“Klaus,” Ludwig said. “My sister’s son. Good German stock.” He took the case from Klaus, then guided him to the door. “Wait outside. We’ll be just a few minutes.”
Klaus walked into the hallway, remembering his father’s warning to mind his own business. But Ludwig had left the door open, and he couldn’t help overhearing the conversation.
“Were you followed?” Herr Heinrich asked.
“No,” Ludwig replied. “I was very careful.”
Klaus glanced down the darkened hall, suddenly worried about that noise he’d heard when they’d entered. What if they had been followed? He edged closer to the open door, wondering if he should say something.
“So,” Ludwig said, “we’re proceeding?”
“We are. But first I want to see what you’ve brought before it’s all sold. Open it.”
A moment later, Klaus heard Herr Heinrich give a low whistle, while the woman said, “Amazing. I have only heard tales of their magnificence.”
Unable to resist, Klaus peered through the crack in the door. Herr Heinrich held a bejeweled, egg-shaped object. The green iridescence reminded Klaus of a small jade pendant his mother used to wear. Gold filigree vines wrapped around the egg, and diamonds sparkled along the vines like bright flowers. “Which one do I have?” Heinrich asked, turning the piece back and forth, the light catching on the diamonds.
“This,” his uncle said, “is the Empire Nephrite Egg.”
“How many eggs do you have?”
“Only three. But also several other chests that Maria Feodorovna managed to smuggle out of Russia when she fled to the Crimea. One contains many of the crown jewels belonging to the Dowager Empress, the others are filled with hundreds of loose diamonds, precious stones, and gold. It’s clear that she paid well for the release of her son and his family.”
“And yet the Bolsheviks killed them anyway,” Herr Heinrich said. “Rather fitting that we’re using the Romanov Ransom to fund our strike against Russia.” He turned the egg about in his hands, the diamonds glinting in the overhead light. “A shame your men couldn’t have gotten the Amber Room as well. A sight to behold.”
“Hard to play refugee while smuggling something that size. These were difficult enough to get out of Germany without leaving a trail.”
“And that pilot? I heard he was working with the Allied Forces.”
“Lieutenant Lambrecht?”
“Yes. What if he talks? He could lead them right to us.”
“Unfortunately for him, he’s dead. My men sabotaged his plane. The last word was that it crashed somewhere in Morocco.”
“What if someone finds the plane? Our plans—”
“—are in code. By the time someone does find them — assuming they ever do — we’ll be in Santiago, setting everything in motion. It’ll be too late.”
Klaus had no idea what they were talking about, nor did he want to know. As he started to back away from the door, Herr Heinrich looked up and saw him staring. “What’s this? You! Come here.”
He froze.
Ludwig turned, saw him, then gave a sharp nod. “Klaus!”
He entered, worried what his uncle would do, when his glance strayed to the egg, even more beautiful up close. “I didn’t mean to see. I just—”
The woman laughed. “You want to hold it?”
Klaus shook his head, afraid he’d drop it.
Herr Heinrich handed the egg to Ludwig, who wrapped it in a square of gray wool cloth.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the woman said.
Klaus nodded, unable to look away, as Uncle Ludwig carefully returned the egg to its case. He saw two more egg-shaped forms beneath their wool wrapping.
“Fabergé,” she said, though the name meant nothing to Klaus. “Do you know what they’re for? Why you’re taking them to Chile?”
He shook his head. He only knew he was to dress warm because they were flying over the Andes Mountains. And that the money he would make would keep his mother alive. “No, fräulein.”
“To bring in the Fourth Reich—”
“Greta!” Herr Heinrich started to rise.
Ludwig, clearly upset over the interruptions, or perhaps Greta’s revelation, snapped the case shut. “We should go. The hour grows late, and our plane awaits. You have the papers?”
“Of course,” Herr Heinrich said, sliding them from the folder. Ludwig was reading the pages when Heinrich’s phone rang. He answered, listened, then said, “Yes. He’s right here.” Heinrich held the phone toward Uncle Ludwig. “For you.”
Ludwig set the papers on top of the suitcase. As he took the phone, his coat brushed the topmost page onto the floor.
It landed at Klaus’s feet and he reached down to pick it up, seeing the words Unternehmen Werwolf at the top. Before he got past the first lines, trying to figure out what Operation Werewolf was about, Greta took the paper from him, setting it facedown on the stack.
“Hold on,” Ludwig said into the phone. He covered the mouthpiece. “Greta, I’ll meet you at the car. Take the boy and close the door.”
The woman put her hand on Klaus’s shoulder, guiding him into the hallway. “Come with me, Klaus.”
He followed Greta outside, where Ludwig’s sleek black Mercedes sedan gleamed beneath the bright moon. As she led him to the car, he glanced back toward the office, thinking of the papers that Herr Heinrich had given to his uncle. His father might be willing to overlook Uncle Ludwig’s past, but Klaus didn’t think he’d turn a blind eye to reviving the Nazi Party and starting the Fourth Reich. His mother, he knew, would be horrified.
She’d want him to tell his uncle that he couldn’t go with him. Especially after what he’d read on that document.
“…blame the Americans for a bomb strike on Russia…”
Surely his father would understand why he couldn’t go?
Someone shouted as the office door burst open. Ludwig raced out, suitcase in one hand, gun in the other. “Get in the car!”
A shot split the air, and Ludwig turned, firing into the doorway.
Crack! Crack!
Klaus froze. Uncle Ludwig ran to the driver’s side, shot twice more, then threw the suitcase in. “Hurry!”
Greta pushed Klaus toward the car. “Get in.”
He jumped into the back, Greta the front, as Uncle Ludwig started the car, cursing as the engine sputtered, then kicked in.
The vehicle sped off, making a sharp turn, throwing Klaus against the door.
Heart thudding in his chest, he finally dared a look, seeing nothing but a cloud of dust behind them. “What happened?” he asked. “Why were they shooting at you?”
Several seconds passed before his uncle responded. “Robbers. After the treasure. They came in from the back as I was leaving.”
Greta said, “Herr Heinrich?”
“Dead. They killed him.”
“What about the papers?” she asked.
“In the suitcase.”
“Good,” she replied. “If they found those—”
“Enough!” Uncle Ludwig looked at Klaus in the rearview mirror, then back at the road.
“Take me home,” Klaus said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to do this.”
“No,” Uncle Ludwig snapped, driving even faster. “Too late.”
“I–I don’t understand. Why do you need me?”
Greta answered. “Because no one looks twice at a man and woman with their son.”
The only reason that would make sense is if they knew they were being watched. They were using him as a prop.