The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  Payne was impressed. It sounded like Loher was the perfect accomplice for the crazy king. One was a dreamer, the other a realist. ‘What did he determine?’

  Heidi answered. ‘After his first journey in 1873 – a trip that took him to Spain, Africa, Greece and the Turkish isles – he presented Ludwig with a detailed report on a number of locations. No one knows how the king reacted because their conversation was private, but it’s assumed he told Loher to keep looking.’

  Payne asked, ‘If their talk was private, how do you know about the report?’

  ‘Loher’s reports eventually turned up in the Geheimes Hausarchiv, the secret archives of the Royal House, two years after Ludwig’s death. The reports are still there today.’

  Jones glanced at Ulster. ‘I thought you said your friend searched through the archives and didn’t find what he needed.’

  Ulster smiled. ‘He wasn’t looking for Loher’s reports. Those have been scrutinized for decades. My friend was searching for documentation on what happened next.’

  Payne furrowed his brow. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘According to the Munich archives, Loher made a second journey abroad in 1875. He visited Cyprus and Crete and enquired about Crimea, an autonomous republic on the Black Sea. Unfortunately, nothing seemed suitable for their needs. By this time, Ludwig was getting antsy and Loher was getting too old to be traipsing round the globe. Understanding the importance of secrecy, Ludwig trusted no one except Loher to work on this sensitive project, which forced Loher to refine his approach. Instead of travelling himself, he collected journals from travellers, read books on foreign lands, even interviewed tourists from different countries – all in the hopes of finding a kingdom for his king. Despite these efforts, he reached a regrettable conclusion. The perfect spot for Camelot did not exist.’

  Loher explained his verdict in his final report to Ludwig:

  I have myself visited a large part of the inhabited world and have read and researched in countless books. Yet I could find only very few places which might be remotely suitable, and in not a single case would I like to guarantee that the enterprise could really succeed … On the whole earth, there is not a single spot which totally fulfils the conditions for a satisfactory outcome. The goal can be only partly attained and certainly not without great sacrifice and trouble.

  Heidi added a few more details. ‘Unfortunately for Loher, he was vilified by the public when these reports were uncovered by the press. Most people were still angry about Ludwig’s murder, so they lashed out at Loher, saying he had taken advantage of the deluded king by getting Ludwig to finance his extensive travel. Eventually, the Bavarian government pressured Loher to give up his position as director of the archives even though Loher was the person who had added the reports to the archives in the first place. He felt they were an important part of Ludwig’s legacy, but he was punished for his honesty.’

  Payne stared at the letters on the wall. Even though he couldn’t translate the language, he was able to read the handwritten dates on the documents. Most of the letters were sent in 1886, the year of Ludwig’s death. ‘When did Loher file his final report?’

  Ulster grinned with delight. ‘That, my boy, is why I am so excited. This wall of letters, dated years after Loher’s final report was presented to Ludwig, contradicts every scrap of evidence that has ever been collected. There have been rumours, but never this kind of proof.’

  ‘Proof of what?’ Jones asked.

  ‘That Loher hired a team of researchers to travel the globe for him and compile data for an unnamed client. That these researchers found a piece of land for a modern-day Camelot, and Loher’s final report – in which he claims no such place exists, so it would be a waste of time and money to keep searching – was simply a smokescreen to throw off Ludwig’s rivals.’

  Payne took a deep breath and tried to make sense of the claim. During the past few days, he had received a crash course on the history of Bavaria, and his head was starting to spin. Prior to his current trip, he had seen pictures of Ludwig’s castles but had been completely unfamiliar with Ludwig’s life. Now he was standing in a secret room, hidden underneath one of those castles, talking about Ludwig’s plan to abandon his country.

  Payne stared at Ulster. ‘I think you better explain.’

  Ulster nodded. ‘As I mentioned earlier, my colleague visited the Munich archives on a very specific quest. He wanted to find out more about the ongoing relationship between Ludwig and Loher in the months leading up to Ludwig’s death. As you know, Ludwig was a loner, and the friends he made were artistic in nature. If that’s the case, why did Ludwig and Loher continue to communicate for years after the end of their secret project? Loher was an elderly historian, not a painter or a musician. Trust me when I tell you this, most historians are painfully dull!’

  Payne smiled. ‘Aren’t you a historian?’

  ‘Obviously, I’m the exception to the rule.’

  ‘I beg to differ,’ Jones teased him.

  Ulster laughed. ‘Anyway, when Loher’s travel reports were leaked to the press in 1888, some people speculated they were the real reason Ludwig had been deposed. Not because he was insane, but because his cabinet had learned about his crazy plot to start a new country and had punished him for his disloyalty.’

  Payne shrugged. ‘That seems reasonable to me.’

  Ulster shook his head. ‘The problem with this theory was the timing of things. Loher’s final report was given to Ludwig several years before his murder. If the subject had been closed for that long, why did the cabinet act so viciously when they discovered Ludwig’s foiled plan? What’s more, why would they have waited so long to react? If the final report was indeed intended as misdirection, Loher would not have concealed its delivery. In fact, it would have been essential that Ludwig’s cabinet learn of the report immediately to reassure them Ludwig would not be leaving. Obviously, I’ll know more once I read through these letters, but my guess is the subject wasn’t closed. That Ludwig was still looking to leave Bavaria, and his cabinet killed him before he had a chance.’

  65

  While Ulster and Heidi focused on the letters, Payne and Jones examined the rest of the room, searching for information about Ludwig’s secret mission. Unfortunately, their inspection was hindered by a lack of electric lights, a surprising oversight considering the special effects in the grotto but one that was probably done to avoid incriminating power cables. Jones noticed ventilation shafts in two of the corners, which would have allowed Ludwig to use candles or lanterns without fear of asphyxiation.

  Shining his flashlight on the left-hand wall, Payne stopped in front of a series of sketches that caught his eye. None of the artwork had been signed, so he didn’t know if Ludwig had drawn them or not, but they highlighted the rocky coastline of a scenic island. Most of the sketches featured a spectacular palace, whether real or imagined, that made the Linderhof look like a shack. Built on the edge of an imposing cliff, it was designed with an assortment of whimsical details – decorative chimneys, ornamental turrets, steep gables and stone sculptures – yet the structure seemed to sprout out of the earth as if it had been there for ever. With beautiful gardens and sweeping views of the endless sea, it appeared to meet Ludwig’s definition of Camelot.

  A few feet to his right, Payne noticed a collection of architectural blueprints hanging from two hooks mounted on the wall. Having grown up in the offices of Payne Industries, he was familiar with a wide variety of technical drawings, but their combination of age, language and scope was unlike anything he had ever seen. Drawn in the 1880s and labelled in Bavarian, the pages showed the interior rooms of a massive palace that was larger than most cathedrals. Payne studied the floor plans and tried to imagine what the building would actually look like. When he did, he realized the designs matched the sketches to his left.

  Apparently, Ludwig’s scheme wasn’t just a pipe dream. They had started the planning process.

  In the centre of the room, Jones sat on the carved
chair and sifted through the drawers of the antique desk. A version of the Bureau du Roi (King’s Desk) – a richly ornamented roll-top desk commissioned by Louis XV of France – it was inlaid with an intricate variety of coloured woods. The original desk, which still stands in the Palace of Versailles, has a miniature bust of Minerva on top, but Ludwig’s featured an elaborate bust of the Swan Knight. On the public side of the desk (away from where the king would sit), there was an oval filled with the carved head of Silence, a symbolic figure that held a forefinger to its lips. It was a reminder that discretion was required in matters of the king. Down here, where the desk had been locked away for more than a hundred years, the symbol seemed to have extra meaning.

  Unable to read Bavarian, Jones searched through the desk for anything that seemed unusual – although that was a tough term to define in the underground lair of a man with his own secret grotto. Still, he went about his search with zeal, realizing it was a unique opportunity to investigate the death of an important historical figure.

  At first glance, most of the objects in the desk seemed to be artistic in nature. He found dozens of pages of sheet music and the vocal scores for Ludwig’s favourite operas. There was a sketchpad filled with doodles, ranging from clouds to mountains to horses. In addition, one of the smaller drawers was stuffed with nineteenth-century office supplies, including pencils, fountain pens and stationery. Like most people in the modern world, Jones was tempted to steal some items for personal use, but decided against it since they belonged to the king.

  Jones was nearly ready to abandon the desk and focus his attention on the right-hand wall when he came across a handwritten receipt. The paper itself was an early sheet of letterhead that had been printed from a copper engraving. The emblem at the top of the page was a fierce-looking lion holding a shield. At the bottom, there was a name and an address. Jones tried to translate the words but struggled with the language.

  ‘Hey Petr,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘are you familiar with a city named Minga?’

  Ulster, who was reading one of the letters on the wall, stopped and turned round. ‘As a matter of fact, I am. Minga is the Bavarian name for Munich.’

  ‘Really? I thought Munchen was the name for Munich.’

  Ulster shook his head. ‘That’s the German name for Munich, not the Austro-Bavarian name. Most people get them confused. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Minga is written on this letterhead.’

  ‘What letterhead?’

  Jones handed it to Ulster. ‘I found it stashed in Ludwig’s desk. I think it’s a receipt. Then again, it could be a grocery list. My Austro-Bavarian is kind of rusty.’

  ‘So is mine,’ Ulster admitted as he shone his light on the document. ‘But as luck should have it, I believe you are correct. This is a receipt.’

  Jones stood from his chair. ‘A receipt for what?’

  ‘Honestly, I have no idea. It’s one of the most cryptic receipts I have ever seen.’

  ‘Wow, I guess your Bavarian does need some work.’

  Ulster smirked. ‘No, it’s not that. I can read the words perfectly. It’s just, well, the receipt doesn’t say very much. According to this, the item will be available on the first of July 1886.’

  ‘What item?’

  ‘That’s the cryptic part. It simply doesn’t say. There’s no price, description or item number. There’s a date of availability and nothing more.’

  Jones considered the possibilities. ‘Well, if you think about it, I guess it isn’t too surprising. I mean, how often does a king order something from your store? They’re bound to remember what he bought.’

  Ulster nodded. ‘That’s a very good point.’

  Heidi turned from the rear wall. ‘What kind of store?’

  Jones laughed. ‘We mentioned shopping, and you came running. That’s a shocker.’

  She smiled. ‘I am a woman.’

  ‘Trust me, I’ve noticed.’

  Ulster stared at the letterhead. ‘Actually, I don’t know if it’s a store or a law firm. The enterprise was called Hauser amp; Sons. With a name like that, it could have been anything.’

  Payne entered the conversation. ‘What about the address?’

  ‘What about it?’ Ulster asked.

  ‘Different parts of a city are sometimes known for different things – like Wall Street or Madison Avenue. Maybe the address will give us a clue.’

  Ulster struggled to read the tiny print at the bottom of the page. ‘Hauser and Sons was on a street called … Briennerstrasse. Wait! Why do I know that name?’

  Heidi giggled with excitement. ‘I used to work near there! Briennerstrasse is one of the best shopping districts in Munich. It’s where wealthy people go to shop.’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, my dear, that’s incorrect. I know it for some other reason.’

  She laughed at Ulster. ‘I wasn’t answering your question. I was telling you why I know the road. The reason you’re probably familiar with Briennerstrasse is because it’s the oldest road in Munich. Plus, it’s very close to Nymphenburg Palace, which is where I used to work.’

  Ulster nodded. ‘Yes, of course, Nymphenburg Palace! The summer residence of Bavarian kings. How could that have slipped my mind?’

  ‘And,’ she added, ‘the birthplace of Ludwig the Second.’

  Jones stared at her. ‘Ludwig was born near the street on the receipt?’

  She nodded. ‘A few blocks away.’

  ‘And when was he murdered? Something like two weeks before his order was ready?’

  Ulster reread the date on the receipt. ‘I’ll be darned. I failed to make that connection. I must need a snack to recharge my brain.’

  Jones patted him on the back. ‘Don’t worry about it. In fact, don’t worry about anything. Call me crazy, but I think Ludwig is trying to tell us something.’

  Ulster glanced at him, confused. ‘Really? And what is that?’

  Jones grinned. ‘He wants us to go to Oktoberfest.’

  66

  Everyone assumed Jones was kidding about Oktoberfest. He assured them he wasn’t. ‘Go ahead and laugh, but I’m completely serious. I think the receipt is a major clue.’

  Ulster graciously disagreed. ‘As much as I hate to squabble, I think our time would be far better served in this environment than the party atmosphere of Munich.’ To illustrate his point, he shone his flashlight on the walls. ‘Please take a moment to glance about this chamber. The room we’re standing in is filled with more information about Ludwig than a hundred modern textbooks. And all the history you see here is completely unfiltered. It’s as if we stumbled across the tree of knowledge and were given permission to pick the fruit.’

  Heidi nodded in agreement. ‘I love Munich as much as the next gal, but I’m with Petr on this one. We’ve barely had time to read any of the letters. Who knows what we could learn?’

  Jones looked to Payne for support. ‘Jon?’

  Payne took a deep breath. He knew his friend wouldn’t be happy. ‘Listen, I respect your hunches, you know I do. But right now we’re not even sure if Hauser and Sons still exists. I mean, it’s a long way to travel for a store that might have closed its doors in 1890.’

  ‘Yeah, but-’

  Payne cut him off. ‘Even if I voted for you, we still would have lost the tiebreaker.’

  ‘Tiebreaker? What tiebreaker?’

  ‘Petr owns the chopper.’

  Jones growled and snatched the receipt from Ulster’s hand. ‘In that case, I’m taking this and walking to Oktoberfest.’

  Payne laughed. ‘Have a nice hike. Don’t talk to strangers.’

  Ulster waited until Jones had left the room and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. Then he glanced at Payne, concerned. ‘Good heavens! Is David miffed at me?’

  Payne shook his head. ‘Relax. When he comes back, everything will be fine.’

  Ulster gasped. ‘Comes back from where?’

  ‘Don’t worry! He didn’t go to Oktoberfest. If I had to guess, he
went outside to get some air. Trust me, when he returns, he won’t even mention Munich.’

  Jones climbed the ladder on the far side of the tunnel and opened the secret hatch. Thirty seconds later, he was sitting on the fake tree stump and glancing at his waterproof cell phone. Reception had been nonexistent in the grotto and the tunnel. Now that he was outside, he could finally make a call. He quickly entered a number from memory.

  ‘Research,’ said Raskin from his office at the Pentagon.

  Jones instantly recognized his voice. ‘Randy, my man, it’s David Jones. I wasn’t sure you’d be working this late. I’m glad you’re on duty.’

  Raskin typed away furiously. ‘Let me see if I got this straight. You’re happy that I’m working the graveyard shift. That’s awfully sweet of you.’

  ‘Come on, man. You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘Then how did you mean it?’

  ‘I meant I’m glad you’re the one on duty because I need your expertise.’

  Raskin adjusted the microphone on his headset. ‘Damn, DJ, that’s even worse! You’re glad I’m working the graveyard shift because you want to use me. You didn’t even say hello or ask how I’m doing. Yet you expect me to jump to attention.’

  Jones groaned. ‘Wow! You, Jon – everyone’s giving me shit today.’

  Raskin leaned back in his chair. ‘Please tell me you aren’t getting a divorce. I’m too old for joint custody.’

  ‘No, nothing serious. Just a disagreement about something we’re doing.’

  Raskin played dumb. ‘Something you’re doing, where?’

  ‘Germany.’

  ‘Really? What are you doing in Germany?’

  ‘Long story. I’ll tell you about it some other time.’

  ‘Maybe you should tell me right now. You know, since you need my help.’

  Raskin had a better security clearance than he did, so Jones wasn’t worried about him blabbing to anyone. Still, Jones was reluctant to tell him anything too juicy. ‘I wish I could, but I’m temporarily sworn to secrecy. As soon as I get permission, I’ll be happy to fill you in.’