Nazi Gold

Chapter 19 — Hungarian Flight

Less than two days later the party were on their way to the Transylvanian region of Romania to find the lost loot stolen by Petr Costita. He was said to have lived in the village of Baciu, one of seven communes located around the Hoia Baciu forest. It was a long shot, Petra knew, but she was willing to take the chance, to exhaust all options to find what her brother wanted her to destroy. She did not care what it took and she figured being in the actual vicinity of the thief’s hometown would be indispensable to her cause.

Only if she could speak to the people there could she obtain the information she needed to dig deeper into his whereabouts and hopefully convince him that the stolen treasures of Prague Castle should be returned to its rightful home. If he refused, Petra Kulich was all too willing to pursue more aggressive methods to regain her country’s Nazi-ravaged heritage, of which the trunk’s contents was apparently most important to thwarting any attempts by the Order of the Black Sun to attain world domination, even today.

Professor Petra Kulich’s office had arranged the appropriate paperwork for her and her companions on the trip to the most haunted forest in the world. They would take a train from Prague to Bratislava, where they would stay until taking the next flight to Cluj-Napoca via Budapest in Hungary. Once in Cluj, her office had arranged for a local guide to meet them there and drive them to their accommodation in Baciu. From then on, the five of them — Petra, Nina, Igor, Sam and the guide — would be on their own to investigate. They would search for the feared Black Tarot, a part of the lost treasures the Nazis had stolen from Prague.

Although they flew First Class, the night flight from Budapest was primarily nerve wrecking.

Petra had been reading until her fatigue got the best of her. She removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger, massaging lightly. She looked around the cabin. Nina was listening to music on her earphones, her head tilted back and her feet up.

Sam was sleeping, his dark and attractive features suspended in a state of rest that she had previously only fantasized about seeing. He was clutching his backpack like a typical distrustful journalist, used to having to keep his belongings close in case of the sudden order to be ready for whatever troublesome incident he had to cover.

Petra wondered what he had with Nina. They appeared very close, almost romantically involved, yet there were factors lacking for that to be true. She reckoned they were probably in love, but either did not admit it, or one of them was suffering unrequited love while the other was indecisive.

Petra was aware that she was too old for Sam, save for perhaps a drunken one night fling somewhere in a frenzied feast of lust and loneliness, but romantic interest remained. Being an intelligent woman, she decided to nurture the crush as just that and not to make assumptions on her ability to seduce him into a mutual bond.

Just enjoy his presence. Enjoy your time with him and be as unassuming as you can be, not to scare him off. There are some things in life you simply cannot have, she told herself just before she switched off the reading light above her.

Igor was bored. He had insomnia, a problem he had been struggling with since his early teens. His mother wrote it off to some sort of modern day psychological issue that American doctors made television shows about and women’s magazines blew out of proportion. But Igor knew why he could not sleep. The incessant nightmares he suffered kept him from sleeping, but his waking night terrors had him frantic without even sleeping. In short, Igor had spent his entire life terrified of winding down. Anywhere, where sleep or the end of the activities in general enveloped him, he was restless.

This condition had come as a great advantage when he applied to be Professor Kulich’s assistant during her Lidice project. There was much controversy when she had received the approval to run sonar scans of the foundations of Lidice for intact artifacts. Professor Kulich had wanted to retrieve artifacts from what little the Nazis left of the obliterated mining town and bring them to the Modern History department of the National Museum in Prague. Her team worked tirelessly for days to get all their work documented and finds catalogued by the last day of their permit. Igor was the star of the show with his aptitude for staying up for days at a time. This was why Petra Kulich decided to keep him on indefinitely as her main assistant.

On top of his hard work she found him irreplaceable due to his background at the Theresian Military Academy in Austria where he had attended a degree program. Igor’s knowledge of modern history, especially the less known facts of the Third Reich during World War II, came in very handy.

He had worked with her for five years, since he was 23 years old and he thoroughly enjoyed prying into the secrets the world tried so desperately to hide. The atrocious acts of the Nazis, their greed and their underhanded dealings all came out through the documentation of many excavations and cultural studies.

Professor Kulich sometimes used her status as anthropologist to help her curious freelancing peers in various fields to dig into history and its enforcers. That way she had gotten involved with some infamous agents of organizations not to be trifled with. Therefore her deceased brother must have assumed that she would be able to retrieve and destroy what he had not been able to find.

Igor sat watching the petite Scottish historian where she lay listening to music, hands folded on her flat stomach. Her dark curls fell in a halo on her seat, giving her an essence of godliness he relished beholding. Igor had wasted no time in doing several background checks on the feisty little Scottish academic after his first encounter with her. Slightly infatuated at first, he simply had to know all about her, but knew that asking would be inappropriate and he certainly did not possess the patience to wait until he knew her better.

“What are you staring at?” she said suddenly, keeping her voice down for the other sleeping people.

Igor jumped. He did not think she was awake or that she would notice him through her apparently virtually closed eyelids. Her big brown eyes with eyeliner slightly smudged to make her look more formidable and a tad dangerous, locked on his. Nina’s expression was impossible to read. There was no frown, but the lack of a smile convinced him that it was not a friendly question.

“I’m sorry. I was deep in thought,” Igor answered indifferently. “Did not realize my eyes happen to be resting on you.”

Nina did not buy it, but she accepted it.

“Don’t you ever sleep, Igor?” she asked, sitting up with her one earphone still plugged in her ear.

“I do. On occasion I’ll even sleep for two or three hours.” he replied. Nina chuckled with a nod, but Igor was quite sincere. “I have never been much of a sleeper,” he continued with a coy, boyish charm she enjoyed. By Nina’s standards, his looks did not hurt either.

He reminded her of some medieval prince from a painting — his tall, fit body dressed impeccably at all times, the narrow blue eyes that pierced through whatever he looked at and his conspicuously raspy voice. Igor spoke perfect English, but his German decent was undeniable in the hard accent. His hair was blond, much like Petra’s, and shorn only over his ears to give his straight hair a spiky look. It was a peculiar look, suited to the astute authority of the 28 year old.

Maybe it was this unique appearance that intrigued Nina. Just like Sam, Igor had a childlike quality to him, just under the intelligence and stubbornness. It was just something she liked, oddly enough the one thing about Dave Purdue that made his being her romantic partner believable. And that was the only thing.

Nina poured herself a coffee and sat down. She looked extremely tired, not in the sleep deprived way, but rather a fatigue that seemed to seep through her ailment and her emotional turmoil in dealing with it. Igor could see that she was troubled. He poured himself a rum and water and sat down on the seat opposite hers.

“You seem very concerned, Dr Gould. If you want to get rid of some of that poison, I am a remarkably good listener — especially when I can’t sleep,” he smiled mildly and lifted his glass. His sharp eyes searched hers and Nina felt a pleasurable jolt shoot a pulse through her. “It’s no big deal, Igor,” she smiled through her unkempt hair that made her look sensual and wild. “Just some strange effects I have to make sense of in my current fight with a temporary illness. It is causing me to get tired quickly, so there is really nothing to report.”

“Does it have something to do with the mark on your arm? I know I pried before and I have to confess, I did find out that you were apparently abducted and poisoned by your captors. Such things infuriate me,” he admitted to her, but Nina was not impressed.

“And where did you learn of this?” she asked abruptly. “That is none of your business.”

“Don’t worry. In no way does it affect your employment on this project. As you know, I am in charge of research. That research is not reserved to relics and history and genealogy, my dear Dr. Gould. To be frank, I can unearth anything about anybody with the resources I have. Please, don’t take offense like that,” he explained in a tone that denoted a surprisingly aggressive retort.

“I do not take kindly to being investigated,” she snapped with her dark eyes blazing at him.

“And I do not take kindly to having my sincerity insulted, Dr. Gould. If you are easily shaken then perhaps you should not play with powerful people,” he returned the blow with a tranquil coldness that warned of his exceptional confidence. He was not like Sam after all, she realized. For once Nina was wary of someone. Not only did her usual method of intimidation not work on this young man, but she had the distinct notion that he was more than a mere assistant. Something about Igor was strong and disciplined and she elected to save this rapidly collapsing sweetness between them and to control herself.

“You have to understand that I am terrified, Igor. It scares me that I am being watched when I can hardly survive my own nightmares,” Nina feigned her vulnerability to appease his ego.

Igor’s scowl melted into an expression of care at the mention of Nina’s nightmares. It was a subject she inadvertently brought up, one that he could relate to.

“Your nightmares?” he asked. His voice was gentle and his eyes softer.

“Yes,” she replied. “I am going through a horrible time these days. They say it is the poison, but I wonder if it is not my own shortcomings that torment me.” At first Nina started talking such matters just to appease the aggressive young man, but before she knew it, she was speaking her mind about very real fears, fears she could not discuss with anyone else.

“I know all about nightmares,” he whispered and dropped his gaze in a trance-like recollection. “You have no shortcomings, Nina. You are everything women should aspire to be. I respect women who keep fighting to the end. My mother is a strong woman. My employer is a strong woman. You…” he stopped, and just looked at her.

In that moment Nina felt like she could tell him anything, even more than she could with Sam. He was a kindred spirit, but a stranger who would not let his emotions dictate his support of her.

“I’m so very tired, but something in me just will not give up. You know? Call it spite for fate…or simply being incapable of relinquishing my power over myself and my life. Giving up is not an option, no, but that does not mean I don’t get scared of what is happening to me.” she carried on, when Igor brought her a double rum and ice.

“I told you. You are strong, Dr. Gould. People like you are leaders. People like you question everything, from your telephone bills to your genetics. Those who question are the only ones who make a difference in this world, who change fate,” he explained.

Nina raised her tumbler to toast. It had been months since she felt this liberated, emotionally relieved.

“To fate and its mutability,” Igor smiled and clinked glasses with her.

The sound woke Sam.

“Drinking without me?” he complained from behind his backpack.

Nina did not want him to spoil the conversation she so enjoyed with Igor. By the look on Igor’s face he shared her sentiment.

“Just a night cap, Sam,” Nina said bluntly. “We are going to sleep now anyway.”

Sam said nothing and went back to sleep. The other two finished their drinks and then Nina curled up on her seat where she felt the sleep seize her.

Igor returned to the liquor cart. He poured another drink and stole quietly to where he had sat before. As he sipped his alcohol to the monotony of the engines, he looked down on Nina. She was fast asleep, her breathing deep and her hands folded under her chin.

Igor frowned at the sight of her, as if he had not seen her there before. He peered into his glass and looked for his ice, but there was no cube in his rum. Perplexed, he looked around in the cabin, taking note of each of the sleeping passengers in his party. Then he shook his head and whispered, “