Amber (9 page)

With Leopov behind
the wheel of their SUV, navigating the streets of Kaliningrad became much more efficient. Maddock rode shotgun, talking on the encrypted satellite phone, while Professor, Bones and Willis occupied the back seat.

“Yes sir,” they heard him say into the phone. “We’re on our way now.” Maddock pocketed the phone and turned around.

Willis preempted him. “Mission accomplished? They know all they need to?”

“Just the opposite. Admiral Liptow is impressed with our progress, but says they still want to locate the actual pieces of the Amber Room if they still exist. And our latest findings point to the fact that it might.”

“So what’s our next move?”

“He wants us to meet with a local Amber Room expert by the name of George Wagner. He gave me an address, but not much else.” He read the address to Leopov, who said she knew where it was and then made a quick right-hand turn onto a larger avenue.

“Have you heard of him?” Maddock asked her.

“Yes. Reclusive, scholarly type, a historian. Retired university professor, if memory serves. He’s in the news from time to time whenever someone investigates Russian antiquities.”

“Where’s he live?” Bones wanted to know.

“Outskirts of Kaliningrad,” Leopov answered. “We’ll be there soon.”

The house was
nothing special to look at; it didn’t stand out in any way and was much like the others surrounding it. The street ran through a quiet suburb on the outskirts of Kaliningrad, where the team saw only an elderly couple walking a dog about a block away. Leopov pulled the SUV to the curb and killed the engine.

“Try to look respectable,” Maddock told Bones, Willis and Professor as they exited the car and began walking up a brick path across a small lawn.

Leopov stepped ahead of them on the way to the door. “Perhaps we’ll seem less threatening if I go first?”

“Could be,” Bones said. “Unless he has a fear of femme fatal types, but we’ll take our chances.”

They got to the front doorstep and the SEAL team waited a few feet back but in plain sight of the peephole while Leopov stepped up to the door. She raised her hand to knock, but it opened before her fist came into contact with the wood. The door opened part way, the man who greeted them speaking through a gap limited by a security chain.

“George Wagner?”

“Yes?” he said in Russian.

Leopov answered, also in Russian, before stepping aside to introduce the four men behind her. To Maddock, she said, “I explained that you’re Americans on a sponsored expedition to locate the amber chamber.”

“I can speak English,” Wagner said. “What exactly do you want?” He kept his face back from the door, which was still open only a crack.

“We would like the pleasure of your company for a few minutes, sir, to speak about the amber chamber.”

The door slammed suddenly in Leopov’s face with a startling report. The five of them stood there in the silence that followed.

“It must be your perfume,” Bones said.

Willis was cracking up over this, Leopov turning around to tell him to shut up, when the door opened again, fully this time.

“I suppose you wouldn’t knock on my front door in the middle of the day if you were trying to kill me.” George Wagner was younger than Maddock expected, somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. A thick head of black curly hair framed a pair of reading glasses. The scholar wore jeans with a pullover sweater, and slippers.

“I assure you we are here for peaceful reasons,” Leopov pressed.

Wagner opened the door fully “I apologize for the paranoia.” He waved an arm inside. “But you must understand. You are not the first group seeking my help about the Amber Room. The first one stole my research. Please, come in...” He stepped clear of the doorway.

Leopov crossed the threshold, followed by the four naval warriors. Wagner led them through a small entrance hall into a living room, where he indicated they should have a seat on the couch or chairs.

“I don’t make tea or have any servants to make it for me, so I hope you don’t mind if we dispense with the polite stuff and just get down to business?”

“I like your style.” Bones grinned at the historian.

Maddock saw an opening. “Tell us about how your research was stolen. Who was it? Russians?”

Wagner shook his head. “In fact, they were German. Two of them, and they were violent. One held an old Nazi-era dagger up to my throat.”

The four SEALs looked at one another. “We encountered men like that in the castle.” Maddock recounted a simplified version of events that wouldn’t compromise the security of their mission.

“Yes, yes...the whole thing makes me nervous...” Wagner seemed to withdraw.

Leopov, seated next to him on the couch, moved closer to him. “Mr. Wagner, if you can help us we may be able to help keep you safe. The closer we get to finding the amber chamber, the more we will draw the heat off of you. We will be the ones your attackers will seek, instead of yourself.”

At length, the scholar exhaled heavily. “Very well. I suppose dying with my knowledge doesn’t do anybody any good.” He paused for a few moments while his eyes shifted in their sockets, as though accessing information. Then he said, “I have always thought it unlikely the Amber Room would have burned in Königsberg Castle, because of the incredible stench it would have created and there’s not a single historical report of that happening.”

Maddock looked him in the eyes. “So that would seem to corroborate what we found in the castle ruins today—as well as what we didn’t find—the empty crates, but also the elaborate mechanism for hiding the subterranean room they’re in.”

Wagner nodded thoughtfully. “Most promising indeed. Especially when taken together with the following piece of information.” He leaned forward on the couch to look at his guests.  “Did you know that a panel from the Amber Room was recovered in 1997 and authenticated as such?”

The group shook their heads, and Wagner continued.

“One of the room’s four jeweled mosaic panels—these were a special gift from Austria-- was found during a sting operation by German police. These particular panels contained five gemstones, besides amber, including lapis lazuli, agate, and opal. Together they were supposed to convey each of the human senses.”

“So which one did they find? What sense does it represent?” This from Professor.

Wagner nodded at him. “This particular one represented two senses: touch and smell.”

Maddock brought the conversation back to their objective. “But obviously that found panel never led to the discovery of the rest of the room. Did anyone ever trace back how that single panel was found?”

Wagner cleared his throat before answering. “The consensus is that it was stolen sometime during the chaos of the war. World War Two, that is.”

Professor chimed in with, “So the best we can do is to say that, combined with what we found today, it is possible that the Amber Room survived the war.”

Wagner smiled mischievously. “Perhaps we can do a little better than that.”

All of his guests looked at the historian with rapt attention. “But first I must warn you, especially if you intend to continue your endeavors to find the amber treasure.” He paused to let this sink in before continuing. “There is a curse associated with the Amber Room.”

Bones and Willis looked like they were about to crack up.

“I’m quite serious. Many individuals searching for it over the years have met with untimely ends. More than is statistically likely, I’m afraid.”

Professor took on an accepting look. “I believe it. I damn near became one of those statistics myself on that shipwreck.”

Wagner stared into his eyes for a moment and then addressed the entire group. “I’ve been holding something back.”

“What is it?” Maddock met his gaze until Wagner got up from the couch. “It’s something I’ve got to show you, but it will require some travel. Come on, I’m going with you on the next leg of your journey to find the Amber Room.”

Auerswalde, East Germany

“Why have I
never been here on vacation?” Bones joked at the austere surroundings, the gray, chilly sky and leafless trees. In the distance, tracts of farmland were sparsely populated with old buildings. A dense treeline lay beyond. After a flight from Kaliningrad to nearby Chemnitz, the team, now numbering six with the addition of Wagner, rode in a rental van driven by Maddock, with the historical expert occupying the shotgun seat.

“This town’s biggest claim to fame,” expounded Wagner, “is that it was home to the two largest guns ever manufactured, Dora and Gustav, both commissioned by Hitler. They ran on a railway and could fire shells weighing tons.”

“Charming.” Leopov elbowed Willis out of the way as she stared out the window.

Maddock addressed Wagner so as to prompt him to refresh the team on what was known about their current objective into Germany. “So the documents you found indicate that there was an air raid of some sort in 1945, during which a wagon train was observed fleeing the area?”

Wagner nodded, taking the bait. “Yes, in Breslau, a German city at the time, now Polish and known as Wroclaw.”

Bones stopped pretending he wasn’t staring at Leopov’s figure long enough to face forward while he talked. “I’m starting to sense that whenever a country won a war, they liked to rename all the cities.”

Wagner shrugged. “To the victor went the spoils. And that included not only the cities themselves, but whatever treasures they contained. Which may very well explain this wagon train I’m telling you about. A long procession of rail cars going from Königsberg to Auerswalde, traveling under clandestine circumstances.”

Maddock followed the road as it curved to the right. “Is there actual evidence that the trains carried the Amber Room, or pieces of it?”

Wagner held his pointer finger up in the air. “This is where things get interesting. During my years of personally funded research, I also found documents indicating that a hundred or so Russian POWs were ordered to offload numerous crates from the train cars and move them to storage in an underground complex in the forest outside of town.”

“Outside of this town—Auerswalde?” Leopov clarified.

“Hot babe wants to know.” Bones and Willis exchanged grins.

“Will you two shut up already?”

Wagner appeared uncertain how to handle the banter, so Maddock assured him it was fine. “They’re working toward an operational understanding. It’s par for the course.”

The historian raised his eyebrows but continued without comment. “At any rate, yes, Huertgenwald Forest, not far from here. Not only that, but records exist of a contingent of S.S. who were dispatched to guard the activity.”

There was a moment of silence as the group digested this. Then Maddock broke it by saying, “I read that there are lots of bunkers from the war hidden in the forest around here. It sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us. In fact, I hardly know where to start. We don’t have the manpower—and woman power, excuse me, Leopov—to search every hole in the ground in Eastern Europe.”

Wagner agreed. “Pull over at this inn up here on the left. We need to poke around Auerswalde for a spell, try to sift out a few more facts from the sands of time, as it were.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Professor sounded as though he feared the answer, but Wagner was upbeat.

“I’ve got a few contacts and ideas worth investigating. Don’t worry. I didn’t bring us all this way for a wild goose chase. At least I hope not. It could turn out that way, but we won’t know until we run down a few leads. Listen up...”

Wagner laid out his ideas while Maddock parked the van at the inn. They sat there in the spot for a minute while the historian finished outlining what he had in mind. Maddock turned off the engine but left the windows up.

“You heard the expert. We’re looking for a bunker, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. It’s time to split up.”

Auerswalde

“A museum, huh?”
Willis glanced at the old house that served as a local war memorial and museum.

“You don’t sound too thrilled.” Professor regarded Willis. The two had been paired for this trip to learn what they could about the surrounding area, to see if they could narrow down their field of where to search. After being dropped off by Maddock in the van, they walked up to the entrance, a simple wooden door which was open. Inside, an elderly woman sat at a table collecting “donations” for entrance, which the two SEALs paid. She welcomed them in German but quickly shifted to halting English upon realizing the guests were American.

As was their habit, both operators scanned the interior of the space for potential threats, but all they saw were a family with kids in tow looking at an exhibit, a 3D map of the town in a Plexiglas case, and an old man, hunched over with a cane, examining the minute details of an oil-on-canvas painting on the wall.

The woman indicated they were free to have a look around. Professor wanted to ask questions but was reticent to give away too much about their purpose here, and a large tourist group was walking up to the door behind them. Apparently the woman could sense they may have questions, because as they started to walk away she pointed to the elderly gentleman by the painting. “He knows many things.” She smiled a toothy grin at them and then busied herself with her new customers.

They thanked her and made their way slowly around the small room, taking in some of the exhibits, since the man looking at the painting didn’t seem to be going anywhere. An old World War II era map depicted former German installations in and around the town. They paused in front of it for a moment to take it in. Professor pointed to a forested area to the north.

“Look at this. See these symbols? These are the bunker sites.”

Willis gave a low whistle as he followed Professor’s finger. “Gotta be dozens of ‘em.”

A series of black and white framed photos hung next to the map. Some of them showed one of the bunkers in detail, and how it wasn’t just a mere hole in the ground, but a warren of tunnels that spidered off in many directions. Professor shook his head. “If each bunker is anywhere near as extensive as this one, it could take years—“

“Excuse me?” The phrase was in English.

The two SEALs turned sharply, aware they had been snuck up on, something that didn’t usually happen to them, but the everyday setting had dulled them into letting their guard down a bit. The old gentleman who had been staring at the painting now stood in front of them, smiling pleasantly. He wore a plaid beret over stringy white hair and had the red, bulbous nose that suggested he was fond of drink.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you have questions, I may be able to answer them.”

Professor and Willis exchanged knowing glances. To hesitate too long or act skittish could itself be construed as suspicious, so Professor decided to jump right into natural conversation. Most likely this was simply a bored old man, at any rate.

“Thank you, sir. Well, my partner and I—we’re on vacation from America, on a tour of Eastern Europe—were hoping to see some authentic war relics.”

Willis nodded. “Not the stuff that’s been all cleaned up and put on display...” He waved an arm around the museum. “But, you know, the real deal.”

The old man smiled and nodded. “The ‘real deal’, as you say, is closer than you think.” He turned with halting mini-steps and lifted an arm in the direction of the museum’s back entrance, where shafts of weak afternoon light penetrated from outside.

Professor’s gaze followed the man’s pointing finger. “What sort of relics are out there?”

“Are they far?” Willis added.

“There are bunkers and old fortifications of various types scattered throughout the forest, but there is one bunker you can walk to from the museum, just a few steps away, if you want to experience the genuine history.”

The new arrivals now made their way into the museum’s main room, talking loudly amongst themselves. The old man glanced back at them and then led the two navy men to the rear exit. In the doorway he pointed past a fenced in garden to a dirt path that led directly into a lightly treed area that became denser in the distance.

“From that gate there, you are free to take the path to the forest. The first bunker is perhaps a five-minute walk from here. Much more than that for me, though, I’m afraid, so I won’t be accompanying you, but you two will be okay, yes? If not a guide could probably be arranged, if you have some time.”

Professor and Willis told the man that a guide wouldn’t be necessary, thanked him and made their way to the property gate. Signage there offered a map of the outside area with the location of the nearby bunker clearly marked. A warning read, CAUTION: THE FOREST BUNKERS ARE NOT MUSEUM PROPERTY AND ARE NOT MAINTAINED. VISIT THEM AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Professor pointed to the closest bunker on the map. “Let’s check this one out real quick.  It’ll give us an idea of how extensive these things are so we can estimate what kind of manpower we’ll need to request from Command to search all of them.”

Willis nodded and the pair set off down the path, the sound of bird calls and insects buzzing becoming more prevalent as the road traffic faded with each step. They encountered no other people as they walked briskly down the path across the flat ground, and before long they reached a fork in the path. One branch led left while the other continued straight into a more heavily forested area.

Professor pointed left. “According to that map the closest bunker is this way.”

They glanced back toward the museum and, seeing no one, ventured off onto the left path. As they walked it became apparent they were entering a forest, the trees becoming denser. Soon the ground began to slope downward and they followed the path into a gulley-like depression, at the end of which a concrete framework held open the earth.

“That’s got to be it.” Professor mentally compared what was in front of them to the image on the signage at the museum.

“Man, looks dark in there. Got a flashlight?” Willis fished around in his pockets. Professor came up with a small penlight. They walked to the entrance of the bunker and let their eyes adjust to the dim light inside. Hanging ivy framed the concrete entrance and tree roots crawled around the structure.

“Let’s reconnoiter it and get this over with.” Professor turned his tiny flashlight on and the two of them walked into the bunker. A long shaft, reinforced with concrete, led deep into the earth. The sound of water dripping onto the ground followed them into the space.

“It’s big! Lotta room back here. ” Willis’ voice echoed in the shaft as they walked further into it side by side.

“Big enough to drive vehicles in and out of,” Professor agreed.

Soon the corridor branched into two smaller ones, both of which continued into to the darkness well past the weak cone of illumination thrown by Professor’s penlight.

“I think it’s safe to say that this bunker, at least, is substantial and will require full-fledged exploration.”

“Yeah, with something besides your little glow stick to light the way.”

“Let’s head back. Knowing how many of these bunkers there are in the wider area, the odds that there’s something pertaining to our objective in here aren’t all that good.” The thought was discouraging enough that the two of them walked on in silence, imagining fields of haystacks, one of them containing the proverbial needle.

“I see the light at the end of the tunnel.” Professor could tell that Willis was glad to exit the subterranean space, even though they’d only been down here for a few minutes. They passed under the concrete-framed entrance and exited the bunker.

“You mean you didn’t become a SEAL to slink around in caves?”

“Naw man, you know I’d rather be in the water, which I know is unusual for a—“

As they walked beneath the bunker entrance, a pair of boots landed on Willis’ shoulders, dropping him to the ground. Professor spun but another man fell upon him, too. Two more assailants hit the ground on either side of them.

“Four!” Willis warned Professor as he went to the ground beneath his attacker. Willis’ reaction was so lightning fast that it took the interloper by surprise, who had evidently been counting on that very element to work to his own advantage.

“Knife!” Willis saw the gleam of metal as it passed in front of his face. He wrenched his adversary’s arm in an awkward position, eliciting a cry of pain from the man, who was dressed in street clothes, as were the other three foes. There was the sound of a joint popping and then a thud as a blade hit the dirt. Willis landed an elbow in his assailant’s throat, and then looked up to see Professor about to lose his own battle. Terse Russian words were grunted as one man held Professor down while another closed in on him with a fixed blade knife. Willis felt the third man lunge on him as he launched himself at Professor’s attackers.

Willis spun and head-butted the man on his back, crushing his nose and flooding his face with blood. He jerked the man’s arm in a snapping motion, sending the weapon into the air away from them. In nearly the same motion he fell upon the flailing triple-headed monster that was Professor intertwined with his two assailants. All of them moved chaotically, flailing this way and that as they grappled with one another for any advantage.

Professor grabbed one of the Russians by the head and tried to slam his face into the skull of the other Russian, but that man moved first so that the man’s face collided harmlessly with Professors chest. Then Professor made a move of his own, kneeing one of the Russians in the groin. As the surprise attacker reared back in agony, Willis threw a hard right cross to his temple, knocking the man out cold.

The remaining Russian, sensing that it was now two-on-one, went into flight mode. He scrambled, attempting to flee, but Willis tripped him up by swinging a foot, sending the man sprawling face first into a protruding rock formation. Still, the fleeing attacker was quick to get to his feet, wiping blood from his eyes while he ran off after his two still conscious comrades as they fled into the woods.

Professor got to his feet. Willis bent down to begin searching the pockets of the fallen man to see if they could learn anything about who he was, but Professor pulled him away. “Forget it. There could be more coming. Let’s get while the getting’s good.”

Willis had no argument against this and the two SEALs jogged off down the path toward the museum.

The modest farmhouse
was set well back from the two-lane, paved road, amidst a field of well-tended crops. Maddock eyed the dirt driveway from behind the wheel of the SUV, while Leopov scanned their surroundings for signs of a tail or any other suspicious activity. She pressed the button to close the sunroof, which Maddock immediately opened again.

She glared at him. “Dust is blowing in here.”

“It’s too hot without it open.”

“So put on the air conditioning.”

“I like to be able to hear what’s going on outside.” Maddock smiled despite the disagreement. These types of petty arguments reminded him of being with a wife or girlfriend going for a country drive instead of two operators with top secret objectives. He knew Leopov must feel the same way, for when he glanced over at her he saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Fine, leave your window open but the sunroof and my window stay closed.”

“Fine. Let’s just hope this gentleman is home.”

Wagner had tipped them off to a local farmer who was the son of a World War II German veteran. As they drove up to the house, he reviewed what they knew about him, which was precious little.

“George said he might know something based on what his father told him.”

Leopov gave a doubtful look. “Hopefully he hasn’t forgotten about it, if he ever did know something. He’s old—he’s got to be at least, what...”

“Seventy-five, eighty?” Maddock parked the SUV at the end of the driveway next to a rusty tractor.

“Right. So we’ll just have to hope—“

“Hands up!” Maddock warned. “Don’t move. He’s got a gun!”

Leopov did as Maddock suggested while slowly turning her head to the right, where she could see an old man wearing brown pants, a white T-shirt with suspenders and a straw hat, pointing a double-barreled shotgun at the SUV.

“It’s okay, Sir,” Leopov said in passable German, “We’re just here to talk with you.”

Maddock spoke without moving, his hands in the air. “He can’t hear you because your window and the sunroof are down. Mine’s open but I don’t know a lick of German.”

Leopov turned in Maddock’s direction and repeated what she had said at the top of her lungs, causing Maddock to cringe, though he kept his hands up. The farmer said something in German. Leopov shouted past Maddock’s ear again, and he recognized the word “English.” Then the shotgun-wielding farmer cocked his head and replied in English himself, “Step on out, then. Slow, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Maddock and Leopov complied, exiting the SUV and leaving the doors open while they walked a few steps away from it.

“Turn around.”

Maddock spoke as he did so. “Sir, we are not armed. We’re not here to cause any trouble.”