‘Some of us have been in prison,’ McNutt said. ‘It’s not fun - unless, of course, you enjoy rape.’
‘Fortunately we function under the Marine praxis that no member is left behind. That includes being kept in a prison, anywhere. Illegality is only a moral limitation for us, not a physical one.’
‘What about killing?’ McNutt asked.
‘Hopefully that will not be necessary,’ Papineau said.
‘But you wouldn’t have hired him otherwise,’ Sarah said.
Papineau’s silence was confirmation enough.
‘How much is this “significant amount” you referred to?’ McNutt asked.
‘Five million dollars to each of you,’ he replied. ‘Cash, wire transfer, bank check, gold - however you want it.’
He had them. Cobb knew it and so did the Frenchman.
‘Anyway, that’s all I have to say,’ Papineau said. ‘Are there any questions?’
McNutt raised his hand. ‘What’s a praxis?’
‘A practice,’ Jasmine said.
‘Ah. Thanks.’
Papineau took some of the breakfast burrito Garcia had made, some of the fruit Jasmine had cut, a half of a sandwich Cobb and McNutt had made, and a little of the juice Sarah had squeezed. The man was nothing if not diplomatic.
‘Do any of you need time to think over your involvement?’ the Frenchman asked. ‘We’re on somewhat of a tight schedule.’
Jasmine surprised everyone by being the first to speak. ‘I’m in.’
She looked at Hector, who said, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m in, too.’ He looked at McNutt diagonally across from him.
‘Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for all the tits at Hooters,’ McNutt exclaimed.
The momentum stopped there. Papineau stared at Sarah.
‘Ms Ellis?’
She looked to where her forefinger was making a little circle on the table next to her drink. ‘Well, since you went to so much trouble to bring me here … why the hell not?’
Papineau smiled and turned his attention to Cobb. ‘And what about you?’
Cobb glanced around the table. ‘Before I make a decision, I’d like to mention the one thing that Papi has not yet shared. This is not his home, it’s a training facility.’
‘For what?’ McNutt asked. ‘Being rich?’
Papineau returned Cobb’s stare. ‘You’re referring to the air vents?’
‘Among other things.’
‘Someone want to catch us up?’ Sarah asked.
‘Mr Cobb looked for and spotted the air duct that—’
‘Two air ducts,’ Cobb interrupted. ‘There’s one at basement level in the front, hidden by the landscaping, another about ten feet lower on the beach.’
Papineau made a face. ‘That’s a big assumption. A vent down there would be flooded during high tide.’
‘Hence the out-of-place sea wall,’ Cobb said. ‘There’s nothing else it could be shielding.’
Papineau nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, there are two air ducts.’
Cobb smiled. ‘Care to show us the rest of the facility?’
‘Now that we have gotten to know each other a little, let us have a look at what Mr Cobb alluded to. I’m sure you’ll be impressed by what I have below.’
Papineau led the team downstairs past an indoor swimming pool. Through double doors they glimpsed a pier angling out into the sea and a motor yacht, four levels high and roughly sixty-five feet. Lights were on fore and aft, revealing a white hull and the inscription TRESOR DE LA MER painted on its stern.
‘Treasure in the Sea?’ McNutt attempted.
‘Treasure of the Sea,’ Jasmine corrected.
‘Damn. I was close. If I stick by you, I may get an education.’
‘You need one,’ Sarah teased.
The group followed Papineau down another flight of stairs to a sub-basement, toward a door heavy enough for a bunker.
‘This is modeled after the design of the White House situation room,’ Papineau said.
‘How do you know?’ McNutt asked.
Papineau grinned. ‘I stole the plans.’
16
On the other side of the door was a luxurious conference room, climate-controlled to museum-level perfection and decorated with fine art, gold and silver trappings, and expensive carpets. To Cobb, the decor looked out of place - even for a man like Papineau. Cobb immediately looked beyond the distractions, searching for the telltale edges of a vault or signs of whatever else Papineau was trying to conceal. After almost a minute, he still hadn’t found what he was looking for; it was hidden even to his trained glance.
Cobb intentionally caught the Frenchman’s eye so Papineau would know exactly what he’d been doing. He wanted to make it clear to Papineau that he understood the situation. Papineau, in turn, seemed pleased that his secret had stumped Cobb … at least for the time being.
The focus of the room was a large video screen - a nautical chart - that completely covered the far wall, facing long couches and amply padded easy chairs. The room had the same showroom quality Cobb had found strange in the upper rooms: a ‘just removed the plastic’ feeling - even, somehow, the gourmet food they had found in the kitchen.
Everyone took up positions in front of the nautical map. Papineau pressed a button on a remote control. The lights dimmed, and the sea map vanished, revealing a land map of Eastern Europe, circa 1914. The map slowly zoomed on a shape that was colored yellow.
Papineau stared at the group. ‘Romania is located at the crossroads of Central and Southwestern Europe, on the lower Danube River.’ He turned and aimed a laser pointer at the map wall, and a red dot appeared. ‘Ukraine to the northeast, Austria-Hungary to the west, Serbia to the southwest, and Bulgaria to the south. Its capital city is Bucharest, currently the sixth largest city in the EU.’
‘Population?’ Cobb asked.
‘Romania or Bucharest?’
Cobb smiled. ‘Go for broke. Both.’
‘Now or in 1914?’
‘Your choice.’
Staring at his phone, Garcia answered for him. ‘Modern-day Romania has approximately twenty-two million people. Bucharest, around two million.’
‘Thanks,’ Cobb said, with a sidelong glance at Garcia. His curiosity was satisfied. Papineau was not immersed in whatever they were about to do. He knew only what he needed to know.
‘Ms Park, perhaps you can fill in the blanks before World War One,’ Papineau said.
That suggestion straightened her posture and brightened her eyes. ‘Confederated in 1859, it adopted one of the most advanced constitutions of its time in 1866,’ she said in a clear, concise voice. ‘This allowed for the modernization of the country outside the previous dependence on the Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman Empire, of course, was one of the largest and longest empires in history, lasting from 1299 until 1923, and at its height stretched from southeast Europe to North Africa to western Asia—’
‘Stay in country,’ Papineau suggested.
She adjusted without hesitation. ‘Romania declared its independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1877. It was internationally recognized in 1878 and proclaimed the Kingdom of Romania in 1881. Under the reign of King Carol the First - who was named ruling prince in 1866 - the country enjoyed an era of relative stability and prosperity—’
‘With the king, of course, being the most prosperous,’ Papineau interjected.
‘—he ruled for forty-eight years, the longest rule by an individual that Romania has ever known.’
‘Then came the First World War,’ Papineau prompted.
‘Yes,’ Jasmine said. ‘King Carol the First was German-born, so he wanted to side with his homeland, which was in league with Austria-Hungary and Italy. The Romanian people, however, wanted to ally with England, France, and Russia. Unbeknownst to anyone, the king had already signed a pact with the German-led Triple Alliance in 1883.’
She paused to make sure everyone was keeping up with her. They were.
‘There was an emergency me
eting with his court and cabinet,’ she said without inflection. ‘There was a strong disagreement between the king and his people. His death on September twenty-seventh, 1914, at the age of seventy-five, was blamed on the stress of this break with his subjects.’
‘Very good, thank you,’ Papineau said. ‘I’ll take it from there.’
He turned from Jasmine to address the entire group. ‘Romania delayed its decision to enter the war until 1916. They had other, more pressing concerns.’
The Frenchman turned back to the map and pressed the remote control. Images of gold coins, bars, bricks, armor, decorations, accessories, jewelry, dishes, tableware, and even furniture danced before their eyes. ‘The new leaders quickly grasped that whether the Germans invaded or were invited in, the nation’s treasures were in danger of being seized. Thus, the ad hoc administration made the difficult decision to send it out of their country for safekeeping in a series of rail shipments.’
The image changed to a map of Eastern Europe. An animated arrow grew out of Romania’s top right corner, passing through the countries to the northeast and ending some fifteen hundred miles away.
McNutt groaned at the sight.
‘We are interested in one of those treasure trains,’ Papineau continued. ‘One in which almost a hundred tons of gold and jewels were sent away.’
Sarah’s eyes lit up in thought. ‘In modern terms, how much loot?’
Papineau smiled. ‘Billions.’
17
Cobb stared at the map. According to the animation, the treasure had been taken from Romania to Russia. Amongst the vast quantity of details he had learned about the Soviets during his years in the service, three things about Mother Russia had always stuck with him: it had eight time zones, widespread poverty, and a pervasive black market.
Cobb was excited, but he was not pleased.
Jasmine continued her history lesson. ‘Germany controlled Central Europe, so the Romanians saw no safe way of getting the gold to where they wanted to send it - the United States or the United Kingdom. They considered Denmark and Sweden next, but German submarines ruled the North Sea.’
‘Those Germans really knew how to wage war, huh?’ McNutt interjected.
‘Only to a point,’ Papineau said, with a flourish of French pride.
‘So the Romanians felt that there was no other choice,’ Jasmine said. ‘They made a treaty with tsarist Russia. The Red Army would safeguard the treasure until after the war.’
‘And then - oops! - they lost it,’ Sarah said.
‘You’re getting ahead of us,’ Papineau said. ‘Jasmine, tell them more about the players involved.’
‘On December the eleventh, 1916, General Mossoloff extended a written guarantee promising the safety of the Romanian National Treasure. He had this authority as the Charge d’Affaires of Russia in Romania - basically, he gave the final opinion on all Russian matters in Romania. Three days later Mossoloff and Ion Antonescu, the Finance Minister of Romania, signed what is known as the Romanian-Russian Protocol. That guaranteed, in great detail, the transport, safekeeping, and return of the treasure. Before the ink of their signatures was dry, Russia took possession - temporarily, the Romanians believed - of seventeen rail cars of Romanian gold. There were over fifteen hundred crates containing over one hundred tons. Worth roughly three hundred million dollars at the time, or upwards of five billion dollars in today’s market.’
The recitation was met by silence. It wasn’t the silence of the dumbstruck, but rather the mute inability of anyone in the room to fully process the amount in question.
‘That wasn’t all,’ Jasmine continued. ‘Also onboard the seventeen rail cars were crates containing Queen Maria’s jewelry.’
‘And that was just the first shipment?’ Cobb asked.
Papineau nodded. ‘Twenty-four additional train cars were sent in 1917. These transported more gold and money from vaults of the state’s financial institutions, as well as cherished jewelry and other historical artifacts from state and private collections.’
‘Jewelry?’ Sarah asked.
Papineau nodded. ‘Bronze Age jewelry from approximately 1500 BC; Dacian jewels, precious stones and gold mined from their lands before the formation of Romania; jewelry belonging to the Wallachian and Moldavian ruling class; and the Romanian royal jewels. Even at that time, it was worth one and a half billion dollars, give or take.’
‘Take,’ McNutt said. He winked at Sarah, who didn’t respond.
‘Excuse me, Mr Papineau,’ Garcia said, his fingers flying on his phone. ‘Could you be more specific? Specific sums are easier to trace backward than round figures.’
Papineau straightened. ‘Various documents record the value as one billion, five hundred and ninety-four million, eight hundred and thirty-six thousand, seven hundred twenty-one.’ The Frenchman waited until Garcia caught up. ‘And nine cents.’
McNutt could only laugh, unable to fully comprehend that much wealth, even as thoughts of strippers and private jets danced in his head.
‘Some consider this estimate to be on the low end,’ Papineau continued. ‘The very low end, as the value of much of the artwork and other personal items simply cannot be ascertained.’
‘The very definition of “priceless”,’ Sarah offered.
‘Indeed,’ Papineau replied.
Garcia added, ‘By the way, the newly created US Federal Reserve was given intelligence of the relocation on January twentieth of the following year.’
‘Well done,’ Papineau said.
Garcia glanced at him to see if he was being sincere. Confident that he was, Garcia looked down and tapped his phone screen again. ‘The Fed references other intelligence reports. Get this. One of them was from a guy named William Friedman - a geneticist who studied cryptology at the Riverbank Laboratories Cipher Department.’
Cobb was familiar with the name. ‘That’s where it all started. The military’s Signals Intelligence Service - the code-breaking division.’
‘Correct,’ Papineau said. ‘Mr Garcia, do you have the Friedman report?’
‘Yeah, and wow. Every dime - excuse me, every leu - and all the stocks and securities of the National Bank of Romania, as well as all deposits from the Romanian Savings and Loan, were sent on the later trains. That’s all the wealth of the royal family, the government, and the people. It included documents from the Romanian National Archives, papers from the Historical Archives of Brasov, art belonging to museums and private collections, manuscripts and rare books from libraries and universities, and even the entire inventory of every Romanian pawn shop.’
‘Did any sane human being think that treasure was ever coming back?’ McNutt said.
Papineau held up his hand. ‘In Moscow on August fifth, 1917, representatives of the Romanian and Russian governments signed a codicil to their agreement, authorizing the creation of a depository in the Kremlin to protect the Romanian treasure. There were two sets of keys needed to open the gigantic depository. One was held by the Romanian National Bank, the other by the Russian tsarist government.’
‘Two-key systems are like marriages,’ Jasmine explained. ‘They only work if both parties remain civil. And in this case, they didn’t. The Soviet government declared war on Romania less than a year later, January 1918, and announced that the Romanian treasure was no longer accessible to Romania. The decree was signed by Lenin himself.’
Sarah laughed. ‘The Soviets were a real pain in the ass, weren’t they?’
Papineau nodded. ‘The French - who had fought valiantly alongside the Russians and the Romanians during World War One - tried to intercede on the Romanians’ behalf. The Consul General of France took possession of the Romanian key in an effort to broker a deal. He went to Moscow to negotiate and was promptly arrested by Soviet authorities. They seized the Romanian key and didn’t return it until 1926.’
Sarah smiled. ‘In the meantime, let the looting begin.’
‘Indeed,’ Papineau said. ‘The Soviet government immediately confi
scated eight crates filled with more than a million dollars’ worth of bank notes, claiming it was owed to them as compensation for their “good work”. When peace between Moscow and Bucharest was fully restored in 1934, the USSR returned almost fifteen hundred crates—’
‘Exact numbers please!’ Garcia snapped.
‘One thousand, four hundred and thirty-six crates,’ the Frenchman informed him. ‘Although they were replete with valuable documents, the crates contained nothing of monetary value.’
‘The art?’ Sarah asked.
‘Returned in 1956,’ Jasmine said.
‘And the rest of it?’ she asked. ‘Surely the Romanians protested.’
‘Vigorously and often,’ Papineau said. ‘Although nearly forty thousand—’ he stopped, bowed slightly to Garcia, - ‘thirty-nine thousand, three hundred and twenty artifacts were returned, actual monies received by Romania consisted of only thirty-three kilograms of gold and six hundred and ninety kilograms of silver.’
McNutt whistled. ‘The Russian bear just stomped through that campsite, didn’t it?’
Jasmine nodded. ‘The Romanians have repeatedly tried to reopen negotiations for the return of the bulk of the treasure. Unfortunately, Brezhnev, Kosygin, and Andropov all refused to negotiate. They have even said because of Romania’s debt that they owe Russia money.’
Papineau took over from there. ‘No one outside an elite few in the Kremlin has had access to the vault or its treasure for decades. The best of the Romanian treasure - the parts that would be easiest to pawn or “fence”, if you will - has already been looted, I am sure. I am aware that some of the items have been on the market over the years - though not publicly, of course. They are still stolen goods—’
‘You mean jewels, paintings, rare books - most of the “priceless” things,’ Sarah lamented.
‘Exactly.’
‘But not the gold,’ Garcia stated, looking at his screen. ‘Gold prices went up and up and up until 1931, and they only fell because the Brits abandoned the gold standard and speculators pounced on the outflow. There was no other influx of gold into the world market.’
The Hunters Page 8
