Kurt imagined the scarf might have carried almost religious significance for the Royal Navy if it was authentic. The fact that it was up for sale in Malta made him doubt its provenance. But treasures had been found in backyards before.
Next, he found some Napoleonic artifacts, including several with placards beside them, one of which read XVI.
A step in the right direction, he said to himself.
The first thing he discovered was a group of letters, including orders Napoleon had sent to his commanders demanding more discipline in the ranks. The next batch of documents was a request for more money. This letter had been sent back to Paris, only to be intercepted by the British. Finally, there was a small book, listed as Napoleon’s Diary.
Despite the time crunch they were under, Kurt couldn’t resist looking. He’d never heard of Napoleon’s diary before. He opened the container and unzipped a fireproof envelope that surrounded the book. It turned out not to be a diary at all but instead a copy of Homer’s Odyssey, in Greek. He flipped through the pages. Notes in French had been scribbled in the margins here and there. Napoleon’s? He guessed that was the idea, but perhaps one that was up for debate too.
Still, as he studied the pages, he noticed something else: certain words were circled and some pages were missing. By the ragged edges he found, Kurt guessed the pages had been torn out. The prospectus sheet attached to the diary indicated it had been with the deposed emperor right up until his death on Saint Helena.
Despite his curiosity, Kurt closed the book, sealed up its container and moved on. It was interesting, but the men who’d killed Kensington were looking for Egyptian artifacts.
In the next section, Kurt found two glass-walled tanks, each the size of a small truck. The first tank held various treasures on porcelain racks and looked almost like a giant dishwasher. The second contained a pair of large cannon barrels, suspended on slings. A note scribbled in grease pencil on the glass indicated the tanks were filled with distilled water, a fairly common method to pull embedded salts out of iron and brass objects recovered from the sea.
He peered through the glass. Nothing Egyptian in either tank.
“Just like the supermarket,” he muttered, “I’m always shopping in the wrong aisle.”
He switched aisles and then stopped and crouched in the shadows. He saw movement in the gloom ahead of him at the far end of the aisle. A man and a woman. Strangely, they were dressed like attendees at the party. And both were holding pistols.
27
Kurt pressed the talk switch on his own earpiece and said to Joe, “I’ve run into some company.”
“I’m not alone on this side either,” Joe replied.
“Meet me in the middle,” Kurt said. “We need to take cover.”
He backtracked and met Joe close to the two distilled-water tanks.
“A group of men came out of the office armed to the teeth,” Joe said. “They were dressed like guards, but they had another man held at gunpoint. So I’d say there’s been a takeover of the most hostile variety. I suggest we hide or exit stage left.” He pointed back down the aisle.
“Can’t go that way,” Kurt said. “There’s a couple coming from that direction as well.”
“More guards?”
“Not unless guards wear tuxedos and evening gowns. They must have come from the party.”
Before anything else was said, they heard the dull rolling of heavy wheels on the concrete floor. A pair of flashlight beams bounced lazily across the shelves ahead as the group Joe had seen neared the corner.
“Should we head back to the crate?” Joe asked.
Kurt looked around. He’d lost track of the second group. And he didn’t like the idea of running around the warehouse hoping not to bump into any gun-toting madmen. Especially when there seemed to be so many of them.
“No,” he said. “We need to hide.”
“Okay. There’s not a lot of cover here.”
Joe was not wrong. The shelves were either too packed to get into or too sparse to offer any real protection. He glanced over his shoulder at the large aquarium-like tanks and the cannon barrels inside them. It was their only hope. “Time to get wet.”
Joe turned, saw the tank and nodded. They climbed a small ladder on the side of the tank and eased in as gently as possible. As the ripples dissipated, they took a spot behind the first cannon barrel and peered over it like a couple of alligators hiding behind a log in a swamp.
The first group passed by: five men — three with guns, one pushing a dolly and one more who looked to be at their mercy, a pistol aimed at his back. They were all dressed as part of a security team, just as Joe described. They continued on without glancing at the tanks and soon turned down another aisle and vanished.
“They’re obviously here to pick something up,” Kurt whispered.
Before Kurt could say any more, the couple appeared. But instead of joining the others, they moved more cautiously, picking their way down the aisle. Examining things on the shelf.
Kurt could hear their whispers. The back wall of the tank, which was higher than the front, was acting like an echo chamber, collecting and amplifying the sounds.
“I see what you mean about the woman,” Joe whispered.
She was tall and lean and wearing a black evening gown with a side slit. Strangely, she wore flat shoes. She leaned close to one of the shelves.
“Here’s another one,” they heard her say. “But I can’t read the placard. It’s too dark.”
The man in the tux glanced around. “We’re clear for the moment,” he said. “Shade your cell phone light.”
The dim glow of her cell phone came on, half covered by her hand. She studied the placard. “Not what we’re looking for,” she said, sounding frustrated.
The man glanced down the aisle and made what seemed like a wise decision. “Let’s move quickly. I’m not a fan of crowds.”
With silencer-equipped pistols gripped tightly in their hands, the couple moved off.
“Something tells me they’re not with the others,” Kurt said, stating the obvious.
“How many people are robbing this place?” Joe asked.
“Too many,” Kurt said. “This has to be the least secure warehouse in the Western world.”
“And we’re the only ones without weapons,” Joe replied. “A decided disadvantage.”
Kurt could not have agreed more, but something else was nagging at him. “The man in the tux,” he began. “Did his voice sound familiar to you?”
“Vaguely,” Joe said. “Can’t place it.”
“Neither can I,” Kurt said. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I know I’ve heard that voice before.”
The aisle looked clear for a moment. “Should we make a break for it?” Joe asked.
“I don’t think we’d get to the door,” Kurt replied. “We need to scare everyone else away and alert the authorities. The only way I can see doing that is to pull a fire alarm. Did you see one anywhere?”
Joe pointed toward the ceiling. “What about those?”
Kurt looked up. A system of pipes spread across the ceiling like an electrical grid. At various points, protruding nozzles and cone-shaped sensors were marked with glowing green LEDs. They had to be heat or smoke detectors.
“Can you get up there?” Kurt asked.
“You’re talking to the champion of the Saint Ignacio jungle gym challenge,” Joe said.
“I have no idea what that is,” Kurt said. “But I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Trust me,” Joe said. “The scaffolding around the shelves will make it easy.”
With a quick glance down the aisle, Joe climbed out of the tank, eased over to a ladder and began to climb. Once he reached the second level, he picked his way across the shelf and climbed another ladder. He was almost to the ceiling when several shots rang out and all hell broke loose.