The Amber Room

THIRTY-TWO

3:10 p.m.

The police chopper knifed north through the may afternoon. Past Wurzburg it started to rain. Paul sat next to Pannik, a team of search-and-rescue personnel strapped in behind them.

"A group of hikers heard the explosions and alerted authorities," Pannik said over the roar of the turbine. "Your ex-wife was pulled out near an entrance to one of the shafts. She's been taken to a local hospital, but managed to tell her rescuers about the man. His name is Christian Knoll, Herr Cutler."

He listened with great concern. But all he could see was Rachel lying in a hospital, bleeding. What was going on? What had Rachel gotten into? How had Knoll found her? What happened in that mine? Were Marla and Brent in any danger? He needed to call his brother and alert him.

"Seems Jo Myers was right," Pannik said.

"Did the reports mention Rachel's condition?"

Pannik shook his head.

The helicopter flew first to the scene of the explosion--the mine entrance was deep in the forest at the base of one of the higher mounds. The nearest clearing opened a half kilometer to the west, and the rescue personnel were deposited there to hike back. He and Pannik remained in the chopper and flew east of Warthberg to a regional hospital, where Rachel had been taken.

Inside, he headed straight for her fourth-floor room. Rachel was dressed in a blue gown. A large bandage lay across her scalp. She smiled from the bed when she saw him. "Why did I know you'd be here?"

He stepped closer. Her cheeks, nose, and arms were scraped and bruised. "I didn't have much else to do this weekend, so why not a trip to Germany."

"The children okay?"

"They're fine."

"How did you get here so fast?"

"I left yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

Before he could explain, Pannik, standing quiet at the door, stepped closer. "Frau Cutler, I'm Inspector Fritz Pannik, federal police."

Paul told Rachel about Jo Myers, Christian Knoll, and what happened to Danya Chapaev.

Shock invaded Rachel's face. "Chapaev's dead?"

"I need to call my brother," Paul said to Pannik, "and have him watch the kids closely. Maybe even alert the Atlanta police."

"You think they're in danger?" she asked.

"I don't know what to think, Rachel. You've got yourself into something really bad. Your father warned you to stay out of this."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. I can read Ovid. He wanted you to stay the hell out of this. Now Chapaev is dead."

Her face tightened. "That's not fair, Paul. I didn't do that. I didn't know."

"But perhaps you pointed the way," Pannik made clear.

Rachel stared at the inspector, the realization clear on her face. Suddenly, Paul regretted chastising her. He wanted to help shoulder the blame, like always. "That's not entirely true," he said. "I showed the woman the letters. She learned about Kehlheim from me."

"And would you have done that if you did not think Frau Cutler to be in danger?"

No, he wouldn't have. He looked at Rachel. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Paul's right, Inspector. It's my fault. I wouldn't leave well enough alone. He and my father warned me."

"What of this Christian Knoll?" Pannik asked. "Tell me about him."

Rachel reported what she knew, which wasn't much. Then she said, "The man saved me from getting run down by a car. He was charming and courteous. I sincerely thought he wanted to help."

"What happened in the mine?" Pannik asked.

"We were following Chapaev's map. The tunnel was fairly wide, and all of a sudden it felt like an earthquake and an avalanche bisected the shaft. I turned back toward the entrance and started running. I only made it about halfway when the rocks knocked me down. Luckily, I wasn't buried. I lay there till some hikers came in and got me."

"And Knoll?" Pannik asked.

She shook her head. "I called out to him after the cave-in stopped, but nothing."

"He's probably still in there," Pannik said.

"Was it an earthquake?" Paul asked.

"We have no earthquakes here. Probably explosives from the war. The shafts are full of them."

"Knoll said the same thing," Rachel said.

The hospital room door opened, and a stocky policeman motioned to Pannik. The inspector excused himself and stepped outside.

"You're right," Rachel said. "I should have listened."

He wasn't interested in her concessions. "We need to get out of here and back home."

Rachel said nothing, and he was about to press the point when Pannik returned.

"The shaft has been cleared. No one else was found inside. There was another entrance, unblocked, out a far tunnel. How did you and Herr Knoll get to the mine?"

"We drove a rental car, then hiked."

"What kind of car?"

"A maroon Volvo."

"No car was found at the highway," Pannik said. "This Knoll is gone."

The inspector seemed to know something more. Paul asked, "What else did that policeman tell you?"

"That shaft was never used by the Nazis. No explosives were inside. Yet this is the second explosion there in three years."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning something quite strange is going on."

Paul left the hospital and hitched a ride in a police car to Warthberg. Pannik tagged along. Being a federal inspector gave him certain rank and privileges.

"Similar to your FBI," Pannik said. "I work for the nationwide police force. The locals cooperate with us all the time."

Rachel told them Knoll rented two rooms in the Goldene Krone. Pannik's badge gained immediate access to Rachel's room, which was tidy, bed made, suitcase gone. Knoll's room was empty, too. No maroon Volvo anywhere in sight.

"Herr Knoll left this morning," the hotel proprietor said. "Paid for both rooms and left."

"What time?"

"Around ten-thirty."

"You didn't hear about the explosion?"

"There are many explosions in the mines, Inspector. I don't pay much attention to who is involved."

"Did you see Knoll return this morning?" Pannik asked.

The man shook his balding head. They thanked the proprietor and stepped outside.

Paul said to Pannik, "Knoll's got a five-hour head start, but maybe the car could be spotted by a bulletin."

"Herr Knoll doesn't interest me. The most he's done right now is trespass."

"He left Rachel to die in that mine."

"That's no crime either. The woman is the one I seek. A murderess."

Pannik was right. But he realized the inspector's quandary. No accurate description. No real name. No physical evidence. No background. No nothing.

"Any idea where to look?" he asked.

Pannik stared out at the quiet village square. "Nein, Herr Cutler. Not a one."