It was my word I had given, and not anybody else’s. I had told the old Nazi officer that he could take the gold, and reneging on my word, no matter how rashly given, was not an option.
I hung up the phone and stuck it in my pocket. Somebody—maybe even everybody—would be unhappy with this decision.
sixty-one
Present Day
Dubnik Mine, Slovakia
Gold is heavy: a tiny half-gallon milk jug full of the stuff weighs eighty pounds. That was about the size of each of the million dollar Buddhas the old Nazi planned to make.
Gold melts at a thousand degrees Centigrade, and that was why the soldier had been stoking the furnace, and why the furnace had a ten foot stovepipe attached: it takes the combination of a high density carbon charcoal and a draft-inducing tall stovepipe to coax a furnace to produce that temperature.
The old SS officer explained all this to us while we waited for the gold to finish melting. He showed how he had attached the crucible to the furnace’s frame with a set of ratcheted hinges, allowing the gold to be poured into the cast-iron Buddha molds.
“Won’t the molds melt?” Val asked.
“Iron doesn’t melt until fifteen hundred degrees,” the old man said. He motioned the furnace man to get one of the molds, and he showed us the built-in funnel at the top. “We fill the mold with molten gold, and then we immerse it in water to cool.”
The soldier inserted a large wooden handle into the side of the furnace’s frame. He cranked the handle around three times, and the crucible tilted a half-inch toward the old Nazi’s wheelchair.
“Each crank will pour out fifty-one milliliters of gold. That’s one kilogram per crank,” the SS officer said. “Thirty-six turns for each Buddha.”
The guard stepped forward. He wore what looked like a pair of silvery oven mitts. He grasped the Buddha mold in his hands and set it on the edge of the furnace. Then he nodded at the furnace man.
The furnace man cranked the handle, and we could see the molten gold glowing bright orange and red.
“No swastikas left now,” I said.
Archie and Madame Flora came over to watch as the soldier turned the crank enough to bring the molten gold right to the crucible’s edge. A nod from the Nazi captain in the wheelchair, another turn of the crank, and the first few tablespoons of gold dribbled through a slot in crucible’s lip and fell into the Buddha mold.
The old Nazi let out a cackle, and the soldier turned the crank another thirty-five times. The Buddha mold was full, and the rifle man wrapped a pair of sturdy tongs around its funnel. The two hefted the mold off the furnace and over to the barrel of water. They dropped it in, and we heard a loud hiss. A small cloud of steam roiled off the surface. The guard grabbed the next Buddha mold and brought it to the furnace.
It took ten minutes for the two men to fill the five molds and drop them into the barrel. When they were finished, they climbed in the black truck and backed it close to the furnace.
Val pointed at the barrel. “Why isn’t the water boiling?”
“Specific heat,” the old man said. He glanced at his watch. “Gold cools thirty-three times faster than water heats. They will reach equilibrium at fifty degrees in nine more minutes.”
Fifty degrees Centigrade was one hundred twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit. The men would be able to reach into the barrel and pull out the molds without burning their hands.
“You know an awful lot about gold,” I said.
“I’ve had sixty-four years to learn everything there is to know about gold.” He stared at me. “Do you know a single ounce of gold can be stretched into a wire over eleven kilometers long?”
“If you know so much, then you know where that gold came from.” Madame Flora stepped next to me. She held her hands behind her back.
The old man turned to her. “Of course I do.”
“Yet you dare abscond with it?” she asked.
He straightened his shoulders and barked, “It is my duty!”
“That’s all I’ve ever heard you men say about this gold—it’s your duty to take it from me.” She swung out her arms and pointed a pistol at him. “That gold belonged to victims you had no right to kill. You have no valid claim to it.”
Madame Flora must have pulled the pistol out of the glove compartment in the van before the twins left. The Nazis were still inside the black truck: she had timed this well.
The old man sneered at her. “That gold, fraulein, was stripped from our enemies by me and my men to keep the Third Reich afloat during the war.”
“One of those enemies you stripped was my father,” Madame Flora said. She flipped off the pistol’s safety. “You may have ripped the gold from his body, but you lost it to me over sixty years ago.” Her voice rose to a scream “I will not let you take it back!”
“We had a deal,” he said to me.
“We did,” I replied. I turned to Madame Flora. “What are you trying to do?”
“Recover my gold.” Her voice was firm, and the pistol didn’t quiver in her hands.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Val grabbed Archie’s arm and led him back toward the tree line. “You’re going to get us killed,” I said. I pointed to the black truck, backed up at the furnace. “What about the other two Nazis?”
“You’ll have to stop them before they shoot us,” she said.
I sighed and reached into my pocket. “Damn it, Madame Flora, why—”
Just as I pulled out my pistol, the two men hopped out of the truck and aimed their rifles at Madame Flora and me.
I pointed my pistol at the soldier aiming at me. “I’ve got this weird sense of déjà vu,” I said to the Nazi captain.
“I have it too,” he said. He called in German to his men, and they walked our way, keeping their rifles trained on us. In a minute they stood next to the furnace, about three feet away from their captain. Their rifles stayed pointed at me and Madame Flora.
I locked eyes with my soldier, and I spoke to the old man. “It takes two men to pour the gold—you can’t afford to lose another soldier.” It wasn’t much in the way of bargaining power, but it was all I had.
He looked at me and sighed. “Ja, we are at an impasse.”
I was happy he recognized that.
I shifted my aim to the other soldier as I spoke to Madame Flora. “You agreed to let the Nazis have the gold if they helped us save George and Sue.”
“But we can’t let them take it, Scott,” she said. “I’d rather die than give it up.”
“But you already gave it up,” I said. “An hour ago.” I took a deep breath and risked a glance at her. “Even if you’re willing to die for it, I’m not,” I said.
Silence for a minute. Then, with a cry, she swung her pistol away from the old man and pointed it at my chest. “You promised to help me recover my gold!”
“I did,” I said quietly.
“And you dare give it away?” she snarled.
With her pistol pointing at me, we were in serious danger of the Nazis shooting both of us. I swung my pistol and pointed it at the Untersturmführer to dampen their enthusiasm. “We spent the gold to save George and Sue,” I told her, “because people are more important than things.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Val and Archie creep from the woods and head for the black truck. Nobody else noticed; they were focused on Madame Flora.
She kept her pistol trained on my chest, a tear forming in the corner of each eye. “How could you betray me?” she cried.
I took a step backward, hoping to keep everybody looking at us and not at Val and Archie, who I could see climbing into the truck’s open doors. “Is it really your sense of justice that’s driving you right now?” I asked Madame Flora.
Her face tightened. “What else would it be?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s guilt. Or regret.”
She raised the pistol from my chest to my head. “Guilt from what? I didn’t steal the gold—they did.”
It’s not easy sta
ying rational around a crazy old lady who’s pointing a pistol at your head. “Maybe you’re sorry that you couldn’t save your father,” I said. “Or your grandmother. Or Ned. Or James. Maybe you’re thinking little Jamie would have enjoyed getting to know his father.”
“How dare you presume to understand my motives?” Her voice trembled.
“I’d like to understand,” I said. “Do you really think if you get your gold trust established, it will somehow make up for your past mistakes?”
Her eyes flashed. “Stick with your day job, Scott, and stop trying to analyze me. I’m warning you.”
I pointed at her pistol. “Why are you aiming that thing at me?”
“Because you turned against me—you tricked me out of my gold.”
“We spent your gold to save the lives of those willing to die for your cause—who were shot through no fault of their own,” I said. “Isn’t that exactly how you said you wanted to spend it?”
We stood silently for another minute, glaring at each other.
I pointed with my free hand at the old SS officer. “These miserable old Nazis are not worth dying for.”
We stood for what seemed forever. Finally she nodded and lowered her pistol. “You’re right, Scott. They’re not worth dying for.” She wiped her eyes and put on a small smile. “I am so sorry.”
I took a step toward her, and she half fell, half collapsed into me. I hugged her with my free arm while I kept my pistol trained on the old man.
She squeezed me back fiercely. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I kissed her old wrinkled cheek. “You’re a tough old bird.”
The two soldiers and I lowered our weapons, and they started talking very fast German with the Untersturmführer. I patted Madame Flora on the back.
Just then the truck’s engine roared. I turned and saw it jerk back and come to rest with its rear bumper against the furnace. Then Val gunned the engine, and the furnace and crucible tilted toward us.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I waltzed Madame Flora out of the way. The two soldiers dropped their rifles and pulled back on the old Nazi’s wheelchair. When the furnace fell over with a crash and a shower of sparks, we all managed to avoid its path.
The remaining ten gallons of molten gold flowed out of the crucible like red-hot lava out of a volcano. It blazed a path to the center of the fire pit and formed a four foot wide puddle. The fire pit’s ashes floated on its orange surface and glowed like hot embers.
The two soldiers scrambled over to the truck doors, but Val and Archie hopped out and pointed their pistols at them. The soldiers raised their hands.
The old Nazi gave a hoarse cry and wheeled himself to the edge of the fire pit. He stared at the glowing gold puddle with his mouth wide open.
I unwrapped my arm from around Madame Flora’s waist, and she and I walked to the opposite edge of the fire pit.
I looked toward the truck. The two guards lay face down on the ground. Val and Archie stood over them and trained their pistols at their backs.
The old man glared at Madame Flora, his face twisted in anger. “You people are no more than clumsy animals,” he screamed. “The only value you have is your dirty bodies. I remember at Dachau how we froze your kind and then tried to thaw them out. Our leaders thought that intercourse with Gypsy girls was the best way to revive a frozen man, but they were wrong—you people were clumsy even in bed.”
Madame Flora stiffened. “You worked on the freezing experiments at Dachau?”
He nodded and spat onto the gold puddle, where it evaporated with a sizzle. “We used our prisoners to our Fuhrer’s glory,” he said. “Their hands built our weapons. Their bodies taught us how to save our pilots downed in the North Sea. And when we killed them, we sold their clothes, tanned their skins, and extracted their gold to pay for our Reich’s food and oil.”
Madame Flora marched around the fire pit, turned his wheelchair toward her, and put her hands on the chair’s arms. “You tortured men in medical experiments to save your own pilots?” she asked. “You ripped the gold out of their mouths to feed your soldiers?”
“Not men, fraulein. Animals.” He spat this out. “We exterminated you vermin to purify our country. I made sure we benefited as much as possible.”
Madame Flora stared at the old SS officer with wide-open eyes. She shook her finger not six inches from his nose. “Your extermination left me fatherless. My grandmother died of a broken heart because of you.”
He pointed right back at her. “You people are all the same. No matter how humanely we treated our inmates, they kept messing things up. They sabotaged the weapons, fooled the guards, and devised countless ways to escape.” He spat in her face. “You are one of them, fraulein—a good for nothing Gypsy animal who messes up any well-ordered plan.”
“I am proud to be one of them!” She let out a cry of fury and launched herself on top of him, her hands wrapped around his neck. The old Nazi fought back by pounding his arms on her back, but his blows seemed weak and ineffectual.
When she finally pulled back, the SS officer took a few heaving breaths. “I hope it was I who killed your father,” he hissed, and he spat at her again.
Madame Flora howled. She hooked the arm of the wheelchair and spun it around. She grabbed the handles and shoved the chair right at the puddle of molten gold.
Archie cried, “Flora, no!”
I tried to reach the chair but I wasn’t fast enough. The wheels hit the stones surrounding the fire pit, and the chair came to a sudden stop.
The old man must have reached out and grabbed Madame Flora’s arm as he was launched out of the chair, because they tumbled together toward the red-hot puddle. They let out wild screams when they landed in it, and their hands sunk in past their wrists. Their clothes burst into flames, and they collapsed face down into the gold. Their bodies writhed for a minute, and then they lay still to our stunned silence.
sixty-two
Present Day
Dubnik Mine, Slovakia
The two soldiers, Archie, Val, and I stood in a ring around the fire pit as we watched the gold puddle dull from orange to yellow. We had retrieved Madame Flora and the Untersturmführer and covered what was left of them with blankets from the back of the black truck. Somehow by mutual consent we all had placed our weapons in a pile next to the fire pit.
Val grabbed my hand. “I was only trying to cause a distraction,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”
“They hurt themselves,” I said. Then I turned to the soldier who spoke some English. “Our friends will arrive soon. You two need to leave now.”
He looked at the now-solid puddle of gold and then back at me.
I shook my head. “My deal was with your boss.”
He glanced at the barrel containing the five golden Buddhas and let out a sigh.
“Take your furnace and your Untersturmführer,” I said. “He’s got plenty of gold on him.”
He spoke in German to the other soldier, and the two loaded the old man’s body into their truck. They took their furnace and the iron molds, then they climbed up front and drove out of the clearing.
As soon as they were gone, Archie knelt down next to Madame Flora’s body and peeled back the blanket. A thick layer of gold coated her front side, and her bare back was charred where her clothes had burned off.
Archie reached up and stroked her gold-coated face. He mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
I knelt down next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” I asked gently.
He turned to me and smiled. “I loved her, you know. I always did, right from the first time I saw her.”
I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.
He traced her cheek with his fingertips. “At least we had the last two days together.”
I squeezed his shoulder.
“She killed herself chasing this gold,” he said.
“I suppose that chasing it gave her life meaning,” I said. “And she sho
wed the strength to give it up at the end.”
He nodded.
We knelt in silence for another minute. Then Archie gave another caress to her cheek and pulled the blanket over her body. “Good-bye, my love,” he whispered.
Soul Identity’s Budapest team arrived in two green vans thirty minutes later. They were efficient in cleaning up the site. Val and I gave them directions to the bat hole, and they retrieved our equipment and the bodies of the five Nazi soldiers. They chopped the now-solid puddle of gold into smaller pieces, and they loaded them and four of the five golden Buddhas into the first van.
We placed Madame Flora’s remains into the back of that van. Archie sat next to her body, and Val and I got in front. We left the Budapest team and drove with the gold down to the hospital to see George, Sue, and the twins. I used my mobile phone to call Chief Dara Sabol. I told her to get her police officers to the clearing and recover the five dead Nazis. She stopped questioning me when I mentioned the million dollar golden Buddha we had left as payment for her troubles.
We headed up to the hospital’s recovery room. George and Sue had both survived surgery, and both their prognoses were good.
Rose and Marie were understandably shocked at the news of their grandmother’s death. Archie, Val, and I spent the next several hours sitting quietly with them, reliving moments from Madame Flora’s life.
The girls cried when I told them how she finally relinquished her claim on the gold, then cheered when I related how she stood up to the SS officer’s vile comments.
Rose looked at Marie. “Grandma died exactly the way she lived.”
Marie nodded back. “Passionate to the end.”
epilogue
Present Day
Sterling, Massachusetts
Archibald Morgan, executive overseer of Soul Identity, walked to the podium and adjusted the microphone. “We, the friends and family of Flora Drabarni,” he said, “are here to celebrate her life in this memorial service.” He gave Rose and Marie a sad smile.
Val and I sat in the front row of the Soul Identity headquarters auditorium in Sterling, Massachusetts. The twins and their mother sat across the aisle on our right. George and Sue sat next to us on our left.
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