Chris Kuzneski - The Lost Throne

In reality, Dial knew his involvement with this case was slightly premature. One of Interpol’s bylaws prohibited him from working on any military or religious crimes, which was Interpol’s way of staying politically and philosophically neutral. But as a division chief, he was allowed to use discretion on any homicide with unknown motives, a gray area that he often took advantage of-including a famous case that had involved crucifixions on several continents. That was one of the reasons he had spent so much time talking to Nicolas about the monastic way of life. He needed to determine if this was a crime against the Orthodox faith or something else.

If it was a hate crime, Dial had no choice. He would be forced to step aside.

If not, there was still a major hurdle that he needed to clear if he wanted to stay involved. Dial needed to prove that this case affected multiple member states. Otherwise, it would be considered a domestic issue, and the Greeks could ask him to leave at once.

Strangely, Dial wasn’t the least bit concerned. Experience had taught him to view everything as one piece of the puzzle. And he knew in his gut that something significant was going on, something that transcended religious crimes and crossed foreign borders.

He wasn’t sure about specifics, but he didn’t plan on leaving until he figured it out.

11

Küsendorf, Switzerland (82 miles southeast of Bern)

Clinging to the southern slopes of the Lepontine Alps, Küsendorf is a village of nearly 2,000 people in Ticino, the southernmost canton (or state) in Switzerland. Known for its scenic views and local brand of Swiss cheese, Küsendorf is the home of the Ulster Archives, the finest private collection of documents and antiquities in the world.

Built as a temporary haven for Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, the Archives Building eventually became his permanent residence. During the early 1930s, Ulster, an avid collector of rare artifacts, sensed the political instability in his country and realized there was a good chance that his prized library would be seized by the Nazis. To protect himself and his books, he smuggled his collection across the Swiss border in railcars, hidden under thin layers of brown coal, and kept out of public view until after World War II. He died in 1964 but expressed his thanks to the people of Switzerland by donating his estate to his adopted hometown-provided they kept his collection intact and accessible to the world’s best academic minds.

For the past decade, the Archives had been run by his grandson Petr Ulster, who had been forced to rebuild several floors after religious zealots tried to burn the place to the ground. Their goal was to destroy ancient documents that threatened the foundation of the Catholic Church.

Thankfully, the attack failed, thwarted by two men whom Petr considered heroes.

Jonathon Payne and David Jones.

Ulster heard the ringing of his private line and lumbered across his office to answer it. He was a round man in his early forties with a thick brown beard that covered his multiple chins. Yet he came across as boylike, because of the twinkle in his eye and his enthusiasm for life.

“Hello,” he said with a faint Swiss accent. “This is Petr.”

“Hello, Petr. This is Jon.”

Ulster broke into a broad smile. “Jonathon! How glorious it is to hear your voice. I’ve been thinking of you all day!”

“You have?”

“Indeed I have! Didn’t you get my message?”

Payne furrowed his brow. “What message?”

“The one I left at your home. Isn’t that why you’re calling?”

“Actually, I’m on the road right now. I’m calling because you called my cell phone.”

Ulster nodded. “Don’t be upset with me, Jonathon, but I gave your number to a colleague of mine. He needs to chat with you right away and hasn’t had much luck. That’s why I called-to help you two connect.”

“Why didn’t you leave a message?”

“Because I already left one at your house. You know how I hate redundancy.”

Payne paused, thinking things through.

Everything that Ulster said fit the facts. He was the one who called at 9:14. He had given Payne’s number to the mystery caller. That meant the - er -the syllable that could be heard in the first message-referred to Ulst er . Or Pet r. Either way, that issue was solved.

However, one thing remained unclear. What did the caller want?

“Jonathon, is something wrong? You don’t seem happy with me.” Ulster leaned back in his leather chair, which groaned under his weight. “Did I overstep my bounds by giving out your number? If so, please forgive me.”

“Petr, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Just worried.”

“Worried? About what?”

“Your colleague. What did he want from me?”

“Your advice.”

“My advice ? On what?”

Ulster lowered his voice to a whisper. “Smuggling.”

“Smuggling?” Payne asked, surprised. “What do I know about smuggling?”

“Come now, Jonathon. I know all about your former career, sneaking behind enemy lines and strangling men in their sleep. Remember, I saw you in action when you protected the Archives.”

“ Protecting is much different from smuggling. ”

“Maybe so, but you were the first person I thought of when the topic was broached.”

Payne said nothing, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

“So,” Ulster asked, “did Richard ever get ahold of you?”

“Richard who?”

“Richard Byrd. The colleague we’re discussing.”

“That depends on your definition. Have I talked to him? No. But he’s called me seventeen times in the last twelve hours.”

Ulster laughed. “Stop exaggerating.”

“I wish I were, but I’m quite serious. Seventeen calls and three messages.”

“Good heavens! I had no idea he would be so intrusive.”

“I don’t think intrusive is the right word. More like scared. Byrd is scared about something.”

“Scared? Why would he be scared?”

“You tell me. What was he trying to smuggle? Drugs? Weapons?”

“Weapons? Heavens no! I would never get involved in something like that.”

“Then what? What are we talking about?”

Ulster paused, detecting tension in Payne’s voice. He sounded more serious now than two years ago when the Archives were under attack. “Jonathon, what aren’t you telling me?”

“No, Petr, what aren’t you telling me? If I’m going to keep your friend alive, I need to know everything-starting at the very beginning.”

“Alive? Who said anything about dead?”

Payne took a deep breath, trying to soften his tone. “Your friend did. He sent me a text message that said: This is not a prank. Life or death. Please call at once. ”

“Are you serious?”

“Couple that with all his calls and you can see why I’m concerned.”

“Oh my Lord, I had no idea. I just thought he needed your advice.”

“Unfortunately,” Payne said, “I think he needs more than that.”

“Jon,” Jones whispered, “put him on speakerphone.”

Payne nodded. “Petr, I’m going to put you on speakerphone so D.J. can listen in.”

“Yes, of course. The more help, the better.”

Payne clicked the button and placed the phone on the desk between him and Jones.

“Hey, Petr,” Jones said. “How are you?”

“I was much better five minutes ago. Now I’m worried for Richard.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. But first we need some background info.”

“Whatever you need, just ask.”

“What do you know about him?”

“His name is Richard Byrd. He’s an American collector from California. He’s visited the Archives a number of times during the past few years, spending most of his time with my Greek collection. In return, he loaned us several ancient coins to examine. Lovely items. Just lovely.”