the Amber Room

German Excavations Corporation

'That's what I sent to potential investors,' McKoy said.

'What do you mean by 'All the partners' monies will be returned by funds of the presold media rights'?' Paul asked McKoy.

'Just what it says. A bunch of companies paid for the rights to film and broadcast what we find.'

'But that presupposes you find something. They didn't pay you up front, did they?'

McKoy shook his head. 'Shit, no.'

'Trouble is,' Rachel said, 'you didn't say that in the letter. The partners could think, and rightfully so, that you already have the money.'

Paul pointed to the second paragraph. ' 'We have an expedition ready to excavate that train.' That sounds like you actually found it.'

McKoy sighed. 'I thought we did. The ground radar said there was somethin' big in here.' McKoy motioned to the trucks. 'And there damn well is.'

'This true about the forty-five units at twenty five thousand dollars each?' Paul asked. 'That's $1.25 million.'

'That's what I raised. Then I sold the units for the other one hundred fifty thousand. Sixty investors in all.'

Paul motioned to the letter. 'Partners is what you call them. That's different from investor.'

McKoy grinned. 'Sounds better.'

'Are these other listed companies also investors?'

'They supplied equipment either by donation or at reduced rates. So, in a sense, yes. They don't expect anythin' in return, though.'

'You dangled sums like three hundred sixty million dollars, half maybe going to the partners, that can't be true.'

'Damn well is. That's what researchers value the Berlin museum stuff.'

'Assuming the art can be found,' Rachel said. 'Your problem, McKoy, is the letter misleads. It could even be construed as fraudulent.'

'Since we're going to be so close, why don't you two call me Wayland. And, little lady, I did what was necessary to get the money. I didn't lie to anybody, and I wasn't interested in bilkin' these people. I wanted to dig and that's what I did. I didn't keep a dime, except what they were told I'd get up front.'

Paul waited for a rebuke on 'little lady,' but none came. Instead, Rachel said, 'Then you've got another problem. There's not a word in that letter about any hundred-thousand-dollar fee to you.'

'They were all told. And, by the way, you're a real ray of sunshine through this storm.'

Rachel did not back down. 'You need to hear the truth.'

'Look, half that hundred thousand went to Grumer for his time and trouble. He was the one who got the permit from the government. Without that, there'd have been no dig. The rest I kept for my time. This trip is costin' me plenty. And I didn't take my cut till the end. Those last units paid me and Grumer, along with our expenses. If I hadn't raised that, I was prepared to borrow it, that's how strong I felt about this venture.'

Paul wanted to know, 'When are the partners getting here?'

'Twenty-eight with their spouses are due after lunch. That's all that accepted the trips we offered.'

He started thinking like a lawyer, studying each word in the letter, analyzing the diction and syntax. Was the proposal fraudulent? Maybe. Ambiguous? Definitely. Should he tell McKoy about Grumer and show him the wallet? Explain about the letters in the sand? McKoy was still an unknown commodity. A stranger. But weren't most clients? Perfect strangers one minute, trusted confidants the next. No. He decided to keep quiet and wait a little longer and see what developed.

Suzanne entered the garni and climbed a marble staircase to the second floor. Grumer had called ten minutes ago and informed her that McKoy and the Cutlers had left for the excavation site. Grumer waited at the end of the second floor hall.

'There,' he said. 'Room Twenty-one.'

She stopped at the door, a slab of paneled oak stained dark, its jamb tattered from time and abuse. The lock was part of the doorknob, a tarnished piece of brass that accepted a regular key. No dead bolt. Lock picking had never been her specialty, so she slipped the letter opener commandeered from the concierge's desk into the jamb and worked the point, easily sliding the latch bolt out of the strike plate.

She opened the door. 'Careful with our search. Let's not announce our visit.'

Grumer started with the furniture. She moved to the luggage and discovered only one travel bag. She rifled through the clothes--mainly men's--and found no letters. She checked the bathroom. The toiletries were also mainly men's. Then she searched the more obvious places. Under the mattress and bed, on top of the armoire, beneath the drawers in the nightstands.

'The letters are not here,' Grumer said.

'Search again.'

They did. This time not caring about neatness. When they finished the room was a wreck. But still, no letters. Her patience was running thin. 'Get to the site, Herr Doktor, and find those letters or there'll be not one euro paid to you. Understand?'

Grumer seemed to sense she was in no mood and only nodded before leaving.

FORTY-ONE

Burg Herz

10:45 a.m.

Knoll thrust his erect member deeper. Monika was hunched on all fours, back to him, her firm ass arched high, her head buried deep into a goose-down pillow.

'Come on, Christian. Show me what that bitch from Georgia missed.'

He pumped harder, sweat beading on his brow. She reached back and gently massaged his balls. She knew exactly how to work him. And that fact alone bothered him. Monika knew him far too well.

He grasped her thin waist with both hands and torqued her body forward. She accepted the gesture and sighed like a cat after a satisfying kill. He felt her come a moment later, a deep moan confirming her delight. He pounded a few more seconds, then came, too. She continued her testicle massage, milking every drop of his pleasure.

Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.

She released her hold. He withdrew and relaxed onto the bed. She lay beside him, belly down. He caught his breath and allowed the last spasms of orgasm to shudder through him. He kept his body still, not giving the bitch the satisfaction of knowing he enjoyed it.

'Hell of a lot better than some mousy lawyer, huh?'

He shrugged. 'Never got to sample the wares.'

'What about that Italian whore you sliced up. Good?'

He kissed his index finger and thumb. 'Mullissemo. Well worth whatever she charged.'

'And Suzanne Danzer?

The resentment was clear. 'Your jealousy is so unbecoming.'

'Don't flatter yourself.'

Monika raised up on one elbow. She'd been waiting in his room when he arrived a half hour ago. Burg Herz was only an hour west of Stod. He'd returned to his home base for further instructions, deciding a face-to-face talk with his employer was better than the telephone.

'I don't get it, Christian. What is it you see in Danzer? You prefer the finer things of life, not some charity case raised by Loring.'