The Secret of the Soldier's Gold
Page 1
A Rewarding Favor . . .
Grandmother Otero nodded. “When Catarina told me you were wanting to learn Portuguese because you were going to Lisbon, I thought you might be able to help my friend Frau Rilke.”
“I hope we can,” Frank said. He turned to Frau Rilke. “What is it you want us to do?”
Frau Rilke took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In 1943 my father buried a suitcase full of gold bars in the garden of our house in Lisbon.”
Frank and Joe looked at each other, shocked.
Frau Rilke leaned close to them. “When you’re in Lisbon, I want you to go to the house, dig up the gold, and bring it back to me. My children and their families are short of money, and this gold would help them tremendously. If you do this for me, I’ll give each of you a gold bar.”
Contents
1 Frau Rilke’s Strange Story
2 The Suitcase Full of Gold
3 Friends Never Forget
4 Trapped!
5 Intruder in the Dark
6 A Real-life Movie
7 The Fake Maps
8 Dog Attack!
9 Buried Alive?
10 Escape!
11 Danger on the River
12 Where Is Frau Rilke’s Gold?
13 The German Soldier
14 Car Underwater
15 The Secret Revealed
1 Frau Rilke’s Strange Story
* * *
Eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy stretched his tall frame above the crowd of students who were changing classes at Bayport High School. “I don’t see her,” he said to his brother, Joe. Frank combed his fingers through his dark brown hair in frustration. “I’m going to be late for Spanish. Are you sure Catarina has a class this hour in one of these rooms?”
“She’s a freshman, Frank. Remember?” Joe said. “All of the freshman classes are in this part of the building.” He scanned the crowd with his blue eyes. Finally he spotted her. “There she is!” he shouted.
Catarina Otero suddenly noticed the Hardy boys and flashed a brilliant smile. “Frank! Joe!” she called. “Over here!”
The Hardys forced their way through the crowd to the side of the hall where Catarina had taken refuge.
“Now what is this important question you want to ask me?” Catarina asked.
“Do you still want to teach me some Portuguese?” Joe said.
Catarina raised an eyebrow. “Well, sure, Joe, but what changed your mind? The last time I offered, you said you weren’t interested.”
“We’re going to Portugal during the winter break,” Frank said. “Dad’s been invited by a friend in the Lisbon Police Department, Inspector Manuel Oliveira.” Fenton Hardy, the boys’ father, was a world-famous detective whose expertise was often sought after.
Catarina’s eyes widened. “Oh, you guys are so lucky! Sure, I’ll be glad to teach you some Portuguese. In fact, why don’t you come to my birthday party tomorrow afternoon? Many members of my family will be there, which means there will be a lot of people speaking Portuguese. You can learn by total immersion.”
“Hey—great idea!” Joe said.
“Thanks, Catarina,” Frank said.
As the Hardy boys headed back toward their part of the building Joe said, “I hope Iola and Callie don’t get mad because we’re going to a party hosted by a freshman girl.”
Frank grinned. “I’ll talk to Callie and you can talk to Iola,” he said. “We’ll just tell them it’s business.”
Joe laughed. “Yeah, right! I’m sure they’ll believe that,” he said.
Iola was the sister of Chet Morton, one of the boys’ best friends. She and Callie Shaw were two of the most popular girls in school and often spent time with Frank and Joe.
When Frank reached his math class, he said, “I’m glad you remembered Catarina’s offer to teach you Portuguese, Joe. Who knows? We may be able to help the Lisbon police too.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Joe said. “See you after school!”
As Joe took his seat in the third row next to the window he remembered a World War II movie he had seen on television during the last week. It was set in Lisbon, and the story had involved lots of spies. The city had been portrayed as a hotbed of criminal activity. Who knew—Lisbon might be full of mysteries for them to solve.
• • •
“Mama, this is Frank and Joe Hardy. They’re friends of mine from school,” Catarina said.
“Welcome to our house,” Mrs. Otero said. “I’m so happy you could come to Catarina’s birthday party.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Otero,” Frank said. “We’re delighted to be here.”
Frank and Joe are going to Lisbon next week,” Catarina explained. “They want to learn some Portuguese and I’m going to teach them.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I wish I were going with you,” Mrs. Otero said. She looked around the room. “Catarina, these young men look starved. You should get them some food.”
“Okay, Mama,” Catarina said.
Mrs. Otero patted Frank and Joe on the arms. “I need to check on the other guests,” she said. “Thank you again for coming.” With that she began circulating through the room.
Catarina smiled. “My birthday party may not be what you expected. This one is actually just going to be attended by my family,” she said. “Tonight, though, I’ll have some of my girlfriends from school over. That will be the real party!”
“I think this is a great custom, Catarina,” Joe said. “Two birthday parties in one day. Can’t really go wrong!”
“Anyway, as I said, almost everyone here will be speaking Portuguese. You’ll have a chance to hear it and then I’ll translate for you,” Catarina said. “It’ll be almost like you’re already in Lisbon.”
“Sort of a trial run,” Frank said.
Catarina nodded.
For the next several minutes the teens made their way around the room as unobtrusively as possible, listening in on conversations and eating from the plate of party snacks that Catarina had made for them. Every once in a while, Catarina would introduce Frank and Joe to someone new. Everyone the boys met switched easily from Portuguese to English and back again.
Finally, just before they reached the last group, Catarina said, “I’ve been saving my grandmother for last.”
“We’d love to meet her,” Frank said.
Earlier Frank had noticed two elderly women seated together in a corner of the room and deduced, mostly from the deference the women had been shown, that they must be family matriarchs. They were both dressed in black from head to toe, and they had their steel-gray hair pinned up in knots on top of their heads.
Joe had noticed them too and was curious about who they were. “Which one of them is your grandmother?” he asked.
“The one on the right is Grandmother Otero, my father’s mother,” Catarina said. “The woman with her is Frau Rilke, Grandmother Otero’s good friend who lives here in Bayport.”
“Frau Rilke? That’s German, right?” Frank asked.
Catarina nodded. “Grandmother Otero says that Frau Rilke lived in Lisbon for several years during World War II,” she explained. “Grandmother Otero knows all about your famous father and the mysteries the two of you have solved. When I told her that you were coming to my party so I could teach you some Portuguese, she asked me if you could help her friend Frau Rilke with a problem. I didn’t know what to tell her . . ..”
“Oh, we’re always being asked to solve cases,” Joe said. “It’s no big deal.”
“We’ll be glad to talk to Frau Rilke,” Frank said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Frank could see the immediate relief on Catarina’s face. She obviously had been co
ncerned about it.
“Grandmother Otero!” Catarina called to the woman. “I’d like to introduce Frank and Joe Hardy. They’re my friends from school.”
Grandmother Otero looked up, blinked, and suddenly gave them a big smile. “Forgive me for not standing up. Arthritis.” She turned and nodded at Frau Rilke. “This is my dear friend, Brigette Rilke.”
Frau Rilke nodded at them and managed a smile, although it was easy for Frank to see that she was not feeling very happy. Well, he thought, if Joe and I can solve her problem, then maybe that will change.
“Catarina, dear, did you tell your friends about . . .” Grandmother Otero stopped herself, not knowing, Joe guessed, whether she should go any further.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Catarina said. “They’re happy to do what they can to help.”
At that moment Frau Rilke let out a sob and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she managed to say.
Catarina looked a little embarrassed. “Joe,” she said, “will you help me pull up some chairs so we can all talk more comfortably?”
Joe, now somewhat puzzled by Frau Rilke’s emotional outburst, had begun to wonder about the magnitude of the case they had agreed to solve.
Joe helped Catarina pull three chairs to Grandmother Otero and Frau Rilke. The three teens sat down.
“Everyone in Bayport knows how important your father is. He has helped many, many people,” Grandmother Otero began. “And his sons are almost just as famous.”
Frank and Joe smiled at her.
“Well, we think it’s important for people to use their talents to help people however they can,” Frank said.
“We like solving mysteries for people,” Joe added.
Grandmother Otero nodded. “That’s why, when Catarina told me you were wanting to learn Portuguese because you were going to Lisbon, I thought you might be able to help my friend Frau Rilke.”
“I hope we can,” Frank said. He turned to Frau Rilke. “What is it you want us to do?”
Frau Rilke took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In 1943 my father buried a suitcase full of gold bars in the garden of our house in Lisbon.”
Frank and Joe looked at each other, shocked.
Frau Rilke leaned close to them. “When you’re in Lisbon, I want you to go to the house, dig up the gold, and bring it back to me. My children and their families are short of money, and this gold would help them tremendously. If you do this for me, I’ll give each of you a gold bar.”
2 The Suitcase Full of Gold
* * *
Frank was stunned by what he had just heard. He looked at Joe, his eyes conveying what his mouth couldn’t say: What in the world have we gotten ourselves into? Is Frau Rilke serious?
Joe got the message. “Would that be legal, Frau Rilke?” he said. “I’m not sure the Portuguese authorities would let us do something like that.”
Frau Rilke’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t want you to break the law, but . . .”
“Oh, no!” Grandmother Otero interjected. “Brigette would never expect you to do something like that.”
Frau Rilke dabbed at her eyes with an embroidered linen handkerchief. “You boys have solved so many mysteries in Bayport that I was just sure you could figure out some solution to this,” she said. “That gold belongs to my family and we need it now in order to survive.”
“Please just listen to her story,” Grandmother Otero said. “I beg of you.”
“Grandmother, if Frank and Joe don’t think—,” Catarina started to say, but Joe interrupted her.
“No, no, Catarina, it’s okay,” Joe said. He looked at Frank. “It won’t hurt to hear the whole story. Who knows? We might be able to bring the gold back without getting into trouble.”
“We can’t promise anything, Frau Rilke,” Frank added, “but, as Joe said, we’ll be glad to help if we can.”
“That’s all I ask,” Frau Rilke said.
“Catarina, this may take a few minutes, so why don’t you go get the boys more food?” Grandmother Otero said. “And if you wouldn’t mind, dear, could you also bring a fresh pot of coffee for Brigette and me?”
“Of course, Grandmother. I’ve forgotten my manners,” Catarina said. She looked at Frank and Joe. “I’ll bring back some Portuguese specialties so that you can start getting used to the food. Sound good?”
“That sounds great to me,” Joe said.
Frank nodded his agreement and turned to Frau Rilke. “I’ve read a lot of stories about what happened during World War II, but I’ve never actually talked to anybody who experienced it firsthand.”
“It was a terrible time,” Frau Rilke began, her voice breaking. “We lost everything.”
Grandmother Otero took her hand. “It’s okay, Brigette,” she said. “I’m here.”
Frau Rilke dabbed at her eyes again. “My family and I used to live in Berlin, Germany. That’s where I was born. Our name was Fleissner and my father was a popular man. He and my mother loved Germany—they thought of themselves as true Germans. But by 1941 life had become very difficult for us. With the help of friends we were able to escape to Portugal, but we had to leave all of our belongings behind. My family was quite wealthy, but we arrived in Lisbon with only the clothes on our backs and what we had been able to stuff in our pockets.”
“That’s terrible,” Joe said. He was trying to imagine what it would be like to leave his house and everything he owned, and never be able to return.
“Oh, it was,” Frau Rilke said. “I cried and cried.”
“Why did you go to Portugal?” Frank asked.
“My father didn’t want to leave Europe, and Portugal was politically neutral. He thought we’d be safe there. He also knew other German families who had gone to Portugal before the war started, and he was hoping to make contact with them,” Frau Rilke said. “My mother wanted us to go to Canada or the United States. She knew that ships still sailed from Lisbon to those countries, and she was hoping to convince my father that ultimately, that was what we should do.”
Catarina arrived with a fresh pot of coffee and two plates of food. After she served her grandmother and Frau Rilke, she told Frank and Joe the Portuguese names of all the food on their plates and made them repeat the words back to her. “Not bad,” she said when the boys were finished. “I think you’re going to do very well in Lisbon.”
“Right,” Joe said. “If we only have to order food, then we’ll have no problem!”
Joe’s joke broke the tension. Everyone laughed.
When Catarina started to leave, Joe said, “Don’t go. Join us! This is interesting.” He moved his chair over to make room for her.
Catarina pulled up a chair and sat between Joe and Frank.
“Please continue, Brigette,” Grandmother Otero said.
“After we arrived in Lisbon, several German families we had managed to contact helped us get settled,” Frau Rilke said. “My father was able to obtain work and we eventually moved into our own house. Adjusting to our new lives was hard, but we kept faith that life would return to normal for us again and that the rest of the world would return to normal too.” Frau Rilke shook her head and gave them a sad smile. “We actually thought back then that one day we could return to our home in Germany and that things would be exactly as they used to be.”
Grandmother Otero patted her friend’s hand. “That is what we all wish from time to time, Brigette,” she said, “that we can bring back the happier times in our lives.”
Frau Rilke nodded. “One day, in 1943, we received a visit from Heinz-Erich Lüdemann, the son of family friends in Berlin. He had been an officer in the German Army, but Heinz’s father, an important businessman, was accused of plotting against Hitler—and suddenly Heinz’s entire family and all their possessions disappeared. Heinz received the news while his unit was in the south of France. At that time his unit had been transporting trucks of gold bars to different Atlantic ports to be shipped to South America. Some of the Nazi High Command
could already see the writing on the wall—that they’d be defeated—and by shipping the gold, they were hoping to reestablish themselves in Argentina and Paraguay.
“Anyway, some of his friends warned him that the Gestapo, the dreaded German secret police, planned to arrest him. So he decided to take an amount of gold that he thought would equal the fortune the Nazis had taken from his family and from ours. He put the gold bars in a metal suitcase and brought it with him to Lisbon. Heinz told my father that half of the gold belonged to him and that we could use it to rebuild our lives. He planned to use his half to finance missions back to Germany to help defeat the Nazis.
“For safekeeping my father decided to bury the suitcase in the backyard garden of our house in Lisbon. We always referred to this garden as our park.”
“Why was that?” Joe asked.
“Well, the custom started while we were still in Berlin,” Frau Rilke said. “Hitler said that Jews could no longer go to public parks, so we just started sitting in our garden and telling everyone that we were sitting in the park.” She smiled. “It made us feel better. With our friends, we’d always ask, ‘Do you want to go to the park?’ The answer, of course, would be, ‘Yes!’ We’d then go to the backyard garden of someone’s house and sit in the ‘park.’”
“What a terrible thing to happen,” Frank said, clearly referring to the whole story.
“It was, but the whole experience made us strong,” Frau Rilke said. “When challenged, the human mind can come up with solutions to the most impossible problems.”
“So even after you moved to Lisbon, you still called your backyard garden the park?” Catarina asked.
Frau Rilke nodded. “It was a difficult habit to break,” she said, “but because of that, I’m hoping the gold is still there.”
“What do you mean?” Joe asked.
“Well, one day my father went to meet Heinz in central Lisbon to discuss a business proposition. Just as my father got there he witnessed Heinz’s kidnapping by men whom he knew were Gestapo. There was nothing my father could do but watch in horror. He was sure that Heinz would be taken back to Germany and executed.