The Amber Room

by T. Davis Bunn

  “Alexander said to tell you that he is doubly in your debt,” Katya said. “First for trying to assist us, and second for doing so confidentially.”

  Andrew thought it over. “Coming from the old gent, I’d say that’s not bad, not bad at all.”

  “You can add my gratitude to his,” Jeffrey said. “For what it’s worth.”

  “Ah, well, seeing as how I disagree with the run-of-the-mill lot and their comments, I’d treat that almost as highly as the other. Maybe even a notch above, seeing as how you’re the up and comer.”

  “Thanks, Andrew. I won’t forget this.”

  “ ’Course you won’t. I’m not aiming on letting you, now, am I?” Andrew reached into an overstuffed drawer, came up with a set of clippings, passed them around. “Here’s the copy and bills for the first set of ads. Cost you a packet, especially the daily rags. The Times wanted eight hundred quid per day.”

  “We’ve got to move ahead as though there were big money behind it.”

  “Right you are, then. Here, have a gander at how the lucre’s being spent.”

  The ad was a standard four-by-eight inches, framed in double black lines. The text took up less than half the space and simply read: “Major international collector seeks to acquire pre-seventeenth-century religious art and artifacts of the first order. Sellers of second-quality items need not apply. Paintings, manuscripts, altars, reliquaries, ornamental works, and other items will be considered. Utmost discretion and confidentiality guaranteed. Payment may be effected worldwide. Interested parties should contact,” and below was given Andrew’s name and shop address.

  “Perfect,” Jeffrey declared. “Can I keep this one?”

  “ ’Course you may, lad. You paid for it.”

  “I’m leaving on a buying trip next week. I don’t suppose—”

  “You’ll be hearing from me the instant I pick up the first bit of news, lad. The very instant, don’t you worry. As to timing, that’s out of our hands, now, isn’t it.”

  Jeffrey nodded glumly. “Alexander’s really taking this hard.”

  “Only on account of the weight you two put on reputations and the like.” He caught the look in Jeffrey’s eye and added, “Just kidding, lad. Of course he is.”

  “You don’t speak any other languages, I guess.”

  “No, but I understand Yank fairly well. And Sydney Greenfield works in Kentish, which I can get around in.”

  “I don’t think it’s Greenfield.”

  “You’ve said that half a dozen times already. And I’ve told you I agree with the lady here—we’ve got to look everywhere. All the same, I do believe you’re right. This doesn’t look like something our man would be up to. Did I ever tell you he was decorated in the Korean War?”

  “Sydney Greenfield?”

  “Goes against the grain, doesn’t it. But there you are. Ruddy great gong it was, too. Pinned on his chest by the head honcho himself. Said it was for bravery and valor beyond the call of duty, or some such.”

  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

  “Hard to believe, I admit. Had a rough time getting the man to speak of it at all. I heard rumors about it for years and finally cornered him at the local. Wouldn’t let him go until I had the scoop.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Told me he didn’t remember what he’d actually done,” Andrew replied. “Scared blind, he was. Honest. One minute he was there on the sand, the next he was two miles inland, sitting by a bombed-out farmhouse having a quiet smoke with the boys. Still, they gave him the VC when it was all over. Told me he stood there and let them pin it on his chest, didn’t have a clue what all the fuss was about. That’s the way to go to war, I told him. Just skip over the nasty bits.”

  “I’ve always liked Sydney,” Katya said. “Did Jeffrey tell you he was completely honest about his dealings in the repaired furniture?”

  “Yes he did. Glad to hear it too, I was.” He clapped Jeffrey on the back. “Don’t look so glum, lad. From the sounds of it, nobody’s actually said Alexander stole the piece, am I right?”

  “The implication is enough.”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes, and that’s why I’d take your word of a debt over a lot of other people’s checks. You’re a strange one for this trade, though, you and your boss both.”

  “Thanks, Andrew.” Jeffrey tightened his scarf. “Now, remember, the most important thing at this point is to retrieve the chalice.”

  “Or reliquary,” Katya corrected.

  “Or whatever it is, right. But we’d be interested in looking at anything of really top quality that comes in, especially if its origin is central European.”

  “For this cause your boss has gotten himself involved in?”

  “If the chalice is recovered,” Katya explained, “we’ll have substantial funds available both from the gala itself and promised by new patrons specifically for expanding the Polish religious heritage collection.”

  “If it’s not,” Jeffrey added, “then paying for such pieces out of the firm’s pocket should buy us some breathing space. And time.”

  “Hopefully we’ll be hearing from the thieves or their fences before long,” Andrew said. “As to this other matter, in such a case as I come up with a few class articles, I imagine I’d be splitting the commissions with you.”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “They’d all be yours.”

  “That’s a good sight more than fair.” Andrew ushered them back to the front. “Any time you feel a touch of the nerves setting in, feel free to give me a call. But best you not be seen around here for a time, in case they’re having the premises watched. And don’t you worry, lad. You’ll be hearing from me the instant I catch wind of anything.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The waiting was hard. Waiting always was. The word alone meant that control and action and power had slipped from his hands. Kurt had never been good at waiting, and the seven days hung heavy on his hands.

  The old colonel moved about his own home like a silent wraith. Kurt wondered about that whenever the old man slipped in and out of view. The colonel carried with him a thoroughly defeated air. He had been so since their arrival, as though telling his secret had robbed him of his final reason to live. He sat now, the strength and ramrod straightness with which he had confronted them upon their arrival a thing of the distant past. He awaited his fate with a helpless air, stooped and old and tired and sad.

  The phone call came on the seventh evening at the prearranged time. Even though he had awaited it anxiously, the bell caused Kurt positively to leap from the earth.

  “You found it, then.” Kurt felt his voice was disembodied, spoken by another—one whose knees had not gone weak at the news and whose heart was not hammering like thunder.

  “Did I not just say that?” Erika permitted herself a chuckle. “Though I had to stand and gaze for quite a while before believing it myself.”

  “How did it look?”

  “Rats,” she said. “Big ones. And bones. Our colonel left no tongues alive to tell tales.”

  “I meant the—”

  “Don’t say it,” Erika warned.

  “I was simply going to ask about the merchandise.”

  “Unimpressive. Covered in mud. And other things.”

  “But you’re certain?”

  “Ferret is positive. I have come to trust in our little man’s judgment. That surprises me almost as much as our find.”

  He repeated, “How did it look?”

  This time she answered him. “Fistfuls of dark glass, carved with weird designs, covered with the filth of ages. Ferret only let me clean a few, he says each piece was wrapped in tissue paper—”

  “Covered with the place-code for putting it back together,” Kurt finished for her. His heart was beating so hard it was difficult to get the words out. “I remember him saying it.”

  “Yes, well, for that reason he did not let me clean but a few. And those . . .”

  “Well?” Kurt urged.

&
nbsp; “I do not wish to sound absurd.”

  He bit off the remark that came first to his tongue, said, “Tell me.”

  “Great jewels,” she replied. “Glass vessels full of molten gold when held to the light. All the shades of a bronze rainbow. Like nothing I have ever seen in my life.”

  “An amber rainbow,” Kurt said. He thought he heard the old colonel stir behind him, give off a ghostly sigh of defeat. But his attention remained fastened upon what he himself would never see.

  “I told you it was absurd.”

  “You did well,” Kurt replied. “After all, the only glimpse I shall ever have is through your eyes.”

  “Perhaps not. I am hoping to convince Ferret that we should keep a few mementos.”

  “With one for me, I hope.”

  “How not?” She spoke in muffled tones to someone in the room, came back with, “Ferret says now is not the time for idle chatter. He says to contact the lawyer and set up the meeting. Not by phone. It is possible that there are still listening ears.”

  “Tomorrow,” Kurt said, the excitement making his voice rise. “I will travel back to Schwerin at first light. There is too much ice on the roads just now to risk driving at night.”

  “Tomorrow is fine.”

  “She will give those antique dealers the when and where as we discussed.” Kurt continued talking now simply to hold on to the contact. “At the city whose name I cannot pronounce.”

  “Czestochowa,” Erika replied. “You will wait until we have confirmed it all went smoothly.”

  “And then travel to Poland.”

  “Where we shall not meet.”

  “As was agreed,” he said. “It is safer, and yet I worry.”

  “By the time you arrive, we will have gone on to Switzerland to await the transfer of funds.” Again the muffled talk, then, “Ferret says that you can trust us.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “No.” She paused. “But in any case you can. You have my word.”

  “It is enough.” And to his surprise, it almost was.

  “Ferret says, do you remember where to go upon your arrival?”

  “For the hundredth time, yes.”

  “We shall call you once the money has been received and pass on the remaining details.” A smile came to her voice. “Palm trees.”

  “What?”

  “Your dream. Beaches of white sand. Does Argentina have beaches?”

  “And coconuts,” Kurt replied, and suddenly wanted to laugh out loud. “And all the rest.”

  “You will hear from us,” Erika said.

  Kurt hung up the phone and turned back to where the colonel sat in his lone and ragged chair. Kurt looked closer, realized that the old hands were motionless. Kurt moved forward, saw how the jaw had fallen slack. The old colonel’s eyes stared sightlessly at the feeble fire. Kurt bent to place one ear next to the frail chest, wondered idly if he should not list the cause of death as a broken heart.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Regular as clockwork, you are,” Andrew said when he realized it was Jeffrey calling. “Still off on your travels this week?”

  “Tomorrow,” Jeffrey replied.

  “Won’t do me any good to ask where, will it?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “No, didn’t think so.” Andrew gave a jolly sigh. “Have to tell you, lad. I’m having the time of my life reading about all these lovelies. Something I didn’t know the first thing about before.”

  “A whole new world.”

  “That’s it exactly. Not to mention the three buys I’ve made so far. Good bit of brass, they were.”

  “Alexander says to tell you they’re all really first-rate.”

  “Yes, I thought so myself.” His tone sobered. “Nothing on the chalice, I’m afraid.”

  Jeffrey did not try to hide his disappointment. “I can’t stop hoping.”

  “No, nor I. I did come across something rather interesting, though. Found a description and a sketch of what looks like the chalice in question.”

  “The one we brought from Cracow or the one we took back?”

  “The only one I’ve seen, whichever one that is. I assume the one you’re looking for, I ruddy well hope so, seeing as how that’s the one I’ve got my eyes peeled for. And from what you’ve said, on the surface there isn’t much difference between the two.”

  “Sorry. Stupid question.”

  “Yes, it was. No matter. Case of nerves does that to a body. Anyway, it says here, hang on, let me see if I can lay my hands on it.” The phone was dropped, then Jeffrey heard the sounds of rummaging. Andrew returned with, “Yes, here it is. Found it in one of the old tomes you brought by, dated 1820. From the looks of it, the book hasn’t been opened in over a century. Says that in 1475 a chalice was designed by this goldsmith called Bertolucci for the Holy See. What a name, the Holy See. Sounds like some great marble bath with a dozen gilded cupids spouting scented water. Anyway, one chalice was made in silver and gold with a secret compartment as a reliquary, while two others were produced at the same time without this compartment, so that the reliquary could be secured in the Vatican vaults while a similar chalice was used during Mass and other religious ceremonies.”

  Jeffrey felt a peal of hope pick up the pace of heart. “Very interesting.”

  “Yes, isn’t it just.”

  “I don’t know what it means, though.”

  “No, nor I. Perhaps you ought to run this lot by the old gent, see what he can make of it. Tell him it appears to me that the thick plottens, or whatever it is they say in the spy flicks.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Pass on my regards while you’re at it.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. This favor I’m doing, turns out it’s loads of fun. Not to mention the odd commission.”

  “You’re a big help, Andrew.”

  “Not yet, I’m not. But there’s always hope.”

  * * *

  Jeffrey hung up, turned back to where Katya and Alexander waited. “Andrew’s found something.”

  “So it sounded,” Alexander said.

  “One of the older tomes described what appears to be our chalice, and provided a small sketch. Interestingly enough, three chalices were made, only one of which had the secret compartment for the relic. Apparently they were made in Rome. For the Vatican.”

  “Rome,” Alexander said. “Our dear friend the Count will be most pleased to hear that he has been vindicated after all.”

  Jeffrey nodded. “He was so sure he had seen it before.”

  “The man has a positively incredible memory. People take him for a fool all too often, but behind that clownish exterior rests a brilliant mind, one that has lofted him up from obscurity to immense wealth.”

  “And his interest in antiques is borderline fanatic,” Jeffrey added.

  “What was it he said,” Katya asked, “something about having seen the same chalice in Italy?”

  “I don’t have to remind you,” Jeffrey mimicked, “of the exclusive circles I travel in while visiting Rome.”

  “Let’s take this one step at a time,” Katya suggested. “We’ve learned that there is definitely a chalice with a secret compartment and two other chalices very similar to it.”

  “And the chalices were made in Rome for the Vatican,” Alexander added. “Or at least so this book has declared.”

  “We need to follow up on this,” Jeffrey agreed.

  “Indeed. Do these chalices exist, and is one of them still in the Vatican collection? That’s what we need to know next,” Alexander said.

  “I know my way around the university libraries,” Katya offered. “I could check to see if this reliquary is catalogued anywhere in the official Vatican collections.”

  “Splendid,” Alexander declared. “Jeffrey, when we arrive in Cracow tomorrow, while you begin your work on the next shipment, I shall make my report to Rokovski.”

  “Not Karlovich?”

  Alexander sho
ok his head. “The less I see of that man, the better. There is something about him which I find positively disagreeable.” He looked at Katya. “My dear, I shall need you to assist Mrs. Grayson from time to time in the shop.”

  “And to spend every possible moment in the library stacks,” Katya added for him.

  “Precisely. I shall return the day after tomorrow. Unless your research requires more time, the following day you shall travel out to assist Jeffrey.”

  “I’ll start first thing tomorrow morning,” she assured him.

  “Excellent.” Alexander patted his knees with evident satisfaction. “This is most reassuring. I was positive that the crafting of the piece I returned was so exquisite as to make it impossible for it to be modern imitation.”

  “And now there are three,” Katya said.

  “Perhaps.” Alexander nodded. “If so, it explains the situation at least in part.”

  Jeffrey asked, “But why would anyone have switched them?”

  “That,” Alexander agreed, “is a question we must diligently pursue.”

  ****

  Jeffrey rented a car upon their arrival at the Cracow airport. The driver Alexander had used in the past was now working daily for Gregor, either transporting purchased antiques or aiding with one of the numerous children’s projects. Alexander acted as navigator on their drive into the night-darkened town, guiding him through streets whose names had been rendered out-of-date by the demise of Communism.

  “Good evening, Alexander,” Gregor said in greeting when they arrived at his minuscule apartment. “Welcome back.”

  “Hello, Cousin,” Alexander replied wearily, returning the formal double kiss. “You are looking well.”

  “Thank you, I am feeling marvelously fit for a winter’s eve.” Gregor turned to Jeffrey and smiled warmly. “My dear young friend, what a joy it is to see you again. Come in, come in.”

  Once they were seated and the formalities of offering tea were completed, Gregor turned his attention to Alexander. “Tell me how you have been, Cousin.”

  Alexander made a visible effort to push aside the flight fatigue. “We continue to receive an excellent response from the gala, I am happy to say. A number of new patrons have joined our cause.”