Chapter 27: X Marks the Spot
When a gray car passed their location, Peter ordered Mozzie and Travis inside the van. They'd be able to observe the chalet via surveillance feeds. The night before, Travis had set up remote monitoring equipment around the perimeter. The cameras combined with their high-powered binoculars should provide adequate coverage, but Peter was braced for the glitch which appeared inevitable whenever Neal was involved.
His hope that Neal was inside the sedan was quickly dashed. Mozzie's prediction that hired help would be sent to perform the initial reconnaissance appeared accurate. No chance that either of the two men who exited the car was Neal in disguise. Both were shorter. They were dressed in casual clothes. They had swarthy complexions, perhaps indicating they came from one of the Mediterranean countries. After ringing the doorbell at the front door repeatedly, they went around to the back of the house.
When the men drove off, Mozzie took off his headset and gave a thumbs up. "They will report to their nest that no predators are about. The main flight will lift off any moment now. We should move into position."
Travis looked at him, puzzled. "Are you comparing them to geese?"
"Hardly. For this con, House Martins are our best indicators. Advance scouts survey the terrain then report back to the flock." Mozzie waggled a finger at them which Peter yearned to swat down. "Much is to be learned from our feathered friends."
With Mozzie firmly entrenched in birdwatcher mode, Peter resigned himself to another lecture. He supposed it could be worse. Despite Travis being present, Mozzie hadn't launched into his latest theories on extraterrestrial slime.
The previous night had been much more enjoyable. They'd stretched out on blankets and stargazed while comparing favorite science fiction movies. In comparison with the constant background noises of Brooklyn, the quiet of the German countryside seemed otherworldly.
By the time the Volvo reappeared, they'd already moved into position near the chalet. Dense firs provided excellent cover.
Peter could see two men in the front seat. A blonde woman was in the back. This time the car wasn't alone. A large white rental truck marked with the logo of Sixt, a European rental company, followed closely behind.
Was this the glitch Peter had been expecting? They now had two vehicles to follow. Travis had brought enough tracking devices to place on both undercarriages, but what if the vehicles drove off in different directions? Was this karma for not having brought in the German police?
The Volvo pulled first into the driveway. The passengers in the Volvo exited before anyone left the truck.
"That's Kate," Mozzie murmured. "Don't let the blonde wig fool you."
"And there's Adler," Travis added. Despite the mustache, he was readily recognizable. They didn't appear to be wearing prosthetics.
Mozzie glanced over at Peter. "You can breathe now, Suit. It's going as we expected."
"I haven't seen Neal yet," Peter whispered back. "And how will we monitor two vehicles?"
"We won't need to," Travis said. "I brought along a few extra tricks." He patted the nylon backpack next to him. "A little crushed cork mixed with silicon carbide in the gas tank will make them think they have engine trouble. We'd already planned to sneak up to the vehicles to plant the trackers. I should be able to dump in enough additive to give them a major headache. If I have the time, I can also loosen a few key bolts with a wrench." He opened the pack and began pulling out the tools to take with him.
Mozzie beamed at him. "Another shared interest! We must discuss further."
"Later," Peter ordered. "Disable the Volvo. Make them use the truck."
"Wise move," murmured Mozzie approvingly. "That truck implies they believe they'll have loot to transport. We don't want to sabotage their hope."
The driver exited the cab of the truck and rolled up the back door. A heavyset man in coveralls jumped out from the interior. He turned around and waited for another who was helping a young man out—Neal. He was walking unsteadily. Was that real or fake? Neal had warned he might feign being injured or sick. He was wearing coveralls and had a wig which made him look like Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean minus the mustache.
Adler had a healthy respect for him. Neal was surrounded by four men. One of them kept an arm at Neal's back. Peter suspected there was a gun in his hand although he couldn't see it. Neal's left index finger tapped a code on his pants leg as he walked toward the house. Peter breathed easier as he spelled out the letters: B-R-I-D-G-E.
"You got that?" Travis whispered.
"Yeah, you two head out. I'll keep watch."
Mozzie and Travis began to creep toward the vehicles. Everyone was wearing earpieces connected to two-way radios to communicate with each other. Peter kept his binoculars on Neal and the guards. Both he and Travis were armed. As for Mozzie, who knew? Not for the first time, Peter wished he'd stuck by his original plan to bring in the Germans. Hell of an op. Sending two men, one a civilian, toward armed thugs while Neal was being held at gunpoint. Mozzie had told him it would all work out. Yeah, and Hell was an ice rink.
The firs were thick with branches down to ground level but at some point, Travis and Mozzie would need to cross open land. They'd have to time it perfectly. Both men wore old khaki clothes. They were prepared to claim they were birders slinking after the elusive Yellowhammer, whatever that was.
In the meantime, Neal was working on the front door. Peter scrutinized him with his binoculars. He looked paler than normal but there was no indication of injuries.
Good, he had the door open. Keep this moving, Neal.
Three of Adler's thugs entered the chalet along with Neal, Adler, and Kate. That left two guards outside. From his vantage point, Peter watched as Mozzie and Travis crept through the trees to the vehicles. Mozzie immediately dove under the truck, while Travis slid under the Volvo. For the guards to watch the vehicles, they'd have the sun in their eyes. Not surprisingly, they opted to slouch on a rustic bench in front and ignore the vehicles.
Mozzie and Travis returned before anyone came out.
"Any problems?" Peter asked.
"None," Travis said, opening up his nylon backpack. He slipped the wrench inside the toolbox. "We placed cell phone jammers on both vehicles as well as tracking devices, but they shouldn't be necessary on the Volvo."
How much time would Adler give Neal to search the premises? The garden gnome containing the fake instructions was in the backyard near the northwest corner of the chalet. If Neal made a move in that direction when they exited, Peter would immediately get on the phone to the Germans. Hobhouse had given him contact information for the Bavarian State Police. Peter would need to arrange for roadblocks while they followed the truck.
Mozzie gripped Peter's shoulder. "The door's opening!"
Breathlessly, Peter watched to see where Neal would head. Mozzie and Travis had their eyes glued on him as well. Neal walked straight toward the truck without even glancing toward the back. Kate looked jubilant. Adler's expression was difficult to read.
Peter kept his eyes peeled on Neal's hands. One of them was hidden from view, but his right hand dangled loosely at his side, the third finger tapping a code.
"O-S-S-E-L-L-E," Travis murmured as Neal tapped. "Is that right?"
Mozzie was gulping but no sound came out.
"That's what I got as well," Peter said. Neal climbed into the back of the truck with three of the guards. A fourth got in the driver's seat. Adler and Kate got into the Volvo with their driver. "Mozzie, start talking."
"Osselle is a town near Besançon," Mozzie finally sputtered. "It's also an elaborate network of caves, one of the most famous in the world. It was rumored to be a gold mine in Roman times. Does it hold treasure once more?" His eyes shone like headlamps through his glasses. "Gentlemen, the hunt is on!"
As they hightailed it through the trees to their van, Peter heard a car engine start then gasp as if it had an asthma attack. Travis was grinning like a teenager. The car sputtered and stalled for a couple of minutes before it gave up the ghost for good.
Adler didn't waste time in switching vehicles. The truck rumbled past them as they reached their vehicle.
"How fast can this bus go?" Peter asked, calculating the odds of their muddy relic falling apart before they arrived in France.
Mozzie smiled. "She may look like an Old Betsy but she has the heart of a thoroughbred."
He wasn't exaggerating. When he pushed his foot on the accelerator, the Volkswagen bus took off like it had rocket fuel inside. One small problem—Mozzie drove in the opposite direction to the one taken by the truck carrying Neal and Adler.
"Relax, Suit, I know what I am doing. Travis, keep him calm."
"Stop immediately," Peter ordered. "I'll drive."
"Impossible. I'm the only one who can finesse the speeds we'll need. Observe and learn from the master."
Travis leaned forward from the back seat to murmur in Peter's ear. "He's got a plan. You'll like it."
Peter suppressed most of his growls as Mozzie turned onto a side road which appeared to circle back to Oberammergau and sped through the turns like a race car driver. Peter gripped onto the armrest with a death grip. Was this the way Neal felt when Peter drove? In the future, he wouldn't give Neal such a hard time.
As they approached the town's outskirts, Peter broke into a grin. "You could have told me."
Mozzie snickered. "What and spoil the surprise?" He pulled into a gas station that was equipped with an automatic car wash. The odds of Adler's men recognizing the van as the same wreck which had been parked alongside the road were now non-existent. Not only was the mud washed off but also a temporary layer of dark blue paint. The van which left the parking lot was a sparkling white vehicle.
Thanks to the tracking device and Mozzie's maniacal driving ability, they quickly caught up to Adler's truck. Since Travis could predict their route, they were able to stay a comfortable distance behind.
There were two main routes to the caves which were southeast of Besançon. It was slightly shorter to travel via Switzerland on the way to France, but Adler chose the other option. By crossing the Rhine from Germany to Alsace in France, he could avoid a second border control point.
Once Adler committed himself to the Rhine option, Peter was able to call in reinforcements. He'd alerted Marcel earlier in the day about their progress. It was now time to plot their next move.
Initially, Peter had hoped to be able to pass Neal a bug during a rest stop, but they had no way of knowing in advance which rest stop Adler would pick. Marcel suggested an alternative. Normally vehicles weren't required to stop at the border control point, but inspections were mandated during heightened alerts. And that was what Adler was about to face.
Marcel offered to fabricate a report of a known terrorist attempting to cross into France. Once Adler was beyond the point where he could select an alternate route, Mozzie, the Red Baron of the autobahn, would easily pass the slower moving truck, beating it to the control point. Marcel was already on his way and would meet them there with a uniform for Peter to wear for his role of border control agent. For this, he could tolerate wearing his disguise a while longer.
During the drive to the control point, Mozzie gave them an impromptu lecture about the cave.
"Was it ever a salt mine like the ones Nazis used to store art?" Travis asked.
"No, although there are salt springs in the area. The Osselle cave has been known since the early Middle Ages. During the French Revolution, it was used as a refuge by priests. They even conducted mass in the caves."
"Caverns in my experience are damp places," Peter said. "What are the odds the paintings would have survived without major damage?"
"Unknown," Mozzie admitted, "but certain galleries are quite dry. They were used as banquet halls during the eighteenth century so conditions can't be too unfavorable."
"Marcel told me that new galleries are still being discovered," Peter added. "He speculates that the Resistance knew of an unknown gallery and used it as a hiding spot. Without a tunnel to connect it to the known galleries, its presence would be unknown."
Midmorning Jones phoned in a report from Albania. They'd performed a reconnaissance and had their plan in place to rescue Henry. Jones had jamming equipment ready to deploy which would knock out cell phone transmissions.
With Neal embedded in Adler's crew, there was no need for Henry to be a hostage. Peter gave the order to go ahead. One less pirate to worry about was a good thing.
Marcel had argued forcefully to arrest Adler at the border. Adler could now be charged with kidnapping both Henry and Neal in addition to the financial fraud he'd committed earlier. Fowler could possibly be persuaded to testify against Adler in which case they could add criminal espionage to the list.
The major stumbling block was that no one knew who was aware of the precise location of the stolen art. Had Adler discovered the directions or Neal? If it was Adler, he'd never cough them up.
And there was another reason—one he couldn't share with Marcel. If the French took command of the recovery operation, the chance to sneak in the Braque painting would vanish. That was not a determining factor, but it weighed on Peter's mind.
Even stronger was the fact that they'd yet to capture the Mansfelds. Until they'd ensnared them, their work wasn't done. The U-boat con had been designed by Jones, Henry, and Mozzie. Peter had already outlined the next phase. For his plan to work, he and Neal would have to be present when the paintings were recovered.
Marcel knew he had something in mind, but didn't know the details yet. Neal only knew part of it. Everything depended on what happened in Osselle.
#
The pungent aroma of ammonia assaulted Neal's nostrils, startling him awake. His eyes watered as he blinked to focus.
"Don't you have anything besides smelling salts?" he grumbled, fighting the urge to heave. For a moment he considered it. It would serve them right. But they'd probably make him clean it up.
"You only have yourself to blame," Adler said coldly. "If you'd demonstrated your trust by giving me the directions, I wouldn't have needed to drug you."
Kate passed him a bottle of water. "Drink this. It will help."
The truck was rumbling along at a steady clip. The motion didn't make him feel inclined to try anything. He only took enough water to wet his lips. The drug he'd been given appeared to be different from the first one. The nausea was worse. Boris the Bloodhound had rammed a needle into his arm as soon as they were in the truck. And just when he'd started to like the guy.
Neal was back on his familiar nest of moving quilts. "How long have I been out this time?" he asked Kate.
"About four hours. The radio reported there's a bottleneck at the border due to a terrorism alert. All vehicles are being checked."
"Don't try anything funny," Adler warned. "Henry's counting on you."
"Once we're through the control point, we'll pick up some food," she added. She took out a comb from her purse and passed it through his hair. "The wig looks good on you. You should let your hair grow out."
Neal raised his handcuffed hands to feel his chin. He'd seen his appearance in a mirror at the chalet. The hair was his color but about shoulder length. Not bad for a pirate. His scruff would add to the effect.
He reclined back on the side of the truck, taking small sips of the water. He remembered vaguely some kind of commotion when they left the chalet, but he passed out before finding out what was going on.
"Why aren't you and Vincent riding in the car?" he asked.
"Engine trouble," she said. "It sounded like a lovesick Banshee when the driver started the engine. We'd filled up at a gas station in Oberammergau. Vincent thinks there was something wrong with the fuel. We've been riding all this time in the truck with you."
"It's just as well," Adler said. "More eyes to verify you don't pull another fast one."
Had that been Mozzie or Travis at work? Neal longed for the details. He was counting on that being a confirmation that the team was in place and had seen his Morse code signals. Would they have gone ahead and freed Henry? He'd feel a lot better about the con if Henry was safe.
Travis had mentioned that he planned to put a cell phone jammer on the truck. Adler hadn't attempted to use his phone since Neal regained consciousness. Had he already tried and failed? He'd promised to let Neal talk to Henry at Osselle. Neal hoped that by then the golden goose had already flown the coop.
The radio report was correct about the traffic jam. Traffic ground to a halt at the Rhine checkpoint. Neal knew the drill. He was supposedly a Slovak worker hired to assist with a move. Adler chose the nationality, assuming that the border agents didn't speak the language. Neal wished he could see his identity papers. He assumed Kate had prepared them in advance. How improved were her counterfeiting skills? She'd had two years to practice since their time together.
When the agents boarded the truck and Neal recognized Peter in his Tom Selleck disguise, a rainbow broke out. Peter had mentioned he'd try to take advantage of a border crossing, but a thousand things could have gone wrong.
Peter wouldn't have a chance to pass Neal anything even though Neal's handcuffs had been removed because Boris had Neal's papers. But while Peter ostensibly inspected the quilts for hidden terrorists, he tapped out a code on the leg closest to Neal. H FREE.
Neal didn't dare make a response, not even with his eyes. Kate was watching his face too closely. But that meant she wasn't watching his fingers. He tapped out the Morse T-U for thank you, and BRIDGE on the leg of his coveralls.
With Henry safe, it had become a chess match between Neal and Adler. Peter had likely joined forces with Marcel. The cavalry would be following them all the way.
Once they left border control, Adler was true to his word and stopped to pick up food. Here they were in Alsace and Neal was forced to eat American fast food. That was worse torture than the smelling salts, but at least the nausea had dissipated. The driver continued driving toward Besançon while the rest of them ate. Adler took a seat in the back close to Neal and demanded answers.
"There's a narrow road we'll take once we're past the entrance to the main cavern," Neal explained, knowing he'd have to supply Adler with a few crumbs. "It leads into the forest. A chain of caves extends for miles underground. Many of them are not open to the public. The Resistance made use of an undocumented cave. They appropriated one of the old stone huts along the road to disguise the entrance." Neal paused to take a bite of burger. Holding it in his hands was difficult. They'd handcuffed him once more after leaving the border. "That's all you get for now. After I talk with Henry, I'll lead you to the art."
Adler scowled. "That won't be possible. I can't reach them."
"The no-signal excuse? Surely you can do better than that. Let me see your phone."
He hesitated then held it up. He was right. There were no bars visible on the display. "We'll try again when we reach the hut."
"What assurance do I have you haven't harmed Henry?" According to Peter, Henry was already safe but Adler would be suspicious if Neal didn't demand to speak with him. Besides, he was curious to see how Adler would respond.
"Give me some credit. He's my ticket to keep you in line. And even without you, he's worth far more to me alive than dead."
"That's not the way you felt in Argentina."
"You don't believe Kate set Henry free without my knowledge?" Adler turned to her. "Tell him, my dear."
She shrugged. "I know you're not surprised to hear it was a setup."
"That's right. I'm not. But I wanted to hear you admit it."
"So you got your wish," Adler said dismissively. "Now that we're on the same page, you realize that I've no reason to injure Henry . . . yet. Unless that is, you don't produce."
"I'll need to see where we are on the road before I can direct you," Neal warned.
Adler grudgingly let Neal sit next to the driver, but he had to share the seat with Boris who kept a gun pressed to his side the entire time. Neal's complaints that the bumpy road could lead to an unfortunate end to their partnership went unanswered.
It was early evening when the driver pulled onto the road leading to the huts. They drove about five miles into the forest before Neal found the old stone cross marker Anton had mentioned in his notes to Nina. And there, only a few yards away, just as Anton had described it, was a hut built next to a steep hillside. Neal broke into a grin. No need to hide his elation. They'd found the entrance to the treasure cave.
A cluster of huts along the road marked the remnants of a village. All were in disrepair—some of them mere crumbling piles of stone. The one Anton described was closest to the stone cross.
Kate was as excited as Neal, and that seemed to calm Adler's jitters. He appeared to realize there was no need to worry about Neal pulling anything. He didn't argue when Neal asked for his handcuffs to be removed.
In the back of his mind, Neal wondered how many French officers were tailing them. Peter would have made sure they were all far enough behind to not be spotted. Only one road led to the huts. The police could easily erect a barricade to stop them when they left, but would Neal be in the truck? His so-called partnership with Adler was already on shaky grounds. Once Adler had the treasure, he'd likely decide to cancel it on the spot.
When they jumped out of the truck, Adler ordered two of the guards to guard it while the rest of them reconnoitered. Dusk was falling, but he'd brought along ample flashlights.
The entrance to the hut was boarded up. An Entrée Interdite sign had been pasted on the doorframe. There was no historical or cultural marker. To all appearances, it was a dilapidated farmer's shed. Too small to be used as a home, it had perhaps served to store produce or it may have been a temporary shelter during harvest season.
Neal's heart was pounding to rip through his rib cage. Adler, Kate, the police—they'd all become insignificant. He could picture the crates in front of him. Would they look like the fake ones they'd made? Those had been based on what the Monuments Men found. These should be no different unless the Resistance fighters had repacked them.
The guards made quick work of prying the boards off the entrance. When Neal walked inside, field mice scurried away, startled at having their house invaded. A large wasp nest had been constructed in the interior. An old steel-frame single bed was in a corner of the room. The mattress had been mostly eaten away. A wood storage cabinet was against the far wall. A small oak table and chair were the only other pieces of furniture. No discarded cans or litter to indicate anyone had used it for a long time. There were also no footprints on the dust-covered floor. Any belongings had most likely been stolen long ago.
Neal headed for the storage cabinet. He checked the interior and, as expected, found it empty. He attempted to shove it aside, but it was heavier than it looked. Boris lent his weight and together they were able to dislodge it.
"What are you looking for?" Adler demanded.
Neal ignored him. Dusting off his hands, he requested a flashlight.
"I'll provide illumination," Kate said. "Where do you want it?"
He paused to smile at her and murmured, "Ask me that later."
She grinned and for a moment looked like when she ran cons with him and Mozzie. He kissed those memories goodbye. They, like Kate, no longer had any hold on him.
He directed her to shine the light on the back wall. It was composed of stones roughly mortared together. The directions indicated to look for a small X cut into the mortar and press the stone immediately beneath it. Bergmann wrote that it was roughly one and a half meters up the wall and one-third of the way in from the northeast corner of the room.
Neal smoothed the mortar with his fingers as he studied the area in question. Nothing looked like an X. Stepping back, he let his eyes unfocus, patiently waiting till it popped into view.
And it did.
It had been partly concealed under a cobweb. Neal turned to Kate and winked. "X marks the spot."
He pressed his hand onto the stone. It made a rough grinding sound as it sank into a depression till a loud click was heard. Within the cavity, he found a recess wide enough to insert his fingers. The door opened with painful slowness as he pulled with both hands. Once its outline emerged from the surrounding wall, Boris yanked on the leading edge as long-disused hinges began to swivel. The screech of rusted metal was painful to hear.
Adler watched slack-mouthed as the opening was revealed. A thin façade of stone sheathed the metal door. Heavy hinges held it to a wood frame concealed within the wall.
Neal made a sweeping gesture. "The treasure cave awaits. Kate, would you like to join me?"
"You couldn't keep me away!" she exclaimed, darting forward.
Adler was right behind them as they entered the pitch-black interior. A narrow passageway opened up into a cavity barely high enough to stand upright. Thin wooden crates were stacked against the walls. Flashing his light on them, Neal counted at least ten crates of varying dimensions. They were marked with the Nazi swastika and Imperial Eagle, indicating the fighters had left them in their original crates. That was likely for the best as they were destined to be eventually displayed in Hitler's museum and would have been carefully wrapped.
Adler's shove in the back brought Neal back to reality. He ordered Neal to carry the crates out to the guards waiting in the hut who would take them to the truck. Kate was to supervise their placement in the cargo hold. She slanted a quick worried look at Neal. Was she trying to warn him?
If so, it was unnecessary. He already knew.
Adler had no intention of Neal leaving alive. After the cave was emptied, he could conk Neal on the head, shut him up in the cave, and slam the door shut. Could the door be opened from the inside? Not likely if Adler moved the storage cabinet back into position. There were no electronic bugs to pick up the panic word, but Neal's brain was shouting river to anyone who could hear it.
Neal worked as slowly as he dared to give the cavalry time to organize, but Adler wasn't providing him any breaks. One guard had been standing at the cave entrance, providing illumination, but when Neal brought out the sixth crate, Adler himself was at the entrance.
"Keep moving," he ordered roughly, one hand holding a flashlight, the other a gun.
"The truck's about fifty yards away. It would speed things up if you'd let me help carry the crates outside."
Adler didn't take him up on the offer. Had he smelled a rat? Had the takedown already started?
When Neal returned with the seventh crate, Adler ordered him to set it down on the ground. "Something's not right. Put your hands on your head."
Adler had the gun aimed squarely at him. Neal did as he was told.
"Walk toward the truck," he hissed. "No funny stuff. I have absolutely no need to keep you alive."
"This isn't a promising sign for our partnership," Neal complained.
"You know that was never going to work out," he said, with a sharp prod to his back. "Move it!"
That was what Neal intended to do, but he needed to wait till they were outside. He assumed they were under surveillance with night-vision binoculars. The police wouldn't be hampered by the dark conditions.
The hoot of a lone owl was the only sound they heard when they exited the hut. Mozzie sometimes employed bird calls. Was it a signal? They'd gone five paces when Neal heard the most welcome voice in the world.
"Freeze!" Peter ordered. "You're surrounded." Neal could make out several other shapes but it was too dark to recognize anyone.
When Adler didn't drop his gun, Neal used a move Billy had taught him. He ducked, spun around while lashing out to kick where it would hurt most, then dove for cover.