“Yes, I know, and I want you to have friends here, Katrina. But the less this man knows about us, the better! You must break your date with him on Friday. Tell him you’re not feeling well. Do not tell him that you have something else to do that evening. I don’t doubt that he spies on us,” said Joel. “That’s what detectives in this country do. They’re just like the Gestapo!”
Katrina had her instructions. She broke her date off with Quinn. At 10:00 p.m. on the night in question, she departed with the watercolors individually wrapped in parchment paper and the entire bundle of five watercolors was wrapped in a burlap sack and tied. She easily carried them under her arm as she walked. It was late summertime, so there were a fair amount of people out that evening, but she didn’t see anyone she knew as she walked the eight blocks to her destination.
She knew what she had to do. She was to surveil the area of the bridge herself, and if everything appeared clear, leave the package leaning alongside the cement support of the bridge at one end. At the prescribed time, she approached the far side, which was the north side of the bridge. She didn’t hesitate. She laid the bundle up against the inside of the thick cement support of the bridge crossing, according to her instructions, and—not losing a single step—she proceeded to walk down the opposite side of the street where she turned and started her walk home.
Within 45 seconds of the drop, Franz Dietrich had picked up the bundle left by Katrina and was moving away from the area. Nobody noticed him, and no one was the wiser. The drop and pickup went smoothly. Everything in this little operation went off without a hitch.
The watercolors Katrina had dropped off and the secret information hidden within each watercolor would alert the German government of the atomic research being conducted at Project Y, otherwise known as The Hill. To Werner Heisenberg, Kurt Diebner, and other German physicists, this information would be more valuable than pure gold. To J. Robert Oppenheimer and the other scientists working at Los Alamos on research and atomic development efforts, this betrayal and transfer of information to our most dangerous and ruthless enemy was a major breach of security that was hard to measure.
Chapter Lix
By the summer of 1944, it was obvious to most Generals of the German high command that winning the war in Europe was hopeless. On June 6,1944, Operation Overlord, otherwise known as the D-Day landings at Normandy, France, began. This would be a second front opened against an already beleaguered and exhausted German military.
On June 17, 1944, Hitler spoke to Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, one of his top generals at Hitler’s headquarters in Berchtesgaden, Germany. Rommel began, “My Fuhrer, we don’t have the manpower and equipment to contain the British and Americans in Normandy. They’re bringing in thousands of new troops and tons of new supplies every day. It won’t be long before they break out of our defenses around St. Lo and head north into Belgium and eventually into Germany itself,” said Rommel.
“You, you! You are projecting the invasion of our own Fatherland, Field Marshall?” said Hitler. “I should consider this talk as treasonous! The war is far from over! Our scientists and physicists are developing super-weapons of such destruction that will turn the course of this so-called invasion and make the British and Americans tremble in fear before us! Field Marshall, how dare you suggest that the war is lost for our nation! I don’t think I have to remind you of your duty as an Officer of the Reich to fight our enemy with every ounce of strength and purpose you have! What I need from you is to provide our nation with a little more time. I will release 10 tank divisions from the 5th Panzer Corps for you to counterattack with in the Normandy sector. Drive these British and American bastards back into the sea, General Rommel. Just give me a little more time! I will show you military might and weapons never before contemplated on this planet, and with such devastation, that they will bring decisive victory to the Reich! Our nation just asks you to delay and contain the enemy in France. Give us more time…we must have more time!”
Germany however wouldn’t get the time it desperately needed. World War II in Europe was over one year later, in early June 1945. While there is some evidence the Nazis conducted atomic tests several times before war’s end in the eastern province of Thuringia, they were never able to develop and field a functional weapon. Erwin Rommel, widely regarded as one of Germany’s greatest generals ever, was accused of treason against the Reich due to his implicit support of the famous July 20, 1944 assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler. Erwin Rommel took his own life in October of 1944 rather than face trial in a Nazi court and risk the safety of his own family. Hitler himself committed suicide on April 30th of 1945 in Berlin, which was under siege by two Soviet Army groups totaling approximately 2,500,000 soldiers. In early May 1945, Berlin lay in total ruin. The entire German military unconditionally surrendered to the Allies on May 7, 1945. The war with Germany was over.
Chapter Lx
Three people stared at one another in the main room of the Finebaum art gallery later that same night across the Atlantic and more than 3,000 miles away. It was a warm night, but a cloudy haze set in, partially smothering the lights of the Santa Fe Plaza. The effect of the haze created an eerie glow all around. Joel, Katrina, and Quinn just stared at one another for about a minute with no one saying a word. “I like you both…in a strange way you’re like family to me,” said Quinn. “But eventually I will have to report the espionage to our authorities, Joel. I won’t have a choice. This nation is still at war, and you’ve committed a serious crime of treason by passing secret information to our enemy. And you say you want to become an American citizen?” Quinn mused sarcastically.
“They held over 50 members of my family for over seven years,” Joel said in rebuttal. “Lord only knows what has become of them now. If we hadn’t done this, they would have all been killed immediately!”
“Even if you had done everything those brutal fanatics asked of you, Joel, sooner or later your relatives would have suffered the ultimate fate at their hands! You and Katrina are most likely on the list for assassination right now for what you know,” said Quinn. “The Nazis are the biggest group of deranged psychopaths the world has ever seen. I’m sorry, Joel, but your relatives’ fates were decided long before you agreed to help the Nazis out. Look, I don’t know what they’re planning or constructing up on The Hill, but whatever it is…it’s for the war effort and I can’t let you give more information to our enemies again,” Quinn said.
Just then another voice was heard from the back of the gallery. “One of your biggest faults, Quinn, is that you always overestimate your own capabilities! What makes you think you have any control over what happens around here?” It was a voice Quinn had heard almost every day for the past several years, so he recognized it immediately. Ethan Clark stepped out from behind a gallery wall, pointing his Luger 1900 carbine directly at him.
Quinn stared down at the barrel of the pistol and at Ethan. “Don’t you see what’s happening here, Ethan?”
“My dear partner, the more urgent question is what’s going to happen to you?” replied Ethan. “You’re about to be eliminated!” said Ethan calmly.
“What made you flip, Ethan? You were a loyal police detective…and we’re at war,” Quinn asked.
“Without providing an exhaustive explanation…let’s just say it has to do with an awful lot of money partner. And as you know, that’s something I’ve always wanted and desperately needed Quinn…” Ethan replied.
“But this is your country and your government!” said Quinn.
“My government? The government could care less about me, and believe me, it cares even less about you! The government set us up, knowing both of us could easily be killed protecting their decoy who played the role of a professor! Maybe that was their plan four years ago. We were expendable and nobody’s to them. And our boss, Captain Brock Garrett…he was in on it from the start. He knew the whole thing was a farce. He probably told you it was just professional babysitting. I don’t think he ever cared whether we made it
through alive or not. Probably hoped we’d die so there wouldn’t be witnesses to their little scam. Don’t talk to me about my government! Our government kept my mother and father down and in poverty throughout the 20s and 30s when my father couldn’t find work. We handwashed our clothes my mother had made for us, stitch by stitch. We couldn’t afford to buy shoes, so in the summertime my little brother and sister went barefoot. In the wintertime we scoured the railroad tracks hoping to find chips and slivers of coal to heat our apartment because we couldn’t pay our heating bill. Our government hasn’t shown a shred of loyalty to me, my dear friend!” replied Ethan in a raised voice.
“Are you involved in the Degenerate Art scam too? You are The Merchant aren’t you?” asked Quinn.
“What’s happening here Quinn is a carefully conceived and executed logistical plan, partner. I wouldn’t refer to it as a scam,” Ethan replied. “I’m a cog in the wheel with regards to this artwork, and it’s a very real trade. I didn’t create the title of The Merchant! It was given to me. If it wasn’t me ensuring the art was kept safe and secure while it’s in Santa Fe, somebody else would have provided the service. Your friend Marika Kraus tried to interfere.”
“So you’re responsible for everything that’s happened…you? The hourglass shell casings I found in the alleyway and outside El Viajero were from your gun, weren’t they?”
“I did what I had to do,” replied Ethan. “The point had been reached to where Marika Kraus wasn’t useful to us anymore. Then she tried to cut in on my action. That was a big mistake on her part. She became a liability. Also, we couldn’t take a chance on her hooking up with the British Foreign Service, or OSS…excuse the pun,” said Ethan. “And Goran Sebo-it was you who killed him!” Exclaimed Quinn.
“And my little headfirst spill over the mountainside?” asked Quinn.
Ethan pointed his finger at Quinn. “You turned out to be too good a detective for your own good, Quinn! We couldn’t take the chance you’d break the case. The Albuquerque PD made a big mistake. They never should have let you go!”
“Ethan you lecherous traitor!...You’re nothing but a pathetic coward and murderer! You’ll hang or spend the rest of your life behind bars for this!” said Quinn.
“You know, Quinn, I have always liked you. But now you’re getting on my nerves. And now, you’re a liability.”
Ethan pointed his finger at Joel, “Search him. He normally carries a gun in his left breast pocket,” said Ethan.
Joel furtively patted Quinn’s outer jacket, looking for a gun, while Katrina remained off to the side. “I should shoot you right here, but I think we’ll do this in a more civil way,” said Ethan.
“Take his gun,” he ordered Joel. Joel obeyed and found Quinn’s .32 caliber in his breast pocket. Joel reached in and pulled it out.
“Throw the gun off to the side.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chase,” Joel said as he tossed the pistol into the corner of the gallery 20 feet away.
“Let’s take a walk out to the truck in the back alley, Quinn!” Ethan said with a sarcastic smile. “Then we’ll take a little ride.…Move!”
As Quinn began to walk, Ethan kept his Luger trained at the small of Quinn’s back. Suddenly the lights in the gallery went out…all was dark! Katrina had found the main junction switch and flipped it, cutting out all light to the building. Quinn fell to the ground and crawled on his stomach to the far side wall.
“Quinn, you bastard…where the hell are you?” yelled Ethan.
Quinn didn’t say a word, but carefully reached down to his left ankle where his Derringer was holstered. He undid the safety strap and silently pulled the small Derringer out. Joel had now located the electric junction box and flipped the switch back on again. Quinn found cover behind a desk in the corner. He was armed now, but with a small gun that only had two loaded shots.
Ethan couldn’t see Quinn but pointed the Luger in Quinn’s direction.
“Quinn, run!” yelled Katrina. She rushed at Ethan, grabbing his extended shooting arm. A round went off and almost hit Quinn.
“Bitch!” Ethan yelled as he stumbled. Then he backhanded Katrina hard across her face with his pistol. She cried out and fell to the ground, blood streaming from her mouth. Quinn then emerged from behind the large picture and pointed the loaded Derringer at Ethan. The two men faced off 10 feet away from each other in the large gallery room.
“Drop it! It’s over,” yelled Quinn.
Ethan raised his gun again, pointing the loaded 9mm German Luger at Quinn. “It’s just beginning!” yelled Ethan as he pulled the trigger and shot Quinn in his right shoulder. Quinn winced with pain and fell to the ground while squeezing off a round. The small Derringer came loose from his hand and bounced several times across the gallery floor out of Quinn’s reach.
But the .32 caliber bullet from the Derringer struck Ethan below his left knee. Ethan fell to the ground, gripping his knee in pain. “You son-of-a-bitch!” Ethan yelled, obviously in pain. Katrina screamed.
In what seemed like only a second or two, Ethan recovered and stood up on his feet with a pained look on his face; the Luger dangling from his right hand…he pointed the pistol again at Quinn who was still on the ground. “You know, Quinn, you’re so inadequate a foe this almost seems unfair. Well, you didn’t suspect me, so I guess I should show some gratitude. I’ll kill you here instead of making you suffer. Been fun knowing you, rummy!” said Ethan as he started to pull the trigger.
Then a popping noise was heard and Ethan’s facial expression quickly changed. He took on a look of sudden surprise, and his firing arm lowered as he turned slowly to his right. When Ethan had almost completely turned to look behind him, he saw Joel holding Quinn’s .32 caliber; smoke oozing out from the barrel.
Katrina screamed again as she saw a large red blotch expanding on the back of Ethan’s shirt where Joel had shot him. Ethan mumbled something…but he couldn’t get the words out. His body fell forward like a statue tipped from the top. He had a blank expression as he fell to the ground face forward. Ethan Clark took his last breath well before his body hit the ground. The man who was The Merchant, who had controlled this art scam from nearly the start and had eliminated just about everyone who got in his way, had met a similar end.
Now Joel, Katrina, and Quinn just stared at one another in the lobby of the gallery. Quinn spoke first. “You two have to get the hell out of here now…the police will be here soon! I’ll make a story up…I’ll tell them I came upon him trying to steal your art and he pulled a gun on me. He shot me, and then I shot him in self-defense. I’ll deal with the consequences. As to the espionage, Joel,” said Quinn, “both of you must leave Santa Fe. I can wait a few days…maybe a week or so before I have to tell the authorities…but eventually I’ll have to talk.”
“What about us, Quinn?” asked Katrina. “I want to be with you!” she said.
Quinn looked at the ground, and then back at the precious, fragile girl he had come to love. “Katrina you’ll always have a special place in my heart. And we’ll see each other again someday, I promise you that. But you deserve better than to be tied down to a guy like me. I would only cause you problems here. And you can’t stay here now…these people won’t understand and sympathize with you and your uncle. Once they find out, you’ll be arrested…and even though you did it for a good reason—to save your family—you’ll be put in jail for the rest of your lives, shot, or hung. Get on that train headed to the west coast, get on a ship or plane to South America…go anywhere else you’ll be safe. Just live! You can’t do that here now. And your relative up on The Hill…take him with you. Just go!”
“Katrina, he’s right. We must leave now!” Joel said. “How can I ever thank you?” Joel asked, as the tears poured down Katrina’s cheeks.
“You just saved my life,” said Quinn to the frail looking smaller man. “That’s thanks enough. Now there’s very little time. Gather up the belongings and paintings you want. You won’t be able to ever return here! Hurry!” said
Quinn.
“There is one thing,” said Joel. “I want you to keep this as a token of our association over the last several years. It’s a token of my gratitude,” said Joel. “I was going to take this and sell it, Mr. Chase. But as someone who appreciates fine art…I can’t. People gave up their lives for this…I know you’ll appreciate it and take care of it,” he said.
With that, Joel walked over to a large armoire against one of the gallery walls and pressed a hidden button on the side of the furniture. A drawer at the bottom of the armoire popped open. Joel took out what appeared to be a print wrapped in parchment paper and walked over to Quinn. “Open this,” Joel said as he handed the package to Quinn.
Quinn took the 3 by 3, covered canvas and slowly removed the parchment paper. Underneath was a bluish-grey pastel of five young ballerinas moving as they performed their dance at various points of their performance. The painting was a beautiful blend of style, color, grace, and motion. The last name of the artist, “Degas” appeared in the bottom right corner of the painting. “My God!” said Quinn as he stared at the painting. “It’s the Five Dancing Women, by Edgar Degas. What a remarkable piece of artwork. You’ve had it all along!”
Chapter LXi
There was a lengthy investigation into what happened at the Finebaum Gallery that night; and the “un-American” activities of nearly everyone involved. Quinn was placed on suspension for several months and underwent thorough questioning again from Lt. Frank Huff and the FBI. Joel and Katrina escaped after being smuggled as “cargo” onto an ocean liner out of Los Angeles to South America. They made it to the Chilean port of Valparaiso and eventually made their way to the Island of Barbados, off the coast of Venezuela.
Any and all paintings that were smuggled into Santa Fe as Degenerate Art in public buildings, including those still at the Finebaum Gallery and at City Hall, were confiscated by the FBI. But they had no knowledge about the painting Quinn had acquired from Joel; or about those he was about to acquire, care of Marika Kraus.
Searching for Edgar's Five Dancers Page 20
