Berry, Steve - the Amber Room

She surveyed him up and down. "Rough night, Christian?"

"I'm not in the mood."

She plopped on the bed, cocking one leg in the air, the crotch of her jeans exposed.

"For that, either," he said. His groin still ached from Danzer's kicks, though he was not about to tell her that.

"Why was it necessary that I drive here to meet you?" she asked. "And why can't Father be involved?"

He told Monika what happened in the abbey, about Grumer, and the chase through Stod. He left out the final street confrontation and said, "Danzer got away before I could reach her, but she mentioned the Amber Room. She said the chamber in that mountain was where Hitler hid the panels in 1945."

"You believe her?"

He'd considered that point all day. "I do."

"Why didn't you go after her?"

"No need. She's headed back to Castle Loukov."

"How do you know that?"

"Years of sparring."

"Loring called again yesterday morning. Father did as you asked and told him we hadn't heard from you."

"Which explains why Danzer so openly traipsed around Stod."

She was studying him closely. "What are you thinking of doing?"

"I want permission to invade Castle Loukov. I want to go into Loring's preserve."

"You know what Father would say."

Yes, he did. Club rules expressly forbade one member from invading the privacy of another. After an unveiling, the whereabouts of any acquisition was nobody's business. The glue that bound their collective secrecy was the mere knowledge of acquisition that all nine possessed on each other. Club rules also forbade revelations of sources unless the acquiring member desired to say. That secrecy protected not only the member but the Acquisitor, as well, assuring that cultivated information could be harvested again without interference. Privacy was the key to their entire union, a way for similar men of similar interests to exact similar pleasure. The sanctity of their individual estates was an inviolate rule, any breach of which required instant expulsion.

"What's the matter?" he said. "No nerve? Are you not now in charge?"

"I have to know why, Christian."

"This is way beyond a simple acquisition. Loring has already violated club rules by having Danzer try to kill me. More than once, I might add. I want to know why, and I believe the answer is in Volary."

He hoped he'd gauged her correctly. Monika was proud and arrogant. She'd clearly resented her father's usurpation yesterday. That anger should cloud her better judgment, and she didn't disappoint him.

"Fucking right. I want to know what that bitch and old fart are doing, too. Father thinks we're imagining all this, that there was some sort of misunderstanding. He wanted to talk to Loring, tell him the truth, but I talked him out of it. I agree. Do it."

He saw the hungry look in her eye. To her, competition was an aphrodisiac.

"I'm heading there today. I suggest no more contact until I'm in and out. I'm even willing to accept the blame, if caught. I was acting on my own, and you know nothing."

Monika grinned. "How noble, my knight. Now come over here and show me how much you missed me."

Paul watched Fritz Pannik stroll into the garni's dining room and walk straight to the table he and Rachel occupied. The inspector sat down and told them what he knew so far.

"We have checked the hotels and learned that a man matching Knoll's description was registered across the street in the Christinenhof. A woman matching the description of this Suzanne was registered a few doors down at the Gebler."

"You know anything more about Knoll?" Paul asked.

Pannik shook his head. "Unfortunately, he is an enigma. Interpol has nothing in their files, and without fingerprint identification there is no realistic way to learn more. We know nothing of his background, or even where he resides. The mention of an apartment in Vienna to Frau Cutler was certainly false. To be safe, I checked the information. But nothing suggests Knoll lives in Austria."

"He must have a passport," Rachel said.

"Several probably, and all under assumed names. A man such as this would not register his true identity with any government."

"And the woman?" Rachel asked.

"We know even less about her. The crime scene for Chapaev was clean. He died of nine-millimeter wounds from close range. That suggests a certain callousness."

He told Pannik about the Retrievers of Lost Antiquities and Grumer's theory about Knoll and the woman.

"I have never heard of such an organization, but will make inquiries. The name Loring, though, is familiar. His foundries produce the best small arms in Europe. He also is a major steel producer. One of the leading industrialists in Eastern Europe."

"We're going to see Ernst Loring," Rachel said.

Pannik cocked his head in her direction. "And the purpose of the visit?"

She told him what McKoy said about Rafal Dolinski and the Amber Room. "McKoy thinks he knows something about the panels, maybe about my father, Chapaev, and--"

"Herr Cutler's parents?" Pannik asked.

"Maybe," Paul said.

"Forgive me, but don't you believe that this matter should be handled by the proper authorities? The risks appear to be escalating."

"Life's full of risks," Paul said.

"Some are worth taking. Some are foolish."

"We think it's worth taking," Rachel said.

"The Czech police are not the most cooperative," Pannik said. "I would assume that Loring has enough contacts in the justice ministry to make any official inquiry difficult at the least. Though the Czech Republic is no longer Communist, remnants of secrecy remain. Our department finds official information requests are many times delayed beyond what we consider reasonable."

"You want us to be your eyes and ears?" Rachel said.

"The thought did occur to me. You are private citizens on a purely personal mission. If you happen to learn enough for me to institute official action, then so much the better."

He had to say, "I thought we were taking too many risks."

Pannik's eyes were cold. "You are, Herr Cutler."

Suzanne stood on the balcony that jutted from her bedchamber. A late afternoon sun burned blood orange and gently warmed her skin. She felt safe and alive at Castle Loukov. The estate spread for miles, once the domain of Bohemian princes, the surrounding woods game preserves, all the deer and boar exclusively for the ruling class. Villages also once dotted the forests, places where quarrymen, masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths lived while working on the castle. It took two hundred years to finish the walls and less than an hour for the Allies to bomb them to rubble. But the Loring family rebuilt, this latest incarnation every bit as magnificent as the original.

She stared out over the rustling treetops, her lofty perch facing southeast, a light breeze refreshing her. The villages were all gone, replaced by isolated houses and cottages, residences where generations of Loring's staff had lived. Housing had always been provided for stewards, gardeners, maids, cooks, and chauffeurs. About fifty all total, the families perpetually residing on the estate, their children simply inheriting the jobs. The Lorings were generous and loyal to their help--the life beyond Castle Loukov was generally brutal--so it was easy to see why employees served for life.

Her father had been one of those people, a dedicated art historian with an untamable streak. He became Ernst Loring's second Acquisitor a year before she was born. Her mother died suddenly when she was three. Both Loring and her father spoke of her mother often, and always in glowing terms. She'd apparently been a lovely lady. While her father traveled the world acquiring, her mother tutored Loring's two sons. They were much older, she'd never really been close with either, and by the time she was a teenager they were gone to university. Neither returned to Castle Loukov much. Neither knew anything of the club, or of what their father did. That was a secret only she and her benefactor shared.