The Relic Hunters

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Bodie gave Gunn and Jeff plenty of time to investigate the Bavarian Illuminati, the University of Ingolstadt and Adam Weishaupt as the car wound through Austria and then entered Germany. With Munich coming over the horizon, Bodie knew they were finally getting close.

“You think the Hood’s already there?” Cross asked.

“If he’s heading for this lodge, yeah,” Jeff said. “There are small lodges all around Bavaria, some genuine and some not.”

“If the bastard’s going where we’re going,” Cassidy said. “We’d best prepare for a welcoming committee.”

“Well, it’s not going to be the university,” Gunn said. “Or at least not Weishaupt’s university. That closed in 1800.”

Heidi thought it through as the others stared. “So what did our archaeologist visit in the early 1900s?”

“Good question,” Gunn said. “Exactly my thought. But the building is still there, and receives visitors. Not only through the Illuminati connection but because it was where Mary Shelley had Victor Frankenstein attend university.”

Cassidy stared. “Weishaupt’s university?”

Gunn nodded. “Yep.”

“Obviously it’s now no more,” Jeff pointed out. “With some deep digging I found out that the Hohe Schule building was used by the first Bavarian state university — and that is Weishaupt’s. It is now the Museum of Medical History.”

Bodie nodded. “Superb. We’ll go there. Hopefully the Hood will be miles away at their great lodge thing.”

Cassidy raised a brow. “Great lodge thing?”

“Well, whatever these crazy asses call it. I don’t know.”

“Me neither. But good use of the word ‘ass’ there. You’re learning.”

The road around Munich took another hour and then they were nearing Ingolstadt. Cross tapped in the coordinates for the museum and smiled at the result.

“Fourteen minutes,” he said. “Better tool up, people.”

Bodie reached down for a black pack. Heidi did the same on the other side of the vehicle. The CIA car was equipped with all manner of items; everything from energy bars to machine guns. The group took their share of weapons, stores, a couple of satphones, and a varied pick of other paraphernalia. Bodie remembered the comms this time, making sure everyone planted a receiver in their ear and a mic in their lapel.

“Smooth and sweet,” he said. “Just how I like it.”

Cassidy looked over. “Haven’t heard you say that for a bit, dude. Used to be your catchphrase, more or less.”

“Yeah.” Bodie shrugged. “I haven’t been feeling quite myself since Jack friggin’ Pantera threw me into a Mexican prison.”

“Plus,” Cross put in as he studied the road ahead, “Agent Moneymaker here has taken us way outside our comfort zone.”

“Find yourself by testing yourself,” Heidi said. “Isn’t that what they say?”

“I think I know what I am,” Cassidy said wistfully. “Don’t exactly try to hide it.”

“Yeah, rap sheets don’t lie,” Gunn said with a twist of acid to his voice.

“As a matter of fact,” Heidi said. “They do. And they’re very clinical. But, hey, why does that matter? Y’all are government agents now.”

Bodie smiled at the sudden twang, not the new label. “We ready?”

“Four minutes.” Cross was squinting through the windshield, searching out the correct building.

“Glasses?” Jemma held them out.

Cross took them reluctantly, pushed them over his nose. “Make my skin itch.”

“No, that’d be the three-day growth,” Cassidy said, then looked closer. “Urgh. Gray growth.”

“Go boil yourself, Movie Star.”

The team readied, unsure of what they had to do. Bodie likened it to reconnoitering a job and said as much to the team.

“Case the place. Check it out. Look for everything and miss nothing. Guys, we’re the best in the business at this. Jeff cracked the first waypoint — we’re here — now it’s up to us to crack the second.”

“Treat it as a job?” Cross shrugged agreeably. “Sounds good to me, boss.”

Heidi slapped the proverbial dampener on their sudden enthusiasm. “And don’t forget to look out for Hoods,” she said. “And bombs. Toxic gas. You know, everything our misguided friends might think of.”

Cross parked the car and they jumped out, stretching legs, backs and intellectual muscles. The Museum of Medical History was an old building, with a white and pale yellow painted exterior, the entrance marked by a series of Baroque arches and symmetrical wings that returned in a C-shape. The gardens were well-proportioned and well-tended, green and lush grass, bushes and trees. The whole setting was pleasant, evoking little thought of Illuminati conspiracy, secrets or even Victor Frankenstein. As he stood taking it all in Bodie was reminded that they were following an old map and some odd clues they called waypoints, reading footnotes and treading in some 1900s archaeologist’s irresolute footsteps all on the say-so of a particularly unusual CIA agent.

Could be worse, his brain told him. Could still be in prison.

Could be dead?

Bodie didn’t feel out of his depth. He felt more like he’d been uprooted from contentment and placed in adversity. All the skills were still present, the knowledge, the spontaneous flair; he just had to learn to adapt and use them differently.

Cassidy was flexing her muscles and trying to conceal her weapons at the same time. “Take our time? Don’t miss anything? Yeah, we know the score, Bodie. You ready?”

“And comms.” Bodie tapped his ear. “Don’t forget we’re hooked up now.”

“ ’Kinell, dude. Not for long, I hope. Don’t wanna be listening to Gunn when he has his ‘special’ time.”

The computer specialist stopped preening for just a second to give her the finger. Bodie took the sign to mean everyone was ready. Together, they marched into the museum, paid their dues and took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dim interior. Heidi wandered into a corner and tested the comms.

“Nobody’s following us. Have to assume the switch back in Vienna worked. It’s a certainty though, that as soon as the Hood’s finished his report and handed over the map that the Illuminati will be here in force. Now, get going.”

The team paired off. Bodie took Jemma; the two walking through a door of paneled oak with a map of the museum in their hands.

We returned something new to Spartacus and 1776.

Applying the clue here, he knew, was the hardest task of all. Literally, he thought, it means the very place Weishaupt created his new world order.

They found a guide and asked. The question, Bodie figured, was genuine, honest and probably voiced frequently. The guide — a long-haired man with thick spectacles — nodded with a sense of boredom.

“Toward the back. Name on the door. Don’t be performing any rituals.”

The English was broken, but legible. The guide sniggered at his own joke, but gave Bodie a parting glare. The thief chose to ignore it and walked slowly, taking in the interior. A few paintings and ornaments decorated the walls, some gilt and brass furnishings added luster. If the office didn’t pan out they’d have to check out every picture, every nook and cranny.

“It would help to plan if we knew what we were looking for,” Jemma said, tying her long hair into a bun.

“Start at the back and work forward,” Bodie said. “At least we’re here legally.”

“I don’t normally start in the field,” she said.

“A good education then. The trick is not to have a quick scan or even a leisurely scan. The trick is to look and look again, then move away for a while, return and study carefully. Use every moment wisely. Don’t force it. Let it soak into you like a fine bottle of rum. Absorb the ambience and your surroundings until it all makes sense.”

“And when will that be?”

“You’ll know.”

Bodie let it be known that they were examining Weishaupt’s office. Murmurs of agreement were returned and Heidi again pronounced an all clear. They still had time. Jemma finally paused outside a half-open door, pointing at an indiscreet plaque.

“I guess we’re allowed inside.”

“That’s the general idea in a museum, love.”

Surprisingly, the room was relatively small. It was sumptuous though, a regalia of plush fittings, chairs and drapes, the centerpiece a heavy, deluxe desk, the floor covered by lavish carpets and the walls richly paneled, adorned by masterful paintings.

“Don’t forget,” Bodie said. “An archaeologist left something here. It won’t be obvious, it won’t be easy to spot.”

His words proved prophetic, so much in fact that Jemma told him off for saying them. Three other couples entered the room as they searched, wanderers killing time. Bodie followed a ritual — get a feel for the place, remember the placement. Forget and come back. Sit down. Think. Study. Something like this could not be rushed. Jemma searched carefully, opening up the desk and rifling drawers, searching under the chair and its coverings. Their study yielded nothing.

At length, Jeff entered the room with his partner, Cassidy. Bodie stared at the newcomer with interest.

“Ah, an archaeologist. What would you do, Jeffo?”

Jeff settled himself, looking pensive. “I’d take it all with me,” he said. “Archaeologist’s prefer to have their relics close enough to study at all times. But if I knew I was making a map? If I knew my quest would lead me from place to place?” He probed the room carefully. Bodie watched him, then watched Jemma watching him. Cassidy prowled over to the only window to scan the day outside.

Jeff moaned. “It’s staring us in the face.”

Bodie jumped up, heart jumping. “Where?”

“No. I mean it’s staring us in the face. I don’t know what it is, but I bet it is.”

Bodie pretended to reach for his gun. At that moment the door opened to admit Heidi and Gunn.

“We good?” the CIA agent asked.

“We’re sick and tired,” Cassidy said. “And can’t find nothing.”

“Jeff’s bloody useless,” Bodie said.

“And what? You were gonna shoot him?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Everything is the same,” Jeff mused. “It’s the same because the museum wants it to look the same. But we have different paintings and photographs from different periods here. Weishaupt. King Ludwig from 1826. A photo of the founding building of the motor company Auto Union, which later became Audi, also in Ingolstadt. A portrait of Charles De Gaulle, who was detained in a Bavarian fortress as a prisoner of war. Different times, same look.”

Bodie studied the pictures, the paintings. “All right, I see your point. But dude, what’s your bloody point?”

“Spartacus and 1776, that’s here where we are right now. but ‘we returned something new’? I think,” Jeff paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think we have to look at the archaeologist himself. This was clearly a highly secret mission, this journey of his. A revenge mission too. He couldn’t risk anything. So what did he do? He left with the next clue and then donated something to this room later. Something new.”

Bodie scrunched up his face in thought. His natural, nourished inclination to mistrust told him Jeff was reaching, probably mistaken. But his deep-set, conflicting need to hold on to some kind of belief pushed him in the opposite direction.

“Jeff,” he said, “let’s go find that guide.”

They trooped out of the room. Heidi went ahead with Cross, the two of them turning more and more restless and worried. Bodie helped Jeff find the museum guide and hovered whilst Jeff asked the key question.

“Can you tell me if anything was donated to the Weishaupt room in the early 1900s?” he asked.

The guide looked surprised, but willing to help. “Happy to look,” he said in English again. “Break up the day.”

Twenty minutes later and Jeff had the information. Bodie and he left the guide and returned to Cassidy and Jemma who were loitering close to Weishaupt’s office.

Jeff grinned at the redhead. “We’ve got it.”