The Nazi's Engineer

by J. Robert Kennedy

  It was designed for this.

  And it made him thankful he had stolen it, rather than a civilian vehicle.

  The SUV he had been following slowed, the man who had held him and Laura, leaning out the passenger side window, a submachine gun in his hand, the muzzle flashing. The windshield and hood took several rounds before he jerked to the left, out of the field of fire, only to be rammed again from behind.

  “Piss off!”

  He jerked the wheel to the right then slammed on the brakes, his pursuer shooting past him. He hammered on the gas, quickly closing the gap as it tried to get in front of him. He shifted to the right and floored it, slamming into the passenger side rear bumper, sending the SUV into a spin. He aimed square at it and braced as he accelerated. He smashed into the passenger side, sending it skidding ahead of him before the wheels caught, flipping it several times.

  Acton swerved around it and checked his rearview mirror to see a Jag convertible slam into them, sending both vehicles spinning in opposite directions, the Jag coming to a stop against the guardrail, its driver stunned, and perhaps thankful his ownership experience was over.

  Acton focused ahead, those behind him no longer in the game, and rushed after the trucks containing the priceless Amber Room. Something thundered overhead, and he leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse, when a helicopter blasted past him, banking sharply, the harsh white on blue Policie label clearly visible, something in Czech blared at him.

  It was over.

  He took his foot off the gas, slamming his fists into the steering wheel as he came to a halt, his mission to save the half-billion dollar artifact a failure.

  He sighed.

  At least everyone is safe now.

  58

  Polish-Czech Republic Border

  Officer Jelen listened in on the call Inspector Zabek had graciously put on speaker so he could be kept in the loop. Though the search was ongoing, those participating were now convinced they had missed the trucks, or they had rerouted at the last minute, making the search fruitless.

  Though still the most exciting thing he had ever done.

  “They’ve arrested a suspect.”

  Jelen and Zabek exchanged excited glances.

  “Where?”

  “Outside Ostrava. They’re holding him for questioning, but he says he’s innocent.”

  Jelen grunted. “They all do.”

  “This one claims he’s Professor Acton, but he has no ID on him.”

  Zabek rolled his eyes. “Well, does he match the photo we have?”

  “I haven’t got word yet. I’m trying to get through, but the local police chief is refusing to take calls. The peon that I’ve managed to talk to, says the chief doesn’t care if the guy is innocent of the theft, he’s guilty of causing havoc on the highway. He’s planning on charging him for that, and for possession of an illegal firearm! Can you believe it?”

  Zabek shook his head, his face red with anger. “Keep trying to get through. We need to find out if this is indeed Professor Acton, and what happened to his captors and the stolen artifact!”

  59

  John Paul II International Airport

  Balice, Poland

  If there was one thing Reading hated, it was waiting. And that’s all he had been doing for hours. He was still sitting on the runway in Krakow, in the wrong country, but there was still no point in flying to the Czech Republic. The pilot had explained that if they landed somewhere and needed to take off again, it would take longer to file the flight plan and wait their turn, than it would to simply wait and make a single trip.

  It made sense.

  He was still waiting for information on the hit Tommy had showing what appeared to him to be Acton driving the SUV he had been kidnapped in.

  It made no sense.

  If he had escaped, why hadn’t he gone to the authorities for help?

  Reading shook his head.

  Knowing him, he’s chasing the Amber Room.

  And then there was the matter of—

  His phone rang and he took the call, the display indicating it was his partner back in England. “Hey, Michelle, give me good news.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if it’s good news, but it’s news at least.”

  Reading tensed. “What’s happened?”

  “Your friend, Professor Acton, has been arrested.”

  “What! Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I’m looking at the report right now. He’s been charged with all kinds of traffic violations, and possession of an illegal firearm. It looks like they’re throwing the book at him.”

  “Who?”

  “The local police in Ostrava.”

  Reading shook his head, beckoning the flight attendant to join him. “Don’t they know who he is? That he’s the victim?”

  “All we know is that they responded electronically to our notice that we put out on him, and that’s it. Nobody can reach the station where he’s being held.”

  Reading cursed. “Do we have a local agent there?”

  “No. We’re sending someone from Prague, but he won’t be there for at least an hour.”

  “Okay, keep me posted. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Understood.”

  Reading ended the call and turned to the flight attendant. “Tell the pilot we need to get to Ostrava in the Czech Republic as quickly as possible.”

  60

  South of Marienwerder, West Prussia

  Nazi Germany

  February 7, 1945

  Gruber stared ahead, unable to check the excitement he now felt. He had done his part, delivering Vogel to his family, and the man had been true to his word, delivering the exact location of what should be so much gold, he could shut down his entire operation, move out of the way of the Russians, and sit out the war in some small town unlikely to draw any attention from the Americans when they rolled through.

  In fact, leaving the country after the war might be a good idea. There would be little left of Germany by then, and why be a rich man in a poor country? Life in America with millions in gold would be bliss.

  New York City!

  He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like living the high life on the streets of the city that never slept.

  “We’re here, sir.”

  Travel permits had been easy with his connections, his small convoy of cars and trucks passing through the checkpoints unchallenged, though with each passing, the warnings of what lay ahead became more dire. The front was close, which meant little time. This wasn’t an exploratory mission to see if Vogel had been telling the truth, this was a mission to retrieve as much as they could before it was too late.

  He leaned out his window, taking in the sight, his chest tightening as he cursed. The car came to a halt and he stepped out, surveying the area, his hands on his hips as his heart hammered at the betrayal.

  “There’s nothing here!” He kicked at the snow-covered dirt, his men mingling about, afraid to say anything as his rage built. “The bastard lied to me! I want him dead! I want his family dead! And find those two women I moved for him! I want them dead too!”

  “Sir!”

  He turned toward the call, spotting one of his men kicking at something. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure, but something was here.”

  Gruber quickly joined his man pointing at a square in the ground. “What’s that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “There’s another one over here.”

  Gruber joined his other man, finding an identical square in the ground about ten paces from the first.

  “Here’s another!”

  Gruber smiled. “It’s a fence. Or at least it was.” He stared at their surroundings. “Something was here, and they tried to hide it.”

  “But why would they leave these here? Why not remove the posts?”

  Gruber kicked the ground with the toe of his shoe. “It’s frozen solid. Have you ever tried to remove a fence post frozen in place?” He didn�
��t wait for an answer. “All they could do was cut them off at the base, and hope no one would find them.” He waved his arm around him. “Search everywhere.” He jabbed a finger at the hillside in front of them. “Especially there. That’s where I think we’ll find our gold.”

  His men were powered by greed and excitement now, the cold forgotten as they eagerly spread out, most heading for the hillside with shovels. He heard a buzzing sound in the distance, but ignored it, his ears pounding with excitement as his men attacked the frozen hillside.

  All of his avarice filled dreams were about to come true.

  The buzz grew louder.

  He stared toward where the sound was coming from, but saw nothing. It sounded like an engine of some sort. He stared down the road, a sudden fear gripping him that the SS might be returning to make sure their gold was safe, when one of his men pointed.

  “Look!”

  He turned and the blood drained from his face as he spotted two planes racing toward them. He looked about, yet there was nowhere to hide, only the vehicles. He ran toward the car, cursing his overweight bulk as he searched for his driver. He spotted him at the hillside. “Get me out of here!”

  His driver spotted the planes and froze for a moment, their distant buzz now a high-pitched wail, their pilots obviously having spotted a target of opportunity. He yanked open the rear door and climbed in as his driver reached him. The door slammed shut and his driver took his seat, cranking the engine, gunfire erupting from the Allied fighters as it roared to life.

  His driver floored it, and Gruber watched in horror as his men scrambled, at least half a dozen felled by the first volley.

  Then his bladder gave way as his ears filled with the high-pitched wail of a bomb dropping.

  Ending his parasitic existence.

  61

  Police of the Czech Republic - Transport Inspectorate

  Ostrava, Czech Republic

  Present Day

  Acton was beyond frustrated. He had been sitting in the small interrogation room for hours, nobody having even offered him a glass of water or a bathroom break since he had arrived. His wrists were handcuffed to the metal table, and the only thing of interest was the clock on the wall, its hands slowly ticking by, showing the minutes then hours waste away.

  He yelled at the door for the umpteenth time, and again, no one came. He was being treated as the criminal, arrested when the police had arrived, brought in alone, the occupants of the rolled SUV apparently gone.

  And with each passing minute, the trucks containing the stolen Amber Room continued to roll toward their destination.

  It was frustrating.

  At least you’re alive and free.

  He just wanted to get out of here, call Laura, and tell her he was okay. She had to be worried sick.

  I wonder if she even knows I’ve escaped.

  She would have called Reading, that was an absolute certainty, and with him part of Interpol, Acton was sure he’d have found out about the arrest, and knowing him, he was already on his way here, perhaps with Laura.

  It’s just a matter of time.

  He wasn’t worried about the arrest, though the police were excited by the fact he had the liberated handgun on him. Once someone told them what had happened, and who he was—the victim—things would be smoothed over and he’d be released.

  But in the meantime, the thieves were getting away, and he was helpless to do anything about it.

  The door suddenly opened and he leaped to his feet, rage in his heart, when he dropped back down, sighing with relief at the sight of one of his best friends.

  “Hugh! Thank God!”

  Reading entered the room, a broad smile on his face. “I understand you’ve been a bad boy.”

  Acton chuckled. “I’ve done nothing you wouldn’t do.”

  “Yes, but I’m a copper, you’re not.”

  Acton shrugged. “In my heart, I know I was always meant to be one.”

  “Bollocks!” Reading pointed toward the handcuffs, and an officer stepped forward, unlocking them. Acton rubbed his wrists, exhaling loudly.

  “Does this mean I can go?”

  “Yes, eventually. I’ve got a Polish investigator on his way who wants to debrief you, and the locals will want to listen in and may have questions of their own, but don’t worry, all charges have been dropped.”

  Acton’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Well, that’s good to know.” He leaned over. “Where’s Laura?”

  Reading shook his head. “We haven’t found her yet, but don’t worry, we won’t stop looking.”

  Acton’s heart hammered as the room closed in on him. He gasped, sucking in a deep breath. “What do you mean? She didn’t call you?”

  Reading’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Isn’t she still with the kidnappers?”

  Acton’s jaw dropped. “No! She escaped hours ago in Poland! She never called you?”

  Reading’s face went red as he dropped into a chair opposite Acton. “I haven’t heard anything from her. Nobody has.”

  Acton stared about the room, gripping the table as panic set in. “Oh my God, they must have recaptured her! And those trucks are hours from here!”

  Reading pulled out his cellphone, quickly dialing. “Don’t worry, Jim, we’ll find her.”

  But Acton wasn’t listening anymore. His wife was missing, obviously either recaptured or dead, and after his recent actions, he might have sealed her fate. He stared at Reading, talking rapidly into his phone, the conversation a million miles away.

  Laura!

  62

  Inselhotel Potsdam

  Potsdam, Germany

  Tommy’s eyes glazed over then his head drooped. He jerked awake and cursed, tapping the keyboard, Mai passed out beside him. They had been going through footage for hours after receiving word that Professor Palmer was still missing. As soon as he had heard that Acton had been “arrested,” he had assumed the ordeal was over.

  And he and Mai had celebrated.

  Twice.

  He barely had any time to rest before he received the call, and after being wired the night before about this morning’s visit to the Lang residence, he was working off about three hours sleep in the past 48.

  It was too much.

  But he couldn’t give up. It was Professor Palmer that was missing. He liked to think he would put in the effort for anyone, even a stranger, though he knew that wasn’t true. He knew this woman, knew her husband, and knew everything they had done for Mai since she had been forced to flee to the United States.

  If it weren’t for the professors, the woman he hoped to spend the rest of his life with, would be a stranger.

  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for those two, or the woman who slept beside him this very moment.

  Finding the trucks in question that they assumed had not only the art, but the professor on board as well, was fairly easy, since he knew exactly when Acton had been arrested. He watched the footage of the incident on the highway in the Czech Republic in awe—Acton never ceasing to amaze him.

  I wish I was that brave.

  When he heard about some of the things the professors had done, he often daydreamed of being in their shoes, playing the hero, killing the bad guys, and knew deep down that there was no way in hell he’d match them in any way, shape, or form.

  They were simply exceptional people, and the fact they had found each other was a miracle.

  They are so suited for each other.

  Watching Acton swerving in and out of traffic, avoiding bullets, then forcing one of the SUVs to flip and intentionally ramming it to make sure they were out of the game, still had his heart racing. He had found the trucks, their logos once again changed, and had managed to follow them through the Czech Republic and into Slovakia, skirting the border with Austria, then finally into Hungary.

  He zoomed out on Google Maps, and examined the route they had taken the entire way. It was clear they were heading south. They had intentionally avoided a shorter route thro
ugh Austria that would have taken them through Vienna, a highly risky move.

  Shorter route.

  It was only shorter depending on their destination. He pursed his lips, spinning his finger on the trackpad, his mouse pointer looping about the screen as he thought. If they kept going directly south, they’d hit Croatia, and he knew from bringing up a map of the Schengen Agreement countries that Mai had referred to, that Croatia wasn’t participating, though they were supposed to be.

  That meant a guarded border.

  I can’t see them risking that.

  If they wanted to avoid borders, they would be forced to head into Slovenia, and then they’d only have access to a borderless Italy.

  He smiled.

  Or the Adriatic Sea.

  He zoomed in on the tiny sliver of Slovenian coastline, finding the only city with a port.

  And his gut told him this was exactly where the kidnappers were heading.

  63

  Port of Koper

  Koper, Slovenia

  Alexie Tankov watched with satisfaction and a hint of impatience as the last of the crates were offloaded from the rear of their two transport trucks. It was a swift operation, though they were still on a deadline.

  The captain of their hired cargo ship, a man he had worked with on several occasions before, strolled over, cigar clamped in his mouth, a white peaked captain’s hat tipped sloppily to the side, the caricature of what one might expect an unscrupulous freighter captain to be.

  He couldn’t stand the man, but he was as trustworthy as they came in this business.

  Probably because he knew if he betrayed Tankov and his men, he’d be dead before the sun rose the next day.

  “We should be underway in less than half an hour. Everything has been arranged, the appropriate palms greased.”

  Tankov nodded. “Good. We can’t afford any delays. I want the ship in international waters as quickly as possible. You get paid the rest of your money when you reach Tripoli. Understood?”