Chris Kuzneski - The Secret Crown

‘Hurry up,’ Payne urged. ‘It’s getting darker by the minute.’

‘Trust me, Jon, it doesn’t matter. It’s like a black hole down there.’

‘Speaking of black a-holes, what are you waiting for?’

Jones smiled. ‘I’m waiting for the ladder to settle.’

Payne rolled his eyes. ‘And you wonder why I normally go first.’

‘You know, if I were you, I’d want to stay on my good side.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I’ll be invisible in the dark.’

‘Great! We can play Marco Polo without closing our eyes,’ Payne teased, referring to the children’s game. ‘Now hurry the fuck up and climb down the ladder.’

Jones laughed as he started his descent. When he reached the bottom, he pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on. Thirty seconds later, Payne was standing next to him, doing the same thing. Suddenly the room around them came into view.

At first glance, nothing about it seemed remarkable. Eleven feet long and twenty feet wide, the chamber’s walls and floor were made of white concrete. Over the years, cracks had formed in two of the walls, allowing moisture to seep in. The tiny fissures were surrounded by patches of lime-green mildew that appeared to move in the light like something from science fiction or something from outer space. On closer examination, Jones realized it was simply an optical illusion – light refracting off different surfaces – yet the effect was still creepy.

‘Take a look at this,’ Payne said from the other side of the room.

Jones whirled and spotted him behind the scaffolding. He was crouched down, examining a large object wrapped in a plastic sheet. ‘What is it?’

‘The murder weapon.’

‘The what?’ Jones asked, confused. A few steps later, he saw the face of the dead boar pressed against the plastic, its bloodstained tusks poking through. ‘Holy balls! Look at that thing. It’s huge!’

‘It’s the biggest boar I’ve ever seen.’

Jones knelt next to it and patted its side. Even though it was wrapped in plastic, the scent of death lingered in the air. Grabbing one of its tusks, he said, ‘This little piggy had roast beef.’

Payne smiled. ‘No wonder the other piggy had none. This one ate the whole cow.’

Jones laughed. ‘Hey Kaiser, is this why we’re here? To see the nursery rhyme pig? If so, we’re a little late. No way Hogzilla is going to market. He’s a little too ripe.’

‘Actually,’ Kaiser said from the far corner, ‘I brought you down here for this.’

Payne stood. ‘For what?’

‘For the other room.’

Jones stood, too. ‘There’s another room?’

Kaiser nodded, and then twisted a small handle in the wall. Made of metal, the recessed lever had been painted white to conceal its existence. Intrigued, Payne and Jones shone their lights in the corner and watched in amazement as a door suddenly appeared in the concrete.

One moment, it looked solid. The next, there was a slight opening.

‘How’d we miss that?’ Jones whispered.

Payne shrugged and walked forward to examine it.

In a brightly lit space, the doorway would have been easy to spot. But years of dirt and mildew, coupled with the gloom of the underground lair, had obscured its presence. Not only to Payne and Jones, but to Kaiser, too. On his first visit, it had taken him an hour to notice it.

Kaiser said, ‘I’m pretty sure this back room was a bomb shelter.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Payne asked.

‘Feel this sucker. It’s solid concrete. Doors like this are built for two reasons: safes and shelters. And since there isn’t a lock, I’m guessing it’s not a safe.’

Payne knocked on the door, impressed. ‘What’s back there?’

‘A tunnel, then a room.’

Payne glanced at the ladder to get his bearings. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, the tunnel goes underneath the rock face. That’s the best place to build a bunker. Use the mountain instead of concrete. Much cheaper that way.’

Kaiser leaned against the door, but it barely budged. ‘If you don’t mind, can you give me a hand? This thing weighs a ton.’

‘No problem. I like helping the elderly.’

Payne smiled and pushed the door with all his strength. Slowly but surely, it swung open from left to right until it crashed into the tunnel wall behind it. Made of concrete and painted the same colour as the first chamber, the arched corridor was nearly six feet wide and seven feet high, and it stretched twenty-two feet into the mountain. At the far end of the passageway, there was another thick door. In between, there was nothing but concrete and empty space.

No lights. No signs. No markings of any kind.

‘Thanks,’ Jones said as he slipped past Payne. ‘I knew we brought you for a reason.’

‘Please, after you,’ he mumbled sarcastically. ‘Really, I insist.’

Jones grinned in the dark as he took the lead. Guided by his flashlight, he studied the tunnel’s construction as he moved towards the back room. ‘Notice anything about the walls?’

‘Not really,’ Payne said. ‘Then again, you’re blocking my view.’

Jones answered his own query. ‘They’re spotless. No mildew or cracks of any kind. Whoever built this section did a much better job. Then again, that makes sense if the next room is a bomb shelter – although I’m beginning to have some doubts.’

‘Why’s that?’ Kaiser asked from the rear.

‘As far as I can tell, there’s no ventilation.’

Kaiser nodded. ‘Actually, you’re right. Not a single vent anywhere. I checked.’

Payne stopped and shone his flashlight at Kaiser. ‘No vents? There has to be vents. No vents mean no air. No air means no people. Why build a bunker that can’t hold people?’

Kaiser smiled cryptically. ‘You’re about to find out.’

9

Mitte District

Berlin, Germany

Hans Mueller grabbed the sharpest knife he could find and plunged it into the sausage. It hissed when its skin was pierced, grease oozing like lava onto the hot grill.

Watching closely, the man across the kitchen winced.

He knew this was a message, not a meal.

Born in India but a recent resident of Berlin, Asif Kapur had been invited to dinner through unconventional means. Two thugs had kicked in his front door and dragged him out of his shower. At first, he had screamed and tried to fight back, but a swift kick to his groin and several layers of duct tape round his hands and mouth had put an end to that. Dripping wet and completely naked, Kapur had been thrown into the trunk of a Mercedes and driven round the city for more than an hour. By the time they were done, he was shivering with fear.

That’s when he was delivered to the restaurant.

Recently purchased by Mueller as a way to launder money, the complex was still being renovated. Over the past few decades, the entire neighbourhood had received an extensive facelift. Formerly a part of East Berlin, the borough of Mitte had been surrounded by the Berlin Wall on three sides. Although there had been some crossing points between East and West Berlin during the Cold War – the most famous being Checkpoint Charlie – Mitte hadn’t been a popular tourist destination until the wall came tumbling down in 1989. Since then, the area had experienced a renaissance. Galleries had been built, cafes opened, derelict houses destroyed. After so many years of being an embarrassment, Mitte has re-established itself as the heart of Berlin.

And Mueller hoped to take advantage of the influx of visitors.

‘Tell me,’ he said without turning away from the grill, ‘do you know who I am?’

Kapur, still naked but no longer gagged, nodded in fear. ‘Yes, sir.’

Mueller stabbed another sausage with the tip of the knife. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’