A tall, gaunt man pushed through a curtain and walked toward her.
'Margarethe?' he softly said.
'Herr Grumer?'
The man nodded and came close. He smelled of bitter beer and sausage.
'This is dangerous,' he said.
'No one knows of our relationship,
'We need to keep it that way.'
His paranoia did not concern her. 'What have you learned?'
Grumer reached under his jacket and pulled out five photographs. She studied them in the bare light. Three trucks. Five bodies. Letters in the sand.
'The transports are empty. There is another entrance into the chamber blocked with rubble. The bodies are definitely postwar. The clothing and equipment give that away.'
She gestured to the photo that showed letters in the sand. 'How was this handled?'
'With a brush of my hand.'
'Then why photograph them?'
'So you would believe me.'
'And so you could up the price?'
Grumer smiled. She hated the pallor of greed.
'Anything more?'
'Two Americans have appeared at the site.'
She listened while Grumer told her about Rachel and Paul Cutler.
'The woman is the one involved with the mine explosion near Warthberg. They have McKoy thinking about the Amber Room.'
The fact that Rachel Cutler survived was interesting. 'She say anything about another survivor in that explosion?'
'Only that there was one. A Christian Knoll. He left Warthberg after the explosion and took Frau Cutler's belongings.'
Her guard suddenly stiffened. Knoll was alive. The situation, which a moment ago was entirely under control, now seemed frightening. But she needed to complete her mission. 'Does McKoy still listen to you?'
'As much as he wants to. He's upset about the trucks being empty. Afraid investors on the dig will sue him. He's enlisted Herr Cutler's legal assistance.'
'They are strangers.'
'But I believe he trusts them more than me. The Cutlers also have letters that passed between Frau Cutler's father and a man named Danya Chapaev. They concern the Amber Room.'
Old news. The same letters she'd read in Paul Cutler's office. But she needed to act interested. 'You've seen these letters?'
'I have.'
'Who has them now?'
'Frau and Herr Cutler.'
A loose end that needed attention. 'Obtaining the letters could up your worth considerably.'
'I thought as much.'
'And what is your price, Herr Grumer?'
'Five million euros.'
'What makes you worth that?'
Grumer gestured to the photos. 'I believe these show my good faith. That is clear evidence of postwar looting. Is that not what your employer seeks?'
She did not answer his inquiry, merely saying, 'I'll pass the price along.'
'To Ernst Loring?'
'I never said who I work for, nor should that matter. As I understand the situation, no one has related the identity of my benefactor.'
'But Herr Loring's name has been mentioned by both the Cutlers and Frau Cutler's father.'
This man was quickly becoming another loose end that would require tending. As were the Cutlers. How many more would there be? 'Needless to say,' she said, 'the letters are important, as is what McKoy is doing. Along with time. I want this resolved quickly and am willing to pay for speed.'
Grumer tipped his head. 'Would tomorrow be soon enough for the letters? The Cutlers have rooms at the Garni.'
'I'd like to be there.'
'Tell me where you're staying, and I'll call when the way is clear.'
'I'm at the Gebler.'
'I know the place. You'll hear from me by eight A.M.'
The curtain at the far end parted. A robed prior strolled silently down the center aisle. She glanced at her watch. Nearly 11 P.M. 'Let's head outside. He's probably here to close the building.'
Knoll retreated into the shadows. Danzer and a man emerged from the Church of St. Gerhard through sculptured bronze doors and stood on the front portico, not twenty meters away, the cobbled street beyond dark and empty.
'I'll have an answer tomorrow,' Danzer said. 'We will meet here.'
'I don't think that's possible.' The man gestured to a sign affixed to the stone next to the bronze portal. 'Services are held here on Tuesdays at nine.'
Danzer glanced at the announcement. 'Quite right, Herr Grumer.'
The man motioned off to the sky, the abbey sparkling gold and white in floodlight against the clear night. 'The church there stays open to midnight. Few visit late. How about ten-thirty?'
'Fine.'
'And a down payment would be nice to show your benefactor's good faith. Shall we say a million euros?'
Knoll did not know this man, but the idiot was being foolish trying to squeeze Danzer. He respected her abilities more than that, and this Grumer should, too. He was obviously an amateur she was using to learn what Wayland McKoy was doing.
Or was it more?
A million euros? Only the down payment?
The man named Grumer descended the stone steps to the street and turned east. Danzer followed, but went west. He knew where she was staying, that's how he'd found the church, following her from the Gebler. Certainly her presence complicated matters, but right now it was this Grumer who really interested him.
He waited for Danzer to disappear around a corner, then headed after his quarry. He stayed back--an easy matter to follow the man to the Garni.
Now he knew.
And he also knew exactly where Suzanne Danzer would be at ten-thirty tomorrow night.
Rachel switched off the bathroom light and stepped toward the bed. Paul was propped upright reading the
She thought about her ex-husband. In divorce after divorce, she watched people revel in destroying one other. Every little detail of their lives, unimportant years ago, suddenly became vital to their assertions of mental cruelty, or abuse, or simply to prove the marriage irretrievably broken as the law required. Was there really pleasure in that? How could there be? Thankfully, they'd not done that. She and Paul had settled their differences on a dismal Thursday afternoon, sitting calmly around the dining room table. The same one where, last Tuesday, Paul had told her about her father and the Amber Room. She'd been rough on him last week. There was no need to say that he was spineless. Why was she like that? It was so unlike her courtroom demeanor, where her every word and action was calculated.
