The Amber Secret

by David Leadbeater

  Gurka stopped beside his left elbow. “You run, or you try anything—your blondie and the Italian’s family die badly. Got it?”

  Bodie nodded and cast around for Lucie. She was nowhere to be seen, probably still inside the gray van. The other visible members of R24, Nina and Vash, ordered mercs to check the surrounding area. Bodie saw them hide their weapons away and saunter off, trying to look casual in the bright morning light.

  “Expecting trouble?” Heidi asked, a natural instinct for the CIA agent.

  “My whole life,” Gurka answered. “Now move, Caruso. Where are these cellars?”

  The Italian moved off without a word, followed by the relic hunters, R24, and six mercs. Nobody spoke. The mercenaries broke away, pretending to be separate from the group, holding small handguns beneath their coats. Bodie found a moment to walk alongside his old boss, Jack Pantera.

  “Thoughts?” Bodie knew they wouldn’t get much time to speak.

  “Follow the trail. A chance will come.”

  “The big issue is Caruso’s family.”

  “Agreed.”

  Even if they fought and defeated the mercs, even if they freed Lucie, even if they beat R24—nobody knew where the Italian’s family was being kept.

  “Gotta extract that information from them,” Bodie said.

  “Or trade . . .” Pantera smoothed his bald head, where sweat was already starting to glisten as the sun rose higher. Bodie saw his nod toward the general area where the members of R24 were gathered around Caruso. Pantera meant to capture one of the group members. Not a terrible idea.

  “You okay?” Bodie glanced at some of the cuts and bruises that studded Pantera’s scalp.

  “Yeah, it’s all superficial. I know it’s hard, mate, but you gotta let Cross go for now. We can talk and mourn later.”

  Bodie knew his old mentor wanted to help him, to ease his way through the pain. “I know. I’m trying.”

  Right then, they reached Caruso’s side. Heidi and the others were listening to the Italian.

  “Before its destruction, all the castle’s works of art, from simple ornaments to great masterpieces, were removed and relocated. Once that task was complete, it left only the structure and items considered worthless. Of course, what is worth little today may be worth a great deal tomorrow, so rather than raze it all, the curators moved what they could to the cellars. It’s a vast space down there and full of unwanted, humdrum old junk for the most part. But if you take your time . . .”

  “What?” Gurka betrayed impatience. Bodie gathered that he didn’t like being this exposed.

  It was Heidi, though, who voiced the man’s fears. “Scared of someone recognizing that ugly face from a wanted list?”

  Gurka peered at her. “Careful, Miss CIA. We don’t need all of you.”

  Cassidy took a step to his side. “Same goes for you, Ponytail. You hurt one of us, you’d best be ready to take down all of us.”

  Bodie gave Gurka the eye until the scar-faced leader deliberately turned his back on them. To Caruso, he said, “Get on with it.”

  “Every sconce, every fixture, every engraved floor tile was removed and packaged. Also,” Caruso said, “every stained glass window.”

  “That makes sense,” Pantera said. “No point destroying the glass if they didn’t have to. Plus, they could use it elsewhere.”

  Caruso nodded. “They did, some of it. The rest is still here. I think I spent a day and a half combing through it.”

  “You remember your history very well,” Gurka growled. “But real life is a problem for you?”

  “Sometimes,” Yasmine said, “real life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “We don’t have a day and a half to look,” Nina pointed out, coming up from another direction, looking broad shouldered and well muscled in her tight-fitting coat. She and Cassidy could have been sisters. “Can you remember anything?”

  “Get me down there,” Caruso said. “It might come back.”

  Bodie noticed that Nina had the key to a padlock clasped in her hand. Now, as he stared harder, he saw Dudyk behind her, a twisted smile on his lips. He tracked the direction from which they’d come and saw a low building with a white facade at the far end of the open area.

  What had they done?

  Before he could ask, Nina unlocked a door and pushed Caruso through the opening. It took a few moments for everyone to file inside. Bodie followed Gurka into a wide, low room, where Caruso flicked a switch.

  “This”—he indicated a door—“takes us to the storage areas.” Caruso seemed entirely coherent now that they were following the treasure trail.

  The Italian led the way. The cellars were cool, smelling of damp and old things. Uncounted footsteps echoed from wall to wall. Bodie saw a wide-open space stretching into the darkness and a ceiling about eight feet in height, lending the area a claustrophobic atmosphere.

  Countless crates stood near the center, away from the walls, many covered with decades-old sheets, mildewed and partly eaten; others were exposed and with their lids ajar. Still more, Bodie noticed, had their sides burst open or their lids hanging askew, smashed. Caruso passed through the wooden boxes carefully, threading his way to the back of the stacks.

  “I remember this.” He kicked an empty bottle of Southern Cross vodka to one side and eyed the closest crate. “This one looks promising.”

  Bodie shared a glance with Heidi. Could they really trust this guy? Dudyk and Vash removed the crate’s lid, which was already awry, and shone a flashlight inside.

  “Stained glass,” they reported.

  “Told you,” Caruso said, apparently pleased with himself. “Didn’t I tell you? Take me to the scene, and everything returns. The glass pane you’re looking for is in the pile to the left. I placed it third down and wrapped the whole pile carefully in a sheet.”

  Bodie watched as all five members of R24 worked together, lifting the glass out of the crate and placing it gently on the floor. It was Nina who unwrapped it and Gurka who removed the top two panes.

  Then Caruso knelt at the man’s side as though they were old friends. “Look,” he said. “Just look at the picture and tell me what you see.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “See the date?” Caruso pointed a grubby finger at the edge of the pane. “That’s when the panel was fitted. Twentieth April 1945. That’s weeks or maybe months after the Amber Room left Königsberg. Do you see now? This is the start of the journey. The Amber Room’s journey. And now we can follow.”

  Bodie squinted at the pane of glass, craning his neck so that reflections didn’t ruin his view. The image itself covered about two-thirds of the pane. It was mostly black with deep-red highlights and depicted the Amber Room in situ at the castle itself.

  “See?” Caruso said. “This is the last authentic representation of the room. Maybe this alone would be worth my family to you?” He looked hopefully at Gurka.

  “Don’t be foolish. Anything else and I’ll bring you one of your wife’s fingers.”

  Bodie knew Caruso was clutching at straws but didn’t blame him. “Above the room is a separate picture depicting a mountain range,” Caruso went on. “The word written above it in Russian translates to ‘Tatra.’ The third image, the church at the side, is very striking. Do you see how the steeple is shaped? The oblong windows? The door? All of these features are picked out in red because, I assume, they define a particular church in the Tatras.” He broke off, suddenly staring around as if seeking a lost friend.

  Bodie watched, still unsure if the man was acting. It now occurred to Bodie that Caruso became lucid whenever the mission required it or a choice presented itself. Relic hunting made him come alive; it made all the rusty, decaying synapses in his brain start to sing. In a way, that reminded Bodie of himself. It was the job and the promise of the job that made Bodie come alive too.

  “The Tatra Mountains,” Nina was saying as she squinted at the glass, “are some distance from here. They form a natural border between Slovakia
and Poland. It’s certainly not impossible that a train could have made its way there between January and September 1945, when the war ended. But are you sure about this, Caruso?”

  “It is the clue I found and followed,” the Italian said simply. “I remember.”

  “He’s re-creating his journey,” Yasmine said. “It’s actually a good technique for those in search of answers to feelings of hatred, love, and grief. It’s also a coping mechanism. He’s remembering the journey when he reaches the start.”

  Bodie wondered if she’d attempted that internally to deal with her emotions regarding Cross. He wondered if he should try, but when he tried to recall the good times he’d had with the master thief, he kept coming back around to the Forever Gang. Somehow, he related Cross to them, and Bodie thought it was all about losing family.

  “We will need provisions,” Gurka said. “And much more equipment. If we’re headed into those mountains, we will need everything we can carry.”

  “You know them?” Nina asked him, her Russian accent thick.

  “No, but I have heard stories.” Gurka shook his head slightly as if warning her to leave it alone. “Of death. Of beasts. Even monsters. Of ghosts and unexplained disappearances. I have always tried to avoid them.”

  “Sounds like my kind of fun fair,” Dudyk said, grinning.

  “It is not a place to be at night,” Gurka said.

  Bodie tried to catch Caruso’s eye, seeking any sign, but the Italian only stared into space as if desperately trying to determine the future.

  “Let’s get started,” Gurka said. “I want to be on the road today.”

  The journey to the mountains was long and cramped. Again, they were separated and forced into three different vans. This time, the rear cargo holds were not only loaded with people—they were full of provisions too. Not just food, Bodie noticed. There were tents and sleeping bags, cold-weather gear, and a host of other items.

  “Expecting a tough journey?” he asked Gurka as they set out.

  “It won’t be easy.” The leader of R24 surprised Bodie by answering honestly. “If we are prepared”—the man spread his arms—“some of you may even live.”

  Bodie sat back, breaking eye contact, unsure now if the relic smuggler was being genuine. “That’s right,” Gurka told him. “Relax. Do nothing that will make me hurt you. This will be a long ride.”

  As the first hour yawned slowly into the second, Bodie shifted, stretching muscles and relieving tension. Pantera and Heidi were perched on the wooden bench to either side of him, their spines occasionally striking the van’s metal side. Pantera looked queasy, and Bodie himself felt travel sickness coming on. With no recourse, he tried to take his mind off the journey.

  The Forever Gang was the greatest part of Bodie’s childhood, the glorious fragment before his parents had died and everything had changed. The first time he’d raised a fist in anger had been in defense of the Forever Gang. It had been one of those crisp but foggy, warm but rainy Southern England days, a day when good sense dictated that the five friends should have stayed indoors, but the day when their bond of comradeship had been cemented forever.

  They found shelter from the frequent downpours under an old railway bridge, sitting on the rough slope beneath and listening to the trains thunder overhead, bound for some distant location in the north. It took a while to get dry, to shake and smooth the water out of clothes and hair, but nonstop excited conversation took their minds off any form of misery. Darcey was the feisty one, retelling a tale of a school incident and how she’d stood up to the resident bully. Bodie admired her for it, loved her for it, and only wished he’d been around to help. Darcey had taken a blow to the kidneys, but she hadn’t backed down.

  Brian started teaching her how to fight, how to punch, though he had no real clue. The constant drenching rain turned into an endless fine mist falling on either side of their timeworn shelter. A scraping of blue appeared overhead. The Forever Gang was so wrapped up in their friendship that the first they knew they weren’t alone was when three large youths came sliding down the concrete slope to their right.

  Bodie knew immediately that they were trouble.

  You could see it in their expressions, in their body language. They were wet, miserable, and clearly in need of distraction. Bodie walked over to his friends, who had already crowded together as if sensing safety might lie in friendship and numbers.

  “Look at this.” One of the youths spat on the ground and puffed out his chest. “A toddler party in our lair. Which one of you arranged that?”

  The other two laughed loudly and swore. Bodie detected the nastiness in their tones and suddenly felt a long way from home, from his parents. It was the first time in his life that he understood the incredible safety net they cast over him every day, every night, and craved it.

  “They look scared.” The ringleader sniggered. “Don’t they look scared?”

  “Like babies,” one grunted.

  “Like—” the third began.

  He never finished. At that moment little Darcey took a step forward. “Go away!” she shouted. “Just go away and leave us alone!”

  If her spirit had been a visceral force, the three youths would have started running and not stopped until they reached home. Darcey’s face was heated, her voice strong. There was a fire in her eyes that both galvanized and scared Bodie. He was the first to step to her shoulder, backing her, closely followed by Brian, Jim, and Scott.

  “Go away!” Darcey shouted again.

  The lead youth stared for a few moments, clearly struggling with a decision. Bodie could easily guess what it was. This was one of those life-altering moments—either you backed away, took the hit, and lost the respect of your friends, or you ventured ahead and risked it all. For this youth, it was a hard decision.

  “What you doing, Egzo?” one of his mates asked. “You scared of her?”

  It was this prompt that pushed him into action, the challenge his friend laid down. The youth didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and pushed Darcey. She staggered backward, losing her balance. Bodie ran to her aid but failed to catch her before she landed on her tailbone and cried out in pain. Brian, Jim, and Scott closed ranks before Egzo, stopping him from advancing on her.

  “Why would you do that?” Bodie cried out. “Why?”

  Egzo looked unsure, but then one of his friends lashed out, slapping Brian across the face. Bodie reached out to help a shaken-looking Darcey to her feet. Scott backed away, unsure. The older youths saw that as a sign of weakness and came forward. They slapped and pushed the boys aside.

  Only Bodie now stood between them and Darcey.

  “Not so brave now,” Egzo sneered at the small girl.

  Bodie was vaguely aware that this was a life-changing moment. Before the three boys, he bunched his fists as he’d seen the bigger boys do. He stood up to them.

  “Please leave us alone,” he said.

  They came at him. One punched him on the shoulder, giving him a dead arm. Another flicked out an open hand, connecting with his right temple. Egzo pushed out again, but Bodie was ready. He stood, put his head down to protect it, and flailed out. One punch caught Egzo in the face, making him yell. Another made one of the youths gasp. Bodie saw him holding his nose. Bodie was breathing heavily. Blood ran from his nose into his mouth, the metallic taste nauseating. He sensed a pause and stepped back. Darcey held on to his shoulder.

  At that moment Brian, Jim, and Scott came in, using their considerably smaller bodies to push the youths aside. They surrounded Bodie and Darcey.

  Egzo held up a bloody hand. At first, Bodie prepared for an all-out attack, but then he realized Egzo was trying to catch the attention of one of his friends.

  “Stop,” Egzo said. “Grimes. Grimes!”

  And Bodie saw something for the first time. Back then, he didn’t recognize it—just realized that this youth, this Grimes, looked “batshit crazy.” Later, looking back, he would know that Grimes had murder in his eyes. Grimes wanted t
o mess them up badly. Only Egzo’s voice stopped him.

  “Grimes,” Egzo said. “This is enough.”

  Blood had been spilled on both sides. Egzo gave all of them, but especially Darcey, a respectful salute and just walked away. After a moment, Grimes and the other youth walked after him.

  The Forever Gang had used the rain to clean their faces as best they could; they’d talked continuously to allow pent-up emotion—anger, anxiety, and fear—to bleed away. They’d stayed close; they’d held each other; they’d used the whole nightmare experience to strengthen the bonds of their friendship.

  There was nothing they couldn’t face together.

  Family is a sense of belonging. Bodie used the motto to this very day—but it had started right then. Bodie had gone home smiling that day, despite the blood. The union that the Forever Gang had made was worth the pain.

  “Where’d you go, pal?” Jack Pantera interrupted his thoughts. “Looked like you were dreaming awake for a while there.”

  “Old memories.” Bodie cleared his throat. Not even Pantera knew about the best days of his childhood. He wondered briefly why his subconscious had plucked that particular memory from the past but then realized it was obvious. He’d stood up for Darcey against the bullies. He was doing the same thing now in a different way for his friends and especially for Lucie.

  “I’m sorry.” Pantera clearly misunderstood, assuming Bodie had been recollecting his days as an orphan.

  “No, it . . . was before that,” Bodie said shortly. “Before my parents died. I had an honest, tight, dependable group just like this one. To be perfectly honest, it spoiled me for what came next.”

  Pantera nodded, bald head glistening as sunlight came in through the van’s rear windows. “And Cross?” he asked, wiping sweat away from his forehead.

  “Trying not to think about that.”

  “I know it’s raw right now, but I found in the past that reliving the good times helps heal the pain. You live again with them; you laugh and cry and see them as they used to be. As you used to be. It’s the best therapy.”