s awesome! I can’t wait to rub this in Jon’s face.’

‘Wait. So you two really are fighting?’

‘Not fighting. Just competing, like we always do.’

Raskin smiled. ‘In that case, I gotta ask: is he pissed at me?’

‘At you? Why would he be pissed at you?’

‘Because of his ringtone.’

Jones burst out laughing. ‘You changed his ringtone?’

‘Of course I changed his ringtone. Twelve times on three different phones. You’re telling me he