He punctuated his statement by raising the partition, sealing himself off from the commotion that was sure to follow in the front seat. While his assistant tracked down names and made a series of phone calls to their contacts all over Germany, Mueller could focus on the heart of the matter: Who was Petr Ulster, and what was he doing in Garmisch-Partenkirchen?
Although Mueller was familiar with the Ulster name, he didn’t grasp the scope of the Ulster Archives until he viewed the file that had been sent to his laptop. The comprehensive dossier included videos about its history, newspaper articles on its collections and thousands of pictures of its most famous treasures. Mueller had never cared much about art or artefacts, but that changed when he read the estimated value of the archives was more than a billion dollars. In his opinion, there was no way a man of Ulster’s wealth (or weight) would fly to the nether regions of Bavaria to hike up a mountain unless he had found something extraordinary.
The question was, what?
Mueller spent the next fifteen minutes searching the internet, trying to figure out what Ulster could have discovered that would have been worth his time. Historically speaking, there were a few possibilities in that part of Germany. Partenkirchen originated as the Roman town of Parthanum. It had been founded on the trade route from Rome to Augsburg and was first mentioned in AD 257. Its main street, Ludwigstrasse, followed the original Roman road. More than a millennium later, the town flourished as a way station on a trade route to the Orient.
Perhaps he had located an old settlement? Or a ruin from Ancient Rome?
Or maybe something more recent, like relics from Castle Werdenfels?
Built in 1219 by Otto the Second, Count of Andechs, the once mighty castle was now a ruin. Originally intended to guard a local military road, Werdenfels – which means ‘defence of the rock’ – was turned into a palace of horrors when crop failures led to an outburst of witch hysteria. During the sixteenth century, the castle was used to hold, try and execute those accused of witchcraft. Exact numbers aren’t known, but hundreds were supposedly burned at the stake or garrotted. By the mid-1700s, the castle was such an object of superstitious horror that most of it was torn down to prevent devil worship and occult practices.
Then again, things of that nature seemed to be beneath the lofty standards of the Ulster Archives – unless Ulster was trying to impress the Twilight crowd.
While searching for other possibilities, Mueller heard a beep on the car’s intercom system. It meant someone in the front seat wanted to talk. He pushed the button to reply. ‘What is it?’
‘I have news about Krueger.’
Mueller lowered the partition. ‘Yes?’
His assistant spoke. ‘One of our police contacts in Munich just called. So far the authorities in Garmisch-Partenkirchen have identified two of the shooting victims. Neither one was Krueger, but both have significance to us.’
‘In what sense?’
‘One of the men was connected to Krueger.’
‘How so?’
‘He was listed as a known associate.’
‘Part of his local crew?’
The assistant shook his head. ‘They served together in the Tenth Armoured Division. When the victim – his name was Krause – was accused of armed robbery, Krueger gave him an alibi. The cops found it suspicious and noted it in their files.’
‘This Krause, where was he found?’
‘He was shot at the ski stadium.’
‘Not on the mountain?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Any witnesses?’
‘Our contact doesn’t know. He’s still trying to find out.’
Mueller nodded. ‘What about the other victim? Another friend of Krueger’s?’
‘I hope not, sir.’
Mueller glared at him. He wasn’t in the mood for games. ‘What does that mean?’
The assistant gulped. ‘Sorry, sir. As far as we know, he’s not connected to Krueger. The guy’s name was Collins. He was found on a hiking trail above the Partnach Gorge. According to several witnesses, a small caravan of soldiers was ambushed at an intersection. Collins was one of the casualties.’
‘Collins was a soldier?’
‘No, sir. He was a criminal dressed in camouflage.’
‘Camouflage? What was he doing?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘What kind of criminal?’
‘Collins was a hired thug.’
Mueller stroked his chin. ‘But he didn’t work for Krueger?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Can we connect him to Ulster?’
‘No, sir, we can’t. But we can connect him to someone else.’
‘Who?’
‘According to our source, Collins worked for Kaiser.’
Fuelled by a wave of anger, Mueller cursed for the next ten seconds. No one made his blood boil like Kaiser. More than competitors, they were rivals. Bitter, bloodthirsty rivals. In the world of smuggling, Kaiser was the old guard and Mueller was the new. As long as both were alive, neither could feel safe. ‘Collins worked for Kaiser? Was Kaiser there?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘That’s not good enough!’ he shouted. ‘We need to know if Kaiser was there!’
The assistant nodded. ‘Sir, our source is checking. Unfortunately, the local police are overwhelmed at the moment. In addition to the shootout, there was a major fire on one of the mountains. Right now they’re stretched pretty thin.’
‘A fire? What kind of fire? Was it connected to the shootings?’
‘I don’t know, sir. Our source doesn’t know.’
Mueller swore some more, this time in multiple languages. Something major was going on in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and he was on the outside looking in. Unfortunately, because of the increased police presence in the region, he couldn’t risk a visit himself. Instead, he’d have to work his network of contacts from his office in Berlin to find out what was going on.
If Kaiser and Ulster had a connection, he would find it.
And then he would sever it.
54
Tuesday, 21 September
Linderhof, Germany
(55 miles south-west of Munich)
Linderhof Palace is located six miles west of the village of Ettal, not far from Ettal Abbey, a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery that used to be a popular pilgrimage stop. From the window of Ulster’s chopper, Payne and Jones could see the abbey’s towering baroque dome in the distance. Covered in dew, it glistened in the early-morning sun.
Following Heidi’s instructions, Baptiste landed the chopper in a large clearing on the east side of the Linderhof grounds. The gates didn’t officially open until 9 a.m., but Heidi had called one of her friends on the security staff, who had given her permission to come an hour early since she had worked there for two years and was employed by the Bavarian Palace Department. The guard greeted her with a hug, then handed her the keys to a four-person golf cart parked nearby. Normally used to ferry elderly people around the spacious grounds, the cart would save them a lot of travel time as they made their way to the north end of the park.
Heidi and Ulster sat in the front seat while Payne and Jones sat in the back. As she drove, she provided some background information on the castle. ‘Ludwig was fascinated by the Palace of Versailles in France and copied many of its interior features, including the main staircase and the master bedroom. The exterior of the castle resembles Petit Trianon, a small chateau in the grounds of Versailles that was given to Marie Antoinette by King Louis XVI.’
She followed a narrow, stone path through a thick grove of trees. When they emerged on the far side, they caught a quick glimpse of the castle, which was built at the bottom of a gently sloping valley. Much smaller than Payne had imagined, the marble building was less than 100 feet in length. It was surrounded by several fountains, including one that shot water over seventy feet in the air. He was about to ask a question about the golden statue in its centre, but before he had a chance, Heidi turned to the right and started driving north.