Treasure

by K. T. Tomb

  “Then there is some info about prospective members being introduced by ‘Godfathers’ and having to complete a probation period before being interred into the society. They rise from the position of squire to knight.

  “Here’s the fun part, though: the last they were heard of was in 1947 in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. There has been no news about any of the members or the society since the post war period. It’s like they just fell off the face of the Earth.”

  Chyna’s plan was already set by the time Sirita stopped speaking.

  “Well, Viva Vilnius everyone!”

  ***

  Vilnius was a beautiful city. Chyna could only marvel at how much wonder one place could present to visitors, and she was feeling it in spades. The very setting of the city screamed culture, which was abundant at every turn and corner that Chyna made and saw.

  There seemed to be an endless number of churches in Vilnius, each of them with a distinct air that commanded a silent respect and awe. It was mainly a medieval town, built around a Town Hall, like most belonging to the era did. The roads in Vilnius were mostly narrow, meandering around palaces that belonged to feudal lords, workshops and cafes. There were small, private courtyards built all over the city, emphasizing its medieval origin.

  As they passed through the older part of town, Chyna couldn’t help but feel an immense joy as she took in the sights and the eclectic mix of architectural styles. There seemed to be hundreds of buildings in Gothic, Baroque and Renaissance styles; producing a heartwarming bouquet of beauty and serenity. The tranquility seemed to be amplified under the quiet sun of summer.

  Although they did not pass through it, Chyna made up her mind to also visit Užupis, a part of town near Old Vilnius which was home to numerous Bohemian artists. The district represented artistic freedom and expression through art, and Chyna could easily imagine losing herself for hours in the colorful maze.

  There were also distinct Jewish and Christian flavors in the melting pot of Vilnius. Chyna knew about the famous rabbi Eliyahu Kremer, whose teachings had had a heavy influence on the Jews in Israel. Although most of the Jewish culture and people were obliterated during the Nazi invasion, the country rebounded and repaired most of its Jewish landmarks.

  Additionally, Vilnius was the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Vilnius, with so many cultural influences; Chyna could see how easy it was for important world religions to coexist here. She was aware of the Lutheran Evangelicals and Baptists, and the distinct Eastern Rite Catholicism presence over the city. As the group neared their destination near the U.S. Embassy to meet their contact, Chyna had a feeling that this adventure was going to be quite eventful.

  “What was the name of this guy again?” Chyna asked Mark, who was traveling with her in a sedan, while Oscar and Sirita followed in another with all their technical equipment.

  “Uh... Emilijus Kuklys; Thyri just confirmed it with me. I don’t know what she’s thinking. From what she told me, this man just seems to have danger written all over him.”

  Mark sighed and shook his head.

  “Why? What’s the big deal?” Chyna asked, concerned and determined not to intentionally put her team in harm’s way so soon after the fiasco in Mexico.

  “Well, apparently, he’s some left-wing radical and his people have been locked in a dispute with right-wing members ever since independence. It’s all very complicated.”

  Mark made circles with his forefinger, indicating a loop.

  “Yeah, I know, but please tell me we are not about to land in the middle of some crazy mafia-political war,” Chyna snorted. If there was one thing she hated more than nepotism, it was politics.

  “Not really, no. I mean, we should be okay. It’s just that things have been quite tense here ever since the Lithuanian National Democratic Party, or LNDP, came into power. They are modern day neo-Nazis, and I think this difference in ideologies is what is causing all the anxiety, with most of the population in Lithuania being Jewish and all.

  “Interestingly, Lithuania had never been big on the whole reviving the Nazi propaganda thing, but ever since the LNDP came into power, there has been a shift in the politics in the country. The left-wing radicals are opposing this rise of power, calling it a violation of the true democratic rights of people. They say the government is supporting the neo-Nazis by letting them organize rallies and gatherings about subjects that are supposed to be sensitive. The most troubled are the Jews, who were the target of atrocities during the Nazi invasion and the Second World War. The government, of course, has denied all such possibilities and happenings, but the fear still remains. That’s why I’m worried. Look at us—we are a team of foreigners, put in direct contact with a leftist radical. What are the right-wing supporters going to think?”

  Chyna did not even want to know. She shook her head at the precarious circumstances they were in, and her straightforward plan had to now be cleverly adjusted in order to accommodate political red tape and the associated nonsense. She tried to lighten the situation by taking a shot at Mark.

  “You know an awful lot about politics.”

  Mark laughed. “Not really, no. I just do my homework.”

  You could be doing a hell of a lot more than that, Chyna thought as her mind wandered back to what Tony had said.

  They were almost at the café in the old town where Emilijus was supposed to meet them, but a commotion in the street made Chyna stop the car and sit up straighter in the driver’s seat. If there was going to be a riot, she wanted to be able to hightail it out of there faster than anybody could say the word ‘run.’

  “What the hell?” Mark shouted right next to her.

  His voice startled her and the next thing she knew, Mark was hopping out of the car and running toward where a crowd of people seemed to be beating someone who was lying on the ground.

  “Mark!” Chyna called out to him and cursed internally when he did not listen. Damn it, she was not letting him sabotage the mission because he was having a sudden urge to play hero. In the end, she decided it was best to follow him into the crowd, which seemed to be thinning out just then. Oscar and Sirita had caught up with Chyna and she instructed them to stay where they were as she ran toward where Mark was probably making a fool out of himself.

  “Leave him alone!” she screamed as she reached the group. “Back off or I will call the authorities!”

  The commotion seemed to pause for a moment as the crowd parted to reveal a one-eyed man who laughed and pointed at her.

  “Child, we are the authority here! Go away! And take this piece of shit tourist with you! This is not your war.”

  One Eye spoke with a slight accent that Chyna knew was characteristic of Lithuanian people, but she thought she also picked up a little accentuation in the hard syllables, like Germans usually had.

  “When a government-certified U.S. official has business with the victim, it is her war.”

  Chyna lied through her teeth, hoping they wouldn’t catch it. Maybe if she fibbed about being a diplomat, they would be less inclined to hurt her and Mark. The logic seemed sound until she saw the look on Mark’s face the moment he heard what she had said. Chyna knew instantly that she had made a mistake, and a huge one at that. But before she could ponder it over, One Eye narrowed his eyes and addressed her.

  “And what does a U.S. diplomat have to do with a Lithuanian Left-wing radical like Emilijus Kuklys?”

  Holy shit.

  Well, at least that explained the look. Chyna had just done the thing she had been most worried about. There was a political war going on in this country, and she had landed smack in the middle of it, not to mention the implications she had just made by lying about being a U.S. diplomat. However, she knew she could not lose her mind just then, the charade would have to ensue until she and Mark—and Emilijus, of course—were safely out of the line of fire.

  “Well, I do believe I have some diplomatic immunity, and I don’t need to cite the rules to thugs like you,” Chyna huffed with as m
uch pride as she could muster. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting with my client. And if anyone tries to harm us, they will have the U.S. government to answer to.”

  With that, she helped Mark pick Emilijus up and they walked back toward their car.

  ***

  Emilijus Kuklys’s house was nothing short of resplendence and opulence; every bit a reflection of Užupis.

  As Chyna could have guessed, Emilijus was clearly an art aficionado. Chyna could identify many originals by famous painters that he said he had collected over the years. In spite of the splendor, Emilijus’s house had a homey feel to it that endeared Chyna to him greatly. He had good food, a warm hearth and, as she found out on their ride over to his house, a generous and lively disposition as well. Despite his status, he was a simple man who loved culture and art; just like the place he lived in reflected, which Chyna noticed was devoid of Internet cafes and big malls.

  Emilijus’s housekeeper, Bertha, had taken over nurse duty since the team had arrived at his house. Chyna and Mark sat huddled around him in his living room as she cleaned his wounds and put the bandages on. Oscar and Sirita had already sought permission and were now setting up a temporary tech camp in one of the rooms.

  “God, look at these wounds,” Bertha murmured in disapproval, and Chyna nodded, agreeing with her completely. It seemed that Chyna and Mark had arrived at just the right time and had saved Emilijus from what would have been a very painful ordeal.

  “Who would do this to you? Who were those men?” Chyna asked Emilijus, all the while eyeing the many places where he was bleeding.

  “They were thugs. They belong to LNDP.” Emilijus’s words elicited heavy sighing from Bertha. “They had come to warn me, I suppose.”

  “Warn you? About what?” Mark asked him as Chyna studied his features.

  Emilijus was in his late forties or early fifties. He was a tall, lean man, with a receding hairline that might have been black once in his life, but was now bordering on completely gray. He had sharp features, and piercing, gray eyes that screamed of honesty and determination. So far, Chyna trusted the way he looked and liked how he carried himself. He was a humble, stoic man, with a sheer strength and quiet fire that burned inside him.

  “I have been writing some things against the government’s neo-Nazi policies lately. I suppose they didn’t like that.”

  It was astounding how easily Emilijus could shrug off whatever had happened to him.

  “That was a very painful way to show you.” Chyna snorted disdainfully.

  “That’s what I am thinking as well,” Emilijus nodded at her, taking Chyna by surprise. “You see the LNDP care too much about their position and privilege. They have already been trying to throw people off the trail about the Nazi theories related to them. They would never sabotage something as important as that by having their thugs assault a radical left-wing member, and a famous one at that.”

  “Maybe they’re only just starting to realize what deep waters they are treading in. They don’t want to drown, so they sent a message,” Mark guessed.

  “No, that’s not possible.” Emilijus shook his head, and Chyna could see that the motion hurt. “You see, the LNDP are not considered extremists. Their behavior does not conform to that pattern. They are only radicals; you know, all bark, no bite. These kinds of things don’t happen over here. They have never resorted to such violence.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything though, right?” Chyna shrugged.

  She was feeling as puzzled about the whole affair as he was, and she couldn’t help but agree with the hidden meaning when she thought about what Mark had said.

  “Yes, or it could be that they targeted only me. That’s a first too, right?” Emilijus looked deep in thought.

  “Well, if that is the case, let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.” Mark sighed as their conversation came to an end.

  ***

  “So tell me about this historian,” Chyna asked Emilijus as she, Mark and Emilijus turned the corner beside a little café and came upon a street lined with beautiful, post-war era houses. They had come a long way from Užupis to the newer, more luxurious part of town. The afternoon was just starting to withdraw and the shadows were starting to get longer. The sedan cruised through the street, right up to the very last house with an exquisite garden out front, on a gorgeous cul-de-sac.

  “Ethan and I have been friends for years. He works at the National Museum of Lithuania, and has been interested in post- and pre-war history for a long time. He came across Karl Wiligut while studying the German army. He’s been following up on him ever since. If there is anyone who can tell you anything about this Ivory Bow, it is he,” Emilijus told them, as they walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell.

  A middle-aged man with green eyes and gleaming white teeth opened the door and engulfed Emilijus in a warm hug. From their demeanor, Chyna guessed that this had to be Ethan Vitrak. He was a short, stout man, with white hair that was long and wiry like a wizard’s. He ushered his guests in, and introductions were made quickly.

  “So, you’re Chyna Stone?! It is so good to finally meet you. I admired your father’s work just as I now admire yours. You are both very talented!” Ethan exulted, and Chyna wondered when his energy would get too much for her.

  “I’m honored, Mr. Vitrak, really. This is my new field investigator, Mark Gunnar. We were wondering if you could tell us something about the Ivory Bow.”

  Chyna did not miss the look Mark gave her when she introduced him only as a colleague and not as a friend. She dismissed it; it was too soon for such familiarities between them.

  “Of course, of course! And please, call me Ethan,” Mr. Vitrak insisted. “If you would please follow me.”

  Ethan led them through his excellently furnished house and into a personal library that was more extensive than any Chyna had ever seen held privately before. It appeared that Ethan was just as much of an art aficionado as Emilijus was; the room was regularly dotted with masterpieces and first editions of novels and books from all over the world. Ethan led them to a small table that had some maps and diaries placed on it. They had all been turned to specific pages so as to find the required information easily.

  “How much do you know about the Ivory Bow, Miss Stone?” Ethan asked her once they had all settled around the table.

  “Chyna, please, and I don’t know much. I only know that it belonged to Christina of Sweden and that she had to sell it to an unknown buyer when she was passing through Denmark during her exile. Wiligut believed it had powers, supposedly magical, that would render its bearer incredibly powerful and the master of the entire world. He and a team of Nazi officers retrieved the bow in 1934 from Denmark, but he passed it on to the Freemasons nine years later because he knew the Nazis would misuse it. It hasn’t been seen since.” Chyna shrugged.

  “Oh, that’s debatable as to whether the Ivory Bow had magical properties or not, but it is true that it was something entirely special. The bow held a place in Christina’s heart, and we are talking about a woman who abdicated her throne for her religion. She had shipped most of her belongings out of her castle before leaving, but she insisted on carrying the bow with her on her journey. No one knows why, but she did.

  “The bow itself was very popular during those days. It was the only one of its kind in the world. Delicate, yet strong, and what perfect aim! You would be proud to wield one like that. Christina, however, was forced to sell it to someone—I think he was a trader or such—when she realized how infamous this particular possession of hers was. She’d heard stories, of course, that people all over coveted it, but once she realized the lengths they would go to procure it, she decided it was better to sell it than continue risking her life to keep it.

  “There’s not much specified about it in history after that. The trader supposedly kept it and passed it on to his sons and grandsons. I think it was during a local feud that they decided to hide it in a cave. I did some research and found th
at the cave where Wiligut found the bow was situated near a cathedral that had later been razed to the ground. I’m guessing the priests guarded the bow for the same reason that its previous owners had.”

  Ethan fumbled through some of his diaries and came to a stop at some of the older ones.

  “This is the diary in which I kept track of the sightings of the bow and its look-alikes during the pre-war period. You’d be surprised at the amount of hokum that some people have claimed. It took a long while to—”

  A loud boom and shaking interrupted the discourse and soon after, all they could hear were the telltale sounds of a fire alarm. Chyna shook her head to dispel the ringing in her ears. In her periphery, she saw Mark bent over Emilijus. What had happened? Had she fallen and hit her head? She looked around again and sure enough, she had.

  There was a jabbing pain in her left arm as she sat up on the floor and looked around the library. It was wrecked. The shelves had been torn down, books had toppled over, there were still pieces of paper in the air gently swaying their way back down to the ground; some of them were on fire. The table where they had been sitting down with Ethan was overturned. Its contents spilled to the floor. Lethargically, she dragged herself up to the huge bay window in the library. The sun seemed to hurt her eyes, but she thought she saw the outline of a chopper in the distance. She spun from the opening and sat on the floor beside it, pulling her SIG Sauer pistol from its holster beneath her jacket.

  When the ringing finally subsided and her eyes regained focus, Chyna looked around. All her senses were on high alert. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest, as she wondered what would happen next.

  “Chyna!” She heard Mark call out to her and point at something just outside the door of the library—flames.

  They had been firebombed. She quickly holstered her weapon.