the Amber Room

assurance, though, didn't he?'

'In the mid-1960s,' Chapaev said. 'But the fool claimed he was unable to remember the exact location. Konigsberg by then was renamed Kaliningrad and was part of the Soviet Union. The town was bombed to rubble during the war, and the Soviets bulldozed everything, then rebuilt. Nothing remained of the former city. He blamed everything on the Soviets. Said they destroyed his landmarks. Their fault he couldn't find the location now.'

'Koch never knew anything, did he?' Knoll asked.

'Nothing. A mere opportunist trying to stay alive.'

'Then tell us, old man, did you find the Amber Room?'

Chapaev nodded.

'You saw it?' Knoll asked.

'No. But it was there.'

'Why did you keep it secret?'

'Stalin was evil. The devil incarnate. He pilfered and stole Russia's heritage to build the Palace of the Soviets.'

'The what?' she asked.

'An immense skyscraper in Moscow,' Chapaev said. 'And he wanted to top the thing with a huge statue of Lenin. Can you imagine such a monstrosity? Karol, me, and all the others were collecting for the Museum of World Art that was to be a part of that palace. It was going to be Stalin's gift to the world. Nothing different from what Hitler planned in Austria. A huge museum of pilfered art. Thank God Stalin never built his monument either. It was all madness. Nothing sane. And nobody could stop the bastard. Only death did him in.' The old man shook his head. 'Utter, total madness. Karol and I were determined to do our part and never say anything about what we thought we found in the mountains. Better to leave it buried than to be a showpiece for Satan.'

'How did you find the Amber Room?' she asked.

'Quite by accident. Karol stumbled onto a railroad worker who pointed us to the caves. They were in the Russian sector, what became East Germany. The Soviets even stole that, too, though that was one theft I agreed with. Such awful things happen whenever Germany unites. Wouldn't you say, Herr Knoll?'

'I do not opine on politics, Comrade Chapaev. Besides, I'm Austrian, not German.'

'Odd. I thought I detected a Bavarian twang to your accent.'

'Good ears for a man your age.'

Chapaev turned toward her. 'That was your father's nickname. `Yxo. Ears. They called him that in Mauthausen. He was the only one in the barracks who spoke German.'

'I didn't know that. Daddy spoke little of the camp.'

Chapaev nodded. 'Understandable. I spent the last months of the war in one myself.' The old man stared hard at Knoll. 'To your accent, Herr Knoll, I used to be good at such things. German was my specialty.'

'Your English is quite good, too.'

'I have a talent for language.'

'Your former job certainly demanded powers of observation and communication.'

She was curious at the friction that seemed to exist. Two strangers, yet they acted as though they knew one another. Or, more accurately, hated one another. But the sparring was delaying their mission. She said, 'Danya, can you tell us where the Amber Room is?'

'In the caves to the north. The Harz Mountains. Near Warthberg.'

'You sound like Koch,' Knoll said. 'Those caves have been scoured clean.'

'Not these. They were in the eastern portion. The Soviets chained them off. Refused to let anyone inside. There are so many. It would take decades to explore them all, and they are like rat mazes. The Nazis wired most with explosives and stored ammunition in the rest. That's one reason Karol and I never went to look. Better to let the amber rest quietly than risk exploding it.'

Knoll slipped a small notebook and pen from his back pocket. 'Draw a map.'

Chapaev worked a few minutes on a sketch. She and Knoll sat silent. Only the crackle of the fire and the pen moving across the paper broke the stillness. Chapaev handed the pad back to Knoll.

'The right one can be found by the sun,' Chapaev said. 'The opening points due east. A friend who visited the area recently said the entrance is now chained shut with iron bars, the designation BCR-65 on the outside. The German authorities have yet to sweep the inside for explosives, so no one has ventured in as yet. Or so I am told. I drew a tunnel map as best I could remember. You will have to dig at the end. But you will hit the iron door that leads into the chamber after a few feet.'

Knoll said, 'You've kept this secret for decades. Yet now you freely tell two strangers?'

'Rachel is not a stranger.'

'How do you know she's not lying about who she is?'

'I see her father in her, clearly.'

'Yet you know nothing about me. You haven't even inquired as to why I'm here.'

'If Rachel brought you, that is good enough for me. I am an old man, Herr Knoll. My time is short. Someone needs to know what I know. Maybe Karol and I were right. Maybe not. Nothing may be there at all. Why don't you go see to be sure.' Chapaev turned to her. 'Now if that's all you wanted, my child, I'm tired and would like to rest.'

'All right, Danya. And thank you. We'll see if the Amber Room's there.'

Chapaev sighed. 'Do that, my child. Do that.'

'Very good, comrade,' Suzanne said in Russian as Chapaev opened the bedroom door. The old man's guests had just left, and she heard the car drive away. 'Have you ever considered an acting career? Christian Knoll is hard to fool. But you did wonderfully. I almost believed you myself.'

'How do you know Knoll will go to the cave?'

'He's eager to please his new employer. He wants the Amber Room so bad, he'll take the chance and look, even if he thinks it's a dead end.'

'What if he thinks it's a trap?'

'No reason to suspect anything, thanks to your remarkable performance.'

Chapaev's eyes locked on his grandson, the boy gagged and bound to an oak chair beside the bed.

'Your precious grandson greatly appreciates your performance.' She stroked the child's hair. 'Don't you, Julius?'

The boy tried to jerk back, humming behind the tape across his mouth. She raised the sound-suppressed pistol close to his head. His young eyes widened as the barrel nestled to his skull.

'There is no need for that,' Chapaev quickly said. 'I did as you asked. I drew the map exactly. No tricks. Though my heart aches for what may happen to poor Rachel. She doesn't deserve this.'

'Poor Rachel should have thought of that before she decided to involve herself. This is not her fight, nor is it her concern. She should have left well enough alone.'

'Could we go out into the other room?' he asked.

'As you wish. I don't think dear Julius will be traveling anywhere. Do you?'

They walked into the den. He closed the bedroom door. 'The boy does not deserve to die,' he quietly said.

'Your are perceptive, Comrade Chapaev.'

'Do not call me that.'

'You're not proud of your Soviet heritage?'

'I have no Soviet heritage. I was White Russian. Only against Hitler did I join with them.'

'You harbored no reservations about stealing treasure for Stalin.'

'A mistake of the times. Dear god. Fifty years I've kept the secret. Never once have I said a word. Can't you accept that and let my grandson live.'

She said nothing.

'You work for Loring, don't you?' he asked. 'Josef is surely dead. It must be Ernst, the son.'

'Again, very perceptive, Comrade.'

'I knew one day you would come. It was the chance I took. But the boy is not a part of this. Let him go.'

'He's a loose end. As you have been. I read the correspondence between yourself and Karol Borya. Why