The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5)

by Sewell, Ron

  The wheels touched earth, the inboard nestled into the ground and the outboard on solid rock.

  The searchlight flashed and Zane motioned to Bear and Petros to return.

  Heads low they were inside the craft in seconds.

  “What do you reckon?” asked Petros.

  “I can drop you and any gear but the ground’s unstable. Get yourselves a radio to contact me when you want me to pick you up.”

  “Let’s go home,” said Bear, “I’m starving.”

  “You haven’t changed.” The chopper rose into the sky, climbing so fast that Petros gripped the armrests and closed his eyes. It banked unexpectedly and headed for Florina.

  Chapter Five

  “What’s the plan?” asked Bear as he shovelled a forkful of toast and scrambled egg into his mouth. After removing a few crumbs from his lips with a paper napkin, he belched.

  Petros sipped his fresh orange juice. “Do you have to do that?”

  “Sign of good food.”

  “If you say so. Anyway, Zane’s in town borrowing two search and rescue radios. Bob, I hope, is refuelling the chopper. You and I wait until they arrive and then we return to the crevasse.”

  “I reckon the tunnel will be there but not a lot else. After seventy years, whoever died in there will have decomposed. A few brittle bones and bits of clothing but not a lot more.”

  “Trains rust and rot,” said Petros. “With luck the artefacts will have been well wrapped and in crates.”

  Bear smothered a fresh roll with butter and marmalade. “What remains isn’t our problem. Zane informs the authorities and we return to Cyprus.”

  “I hear Bob.”

  Bear devoured his roll, grabbed four meat pies, enclosed them in a napkin, and shoved the package into his rucksack. “Behind you.”

  They ran at the double to the end of town where Bob and Zane waited. Heads low they clambered into the rear seats of the Eurocopter. As their safety belts clicked, they were on the move. Bob activated the sat-nav control and flew directly to the drop-off point.

  “Much better than walking,” said Bear.

  “Uses less fuel,” said Bob. “Arm and a leg job to top this thing up.”

  Petros grimaced. “I don’t want to know.”

  Over the intercom Bob spoke. “Don’t forget the radio check.”

  “No problem,” said Bear. “I’ve no intention of walking for three hours.”

  Within thirty minutes, the chopper descended and hovered one metre over the ground.

  “I pray you find something,” said Zane.

  With their rucksacks slung over their arms, Petros and Bear jumped.

  Bob waved, climbed to a hundred metres and flew back along the ravine while completing a radio check. “Hear you loud and clear. Don’t get into trouble. See you later.”

  “Out,” said Bear as they climbed to the crevasse.

  Petros scanned the locale. “We need a couple of solid anchors.”

  Bear looked around. “Those trees will do. I’ll use two with a safety line to a third.”

  Petros peered into the dark of the crevasse. “What are your thoughts on the rock formations?”

  “A mixture of limestone, granite, and soft sandstone. With luck, we can descend and return without too much hassle. Better take the gear, just in case. These search and rescue teams use great rope, this is Mamut Infinitive, expensive.”

  Bear secured three lines while Petros prepared the ropes with a figure of eight, a piece of polished steel, with two rings at either end. Finished, he tossed coils of rope into the hole.

  Both men stared into the void, nodded and with Bear first, began a controlled descent. The daylight from above gave sufficient light.

  “It’s narrowing,” said Bear.

  Petros dropped a stone and mentally timed its descent. “Three seconds plus, twenty five metres, give or take.”

  Bear shone his headlamp and dropped through the more spacious fissure until he bellowed, “I’m entering a cavern. Going in. Hey, PK, Zane was right. There is a train.”

  “Bear, how’s the air?”

  “I’m still breathing.”

  Petros dropped to the ground seconds later.

  The beams from their twin headlamps penetrated the dark, strange eerie space. They strolled on, their lights illuminating the bones of those trapped by the avalanche. The remains of ragged clothing clung to the dead. Bear stepped back and a brittle skeleton turned to powder under his foot.

  “I’ll try and be careful where I step but there’re so many.”

  “I stopped counting at one hundred,” said Petros. “I can’t imagine what it was like to choke to death in a dust storm.”

  “If any survived, their prospects of being rescued were zero. I see the engine and goods wagons are intact.”

  “One wagon’s empty.” Petros turned and a beam of light shone on the entrance to another cave. “Might as well take a look.”

  Wary of where they stepped, both men stopped at the entrance of a huge chamber. Dust-covered wooden crates from large to small littered the floor.

  “Our job’s done but might as well take something for Zane as proof,” said Petros.

  Bear rummaged in the dust and pulled out a steel crow. “Made to measure. Something small will do.”

  Petros lifted a smallish crate onto another.

  Bear eased the thin edge of the crow and levered the top free. “It’s full of rocks.”

  Petros removed and inspected the stones. “Let’s open one of the larger ones.”

  Bear forced the top off until he could see inside.“More rocks.”

  “Let’s open two from each goods wagon.”

  An hour later they sat on the edge of one wagon and ate the pies Bear had taken.

  “Zane won’t believe us, you know that,” said Bear. “A dream for all those years but he was right about the train.”

  “I wonder how many died to steal this train load of stones?”

  “As in all wars,” said Bear, “Too many.”

  “Might as well get back.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  They prepared their lines for the ascent into the crevasse but once there, free climbed to the surface.

  “Great to be in the open,” said Petros. “That cavern should be left as a tomb in memory to those who died.”

  “I agree but who will believe there isn’t any treasure.”

  “Well, they can go and check for themselves. Not our problem,” said Petros as he contacted Bob. “Ready and waiting.”

  “On my way in ten. Out.”

  Both men coiled up the ropes and returned each piece of gear to its proper place. Twenty-five minutes later Bob arrived.

  The moment both men secured their belts in the Eurocopter, Zane asked, “Is the train there?”

  Petros turned to Bear and back to Zane. “Yes, it is and considering the years it’s been there, in rather good condition. The bad news is, every crate we opened contained rocks. We can’t state each crate is the same but we believe this train was a phony made to divert resistance forces.”

  Zane’s shoulders slumped. “So the train was inside the mountain. You have found what remains, which is wonderful. My grandfather told me three trains departed from Thessalonica. Two with Italian and Greek prisoners and one filled with priceless Greek artefacts. That is what he truly believed.”

  “He believed,” said Petros. “Intelligence or an informer might also have understood the train carried loot. The resistance did the job successfully and died in the process. I must admit I’m intrigued why the German SS went to so much trouble.”

  “I agree it doesn’t make any sense. So what’s our next move?” asked Bear. “Remember Maria expects us back in a couple of days.”

  “Tomorrow Bob flies us back to Thessalonica. I’m going to search the archives in the library.”

  Zane looked at him quizzically. “May I ask why?”

  “Something happened during the month of July 1944. I think we can say the
trains were a decoy. So what did the Germans want so much they were prepared to sacrifice their crack troops?”

  “And what will I be doing? I can’t read or speak Greek,” said Bear.

  Bob interrupted. “We’re home boys. I leave at 0800 prompt, which means you pay for two days. Any later you’ll pay for three.”

  “Message received and understood. We’ll be there.”

  The three men waved and kept their heads low as they strolled away from the downdraft. The Eurocopter lifted off and roared across the village before banking towards Florina.

  They mounted the worn stone steps, entered the taverna and sat at a table.

  At that moment, Sophie arrived with a large pot of coffee and three mugs. “I heard the helicopter. If you are hungry, I can start your dinner now.” She studied their faces. “Maybe you like to shower and rest first.”

  “Give us an hour,” said Petros. “The trains, Zane. Have you any information remotely connected to them?”

  Bear took a long drink of coffee. He raised his eyes. “And I thought we’d finished.”

  “Three trains destined to be attacked intrigues me,” said Petros. “As I said earlier, a day searching the archives might reveal what was going on.”

  “I can tell you many of the German army hierarchy were shot by the resistance during the liberation of Thessalonica. Much of the documentation they destroyed but the central library holds some.”

  “I’ll start there,” said Petros. “Bear, arrange a hotel for the night and we’ll head for Cyprus on the next available flight.”

  He nodded. “Maria will not be a happy bunny if she finds out.”

  “Whose going to tell her?”

  “Not me but we’ve been in this position before and arrived home two weeks later. I’m off for a shower. Thanks, Zane. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

  “I hope so but I’m not a young man.”

  “The way I feel in the morning, that makes two of us.” They shook hands and Bear lumbered to his room.

  “You are lucky to have him as a friend,” said Zane.

  “I know, but don’t tell him.” Petros stood. “If I discover anything of importance I’ll tell Andreas.”

  “Thank you for listening to an old man.” With a hug, they said goodbye.

  Zane left to make his way home and for a few minutes, Petros gave thought to the next day.

  Bear returned and grabbed a chair. “What’s on your mind?”

  “My next move. Are you for or against some research?”

  “Do you really believe you’ll find anything in the public records?”

  “The local papers of 1944 might reveal something of interest. Remember Greece went from war with Italy to war with Germany and then into a civil war with itself.”

  “What remains will be sparse.”

  “Chance, luck, opportunities, these are what we survive on and I have a gut feeling we can locate the missing treasure, or whatever a ton of people died for.”

  Bear rubbed his chin. “A long shot.”

  Petros stifled a yawn. “I agree.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?” said Bear.

  Petros nodded.

  “You shower, we eat, and sleep in that order. Tomorrow you can search the archives. Whatever you find, we still return to Cyprus.”

  “Agreed.”

  Both men stood and went to their rooms.

  Chapter Six

  The Eurocopter’s rotors turned, ready for takeoff when Petros and Bear arrived.

  Blonde Bob motioned for them to jump in and buckle up. As their belts clicked, the power increased and they lifted.

  “I’d almost given you up,” said Bob.

  “You said eight. We arrived at three minutes to,” said Bear.

  She laughed and set a course for Thessalonica. “When we land, I’ll check the craft with their ground staff. You wait in the office and get your deposit.”

  “Good idea,” said Petros. “What’s next on your agenda?”

  “Check in with my boss and see if the company’s back in operation. If we’re not, I’ll take a flight to Rome and visit a few friends.”

  “Male or female?” asked Bear.

  She grinned. “None of your business.”

  Blonde Bob contacted the airport control and requested permission to land. Ten minutes later, the craft descended into the hire company’s heliport.

  Petros paid Bob, who counted every note.

  “Anytime, anywhere,” she said. “Bear, give us a kiss for old times.” They hugged and she kissed him with passion. “Still cold. Hope she’s worth it. Take care you two.” With a wave, she grabbed her bag and disappeared towards the main airport’s departure point.

  “Did you two once have something going?” asked Petros.

  “Long time ago and best forgotten.”

  “Forgotten already.”

  A taxi drew up outside the office and a man in a business suit, carrying a brief case, alighted. Bear and Petros jumped into the rear seats.

  “Thessalonica Municipal Library,” said Petros in Greek, “and take my friend to a four, five star hotel.”

  With a rapid change of gears, the Mercedes departed the airport and headed into town. The driver screeched to a stop, pointed and shouted, “library.”

  “Text me when you’ve found a hotel,” said Petros.

  “Have fun.”

  Petros shut the car door a millisecond before it raced back into the steady stream of traffic. He turned and stared at the multi-storey building in front of him. The modern concierge guided him to the reference section where a flock of female assistants sat and waited.

  A dark-haired, bespectacled girl, behind the light wooden counter smiled and in English asked, “Can I help you, sir.”

  Petros gave his best smile. “Newspapers 1944.”

  “Please follow me.”

  As the girl left her position, another stepped into her place.

  “The originals are in controlled storage but we have every page on computer. It’ll give you the advantage of key words rather than checking every page.” She opened a door to a large well-lit room with keypads and flat screen monitors attached to polished tables. She pointed. “Notepads, pens and printing facilities are available. You pay as you leave.” She pressed a few keys and the front page of a Greek newspaper dated 1st, January 1944 filled the screen. “Any problems understanding Greek, press the button on the table and one of us will attend and assist.”

  “That’s fine but I can read Greek and German. Thank you.”

  Methodically, he downloaded articles from October 1944 daily newspapers in Greek and German. He perused every page, rummaging for a clue or incident, any meaningless detail, which might direct his search or solve the mystery of the trains. Given the vastness of the task, he flipped October’s pages reading anything of interest.

  The departure of the hospital ship Gradisca filled with wounded prisoners, captured by British warship HMS Kimberley and escorted to Alexandria in Egypt, grabbed his attention. The article stated that the International Red Cross attempted to intervene. Even so, one thousand of the wounded ended the war in a British POW camp.

  He keyed in trains and Thessalonica. The war timetable came on the screen. His finger hovered over the down arrow as he noticed one week in July 1944 not a single train appeared to operate. He quickly scribbled the dates on his pad and entered them into the library’s search engine. The screen went white before it detailed a few headings. Whatever happened during those seven days remained unrecorded in Greek or German.

  The Gradisca showed as having sailed one evening from Thessalonica bound for Crete. Why would she sail for an island where the war was over? It didn’t add up.

  Petros flipped back to the other page, which mentioned Gradisca. It didn’t make sense. The Gradisca sailed from Thessalonica at the beginning of October 1944 and sailed again later in the month. He took a deep breath, and grasped the thought.

  From his jacket pocket, he removed his mobile, while chec
king the prohibited sign. In several languages notices stated the use of mobile phones was forbidden. He pressed the call button for assistance and in a few seconds a bright-eyed girl sauntered into the room, cancelled his call and wandered across.

  “Can I help?”

  Petros whispered. “Where can I use my phone?”

  “Come with me.” They walked in silence to the other end of the room where several booths with the sign of a telephone stood. “Sound proof,” she said. “Your notes will be safe until you return.”

  “Thank you.” Petros entered the circular booth and closed the door, cancelling any external noise. He punched in the number for the Imperial War Museum, London, and waited.

  “Good morning. How can I help?”

  “Is it possible to speak to Mrs Susan Masters?” asked Petros.

  “Who shall I say is calling?”

  “Tell her Petros Kyriades.”

  “One moment, sir.”

  “Susan Masters. Are you still writing your book, Mr Kyriades?”

  He chuckled. “I finished volume one a year ago. I’m in Greece undertaking research into the hospital ship Gradisca. She appears to have been in two places at the same time. As I know you have access to multiple archives, could you have a check on her movements during October 1944?”

  “It’ll cost you dinner for four at the Covent Garden Kitchen.”

  “Bribery and corruption will get you everywhere. It’s a done deal. If you don’t mind, who are you taking?”

  “You, your wife and my husband.”

  “Look forward to it. I’ll ring you when I get home and you can make the arrangements.”

  “I’ll start my search and give you a bell.”

  “Can you text me. They don’t allow mobiles in this library.”

  “Will do. Ring off and let me do some checking. Bye.” The line went dead.

  Petros continued his research but found nothing referring to the trains. The Gradisca, worn out, ended the war laid up in Venice, decommissioned, and transferred to the shipping company Lloyd Trestino, after which it went aground then scrapped in 1950.

  His mobile vibrated. A text from Susan. Interesting that the Royal Navy sunk a vessel named Gradisca in October 1944. Ring me on my direct line. She gave the number.