The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘Jon!’ Jones yelled. ‘You need to see this now.’

  Still annoyed by Jones’s earlier behaviour, Payne was tempted to make him wait another few minutes out of spite, but the urgency in his friend’s voice told him it was important.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Payne grumbled.

  Jones said nothing. He simply handed the lid that had been pried off the third crate to Payne, who immediately recognized that it was different. Unlike the first two, the underbelly of this lid did not have the Ulster family crest. Instead, the ancient wood had been branded with an elaborate black swan. Its wings spread wide, its neck twisted to the side as if it was looking for a predator that might be gaining on it.

  Kaiser whispered. ‘Remember what Petr said. The Nazis marked everything. Admittedly, I’ve never seen this symbol before, but what if this was one of theirs?’

  Payne glanced over his shoulder, paranoid. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Ulster’s mood, unless it was completely necessary. ‘What if it was? For all we know, Conrad found one of their crates and used it to store his belongings. Remember, a war was going on. Supplies were in high demand. People used everything they could get their hands on.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s not that simple,’ Jones assured him.

  ‘It’s not? How can you be so sure?’

  Jones grimaced and pointed towards the crate. ‘Go see for yourself.’

  16

  Although his journey was a short one, every step that Payne took was filled with dread, as if he were a convicted felon heading towards the gallows. Time seemed to slow as he approached the crate, giving him a chance to envision all the horrendous possibilities that might be inside. He realized the contents had spooked Jones and Kaiser, two men who didn’t spook easily.

  Still, he hadn’t been expecting anything like this.

  The crate was packed with several rows of gold bars that glowed like the legendary city of El Dorado, thanks to the bright light of the halogen lamps. Each bar weighed 5,000 grams (approximately 11 pounds) and had been carefully stamped with the elaborate swan symbol that had been branded onto the lid. Payne had no idea what or whom the swan represented, but it was pretty obvious that money hadn’t been a problem – at least until the gold had disappeared.

  ‘Shit,’ Payne mumbled under his breath. ‘This isn’t good.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Jones whispered. ‘Not good at all.’

  During their time in the MANIACs, they had discovered thirty crates of gold bars in a bunker outside Baghdad. The treasure, plundered from a royal palace, had been hidden by an Iraqi diplomat who had tried, in vain, to smuggle it across the border. Realizing the roads were patrolled by American troops, he had buried the cache in the desert, planning to return a few years later after tensions had calmed. But much to the diplomat’s chagrin, Payne and Jones had uncovered the bunker before the Iraqi had a chance to claim his plunder.

  In retrospect, it was the first treasure the duo had ever found.

  Payne grabbed one of the bars from the crate. It felt like a brick in his hand. Using his body to shield it from Ulster, he flipped it over and searched for additional markings but saw none. ‘What do you know about Nazi gold?’

  Jones whispered, ‘Do you want facts or myths?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘In simple terms, Nazi Germany financed its war effort by looting its victims. Most of the assets were stored in regional depositories that were heavily guarded. When the Nazis needed a large influx of currency, they cashed in the gold at dozens of financial institutions in Europe – including the Vatican Bank and the Franciscan Order. That is, if you believe the civil suits filed by Holocaust survivors.’ Jones made sure Ulster wasn’t listening before he continued. ‘Now this is where things get complicated. After the war, most of these accounts miraculously disappeared. I’m talking here today, gone tomorrow. Some people believe the gold was stolen by the upper class and hidden in vaults, much like the gold we found in Iraq. Others speculate that only the paperwork was destroyed, that the depositories themselves are still waiting to be found. Personally, I’m not sure what to believe. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a combination of the two. Some gold was stolen, and the rest got lost in the shuffle.’

  Payne held up the bar. ‘What about this gold?’

  Jones struggled for words, not wanting to condemn a man he had never met – especially the grandfather of one of his friends. ‘For the time being, the best thing we can do is figure out the meaning of the swan. For all we know, it might be something innocuous, like the crest of one of the families that Conrad smuggled out of the country. Maybe he was storing this gold for them.’

  ‘And if he wasn’t?’ Kaiser asked, worried about the repercussions.

  ‘If he wasn’t, we’ll have some tough choices to make,’ Jones said.

  Payne glanced at Ulster, who was so focused on his grandfather’s journal he was oblivious to everything going on in the back of the room. ‘As much as I hate to do this, I have to ask Petr about the swan. He knows more about history than the three of us combined. It would be foolish to leave him out of the loop just to spare his feelings.’

  Jones grimaced at the task. ‘Do you want me to join you?’

  Payne shook his head. Things would go smoother if he did it alone. ‘While I talk to Petr, open some more crates. Hopefully, you’ll find something that explains the gold.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘A receipt would be nice. Preferably one without a swastika.’

  Jones leaned closer. ‘I know people who could forge one.’

  ‘So do I,’ Kaiser admitted.

  Payne winced at the suggestion. ‘Guys, I was kidding. We’re not forging a receipt.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Jones said in a less than convincing tone. ‘Wouldn’t even think of it.’

  Kaiser didn’t blink or smile. ‘I was serious.’

  Back when Kaiser was starting his operation, one of the first people he hired was a world-class forger who specialized in visas and passports. Not only was he an expert on ink, paper, and handwriting, but he also had a unique perspective since he used to be a border guard at the Berlin Wall so he knew what would be looked for. In recent years, the forger’s son had entered the family business, but unlike his father, he specialized in artwork and older documents.

  Payne smirked. He was quite familiar with Kaiser’s services. ‘Although I appreciate the offer, both of us know that’s not the best way to go.’

  ‘I never said it was. I’m just letting you know it’s an option.’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Payne said, trying to distance himself from the topic. ‘But if you think of something legal, be sure to let us know.’

  Mueller’s assistant answered the encrypted satellite phone in the front seat of the Mercedes Benz limousine. The custom-built car had more safety features than the Popemobile. Armour-plated doors, bulletproofed, non-splinter, multi-layered windows, a fuel-tank safety system, run-flat tyres, and a remote starting system that could be activated from a distance of 300 metres – just in case an explosive device had been wired to the ignition. To some people, equipment like this would be overkill. But in Mueller’s line of work, it was essential.

  He made enemies every day, and most of them were criminals.

  Gazing at the Binnenalster, one of two artificial lakes in Hamburg, Mueller sipped his morning coffee in the back of the limo while pondering his hectic schedule. Rarely awake before noon since most of his business was done at night, he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone except the arms dealer he was about to meet in the park. If all went well, Mueller would make seven figures before lunch.

  ‘Sir,’ said his assistant over the intercom system, ‘there’s a call for you.’

  Annoyed by the interruption, Mueller jabbed the button. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Krueger. He has news from Bavaria.’

  Mueller nodded his approval. Krueger was a trusted worker who wouldn’t call unless it was important. ‘Fine. Give him
to me.’

  With a flip of a switch, the soundproof partition behind the front seat was lowered. After handing the phone to his boss, the assistant raised the partition to its original position.

  Mueller spoke to Krueger in German. ‘Yes?’

  ‘My apologies, sir. Sorry to disturb you so early.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Over the past few days, I’ve noticed some unusual activity in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The type of activity that might interest you.’

  ‘Define unusual.’

  ‘Helicopters, sir. Both coming and going to the foot of Zugspitze.’

  Mueller stroked his chin in thought. ‘Probably just a lost hiker. Nothing to be alarmed about.’

  Krueger demurely disagreed. ‘I thought the same thing at first, but this morning’s chopper was more luxurious than the others. Just to be safe, I ran its tail number.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s definitely not a rescue craft. This helicopter arrived from Switzerland.’

  ‘Switzerland?’ Mueller’s interest was piqued. ‘Did you learn the name of the owner?’

  Krueger nodded. ‘The chopper belongs to Petr Ulster.’

  ‘Ulster?’ he said, trying to place the name. ‘Why is that so familiar?’

  Krueger smiled. ‘Because he owns the Ulster Archives.’

  17

  Wanting to learn as much about the swan symbol as possible, Payne showed Ulster the back of the lid instead of one of the gold bars. He figured it would be less shocking that way. But as soon as Ulster saw the symbol, he snapped to attention.

  ‘Where did you find this?’ Ulster demanded.

  ‘Why? Do you recognize it?’

  ‘Of course I recognize it. It’s the black swan!’

  Payne furrowed his brow. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Which is this!’ Ulster said as he repeatedly tapped the lid.

  ‘Yeah, I kind of figured that out. I meant, what does it represent?’

  ‘Please, help me to my feet.’

  Payne grabbed his hand and easily yanked him up.

  ‘Now, where did you find this? Show me at once!’

  ‘About that,’ Payne said, reluctant to break the potentially bad news. ‘I should prepare you for what you’re about to see. You’re not going to like it.’

  ‘I’m not?’

  Payne shook his head. ‘Nope.’

  Ulster lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Is the crate filled with treasure?’

  Payne nodded. ‘Dozens of gold bars.’

  Ulster whooped with glee. ‘Brilliant! Just brilliant! I knew the rumours were true!’

  Payne blinked a few times. ‘Rumours? What rumours? About your grandfather?’

  ‘My grandfather?’ he asked, confused. ‘Of course not! I’m talking about Ludwig.’

  ‘Ludwig? Who in the hell is Ludwig? I thought your grandfather’s name was Conrad.’

  ‘My grandfather’s name was Conrad. But I’m talking about Ludwig!’

  Payne shook his head, completely baffled. Not only about Ulster’s excitement, but also about Ludwig – whoever that was. ‘Hold up! Tell me what you’re talking about.’

  ‘In a moment. First, show me where you found this.’

  Payne led Ulster to the crate of gold, where they were greeted by Jones and Kaiser. Having heard the commotion on the other side of the chamber, Jones was ready to console Ulster, but one look at his face told him it wasn’t necessary. Ulster was far from distraught.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Ulster grabbed one of the bars and held it up to the light. His smile gleamed as he ran his fingers over the stamp. ‘And look! It has the mark of the swan!’

  Payne met his gaze and shrugged. The term meant nothing to him.

  Undeterred, Ulster glanced at Jones and Kaiser, expecting to see a glint of recognition in their eyes. But they stared at him as though he was speaking a foreign language.

  Ulster continued. ‘Don’t you know what this is? It’s an explanation!’

  ‘An explanation?’ Payne asked.

  Ulster nodded. ‘An explanation of my grandfather’s journal.’

  Payne grimaced, getting more and more confused. ‘Speaking of explanations …’

  ‘Yes, of course, how silly of me! Here I am rambling on and on about the black swan, yet it’s painfully obvious that none of you know what I’m talking about.’ Ulster pointed at Jones. ‘Although I must admit, I thought you might get the reference.’

  Jones winced. ‘Why? Because I’m black?’

  Ulster blushed at the insinuation. ‘Good heavens, no! I meant because you’re a history buff, not because you’re, um …’

  ‘Relax, Petr! I was just teasing.’

  Ulster breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness! I thought perhaps I had offended you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Jones, who had a history of teasing everyone. ‘To answer your question, I’m not familiar with the black swan.’

  Ulster turned towards Kaiser. ‘What about you? You’ve lived in Germany for a while now. In all that time, you’ve never heard of the black swan?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘What about the Swan King?’

  Kaiser shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’ve been busy.’

  Ulster sighed in frustration. ‘Perhaps it’s an American thing. Because children in Europe are taught about the Swan King in primary school.’

  Jones raised his voice. ‘Wait! Now you’re making fun of America?’

  Payne rolled his eyes. This was going nowhere. ‘DJ, please shut the hell up and let Petr talk. You know damn well he wasn’t insulting you. Or America.’

  Jones grinned a devious grin. ‘Sorry, Petr. What were you saying?’

  Ulster gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out where to begin. Known for his attention to detail and his tendency to digress, he started at the beginning, hoping to give them enough background information for them to understand. ‘When Napoleon abolished the Holy Roman Empire in 1806, Bavaria officially became a kingdom, and Maximilian I was named its king. For the next eighty years, the crown passed from father to son until it was placed on the eighteen-year-old head of Ludwig the Second, a handsome lad who was ill-prepared for the title.’

  Payne recognized the name. ‘You mentioned Ludwig earlier.’

  Ulster nodded. ‘Known as the Swan King, Ludwig is best remembered for the elaborate stone castles that he built throughout Bavaria – including the legendary Neuschwanstein. The castle is so scenic and grand, it inspired Walt Disney’s design of Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland. If you haven’t seen Neuschwanstein, you should arrange a tour before you return to the States. It truly is remarkable.’

  Familiar with Ulster’s habit of getting off track, Payne steered the conversation back to Ludwig. ‘How did he get the nickname?’

  ‘Due to his obsession with Lohengrin, a famous character from German folklore who was known as the Swan Knight. If you are familiar with Arthurian legend, you might recognize the name. Lohengrin was the son of Percival, one of the Knights of the Round Table who pursued the Holy Grail. Over the centuries, Lohengrin’s tale has taken many forms and has been translated into many languages. Still, the basic details remain the same. Lohengrin is sent to rescue a maiden in a far-off land, a journey he makes in a cockleshell boat pulled by a magical swan.’

  Jones frowned. ‘Did you say a cockleshell boat pulled by a magic swan? Pardon me for saying so, but that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard. And that includes Jon’s ringtone.’

  Payne rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

  Meanwhile, Ulster used the off-colour remark as a teaching moment. ‘I realize you meant it as a joke, but history tells us that Ludwig was one of the most flamboyant rulers of all time. In fact, Ludwig often dressed up in a Swan Knight costume and pranced around the halls of his castle while listening to opera.’

  Jones, who was a smartass, not anti-gay, tried to bite his tongue but simply couldn’t. ‘Sorry, fellas, I just change
d my mind. That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘Regardless,’ Ulster said, ‘the costume helps explain why he was called the Swan King. Strangely, the majestic creatures had fascinated him even before he had heard of the Swan Knight. As a small child, he used to draw pictures of swans in his notebooks and on his schoolwork. Later in life, when he ruled Bavaria, he sealed his correspondence with a swan and a cross, a reference to Lohengrin and the Holy Grail. Even his personal crest had a swan on it. I’m telling you, it was an obsession.’

  Payne pointed to the symbol on the lid. ‘Is this his personal crest?’

  Ulster shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘No, the symbol that you’re holding is known as the black swan, and its history is far more mysterious. Unlike his personal crest, which is celebrated in history books and museums across Germany, the black swan is kept in the shadows, a dark reminder of Ludwig’s final days as king. If you believe the rumours – and most historians do – the symbol in your hands is the reason for Ludwig’s murder.’

  18

  Born in 1845, Ludwig the Second was the eldest son of King Maximilian the Second of Bavaria and Princess Marie of Prussia. His parents had wanted to name him Otto, but Ludwig I, the deposed king of Bavaria, who was known for his eccentric behaviour, insisted his grandson be named after him since they shared a birthday. In time, Ludwig the Second would be renowned for his own eccentricities.

  As a small child, Ludwig despised ugliness. If approached by an unattractive servant, he would cry and refuse to look at the employee. His father tried to change his ways, assigning several ugly servants to wait on the petulant boy, but when his behaviour became a phobia, Ludwig’s staff was made up of the most attractive servants they could find.

  Embarrassed by his son’s unusual ways, King Maximilian had little interest in him, except in regards to his training and schooling. For that, he hired private tutors. Realizing that Ludwig would someday be king, Maximilian subjected the crown prince to a demanding regimen of education and exercise, which some experts believe amplified the odd behaviour that had already taken root. Still, as bad as his relationship was with his father, Ludwig was even further detached from his mother, who he coldly referred to as ‘my predecessor’s consort’.