The Vatican's Last Secret

by Francis Joseph Smith

  Nora fixed him with a cold stare before beginning. “I can translate the documents if you like. I am fluent in German. But during the course of my research I found out you also are fluent in German.”

  “You are correct,” he fired back, smiling. “I see you have completed your research on me. But I expected as much. My family was originally from Germany; Bavaria to be exact. We emigrated here after the war. So my parent’s primary language was German. My father forced us to speak German when we were at home. It was the language he felt more comfortable speaking. So yes, I see no need for a translation. I clearly understand the relevance of the documents.”

  Nora wasted no time with her line of questioning, going right for his jugular. “The documents you have in front of you list one, Horst Myers, very prominently. I happen to know from my research that your father’s name was Horst Myers. Was your father a Nazi party member?”

  Myers eyed her more carefully, shaking his head as he spoke. “My father, as far as I am aware, was not a Nazi party member,” he began, “but you have to agree, if he were, he surely would not have mentioned it to his family.” Myers paused for a moment, looking out at his estates grounds then to Nora. “My father was no Nazi, Miss Robinson.”

  “Then why was he in Hitler’s bunker at the end of WWII, and one of the last to see Hitler alive?” she continued, jabbing as if a prize fighter looking to score a knock-out blow.

  “I don’t know much about Hitler’s demise in his Bunker other than what is commonly known: Hitler was surrounded by the Russian Army and committed suicide after marrying Eva Bruan. I guess that about sums it up.”

  Nora nodded. “So you didn’t know your father was considered Hitler’s banker? In fact he was banker to most of the Nazi elite.”

  Myers shook his head. “Not possible. I think my father mentioned he was a small business owner during the war, office supplies and such.”

  Nora smiled. She leaned over to open her leather portfolio, extracting two additional pieces of paper, and a black and white photograph. She hands them over to Myers. “The pages you are looking at are from the private diary of Gertraud Junge, one of Hitler’s personal secretaries. Ms. Junge was in the bunker until Hitler committed suicide. She logged all of Hitler’s appointments and whom he spoke with before typing them at a later date for the official records. She noted on both pages that you have before you, that your father, Horst Myers, and Martin Bormann, had a meeting with Hitler before Hitler committed suicide. The photograph is one of your father and, Martin Bormann, Hitler’s private secretary, taken at a restaurant in Salzburg Austria two months before the fall of Germany. Obviously from the angle and clarity, it was taken without their noticing.”

  Myers scrutinized the photo looking for any doctoring of the photo. He hadn’t seen this particular photo before. It looked genuine. To his benefit, his father was notoriously camera shy. Of course there might be others on the open market but he had purchased most of the pictures of his father with Nazis from private collectors. He was well aware of his father’s scandalous involvement with the Nazis but had hoped to keep it covered up.

  Nora sat back in her chair, feeling more confident than when she first sat down.

  It was Myers turn to smile. “I have to admit how it’s uncanny this man’s resemblance to my Father, but it’s not him. So, I must say without a doubt, the photo and the pages from this woman’s diary are obvious forgeries. I hate to say you have been duped by someone out to drag my name through the proverbial mud. But you know how it is. Everyone hoping to make a quick buck comes out of the weeds when somebody runs for office. You should know that more than anyone, Miss Robinson.”

  Myers began to wonder who in his close-knit circle had betrayed him? He knew the documents and photo were, indeed, genuine. This was information he had paid millions of dollars to conceal years before. Bribes that he thought, at the time, were well spent.

  Someone was going to pay dearly.

  AFTER THREE HOURS of interviewing James Myers, Nora contemplated her situation for several minutes, wondering what exactly had just transpired as she steered her car mindlessly towards the estates front gate. Did he really just threaten me? Her mind swirled with questions. She was more determined than ever to nail Myers. No matter how many times he denied it, he knew what was going on. His father was definitely in Berlin at the end of the war. Horst Myers was Hitler’s secret banker and that’s how the Myers family was able to build an empire in the US after the war. Nora lost count how many times she was tempted to throw down her final “trump” card. If only to just watch him squirm a bit more. But she would require additional evidence. Hell, one of his high-paid lawyers would rip her flimsy case to shreds saying the documents she had in her possession were counterfeits or forgeries out to discredit their client. At least that’s how she would handle it. No, she would have to get to the bottom of what was shaping up to be a conspiracy. She required hard evidence. By the time she pulled up to her condo, Nora knew she had to get to the Vatican, Jerusalem, and quite possibly Beirut. That’s where the trail seemed to lead.

  AFTER NORA HAD bid her goodbyes and departed, Myers wasted no time, motioning his bodyguard over.

  “Ibram, this little interview with Ms. Robinson has brought to light some things I thought were taken care of. I paid good money over the years to sweep this under the carpet, and in most cases, have the information destroyed. Ms. Robinson is heading over to areas where you have friends; at least a lot more than I do. I want you to utilize some of your connections back home,” he said, looking down at his computer screen, once again pulling up the bio on Nora Robinson. “I want her to find nothing but some little tidbits. Just enough to keep her on a rabbit chase. She is to have every road block from here to Tel Aviv thrown at her that concerns my father’s past. She is an irritating reporter, I’ll give her that much. But no harm is to come to her; at least not yet.” He looked up at Ibram for emphasis. “Only as a last resort, is that understood?”

  Ibram nodded. “I will see that no harm comes to her and she is fed just enough to know there is no story. She will find only rabbit holes,” he said before turning on his heels, walking back to his post. When he was out of earshot of Myers, he whipped out his burner cell phone, dialing a number from memory. After several rings the call was automatically transferred to another line before someone picked up. “It’s me,” Ibram said into the phone, looking back at Myers, him engrossed with his laptop. “He’s scared, real scared. I think we may have him right where we need him. Also, someone is coming your way, possibly a friend; a newspaper reporter by the name of Nora Robinson. She has a Pulitzer Prize to her name. Only time will tell if she agrees with our way of thinking.”

  The voice on the other end of the line replied in a thick, gravely tone, “Ibram, your father would be proud of you.”

  As he hung up, a smile graced his face. “Revenge will be ours,” he said to himself.

  CHAPTER 55

  MARATHON KEY, FLORIDA

  An afternoon thunderstorm suddenly announced itself as Perluci paced restlessly about his cabin on the Irish Rebel. Only hours ago he had finished relaying his story of the Gold Train to his new business partners and begged out of their ensuing celebration, feigning illness. But in reality, he felt a little uneasy laying of all of his cards on the table. In effect, surrendering what little leverage he had. Now, he questioned his actions. It’s not that he didn’t trust his new partners; he just didn’t know them all that well. Hell, they were adversaries just months before, with Perluci pursuing the treasure Dieter’s Father had stolen during WWII, but Jim and Dan were able to secure it for themselves from under his very nose. At one time, Perluci became so frustrated at Jim and Dan’s actions to thwart him that he was of the mindset to kill them both. But times change, people change. Perluci also knew what the Vatican had planned to do with the treasure. They would keep it in their bank. Just another treasure locked away under armed guard; one of many. Hell, Perluci’s office helped secure most of the treasures
that were accumulated by the Vatican over the past 40 years. When Perluci discovered what Jim and Dan had so generously accomplished with their monies, giving most of it away to charity, a children’s charity at that, he decided they should benefit from his knowledge. Perluci realized the time had come to return something back to society instead of to his employer. This might be his last chance. He was ninety-four years old and he knew his time was limited. But as he paced back and forth in his room he couldn’t help but think he should have held back on some of the details of their new job. Perluci also wished he had brought along his 9mm Beretta for comfort sake. He usually never left home without it, but with him flying from Rome to Miami, he worried about the American airport security hassles. He decided it best to leave home.

  JIM AND EIAN were off running errands while Dan busied himself in the boats galley. He had the foresight to send them both off with an extensive shopping list that would keep them occupied for several hours.

  The last thing he needed was them returning early and catching him in the act of something he alone had to ensure.

  The boats galley was a typical 6 foot by 4 foot, which, as any boat owner will tell you, is the equivalent of cooking in a jail cell, with not a hell of a lot of room to maneuver. But it worked perfectly for Dan as he chose the galley’s dining table to perform his final preparations. Unbeknownst to Jim and Eian, for weeks he had secretly planned this phase of his operation. It was the only way; the dirty way. He didn’t like it, but it had to be done. In front of him, he emptied several bottles of his prescription medicine, cyclo-oxygenase (COX)-2 inhibitors pills on the table, chopping and smashing them into powder form. The pills were prescribed by his private physician for hypertension; nothing serious, with his hypertension well under control. The pills were more of a precaution. But it provided Dan with a brilliant idea when his physician warned him of the side effects of taking too many of the pills; death by sudden heart stoppage or as it’s more commonly known, a heart attack.

  From that moment, his plan started to take shape.

  Once finished, he removed two crystal bar glasses from the drain board, and then neatly scrapped the pills powder into one of them before emptying the last of a bottle of Tullamore Dew Irish Whiskey into each. He held them up to the overhead light in the galley, satisfied when he thought he had maybe two shots worth in each glass. He next stirred the glass containing the pills powder until it dissolved. Pleased with himself, he placed both glasses on a silver platter and walked solemnly down the narrow hall to Perluci’s cabin. He stood outside the door for a moment, listening for any sign of Perluci, before knocking twice.

  Perluci had stopped his pacing 30 minutes before and had just settled in, finally able to find some solace in a book he had thoughtfully brought along. He dog ears the page and places it on the nightstand next to his bed. “Yes,” he said in response to the knock at his door.

  Dan cleared his throat before responding: “It’s Dan. I heard you pacing about earlier and have something that might take the edge off,” he said.

  Perluci smiles as he exits the bed and walks over to the door, opening it, seeing Dan standing there with two glasses of his favorite Irish on a silver tray. “Please come in my friend,” he said. Perluci makes room for the tray on the nightstand by his bed.

  “I thought we could have a small toast, just you and I,” said Dan. He places the tray down, lifting the correct glass, handing it to Perluci.

  Perluci nods his thanks. “I was wondering when just the two of us would get a chance to sit down and talk about our sordid past.”

  ”You mean when you first recruited me in Ireland?” Dan said, smiling. “Or shall I say the Vatican recruited me?”

  “You had no choice,” Perluci said. “You had to escape the British and Ulster factions in Northern Ireland, for they don’t take too kindly to a man like yourself being involved in the IRA’s militant activities. Now do they? I needed some kind of leverage over you.”

  “Leverage my ass,” Dan replied angrily. “You wanted a stooge to do your dirty work; the Vatican’s dirty work. And I was it.”

  “Come, come now. You knew I worked in a little known Vatican office that is the equivalent to the American CIA or British MI-6, only the people don’t work for money. They do it for religious conviction. I had people to protect.”

  “You threatened to expose me to the damn English unless I crossed the line and came to work for you.”

  “I was only doing my job, my friend. And within a week, I provided you with an alias that allowed you to leave Ireland on favorable terms. We sent you to the United State to befriend Jim Dieters father, Hans. You fooled everyone for over twenty years working as an agent for us, in a role as a priest at that. I would have loved to have seen you as a priest.”

  “Yeah, I fooled everyone,” Dan said sarcastically, shaking his head. “I was a fake priest at a local High school teaching ancient Greek to the children of well-heeled parents. Hans Dieter became a very good friend of mine just as you planned. You wound up getting all of the information you needed to find the gold.”

  “Only you turned on us and sided with Jim Dieter and his father, Hans.”

  “Your damn right I did. Hans Dieter found that treasure during the war. It’s not his fault his unit ran into your Vatican boys and the Nazi’s trying to truck that gold out of Yugoslavia. I don’t care if the Nazi’s did blackmail the Vatican to help them or not. And don’t give me any of that crap about the pictures of the Pope and Himmler. I know Himmler staged the event and, if you just took the time to explain it to the rest of the world, I think everyone would have understood. And you, you crafty little bastard, help set the whole thing up. So, you know what? It was Hans Dieter’s to do what he wanted, not the Vatican’s. He deserved it. Or, at least his son deserved it. It was Dieter and his men who originally put their lives on the line. Not you and your bunch of goons.”

  Perluci nods once more, smiling. “And Hans Dieter died before you found the treasure,” he says. “So you allowed it to, as you say, rightfully go to his son, Jim. And look what he did. He gave most of what he found to charity.”

  “Come on. If you’re going to tell the story at least get it right. It was also his father’s wish to have it go to a children’s charity, one that Hans had been secretly supporting for many years. Better than some vault in the Vatican at least that’s where it would have wound up if you and your people had gotten hold of it.”

  “And that’s why I came here to side with you gentlemen,” replied Perluci sincerely. “At one time you were my enemy but an enemy that performs as I should have been doing all along.”

  “You sound like the Grinch who suddenly had a change of heart after robbing the people of Whoville.”

  “Ah, the American children’s Christmas classic. I know of this Grinch,” said Perluci grinning from side-to-side. “But seriously, for once I’d like to be one of the good guys. I want to see the monies returned to its rightful owners. Well, at least half to its rightful owners or their surviving family members. I know it’s almost impossible to trace the gold’s rightful owners but look at the good it would do if we could manage to give half back? The other half I would consider a finder’s fee. After all, I’m not a spry chicken anymore. I want to retire and do some good for society and possibly collect a check on the side.”

  “You mean one for me, one for charity….one for me…..”

  “Exactly!” shot back Perluci. “The Vatican has enough money stored below ground to end poverty if they so choose. Why provide them with anymore? It was never their money to begin with.”

  Dan let the man speak his peace. It was the least he could do. But he had to hurry before Jim and Sean returned. “Okay then, enough of the reminiscing,” Dan said impatiently.” I brought this Irish whiskey to be drunk, not evaporate. Now, what shall we drink to?” Dan raised his glass for the second time.

  “Well, I usually drink to one’s health, but how about to my new friend, death…..,” replied Perluci with a st
raight face, him staring hard at Dan. “For death comes to us all at some time or another. Wouldn’t you say, Dan?”

  Dan felt uneasy. He never enjoyed this part, especially with a so-called friend, one from a dark time in his past. “How did you know?” He asked.

  Perluci smiles at Dan. “Because it’s what I would have done. You have all of the information you require. Now, it’s time to tie up loose ends. If I were any younger, the roles would probably be reversed. But, I am an old man; a burden to you. Also, you don’t know if you can fully trust me. Do you? You’re probably thinking that my old Special Vatican Action Team mates might swoop in and claim the rights after you do the leg work. Memories of what I tried to accomplish in Germany. Almost stealing the gold after you and Jim finally located it under the gravestone of the father’s friend, Goot. ”

  Dan nodded.

  Perluci smiles once more. “Don’t think the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But no, this was to be a retirement gift to myself. I truly wanted to share its contents.”

  Dan secretly admired the man. Not many people could stare death straight in the face and have a smile on their face. “How about we drink to returning the treasure to its rightful owners? That is, if we ever find it.”

  “You will find it,” he replied with a hint of sadness. “I have no doubt in your ability to find the treasure. Just follow my directions and maps, use your intuition, and tap into the infinite stream of resources you seem to have. With all of this available to you, I see nothing that would hinder your path. I just wish I could be there to share in your discovery. To be near something so steeped in history.”