by Thomas Perry
“True. But it doesn’t prove which brother was the aggressor.”
“Any news of Bako?” asked Sam.
“Some hopeful signs. Tibor just called and said that two of Bako’s lawyers got on a plane for Bucharest. It could mean he was arrested. But they won’t hold him for long on a charge like removing artifacts.”
“And the inscription we sent?”
“That’s why I called, actually. It says, ‘The death of my dear brother was the saddest day of my life. Before this, the worst was when together we gathered our ancestors’ bones.’”
“We’ve got to get back to Hungary fast,” said Remi. “Bako saw the inscription and tried to leave in that direction. I think we should do the same. If we don’t, Bako might beat us to another one.”
TRANSYLVANIA
“IF WE GET THERE IN TIME, MAYBE WE CAN OUTSMART him,” said Sam. “Bako should still be in Romania dealing with the charge for removing artifacts.”
“But he’s seen the inscription, so he could easily call in his security people to start digging,” said Remi.
“Try to reach Tibor and ask him to watch for any unusual activity among Bako’s men.
“And ask him to find us a helicopter.”
“He’s going to love this,” she said as she autodialed the phone. “Hello, Tibor?”
“Hello, Remi. Am I going to be sorry I answered this call?”
“Probably, but for a short time only. All we need for the moment is for you to have Bako’s men watched—all of them, not just the worst five. And we need a helicopter.”
“A helicopter?”
“Yes. Please tell me you have a cousin.”
“I have a friend. Where do you want him to pick you up?”
“Can he fly in Romania?”
“Yes.”
“Then he can pick us up at Airport. It’s the closest airport. And ask him to bring a pair of binoculars.”
“I’ll call him now.”
“Thanks, Tibor.” She ended the call, then saw something on her phone. “Selma sent us an e-mail.”
“Read it to me so I can keep driving.”
“Okay. Here it is. ‘The next treasure was buried in 441 on the north shore of the Danube River. That was the border between the land controlled by the Eastern Roman Empire and the land of the Huns. The Huns had been gone from the region for a couple of years, 438 through 440. The Romans—or the optimistic Romans, anyway—figured they were gone for good.’”
“That has to be one of the worst assumptions ever.”
“About as bad as they could make.” Remi continued: “‘The Huns had gone east to join the Armenians in their war against the Sassanid Persians. When they came back to their strongholds north of the Danube in 440, they found that while they were gone the Bishop of Marga had crossed the Danube to loot some of the royal graves of the Huns.’”
“A Bishop did that?”
“The church must have had personnel problems. Anyway, ‘The Huns came back and weren’t very happy. Attila and Bleda demanded that the Eastern Roman Emperor in Constantinople hand the Bishop over to them. The Bishop was a pretty slippery character. He immediately realized that the Emperor would order that he be given to the Huns. So he secretly went to the Huns himself and betrayed the city to them. The Huns destroyed the city. Then they went on to take all of the Illyrian cities along the Danube, and Belgrade and Sofia.’”
“I can’t blame them for being angry, but what about the Bishop?”
“I have no idea. Maybe they agreed to keep him alive or killed him, or both,” she said. “‘They reburied the remains of their people. The conjecture is that for funeral goods they used the artifacts stolen by the Bishop, as well as some of the wealth they picked up in sacking all of the other cities.’
“It doesn’t say who was in the royal graves,” said Remi. “But in the tomb message, Attila called them ancestors.”
“So what happened after the reburial?”
“The Huns don’t seem to have been in a better mood. In 443, they looted Plovdiv and Sofia again and then kept going. They made it all the way to Constantinople, where the Emperor Theodosius had to pay them nineteen hundred sixty-three kilograms of gold to leave and had to raise the annual tribute he paid to twenty-one hundred pounds of gold.”
“I hope Bako is waiting to get out of jail and can’t do anything.”
Sam and Remi reached and found it beautiful. The Habsburg-era architecture reminded them of Vienna. Airport signs directed them to Traian Vuia International Airport, where they were able to return their rental car to the Bucharest-based agency. They found their way to the heliport.
The helicopter was already on the pad, and a middle-aged man with a sand-colored mustache and sand-colored hair and wearing a sand-colored leather jacket met them at the gate. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo?”
“Yes,” said Sam. In spite of the man’s smile, Sam was not ignoring the possibility that he had been sent by Arpad Bako. Bako was probably sending men out in every direction looking for them by now. But he couldn’t have known they wanted to rent a helicopter. He waited for the man to say something convincing.
“Tibor said you were in a hurry, so I came right away. I’m Emil.”
“You speak such perfect English,” said Remi.
“English is the universal language of fliers,” said Emil. “If a pilot is Swedish and the air controller in Bhutan is from the same Swedish village, they speak English on the radio. Tibor and I both studied English to qualify for pilot training.”
“Tibor is a pilot?” Remi said.
“Much better than I am. He was an airline pilot. He retired only a couple of years ago and started his taxi business.”
“I wonder why he never told us.”
Emil chuckled. “Tibor is one of those people who wants to know about you but thinks it’s a waste of time to tell you all about himself.” He opened the door on the side of his helicopter. “You sit in those two seats,” he said, pointing out two sets of earphones. “You can listen but don’t talk until I tell you. All right?”
“Right,” said Sam. He and Remi climbed into their seats, belted themselves in, and put on their earphones.
Emil radioed the control tower, told them his course, and immediately started the rotors moving. As the engine whipped the rotors around faster, the noise grew, and then they rose into the air, tipped and leaned forward slightly, and headed up, out, and away from the airport and its pattern of runways. Emil headed southwest, climbing gradually as he went. After a while, he reached a ceiling, flew low and steady, but when he was a couple miles from the airport he climbed again. “Now we’re away from the flight paths. You can talk now.”
“Can you head for the north side of the river, along the bank?” asked Remi.
“We’re looking for a place where somebody is digging.”
“Digging?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “It’ll probably be a group of five or six men digging holes with shovels. If we get there early enough, we may find them still searching the ground with electronic equipment. We’d like to get a good look at them but not give them the impression we’re interested in them.”
“Ah, that reminds me,” said Emil. “Tibor said you wanted binoculars.” He opened a compartment and lifted the straps of two pair and handed them back to the Fargos.
“Thank you, Emil,” said Remi. “We’re very glad you were available.”
“So am I,” he said. “I don’t usually get to do anything this interesting. Most of the time, I take tourists up to look at the same sights they saw from the ground the day before. Now and then there will be a businessman who needs a quick ride to Budapest or somewhere.”
“Let’s hope this doesn’t get too interesting.”
After a short time, Emil said, “We’re just about at the Hungarian border,” pointing to the river. “Now we’ll swing down along the Danube.”
The Danube was wide and curved, regularly moving around high points in the land. There was plenty of boat traf
fic, and the river ran through heavily populated areas, with tall buildings almost up to the water’s edge. “The river is an international border, but we’ll be over Hungary on the north side.”
“Stay over land if you can,” said Sam. “We’re looking for ancient graves. We think they’ll be on higher ground and back a bit from the river so they wouldn’t get washed out by floods.”
“I understand,” Emil said. They flew along the Danube from east to west. Where there was an area that looked as though it had been disturbed by digging or had an assortment of trucks and equipment, Sam and Remi would ask Emil to hover so they could take a better look.
They passed near an area that looked peculiar and hovered. About a hundred yards north of the river was an old-fashioned building, painted a buttery yellow, with high roofs and an extensive network of paths leading through formal gardens. There were at least a dozen men with shovels digging holes in the grass, in the middle of flower beds, in the paths. There were another dozen men walking the site with metal detectors and a couple of men pushing magnetometers mounted on wheels along like lawn mowers.
Emil took a second pass above the estate, and what Sam and Remi saw was shocking. Bako’s men had already found several graves and opened them. There were big stones lining open-topped pits and beside them human skeletons thrown aside and piles of metal being loaded into crates. Sam got on his telephone.
“Hello?”
“Albrecht,” said Sam. “We’ve got bad news. I don’t know how Bako did it this time, but my delaying tactics didn’t work. He’s got twenty or thirty men at an estate on the north shore of the Danube. They’re digging up graves and looting them. So far, they’ve got four or five open.”
“We’ve got to move fast,” said Albrecht. “I’ll call our friends at Szeged University and have the authorities move in and put a stop to it. Can you give me an exact location?”
“Our friend Emil probably can.”
“Tell them it’s Count Vrathy’s estate on the south end of Szeged. It’s a museum now. It’s probably closed at this time of day and they must have overpowered the watchman.”
Albrecht said, “I’ve got it. Thank you,” and hung up.
Sam got on his phone again. “Tibor, we’re with Emil in the helicopter.”
“I’d have to be deaf not to hear the rotors.”
“Bako’s men have found the Hun royal graves above the north bank of the Danube at the Vrathy estate. What can you tell me about Bako and the group he took to Romania?”
“They haven’t returned from Transylvania yet.”
“He seems to be substituting quality for quantity, using twenty or thirty men from his businesses to do the digging. We need to prevent them from hiding the treasure.”
“Sam!” said Remi.
“Hold on, Tibor.” He turned to Remi. “What’s wrong?”
“They’ve moved a big boat up to the shore.”
“Tibor? They’re going to load the treasure into a boat. From up here, it looks like a fifty-foot yacht. They’re still digging, so this will take a while. But we need to know where that yacht is from now on.”
“I’ll send men to the river above and below the Vrathy estate to watch where it goes.”
“Good. Thank you. And Remi and I are going to need the equipment we left with the boat on the Tisza. We’ll need our scuba gear, the tool kit, and a covered truck.”
“I’ll call my cousin.”
“And ask him to be sure the air tanks are full.”
“I’ll call when we’re ready.”
Sam, Remi, and Emil kept returning to the airspace above the estate and then flying off into the distance as though they were transporting something on a route that passed over the estate. After about an hour and a half, the boat was loaded and the men with shovels and other equipment had begun getting into trucks to drive away.
Sam leaned forward to talk to Emil. “Emil, you’ve done a wonderful job. We may call on you again. Is there a place where you can set us down within a couple of miles of here without being seen?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a landing space near the university. I can put you down there.”
He took them a short distance over the city and set the helicopter down on a large X at the end of a parking lot. “This is it,” he said.
Sam said, “What do we owe you?”
“Nothing. Tibor already paid me for the day.”
Sam handed him five hundred dollars. “Then please accept a small gift with our thanks.”
Emil handed Sam his business card. “I know you can’t read Hungarian, but you can read the phone number. Call it anytime of the day or night. If I can’t help you, I’ll find someone who can.” They shook hands, Sam and Remi got out and the helicopter rose and flew away.
Remi said, “You know, I can’t stop wondering what finally happened to the Bishop who robbed those graves the first time.”
“I think his reputation for shrewdness may have been exaggerated.”
“You think Attila and Bleda killed him?”
“To his people, he was a traitor. To the Huns, he was a grave robber. I’d be surprised if he died in bed.”
“Let’s see if doing the same brings bad fortune for Bako.”
Sam’s phone buzzed. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Tibor. Where are you?”
“At the helipad by Szeged University.”
“Stay there.”
Five minutes later, a white-colored truck with a covered cargo bay appeared at the far entrance to the lot and drove straight across all the lanes to them. When it stopped, Sam and Remi climbed into the cab to join Tibor.
He said, “My cousins tell me the yacht is anchored offshore. Bako’s men loaded fifteen wooden boxes onto the lifeboat and then they took them to the yacht and loaded them onto the deck. So we think they’re getting ready to take the artifacts somewhere by water. The Danube runs through Germany, Austria, Hungary, and Romania to the Black Sea. Many rivers feed it. They could go anywhere without setting foot on land.”
“Have the police arrived?”
“Nobody has seen them yet.”
“All right,” said Sam. “Let’s go see if we can make Bako unhappy.”
Tibor clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m glad I lived to meet you two. Nobody has made me laugh so much since I was a kid.”
Sam rubbed his shoulder. “Okay. Let’s get the truck to a place where we can see the yacht.”
Tibor drove them down to the road that ran along the Danube and turned east. After a few minutes, the road swung inland a bit to avoid a row of old estates along the river. When it swung back to the river, Tibor pointed. “There. See it?”
“The one with the high bridge?”
“That’s the one.” It was sixty-five feet long, with an aluminum lifeboat hanging from davits in the stern.
“All right,” Sam said. “Remi and I need to put on our scuba gear.”
“I have nephews in the back of the truck. I’ll get them out and let you get changed.” He stopped the truck by the side of the road and opened the back, summoned the two young men out, and let Sam and Remi in to put on their wet suits and organize their gear.
Sam tested the underwater light and examined the tools that he’d requested. He put them in a net bag and attached it to his belt. “We’ll drift with the river’s current. When we get there you’ll have to hold the light so I can see what I’m working on. I’ll try to work quickly.”
Remi looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not saying what you’re working on?”
“I know how much you like surprises. But don’t surface no matter what. Stay as deep as you can.”
Tibor’s nephews helped Sam and Remi go down a path to the water on the far side of the truck, where they couldn’t easily be seen from the yacht. They put on their flippers and stepped backward into the dark water of the Danube. As soon as there was enough water to cover them, they submerged.
The big white yacht was at least a hundred yards
from shore, anchored just at the edge of the channel where much larger boats and small freighters traveled. Sam and Remi headed for the yacht, staying deep in the murky water and checking their progress occasionally by shining the light on the riverbed below them and ahead of them.
Finally Remi’s light found the anchor chain approximately where they had expected it, a straight diagonal line from the upstream end leading up to the dark shape above them on the silvery surface.
Sam gestured to Remi and slowly rose, coming up under the hull, but not touching it. He swam along the keel to the stern and looked up at the propeller protruding on its shaft from the lower part of the stern.
Remi clutched his arm and in the light she held he saw her shake her head. He could see the anxiety in her eyes through her mask. He put his hand on her shoulder, patted it gently, took her hand, and aimed her light at the propeller. They both knew that if the men in the boat started the engine, Sam could be chopped to pieces in seconds.
Sam proceeded methodically. First, he found the cotter pin and removed it from the nut with a pair of needle-nose pliers. He used the pliers to lift the tabs that held the locking ring, returned the pliers to his net bag, and wedged a wrench between a propeller blade and the stern to keep the propeller from turning while he used an adjustable wrench to remove the nut. He placed his feet against the stern and pulled the bronze propeller off its shaft, then carried it a distance into the deeper channel before he dropped it.
He returned to the stern of the yacht and surfaced cautiously. He took off his flippers, his tanks, and his mask and hung them on the bare propeller shaft and climbed the stern ladder to get aboard.
Just as he reached the rear deck, his eye caught a sudden movement to his left. He spun and saw a man by his left shoulder swing what looked like a pipe. He ducked into the man’s torso so the pipe went over him, gave the man a quick jujitsu punch to the jaw, and held him in a choke hold until he was unconscious. He found a length of rope on a cleat, used it to hog-tie him, and then tore the man’s shirt to make a gag.
