Long Buried Secrets: James Dieter Book 4

by Francis Joseph Smith

  “Good for us, Jim,” said Eian. “Now all we require is a way in.”

  Chuck nodded. “That sounds like my department.”

  Jim held up his hands to quiet them. “Nora and I think we have that one covered. But we would like a second opinion. So we will need the three of you to walk around the exterior of the museum filming every step of the way with your cell phones. That way we will have three different cameras recording different angles.”

  Summer spoke up. “So you want us to act like tourists taking movies of each other but in reality, shooting the whole exterior of the museum?”

  Jim tapped the tip of his nose to signal she was correct. “We are planning to hit the museum in two days. That is only one day before they plan to pull the paintings from public view.”

  “Tomorrow morning Nora and I will drop the three of you a block from the museum so you can start filming. After that, my lovely wife and I will drive a few hours roundtrip to France to check on the feasibility of another escape route. Right now it’s on the down low. We can fill you in that piece of the plan tomorrow night. For now, have a few drinks and relax.”

  YURI PULLED INTO the motels parking lot, making sure to park on the opposite side of the U-shaped lot from Jim and his crew. An empty pool surrounded by a worn metal fence lay in-between where they sat in their car, providing them with decent cover.

  Misha still had the binoculars, now observing Jim’s room from his vantage point in the back seat. “Besides luggage, I saw them carry in possibly eighteen cardboard tubes. Each looked to be about one meter in length. Do you think they already have some valuables with them? Maybe some paintings?”

  Yuri loathed Misha. He could not believe Sergei would send him of all people to babysit them. “They didn’t have time to steal the paintings yet,” he replied as if scolding a child. “Don’t you remember? Lana and I have been watching them for the past several days.”

  “That’s not what I heard from Sergei. He said you two are on your way to some crappy assignment in Africa after this mission. Maybe even Siberia. You really screwed up. Or something along those lines.”

  Lana looked to Yuri, worry in her eyes.

  Yuri decided it was time to take a short walk. He excused himself, and in one swift motion grabbed his weapon from the door pocket as he exited the car, slipping it into his pants waistband, pulling his shirt over its top.

  Misha kept his binoculars trained on Dieters room.

  Yuri walked around to the now open car’s trunk. In seconds, he had what he was searching for. He expertly screwed on a sound suppressor to his weapon, placing his weapon back into his pants waistband before closing the trunk. He then lit a cigarette, his first one of the day, trying to settle his nerves due to Misha’s unexpected appearance. The man could not be trusted. Of that, he was sure. Something had to be done, and soon.

  Inside the car, Misha handed the binoculars to Lana. “Keep your eyes on the Dieter room. I’m going for a close up to see if I can hear anything.” He opened his door and grinned at Yuri. “Stay put little fellow, while I go do your work for you.”

  “Stay here, Misha!” yelled Yuri. “We can’t approach them yet. We have to observe only.”

  “Think about that plum assignment in Africa,” he said, his middle finger extended. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m taking over. I want to see if they have any of our paintings. So just sit tight. Don’t fret if I come out the hero.”

  He swiftly turned and scaled the three-foot high pool fence in order to take a more direct route.

  Yuri had enough of Misha’s antics. He was not about to have his wife and himself put at risk by this bastard. He ran after Misha, jumping the fence as Misha was rounding the deep end of the empty pool.

  “Stop,” Yuri said in a low voice only meant for Misha to hear, pointing his weapon at him.

  Misha turned in time see Yuri with the silencer screwed on his weapon, now pointed at him. “Are you mad?” he said. “Are you threatening me?”

  It was Yuri’s turn to laugh. “Does it look like I’m threatening you?”

  “Go back to the car, little man,” Misha said, before he resumed walking towards the Dieters room.

  Yuri rapidly shot Misha twice, once in the side and a second bullet to the head. Misha staggered a few steps before he fell forward into the deep end section of the empty pool, and out of site.

  Yuri quickly surveilled the immediate area to see if there were any witnesses. Seeing none, he hopped back over the pool fence and walked back to the car.

  Lana had a look of shock on her face. “Are you crazy? What have you done? You have jeopardized our whole mission.”

  “I just rid ourselves of a fool. He was going to turn us in for his own gain. You know it, and I know it.”

  “But Sergei will blame us for his death,” she replied in a high voice, her hands covering her face.

  “Nobody will find out. We will wait until dark and dispose of the body.” He put the car into reverse and backed into another spot. “Now we simply check into a room and keep an eye on the Dieters.”

  To Lana, the $50,000 in euros was looking to be a wiser escape plan. And maybe a few paintings.

  If they lived…

  CHAPTER 54

  They had just settled in for a few drinks after Jim’s mission brief. Eian was now regaling the room with some of his tall tales when there was a sudden knock at the motel room door.

  Jim looked to Nora with suspicion. “Are we expecting anyone?”

  Nora thought for a moment or two before responding. “The only person who knows where we are is Benny,” she replied.

  Eian eased back the windows curtain. “Small, male. Doesn’t look dangerous.”

  Jim nodded to Nora that it was okay.

  Nora opened the door to find five foot two inch Rahm Mizrahi, a briefcase in one hand, his other extended in greeting. “Benny sent me,” he said, before shaking Nora’s hand.

  Nora turned back to Jim. “We have company,” she said anxiously. “One of Benny’s people.” She allowed him to enter, introducing him to everyone in the room.

  Eian was skeptical of the well-tanned man. “You don’t look like the typical Mossad agent I envisioned,” he said. “When I hear Mossad, I tend to think tall and muscular.” Eian finished the beer he was drinking in one long gulp, slamming down his empty bottle on the wooden nightstand.

  “Then my size makes for a good undercover agent,” Rahm replied. “Don’t you agree?”

  The room about him broke into laughter.

  Rahm wasted no time in setting up shop on the room’s sole table. Rahm withdrew an object the size of a small soda can out of his briefcase. Within minutes, he was explaining the ins and outs of LO-MAX-TAL gas.

  “And this stuff is really dangerous in the hands of amateurs,” he said looking around the room at each of them. “And in my book you are all rank amateurs.” He placed the can on the table for them to view it more closely. A small metal spray nozzle lay affixed to its top; an electronic circuit card the size of a quarter visible on its side.

  Eian stood up and walked over to the canister. He tapped the cans casing a few times, and then eyed the diminutive Rahm, towering a good foot over him. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking too? We’ve handled a lot worse stuff than this crap. And another thing, I don’t like being called an amateur at anything. Especially by the likes of you.”

  Rahm immediately realized the need to set an example in order to gain respect. With his thumb and forefinger, he applied a quick jab to Eian’s larynx, just enough to make him choke for a few seconds. The distraction enabled Rahm to kick Eian’s legs from the rear and force him to the floor on his stomach. Rahm grabbed Eians’ arm around the wrist area and twisted it behind his back. He waited until Eian regained his breath.

  “Are we good, Eian?” he said in a low voice.

  “If you get off my back you little runt,” Eian spat out.

  “Okay, the little runt will now let you stand up, Eian.” He
released him.

  Eian stood up ready for a fight.

  Jim jumped between them. “Eian, he beat you once. I honestly think he can do it again. He’s Mossad you fool.”

  Everyone laughed, even Eian. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he replied sheepishly.

  “Shake hands,” ordered Jim.

  They shook hands, Eian returning to his seat, Rahm to the table where the canister sat.

  Rahm continued. “Now that the floor show is over, I can get back to the reason why I’m here. Benny has instructed me to assist you in any way I see fit. After meeting you, I have made the decision to join you. But only after I make a slight change to your plans. We will not run the gas into the air conditioning vent.”

  Jim was ready to protest but Rahm held up his hand, smiling as he had anticipated as much. “I pulled the interior drawings on the Bern Museum. If we push our gas into the air conditioning intake, it will get caught in this neck,” he pointed to the drawing. “It will slowly dissipate before it has time to reach our intended targets in the security room.”

  Chuck looked to the drawing. “So what do we do now? We have to find some way to subdue the guards.”

  Nora spoke up. “But all of the guards will be in one room. The security room. We don’t have to worry about the rest of the museum.”

  Rahm smiled once more. “Even better. I can place the can in the security room behind a cabinet or something along those lines. Once in place I can activate it via my cell phone to disperse the gas when needed. It will not make a sound and the people in the room will gently fall off to sleep within seconds.” Rahm searched the drawings for the security room. “Okay, the drawings indicate the guard’s room is 10 x 10 feet. I can mix the chemicals accordingly. Their sleep should last a good 4-5 hours. When they wake up, they will be none the wiser.”

  Eian shook his head, disagreeing with Rahm’s plan. “And how do you intend on placing the can in the security room. Just walk in and announce yourself?”

  Rahm pulled a gray coverall from his case, the name of the firm contracted for cleaning the museum embroidered on its front, a plastic identification badge attached to its collar. “Courtesy of Mossad Forgery department. With this, tomorrow morning I walk in, clean a few rooms, to include the security room where I place my can, and be on my way.”

  Nora was the first to speak. “Welcome to the team, Rahm,” she said enthusiastically. “I think he just solved what had been, up to now, a big hole in our plan.”

  Jim nodded as he rose. “Okay, with the addition of Rahm, I think we are ready to move out in two days.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Bern

  Early the next morning, Jim and Nora dropped off Rahm, Eian, Chuck, and Summer a block from the Bern Museum.

  “Take a taxi back to the motel,” said Nora as they each scattered in different directions.

  Confident in their new plan, Jim and Nora proceeded west to France.

  “WHICH ONE DO WE FOLLOW?” said Lana from behind the wheel. “The van, or should we split up?

  “I will get out and follow one of these clowns,” said Yuri, pointing out the passenger side window. “You stay with the van.”

  He quickly jumped out, choosing to follow Summer.

  Lana sped off in close pursuit of Jim and Nora. She was battling fatigue, with her and Yuri rising at 3am to remove Misha’s body from the empty pool, the same body that now resided in the trunk of her car beside their embassy gear. She anticipated dumping him somewhere along her travels. Hopefully far away from prying eyes.

  IN A MATTER OF A few hours Jim and Nora were in the quiet little French town of Pouilly-en-Auxois, 20 miles west of Dijon. The town had stood for hundreds of years on the banks of a canal that ran as a tributary from the Rhine River. With a population that never exceeded 500, unless you count the sheep, and with no castles or anything resembling something of historical significance, it was overshadowed by its larger neighboring towns that regarded it as no more than a bump in the road. But it did operate as the terminus, or beginning, depending on which way you were going, for the lucrative vacation barge rental traffic. Just like the one Jim envisioned for their getaway. It also had a public use concrete ramp, one that backed up to the canals edge and could accommodate a large van. Just like the one they envisioned could be used to unload paintings without interference from inquisitive neighbors.

  This made the location ideal for Jim’s plan.

  Jim and Nora walked all two blocks of the towns’ quaint main street, flower baskets hanging from each lamppost. They acted the typical tourist and took selfies that were sure to capture areas of interest to be utilized in their getaway. They then detoured to the towns’ towpath that ran along the edge of the canal. They watched as a canal barge slowly made its way along the canal, a tourist steering from his location on its rear. The barge looked recently renovated, with its woods highly varnished, its brass ports shining in the midday sun. Two additional tourists sat on lounge chairs in the middle of the barge drinking glasses of wine, an empty bottle at their feet.

  Nora looked to Jim. “I think I might enjoy this portion of the trip.”

  Jim nodded. “I believe you will. Now this is the town where we will load the paintings. We still have to travel to one more town to acquire our barge transportation. But first we have to rent a small building somewhere around here, preferably a garage.”

  LANA LOOKED TO HER gas gage; she only had a quarter tank left. She hoped they weren’t going too much further as she resumed her position tailing them.

  She followed them outside of town as a distance to an abandoned auto garage. She watched as they looked at a For Lease sign.

  Why do they require a garage? She thought to herself.

  CHAPTER 56

  Dockside, St. Florentine, France

  THE SMALL TOWN of St. Florentine sat on the lush border of Burgundy and Champagne, in the heart of France’s wine country. The town’s history dated back to ancient times, when it served as a fortress outpost on the fringe of the Roman Empire. Through time, it adapted and experienced not only an Italian influence in its stone and fresco architecture, but also some of a Germanic nature. It also had the dubious distinction of serving as a “backdoor hub” for vacationers, both wealthy and working class, eager for a barge vacation and waterway access to travel throughout Europe.

  One that also included canal access to the town they had just visited: Pouilly-en-Auxois.

  Jim eyed a group of three, twenty-five-meter long steel barges that lay tied parallel to and against the towns dock. The barges reminiscent of its larger cousins that plowed the canals of Europe for some fifty years, giving way to tandem trucks in the late 60s. These barges were of the smaller variety used to off-load cargo from the larger barges and the cargo delivered to destinations on the shallower rivers. Most of the smaller barges eventually made their way into the lucrative tourist trade.

  Nora stared at Jim for several moments; she could see a slight smile crease his face. “Is this where you and Dan rented the barge a few years ago to sneak your fathers gold out of Germany?”

  Jim nodded at Nora upon the mention of his late friend’s name. “I still can’t believe he’s dead. It feels like he is standing beside me now, trying to steer us in the proper direction. I can hear his voice in my head.” We need a boat, not just any boat, a barge, a river barge.

  “Maybe he is,” she said, grabbing his hand, pulling him close. “I know he’s looking out for us.”

  Jim gazed into Nora’s eyes, lost in the moment. “He’s sitting up there with a bottle of Jamison, laughing his head off at what we are attempting to accomplish.”

  “At least he’s laughing.” Nora kissed him on the cheek before backing away. “All right James Dieter, tell me the rest of your devilish plan.”

  Jim pulled a paper map from his pocket using the metal railing to balance the map. “It’s simple really. We can basically float from the town we just visited, Pouilly-en-Auxois, to here in St. Florentine using waterway
s consisting of rivers and canals. No police or anyone to interfere. We load the paintings in Pouilly-en-Auxois, enjoy the scenery, and have a little vacation on the side.”

  Nora looked first to the parked barges, then to Jim as she allowed a smile to creep across her face. “One question, James Dieter. After we steal the paintings, load them onto our barge, sail for a four or five days on the barge, how do we get them across the Atlantic?”

  Jim pointed east of the village. “A mile away is a small airfield with a 6,500 foot runway. Just the amount required for a Gulfstream 550 to take off with enough fuel to cross the pond.”

  Satisfied with his response, she said: “Now take me to the barges, Mr. Dieter,” her hand extended. “I have to see what all the fuss is about.”

  JIM WALKED THE barge’s topside teak deck. “This is a beauty,” he said to the salesman, Monsieur Dobet. “But do you happen to remember me from a few years ago? It was myself and another gentleman who rented one of your barges.”

  Monsieur Dobet eyed him for a few seconds or so, a look of shock slowly taking over. “But of course!” he replied in flawless English albeit with a light French accent, “You and that crazy Irishman you were with returned my barge with bullet holes in the wood work; the glass doors all shattered!”

  Jim turned to Nora and in a low voice said, “I think I upset the little man.”

  “Please get off this barge,” said Monsieur Dobet, his voice rising. “You ruined the last barge I rented to you. It will not happen again!”

  Jim stood his ground. “Monsieur Dobet, if you will remember, we reimbursed you for the damage to fix the boat. It was judged to be a case of mistaken identity. The British Army shot up your barge. Not us.”

  Monsieur Dobet also stood his ground, pointing at the barges gangway. “You are what we consider, bad customers. I do not want nor need your business.

  Jim was prepared for such a development, pulling a wad of euros from his pocket. He counted out ten, one hundred euro bills, handing them to Monsieur Dobet. “This is for you. A gift. An apology. From me to you.”