The Nazi's Engineer

by J. Robert Kennedy

  The major cursed colorfully in Russian. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, Sergeant Major.”

  Dawson held out a hand, pointing toward the stairwell. “Please come with me, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll just ask that your men lower their weapons, so there are no unfortunate accidents.”

  The order was given and the weapons lowered. Dawson led the major and two of his men to the cargo hold, where Acton had finished opening all the crates. Dawson pointed at the worthless cargo. “As you can see, Major, we’ve been had. They made a switch somewhere, and we don’t know where.”

  The man frowned. “Perhaps it was never found. Perhaps this was all a hoax from the beginning.”

  Dawson held out a finger behind his back, a finger he hoped Acton would notice. “Perhaps.” The professor remained silent.

  “We will conduct a search, of course, to confirm it isn’t held elsewhere.”

  Dawson bowed slightly. “Of course. We should coordinate, as my men are also searching, and we wouldn’t want any misunderstanding. I suggest teams of four. Two from your team, two from mine?”

  The major smiled, returning the bow. “Good thinking, Sergeant Major. Let’s be efficient about this, so no more time is wasted on this endeavor.”

  “Agreed.”

  69

  Portoroz Airport

  Secovlje, Slovenia

  Tankov watched as the last of the crates were loaded onto the C-130H Hercules. The two trucks that had served them so faithfully, their high-tech equipment removed, were driven away by two local hires who knew nothing, the vehicles to be stripped for parts and spread across Europe before dawn.

  He boarded the plane with his men, the diplomatic status of the transport aircraft allowing them to escape the hassles normally associated with an international flight, and minutes later, they were in the air, the men with smiles on their faces, the payday huge.

  Utkin lit a cigar, sending rings into the cabin. “I’d say that went off about as perfectly as could have been expected.”

  Tankov agreed. The fact they had taken off, meant their pursuers had fallen for the decoy. The trucks they had were capable of being loaded from the sides, one advantage of fabric siding. Both trucks had already been loaded with black decoy crates matching the shape and size of those in the photograph from the idiot who had leaked the find on social media, and while all witnesses were inside the mine, his men had loaded the Amber Room in the front half of their transports, painting them to match. At the dock in Slovenia, they had unloaded from the rear, so any footage captured would look as if the trucks had been emptied, the cargo loaded on the ship. The genuine cargo, still aboard the transports, was then brought here to the waiting Hercules sent by their employer, whose diplomatic ties assured a clean departure.

  Tankov lit his own cigar. “One hundred million Euros for two days work including planning. Not bad, boys! Split eight ways, well, who the hell knows what that is? I’ll hire a human calculator to figure it out!”

  His men roared with laughter and he checked his watch. “Okay, let’s get some rack time. We’ll be there in two hours, then I want to be back in civilization as soon as possible.”

  The job wasn’t over yet. A healthy down payment had already been made to the tune of fifty million, but the remainder wouldn’t be transferred until they delivered the goods, and convinced their buyer that the item was genuine.

  He just hoped that part went as smoothly as the rest of the plan.

  He glanced over at the female professor whose husband had proven such a challenge. Unfortunately for her, he had planned on the possibility of an escape, and Team Three had been in position, just in case. She had been recovered quickly before she could make her phone call, sedated, and hadn’t been a problem since.

  But he needed her awake to confirm to the buyer that their cargo was genuine, then he had to decide what to do with her. Killing her would be the simplest thing, though she had done nothing wrong, and he wasn’t a fan of killing women. If it were Acton he still had, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, but not a woman.

  He’d still do it, though he would have reservations.

  Yet this was no ordinary woman. They had pulled her files using some deep contacts from his former Spetsnaz days, and it turned out not only was she extremely wealthy, she was very well connected.

  Which meant if they killed her, those contacts might never stop hunting them.

  He sighed as he stared at her.

  What to do with you, Professor Palmer?

  70

  The Adriatic Sea

  Acton watched as boats from the USS Philippine Sea approached, Wings already having landed the Black Hawk on her deck. The vessel they were on had been searched from bow to stern with no sign of the genuine cargo, or more importantly, Laura, the failed search sending the Russians on their way.

  It had all been a misdirect, the past several hours a complete waste of time, though a couple of dozen bad guys were dead, and another vessel in the tragedy that was human smuggling would be out of the picture.

  Only to be replaced in short order, he was certain.

  Acton turned to Dawson. “Is there anything you guys can do to help?”

  Dawson frowned. “Only if she’s outside the European Union, or in international waters like this. Apparently, the State Department has said we’re not to mess with internal European affairs. Frankly, Doc, the only reason we’re here is because the Russians were on their way, and the Polish government didn’t want to lose. We were the only ones with assets in the area that could react quickly enough.”

  Acton sighed. “So we’re back to square one. My wife is nowhere to be found, and the Amber Room is once again lost.”

  “I wish I could help you, Doc, but you guys got pretty far on your own. I’m sure you’ll pick up the trail. If it turns out she’s somewhere we can operate, you know how to reach us.”

  Acton extended a hand. “Thanks for everything you did tonight. It’s appreciated.”

  Dawson shook Acton’s hand. “Always a pleasure, Doc.”

  Niner and Atlas strolled over, Niner with a massive rifle over his shoulder. Acton gestured at it. “Compensating?”

  Atlas roared with laughter, his deep voice causing everyone to turn toward them. “Nice one, Doc!” He extended a fist for a bump.

  Niner patted the weapon. “I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly proportioned.”

  “So your mamma says.”

  “Don’t be bringing mammas into this.”

  Atlas jabbed a meaty finger at Niner’s chest. “Don’t you be bringing mammas into this.”

  “Hey, you brought it up.”

  “Only because I knew you would. You always defend your inadequacies with references to your mamma.”

  “My mamma loves me. She told me so.” He lowered the barrel of the SWS, aiming it at Atlas’ chest. “Does your mamma love you?”

  Atlas raised his hands slightly. “Not as much as yours does, apparently.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Niner slung the weapon. “Now that that’s settled, your mamma’s so fat, when someone asks ‘where’s the beef?’ she smacks her ass and says, ‘right here.’”

  Atlas stared at him. “Your mamma is so fat—”

  Niner raised a hand, cutting him off. “Have you seen my mamma? She’s a tiny little Korean woman without an ounce of fat on her.”

  Atlas frowned. “Yeah, what’s the point?”

  Niner grinned. “So, do I win, or do you want to hear another one?”

  Dawson shook his head then looked at Acton. “Be thankful you don’t have to put up with these two day in and day out, Doc.” He turned his back on the comedians. “Why do you think they still have your wife? They seem to have given everyone the slip.”

  “They wanted us to authenticate the Amber Room to their buyer. My guess is they’ll keep her until they’ve completed the sale.”

  Reading frowned. “And when that’s done…”

  Acton’s chest tightened as the joculari
ty of the men surrounding him was shoved aside, everyone growing quiet. “When that’s done, I—” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to regain control, Reading’s hand on his shoulder providing him with some strength. “I think they’ll kill her.”

  71

  Unknown Location

  Laura woke to find her face covered with something made of cloth, her face damp and hot from her breath. Her head was pounding as if it were New Year’s Day and she was in her twenties again, and her entire body was vibrating. It took her a moment to realize she must be on an airplane, a propeller-driven one that had just taken off and was still gaining altitude. And it sent her heart racing, which didn’t help her headache.

  How long was I out?

  She desperately had to pee, suggesting it must have been quite a few hours since her last relief. As she listened to the sounds surrounding her, she tried to piece together what had happened. She had escaped, found the phone, then heard something behind her. Before she could react, something sprayed in her face, and she had passed out almost instantly.

  Then woke here.

  I wonder what happened to James.

  “Ahh, you’re finally awake.”

  She frowned. Someone must have noticed a change in her demeanor—perhaps she had been breathing heavily in her sleep. Whatever had given it away, it didn’t matter now. Simply listening wouldn’t tell her anything anymore. “Yes.”

  “I apologize, but I’ll be leaving the hood on. I can’t risk you seeing anything that might give away our destination. I’ve read your file, and you’re a very resourceful woman.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I’m sure.”

  “Do not worry, Professor. I have no intention of hurting you, as long as you cooperate. You and your husband are far too well connected for me to risk the wrath of your friends. You will authenticate the find to my buyer, then you will be free to go.”

  “Bollocks.”

  The man chuckled. “I guess you’ll have to trust me.” His voice got closer. “But hear this, Professor. If you do anything to screw up this deal, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  And his tone had her believing every word.

  72

  USS Philippine Sea

  Acton lay on the narrow bed in the guest quarters arranged for him and Reading. His friend was snoring below him, but sleep continued to elude Acton. There was no way he could sleep until Laura was found.

  They had said their goodbyes to the Delta team a short while ago, their helicopter taking them to parts unknown, though he hoped somewhere safe. Yet that wasn’t their lot in life, and he had known some who had been killed, even killing one himself when they had been first sent to eliminate him, believing he was the leader of a domestic terrorist cell.

  I can’t believe how far we’ve come.

  He had forgiven them long ago. They had been used, just like he had, and those guilty were now dead.

  He just wished they could have stuck around to help retrieve Laura, but their job was done as soon as the crew, all known human smugglers, was taken into custody and their ship impounded.

  Though he couldn’t care less about that.

  In fact, he couldn’t care less about the Amber Room.

  He only wanted Laura, and the worry was consuming him.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come!”

  A sailor entered. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a call. A Mr. Tommy Granger? He says it’s urgent.”

  A shot of adrenaline surged through his system as he rolled out of the bed and gave Reading a shake. “Wake up!”

  Reading grumbled then rolled over. “What is it?”

  “A call from Tommy. He says it’s urgent.”

  Reading’s eyes shot wide open. “Give me a second.” He sucked in a few deep breaths then looked up at him. “Give an old man a hand.”

  Acton yanked him to his feet, then they both followed the sailor through the bowels of the ship, finally arriving at a room with a phone. He pressed a couple of buttons then handed Acton the receiver. “I’ll be outside if you need me, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Acton pressed the receiver to his ear. “Hello, Tommy?”

  “Oh thank God, when your cellphone stopped working, I didn’t know what to think, so I called Dean Milton, and he called—”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. What is it? You said it was urgent?”

  “It is. I think I might have found Professor Palmer. At least where she was a couple of hours ago.”

  A wave of goosebumps swept over his body as hope returned. “Where?”

  “I tracked the trucks to an airport in Slovenia. They were loaded on a plane, a cargo plane, that according to what I can find out, had Saudi diplomatic status. You need to find out where that plane went. It could be still in the air.”

  Acton’s heart was pounding, and he wasn’t thinking straight. He finally spoke. “I’m going to put Agent Reading on. Tell him what you told me.”

  He shoved the phone at Reading who took it and immediately began questioning Tommy, his notepad out, then collapsed in a chair as he processed what had just been said, and the inevitable conclusion it demanded.

  Once that plane landed, Laura was likely dead, and that was at most only a few hours away.

  73

  Unknown Location

  Laura was led to the rear of the plane, squinting at the bright sunlight flooding in the rear as the ramp lowered. From the dry, hot air that swept in, and the barely two hours of flying time from Europe, she knew they had to be in a country rimming the Mediterranean. She had been recaptured in Poland, and the light through her hood and her previously unrelieved bladder, suggested it was the next day. They had obviously traveled a good distance by land, since two hours in the air from Poland would at best put them in Spain or Italy, neither countries she could see these men taking their cargo to.

  And politics also reduced the possibilities. Turkey was likely out of the question, Syria and Israel definitely were, which left North Africa. She could see Egypt, Libya, or Tunisia, perhaps even Algeria, but that would be about it.

  Yet knowing that didn’t help her while still a captive.

  A man in flowing white robes typical of a Saudi sheik, climbed the ramp, his head covering and sunglasses concealing his identity fairly well. Laura made it a point not to look at him, just in case he got nervous she might identify him.

  “Show me.”

  Two of her captors opened several of the crates, revealing parts of the Amber Room dismantled by the Nazis over 70 years ago. A finger was run gently along the revealed panels, a finger that seemed to be trembling with excitement.

  “How do I know it’s real?”

  Her captor stepped forward, holding a hand out toward Laura. “I’ve brought an expert.”

  A tablet was handed to the sheik, and she caught a glimpse of her photo. “Professor Laura Palmer. Currently with the Smithsonian.” The sheik turned toward her. “Tell me, Professor, is this the genuine article?”

  She hesitated, and her captor’s eyes flared, reminding her of his threat. As desperately as she didn’t want to cooperate, she could see no point in lying or delaying the inevitable. It would merely ensure her death. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes drifted to her feet. “Yes.”

  “You’re certain.”

  “Yes. I’m convinced it’s genuine, as was my husband.”

  He looked at the tablet. “Professor James Acton.”

  Her heart ached at the mention of him. “Yes.”

  “Very well.” He handed the tablet back then flicked a wrist at one of the men who had accompanied him. “Transfer the money.”

  A laptop was produced, keys pressed, and moments later, one of her captors was smiling at the man in charge.

  “Our business is concluded?” asked her captor.

  The sheik nodded. “Yes. I insist you visit me when it has been reassembled. You should see what you and your men have accomplished.”

  Laura couldn’t resist. “Why
are you doing this?”

  The sheik appeared surprised, his eyebrows rising past his sunglasses as he turned to her. “Excuse me?”

  “Why are you taking this? This is a part of history. The public should be able to see it.”

  “And they will, in time. But for now, it is mine, and I, along with my public, will be able to enjoy it in peace.”

  She glared at him, reaching out for the crates protectively. “This is wrong.”

  Her captor stepped closer. “Professor Palmer, I highly recommend you shut your mouth now, or you just might find our agreement terminated, and you along with it.”

  She bit her tongue, and the sheik smiled. “Professor, do not worry. Your discovery will be perfectly safe, but at least now, some will get to enjoy what was presumed lost forever. In time, I will tire of it, and it will be sold to someone else. Eventually, somehow, somewhere, it will be once again shown to the masses, though as we both know, it never really was, now was it?”

  Laura frowned, the man right. It had been created for royalty, and in fact, had spent most of its existence hidden away. She decided holding her tongue was for the best, and she merely nodded, turning to her captor. “Now what?”

  “Now we say goodbye.”

  She frowned, her heart hammering. “Why do I doubt that?”

  Her captor smiled. “I don’t know, why would you?”

  “I’ve seen your faces.”

  The man laughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Professor, you’ve seen this face. I’ve had many, and I’ll have many more.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re just going to let me go.”

  “Nothing is ever quite that simple.”

  He stepped forward and sprayed something in her face.

  Laura woke to yet another headache, her mouth dry, her bladder protesting even more than before. She sat up, discovering she was in the back seat of a car, a rather cheap one at that.