"Nice to see you're prepared," Rachel said.

He snapped the chain and it slinked to the ground. He slid the cutters back into the pack and pulled open the gate.

The hinges screamed.

He stopped. No use attracting unnecessary attention.

He worked the gate open slowly, the tear of metal on metal quieter. Ahead was an arched opening about five meters high and four meters wide. Lichens clung to the blackened stone beyond the entrance and the stale air reeked of mold. Like a grave, he thought. "This opening is wide enough to accept a truck."

"Truck?"

"If the Amber Room is inside, so are trucks. There is no other way the crates could have been transported. Twenty-two tons of amber is heavy. The Germans would have driven trucks into the cave."

"They didn't have forklifts?"

"Hardly. We're talking about the end of the war. The n.a.z.is were desperate to hide their treasure. No time for finesse."

"How did the trucks get up here?"

"Fifty years have pa.s.sed. There were many roads and fewer trees then. This whole area was a vital manufacturing site."

He pulled two flashlights and a thick coil of twine from his pack, then reshouldered it. He closed the gate behind them and draped the chain and lock back across the bars, providing the appearance that the opening was still bolted shut.

"We might have company," he said. "That should keep people moving to another cavern. Many are un.o.bstructed, much easier to enter."

He handed her a flashlight. Their two narrow beams pierced only meters ahead in the forbidding blackness. A piece of rusted iron protruded from the rock. He tied the end of the twine securely and handed the coil to Rachel.

"Unravel it on the way in. This is how we'll find our way out if we get disoriented."

He cautiously led the way forward, their flashlights revealing a rugged pa.s.sage deep into the bowels of the mountain. Rachel followed him after slipping on her jacket.

"Be careful," he said. "This tunnel could be mined. That would explain the chaining."

"Comforting to know."

"Nothing worth having is ever easy to obtain."

He stopped and glanced back toward the entrance forty meters behind them. The air had turned fetid and cold. He fished Chapaev's drawing from his pocket and studied the route with the flashlight. "There should be a fork ahead. Let's see if Chapaev is right."

A suffocating pall permeated the air. Rotten. Nauseating.

"Bat guano," he said.

"I think I'm going to vomit."

"Breathe shallow and try to ignore it."

"That's like trying to ignore cow manure on your upper lip."

"These shafts are full of bats."

"Lovely."

He grinned. "In China, bats are revered as the symbol of happiness and long life."

"Happiness stinks."

A fork in the tunnel appeared. He stopped. "The map says to go right." He did. Rachel followed, the twine unraveling behind her.

"Let me know if you get to the end of the coil. I have more," he said.

The odor lessened. The new tunnel was tighter than the main shaft, yet still large enough for a transport truck. Dark capillaries branched off periodically. The echo of chirping bats, waiting for night, loomed clear.

The mountain was most certainly a labyrinth. They all were. Miners in search of ore and salt had burrowed for centuries. How wonderful it would be if this shaft turned out to be the one that led to the Amber Room. Ten million euros. All his. Not to mention Monika's grat.i.tude. Perhaps then Rachel Cutler would be sufficiently excited to let him into her pants. Her rebuke last night had been more arousing than insulting. He wouldn't be surprised if her husband was the only man she'd ever been with. And that thought was intoxicating. Nearly a virgin. Certainly one since her divorce. What a pleasure having her was going to be.

The shaft started to narrow and rise.

His mind snapped back to the tunnel.

They were at least a hundred meters into the granite and limestone. Chapaev's diagram showed another fork ahead.

"I'm out of string," Rachel said.

He stopped and handed her a new coil.

"Tie the ends tight."

He studied the diagram. Supposedly their destination was just ahead. But something wasn't right. The tunnel was not wide enough now for a vehicle. If the Amber Room had been hidden here, it would have been necessary to carry the crates. Eighteen, if he remembered correctly. All cataloged and indexed, the panels wrapped in cigarette paper. Was there another chamber ahead? Nothing unusual for rooms to be carved out of the rock. Nature did some. Others were man-made. According to Chapaev, slabs of rock and silt blocked a doorway to one such chamber twenty meters ahead.

He walked on, careful with each step. The deeper into the mountain, the higher the risk of explosives. His flashlight beam broke the darkness ahead, and his eyes focused on something.

He stared hard.

What the h.e.l.l?

[image]

Suzanne raised the binoculars and studied the entrance to the mine. The sign she'd attached to the iron gate three years ago, BCR BCR-65, was still there. The ploy seemed to have worked. Knoll was getting careless. He'd raced straight to the mine, Rachel Cutler in tow. It was a shame things had come to this, but little choice remained. Knoll was certainly interesting. Exciting even. But he was a problem. A big problem. Her loyalty to Ernst Loring was absolute. Beyond reproach. She owed Loring everything. He was the family she'd never been allowed. All her life the old man had treated her as a daughter, their relationship perhaps closer than the one he possessed with his two natural sons, their love of precious art the glue bonding them to one another. He'd been so excited when she gave him the snuffbox and the book. Pleasing him gave her a sense of satisfaction. So a choice between Christian Knoll and her benefactor was simply no choice at all.

Still, it was too bad. Knoll had his good points.

She stood on the forested ridge undisguised, her blond hair looped to her shoulders, a turtleneck sweater wrapping her chest. She lowered the binoculars and reached for the radio controller, extending the retractable antenna.

Knoll obviously hadn't sensed her presence, thinking he'd rid himself of her in the Atlanta airport.

Not hardly, Christian.

A flick of a switch and the detonator activated.

She checked her watch.

Knoll and his damsel should be deep inside by now. More than enough distance to never get out. The authorities repeatedly warned the public about exploring the caverns. Explosives were common. Many had died through the years, which was why the government started licensing exploration. Three years ago there'd been an explosion in this same shaft, arranged by her when a Polish reporter crept too close. She'd lured him with visions of the Amber Room, the accident ultimately attributed to another unauthorized exploration, the body never found, buried under the rubble that Christian Knoll should be studying right about now.

[image]

Knoll examined the wall of rock and sand. He'd seen a tunnel end before. This wasn't a natural cessation. An explosion had caused what lay before him, and there was no way to shovel through the ceiling-to-floor debris.

And there was no iron door on the other side, either.

That much he knew.

"What is it?" Rachel asked.

"There was an explosion here."

"Maybe we made a wrong turn?"

"Not possible. I followed Chapaev's directions precisely."

Something was definitely wrong. His mind reeled off the facts. Chapaev's information offered with no resistance. The chain and lock newer than the gate. The iron hinges still working. The trail easy to follow. Too d.a.m.n easy.

And Suzanne Danzer? In Atlanta? Maybe not.

The best thing to do was head back to the entrance, enjoy Rachel Cutler, then get out of Warthberg. He'd planned to kill her all along. No need to have a live source of information available for another Acquisitor to tap. Danzer was already on the trail. So it was only a matter of time before she tracked down Rachel and talked to her, perhaps learning about Chapaev. Monika wouldn't like that. Maybe Chapaev really did know where the Amber Room lay but had intentionally led them on this chase. So he decided to get rid of Rachel Cutler here and now, then head back to Kehlheim and squeeze information from Chapaev, one way or the other.

"Let's go," he said. "Roll up the string back to the entrance. I'll follow."

They started back through the maze, Rachel leading the way. His light revealed her firm a.s.s and shapely thighs through tan jeans. He studied her slender legs and narrow shoulders. His groin started to respond.

The first fork appeared, then the second.

"Wait," he said. "I want to see what's down here."

"This way is out," she said, pointing left toward the string.

"I know. But while we're here. Let's see. Leave the string. We know the way from here."

She tossed the twine ball down and turned right, still leading the way.

He flicked his right arm. The stiletto released and slid down. He palmed the handle.

Rachel stopped and turned back, her light momentarily on him.

His light caught her shocked face as she saw the glistening blade.

[image]

Suzanne pointed the radio controller and pressed the b.u.t.ton. The signal sped through the morning air to the explosive charges she'd set in the rock last night. Not enough of an explosion to draw attention from Warthberg, six kilometers away, but more than enough to bring the mountain down inside.

Ending another problem.

[image]

The ground shook. The ceiling crumbled. Knoll tried to steady himself.

Now he knew. It was was a trap. a trap.

He turned and raced toward the entrance. Rock cascaded in a shower of stone and blinding dust. The air fouled. He held the flashlight in one hand, stiletto in the other. He quickly pocketed the knife and yanked his shirt out, using the clean hem to shield his nose and mouth.

More rock rained down.

The light toward the entrance ahead grew dusty and thick, veiled in a cloud, then obliterated behind boulders. It was now impossible to go that way.

He turned again and darted in the opposite direction, hoping there was another way out of the maze. Thankfully, his flashlight still worked. Rachel Cutler was nowhere to be seen. But it didn't matter. The rocks had saved him the trouble.

He raced deeper into the mountain, down the main shaft, past the point where he last saw her standing. The explosions seemed to have centered behind him, the walls and ceiling ahead stable, though the entire mountain now vibrated.

More rock pounded onto itself behind him. Definitely only one way to go now. A fork appeared in the shaft. He stopped and oriented himself. The original entrance behind him had faced east. So west lay ahead. The left fork appeared to go south, the right north. But, who knows? He had to be careful. Not too many turns. It would be easy to get lost, and he didn't want to die wandering underground until he either starved or dehydrated.

He lowered his shirttail and sucked in a lungful of air. He tried to recall what he could about the mines. Never was there only one way in or out. The sheer depth and extent of the tunnels demanded multiple entrances. During the war, though, the n.a.z.is sealed off most of the portals, trying to secure their hiding places. He now hoped this mine wasn't one of those. What encouraged him was the air. Not as stale as when they were deeper inside.

He raised his hand. A slight breeze drifted from the left fork. Should he take the chance? Too many more turns and he'd never find his way back. Total darkness possessed no reference points, his present position known only because of the main shaft's orientation. But he could easily lose that frame of reference with a couple of indiscriminate moves.

What should he do?

He stepped left.

Fifty meters and the tunnel forked again. He held up his hand. No breeze. He recalled reading once that the miners designed their safety routes all in the same direction. One left turn meant all left turns until you were out. What choice did he have? Go left.

Two more forks. Two more lefts.

A shaft of light appeared ahead. Faint. But there. He scurried forward and turned the corner.

Daylight loomed a hundred meters away.

THIRTY-ONE.

Kehlheim, Germany 11:30 a.m.

Paul glanced in the rearview mirror. A car rapidly approached, its lights flashing and siren hee-hawing. The green-and-white compact, POLIZEI POLIZEI on the doors in blue letters, zoomed past in the opposite lane and disappeared around a bend. on the doors in blue letters, zoomed past in the opposite lane and disappeared around a bend.

He drove on, entering Kehlheim ten kilometers later.