This was a Nazi. Not a “wannabe,” like others she’d dealt with, but a real Nazi who had saluted Hitler. It gave her the shudders, and she wanted to hate him for it. After all, he admitted to spending time as a concentration camp guard. He deserved to be hated, and more.
But instead, she was actually feeling a tiny bit of affection for the old man, and she didn’t want to.
As her partner and Odbert continued their conversation, Alex looked around the room. There were a few paintings on the oak walls, and several small stone and metal sculptures. Frowning, she stood and approached one, picking it up to look at its base.
“Alex?” It was Teren calling her.
She turned around the sculpture in her hand. “Do you know what this is?”
“Yes,” Odbert answered, “it is a statuette of a woman, carved by an unknown artist of ancient Greece. It is probably between three and four thousand years old.”
“And it was lost during World War II and never recovered.”
“Correct.”
“You have a cache of these, don’t you,” Alex accused. “You’ve had all these items, things that didn’t belong to you, things you should have turned over years ago. Instead you’ve used them to bribe people and pay assassins.”
The old man waited out her short tirade, then shook his head. “You are only partly right. I knew of the existence of the hoard. But it was not mine, and I never saw the treasure itself. Once in a while something would be brought to me, a gift from Helmut. But I never asked him where it was from.”
“Helmut Kirchner?” Teren asked.
“Yes. Josef not only sent money to Switzerland, he diverted a train of treasures that was supposed to go to Berchtesgaden. Instead, it went to an area near the Swiss border. From there, Josef had the items moved to a cave. He moved the cache several times, always keeping the location a secret between himself and his family. Helmut inherited it, unofficially of course. He told Franz Eisenbein of its existence, and the two of them made plans to use the pieces as rewards to people for their allegiance.”
“And that’s how Mather got the chalice that we found.”
“Yes. Treville would call, and request an item. Normally, the call would come to Franz. He would alert Helmut, and the two of them would go to retrieve it. After Helmut’s death, Franz took charge of the collection.”
Alex put the statue down. “And how did Florian Kirchner fit into this? That car accident was faked. He was murdered for some reason. Why?”
“Because he took several pieces of the treasure, and sold them in Zurich. I doubt it would ever have been discovered, or at least not for quite a while. But he took them to the Altbusser Galerie.”
Teren nodded. “And the Altbusser was the place Eisenbein and Treville were using to handle the shipping.”
“Correct. Besides, there were certain items that Treville wanted, but Franz had no intention of parting with. He had the Altbusser make a copy, which would satisfy John. Then the original would be shipped back to Germany.”
“Where is the treasure, Jurgen?” Teren asked.
“I am not positive. I have never been there. However, I have overheard conversations concerning the Baron’s tomb.”
“And what is that?”
“Several miles from here is an old cemetery, the Friedhof der St. Petri Gemeinde. While it was partially damaged during the war, several of the very oldest tombs were left completely intact. There is a tomb of the Baron Von Nievenheim, who died in the early 1800’s. From what I have gathered, Helmut hid the treasure there.”
Teren nodded.
“So, this tomb, nobody from the family is left to tend it? The caretaker doesn’t guard it?”
“No, Miss Reed. The Baron’s family died out a hundred years ago. And if there is a caretaker, I would think that he was well taken care of by Franz and Helmut.” He shifted in his chair again, and grimaced. “I believe that is where the treasure has been hidden, for many years.”
Alex glanced over at her partner. “So, I guess we’re headed to a graveyard tonight, huh?”
“Yep.” She turned back to Odbert. “I asked you earlier about Gerd Heinrich.”
“Yes. I gathered he is a friend of yours.”
“I thought he was, but seeing him here made me wonder. What, exactly did he say?”
“He arrived while Franz was here. We were meeting with several men concerning renovations to the church. When Gerd arrived, Franz dismissed the other men. Then Gerd began asking questions. He wanted to know if we had heard of Werner Hoppe.” He smiled sadly. “I had not heard the name for many years. It was very strange.”
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing. He asked questions. He wanted to know where the church’s money had come from. Franz told him that it came from the charity drives and contributions. Gerd asked why it was in a Swiss account, and Franz denied there was such an account. He asked where Gerd had heard such a lie.”
“And what did Gerd say?”
“He did not answer. Instead, he switched the subject and asked Franz if he was a Nazi.”
“Which Franz denied.”
“Mostly. He admitted that he found Nazi doctrine interesting, but said he had never thought about joining the Nazi party. Which is true, since it hasn’t existed in over fifty years.”
Teren frowned. “It looked like Gerd was arguing with him when they left.”
“I would not have been surprised. Gerd is a good man, who Franz had hoped to eventually recruit to his cause. When Gerd expressed disgust at any and all Nazi principles, I could see that Franz was very upset indeed.”
“I bet.” She breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that Gerd had not betrayed her. Or, at least not entirely.
Alex put a hand on her back, knowing what her partner was thinking. She was glad that Gerd had not proved himself the traitor that Mather had been.
“So,” Teren said, “Is there anything—”
There was a loud yell from another part of the house, and Teren stopped. Her hand immediately went to her gun, and she swore at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Jurgen placed an arm on Teren’s shoulder, and shook his head. He pulled a gun from under the blanket on his lap, and motioned her to get behind the sofa. Both she and Alex did so. Jurgen sat there calmly, his gun in his lap.
The door burst open, and a young man burst into the room, his gun in one hand and a phone in the other.
In German, he asked if the old man was alright, and Jurgen smiled and nodded.
“But the fire needs another log, please.”
Obviously relieved, the guard put down his phone, and tucked his gun into his belt. “Tobias is dead. I found him upstairs with an arrow in his throat. I’ve already called Franz, and he’s on his way here. I’m going to look for Holger in a moment. That bitch might be about to attack.”
“Good.” Jurgen waited until the man finished putting the log on the fire. Then he raised his gun and fired, striking his guard in the back of the head. The body fell forward, knocking over the fire screen.
Teren hopped over the couch and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.
“You must leave. Franz is on his way.Before you do, go into my bedroom. It is the first room in the hall as you come in from the front. If you look under mattress, there is a stack of papers I swiped from Franz’s briefcase. I did not have a chance to look at them, so I don’t know if they will help, but they are yours.”
Teren glanced at Alex, who nodded and moved to go past the chair. She stopped and extended her hand to Odbert.
“My name is Alexia Reis. I’m glad we got the chance to meet.”
The old man’s eyes filled with tears, and he gently took Alex’s hand. “I am Werner Hoppe, and the pleasure has been mine.” He held on for a moment later. “I am sorry for your grandparents, Alexia.” They locked eyes for a moment, then Teren tapped him on the shoulder and offered her own hand.
“I’m Teren Mylos.”
Alex placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder as he and Teren shook hands. She glanced at Teren and left the room.
Teren looked at the old man. “Will you come with us?”
Jurgen shook his head. “I’m sorry. I cannot.”