The Romanov Ransom

32

Just when Sam thought his ploy to take off wasn’t going to work, Gustaw asked, “What happened? Who tried to kill you?”

Sam rested his elbow on the car door, then gave a quick version of the armed men and the break-in at their hotel. “I’m only assuming it’s related. We know very little about all this. Which is why we’re hoping you might be able to help.”

The man’s stance relaxed. “You were lucky. The Guard doesn’t usually leave witnesses alive.”

“The Guard?”

“Wolf Guard, is what we call them around here. Assuming that’s who came after you.”

The fact Gustaw mentioned this same group told Sam they were on the right track. “Any chance there’s a connection with Unternehmen Werwolf from World War Two?”

“My opinion? There’s no other explanation. Once the government officially announced that this area was one of the possible locations of the Gold Train, strange things started happening around here.”

“Like what?”

Gustaw looked in the car at Remi and Sergei before asking, “Who did you say you were?”

“Sam Fargo. My wife, Remi, and our friend, Sergei,” he said. The man nodded at each of them, and Sam took that as a sign of acceptance, motioning for Remi to get out of the car, while he continued the conversation. “You were saying something about strange things happening?”

“Strange?” Gustaw gave a cynical laugh. “Maybe that’s not quite the right word. What would normally be a pleasant weekend hobby, looking for historical artifacts, has turned dangerous — even deadly. The government might deny their existence, but they’re definitely taking precautions about closing off certain areas.”

“Anything you can tell us about this group?” Sam asked.

“More a theory, but I believe some present-day members of the Guard are related to Nazis enlisted into Unternehmen Werwolf during the war. Given their history, and their increasing numbers, I’m sure they’ve recruited criminals and the like to help. Which is why I’d suggest you turn back around. It’s one thing if you know the risks. I do.”

Remi eyed his cabin and the surrounding woods. “Aren’t you afraid to live alone out here?”

“I saw you coming up before my dog alerted me,” he said, patting the German shepherd’s head.

“Cameras?” Sam said. “I didn’t see any on the way in.”

“Hidden. I received an alert on my phone the moment you left the paved road and hit the gravel. Other areas as well.”

“Set off by the weight of the car?”

“Or someone walking through the woods too close to areas I happen to be exploring in.”

“That sounds like a sophisticated system,” Sam said, hoping they might get more information with flattery at this point. “You set it up yourself?”

“Most of it.”

Remi, picking up on Sam’s lead, smiled sweetly. “I’d love to see how it works.”

Gustaw studied her a moment, glanced at Sergei, then looked directly at Sam. “You seem like nice people. Go home. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.”

“What do you mean anyone else?”

“My partner, Renard Kowalski, was killed by the Guard.”

Sam realized he’d misread the man. His desire to work alone had nothing to do with the treasure. “I’m sorry about your friend. We’d heard it was a hunting accident.”

“It wasn’t.”

“After what’d happened to us, we didn’t think so. Even so, my wife and I are well prepared to handle anything that the Guard throws our way.”

“You’d take your wife, knowing how dangerous it is?”

“There’s more to her than meets the eye.”

Gustaw nodded at Sergei. “What about you?”

“I know what the danger is,” Sergei said.

The man looked at each of them, in turn. “If I can’t talk you out of it, I suppose there’s nothing left to do than make sure you don’t get into trouble out there. Come on in. I’ll show you what you need to know.”

He led the three to his cabin, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath their weight as they entered. The scent of pipe tobacco filled the air, the pipe burning in an ashtray near a blue armchair. A cast iron woodstove radiated heat, and the dog wandered over, curling up on the floor in front of it.

“Over here,” he said, indicating a computer monitor on a desk in the corner. Displayed on the shelves behind it were a few World War II artifacts, including a helmet and several tarnished coins. He turned the monitor so they could see it. “My security system.”

Sam watched the rotation of smaller-framed camera views on the larger monitor, seeing the cameras leave the pavement for the graveled road before switching to the front of the cabin and then the back. “You were saying something about cameras on other areas you wanted to keep an eye on? I only see three active frames here.”

“The views of the house and the road leading to it are always on. It keeps me from jumping up every time I let my dog out. Or if I have to leave her here when I run into town. My phone alerts me if one of the other cameras activates. Right now, nothing’s going on out there.”

“Definitely an impressive system. How many cameras total?”

“Twelve.” He woke up each camera, giving them a view of the surrounding forest.

“Twelve?” Remi said. “All to watch your cabin?”

“Other than the road and my house, most of them are pointed toward the two areas I’m currently exploring.”

“Not the tracks near the sixty-fifth kilometer?” Sam asked. “We heard that was one of the places they suspect the Gold Train was hidden.”

Gustaw looked up from the monitor. “I thought you weren’t interested in that?”

“Not specifically. We’re interested in one of the men who may have been responsible for hiding it. Or, rather, the route he took when he fled Königsberg. I have a map I can show you.”

Sam accessed the photo of the original Königsberg map on his phone. “The route we were looking for isn’t on here,” he said. “We found out about that from a friend in Kaliningrad.”

“Considering how large this area is, I’m surprised you were able to find me.”

“We’re persistent, if nothing else. So why is it that you’re discounting the sixty-fifth kilometer as being legitimate?”

“It’s still a very good theory. Renard got a hit on the area with ground penetrating radar. Definitely something down there about the size and shape of a train car.”

“You weren’t able to dig there?”

“The government wouldn’t let us.” He looked away a moment, eyeing his dog. “We were searching for the entrance when Renard was killed…”

Remi reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. We all are.”

He nodded, took a deep breath, looking back at them. “There are several other areas not yet explored. But with the number of tunnels down there, who’s to say which one leads where? This hill here,” he said, pointing to the top far-left frame on the monitor, “has definitely held a lot of Nazi activity. That’s where I found the coins and the helmet.” He woke up another camera, two frames over. “Here, this is the other side,” he said, tapping the frame between them. “This brook originates at the tunnel and runs down between those two hills. I believe the Nazis diverted that water. That means they had to have done so inside the mountain.”

“You’re sure?” Sam asked, intrigued.

“Very. I found an old, hand-drawn map of the area from before the end of the war.” He pulled out a present-day map of the area, showing a location closer to the town. “The brook ran from the mountain into town on this side prior to the Nazi occupation. The farmers were able to use the water for their livestock. Once the explosions and excavations of the tunnels occurred, the brook was diverted here to the other side of the ridge.” He pointed to another location on the map. “The perspective and distance are somewhat misleading until you see the area in person. But once you’re there, you can easily see how a short diversion up at the top of the hill makes such a difference.”

Remi leaned in for a better view. “I’m not sure I understand. There have to be several water sources originating in these mountains. What makes this one special?”

“Because that’s where I found this.” He reached for something on the shelf next to the old German helmet, then held out a lapel pin with a small skull and crossbones on it.

Sam recognized it instantly. The insignia of Unternehmen Werwolf.