The Amber Room Page 0,105

McKoy stayed silent.

McKoy stood in the underground chamber, his mind a swirling montage of apprehension, and stared at the three rusted transports. He turned his gaze slowly to the ancient rock face, searching for a message. An old cliche,if the walls could talk, kept racing through his mind. Could these walls tell him more than he already knew? Or more than he already suspected? Would they explain why the Germans drove three valuable trucks deep into a mountain and then dynamited the only exit? Or was it even the Germans who sealed the exit? Could they describe how a Czech industrialist breached the cavern years later, stole what was there, and then blasted the entrance shut? Or maybe they knew nothing at all. As silent as the voices that had tried through the years to forge a trail, only to find a path leading to death. Behind him, footsteps approached through the opening from the outer gallery. The other exit from the chamber was still stuffed tight with rock and rubble, his crews yet to start any excavation. They wouldn't until tomorrow at the earliest. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly 11:00A.M. He turned to see Paul and Rachel Cutler emerge through the shadows. "I didn't expect you two this early. How're your heads?"

"We want answers, McKoy, and no more stalling," Paul said. "We're in this whether we, or you, like it or not. You kept wondering last night what you'd done. What did you mean?"

"You don't plan to take Knoll's advice and go home?"

"Should we?" Rachel asked.

"You tell me, Judge."

"Quit delaying," Paul said. "What's going on?"

"Come over here." He led them across the chamber to one of the skeletons embedded in the sand. "There isn't much left of what these guys were wearin', but from the scraps the uniforms appear World War Two vintage. The camouflage pattern is definitely U.S. Marine." He bent down and pointed. "That sheath is for an M4 bayonet, U.S. issue from the war. I'm not certain, but the pistol holster is probably French. The Germans didn't wear American issue or use French equipment. After the war, though, all sorts of European military and paramilitary used American-issue stuff. The French Foreign Legion. Greek National Army. Dutch Infantry." He motioned across the chamber. "One of the skeletons over there is wearing breeches and boots with no pockets. Hungarian Soviets dressed like thatafterthe war. The clothing. The empty trucks. And the wallet you found cinches things." "Cinches what?" Paul asked.

"This place was robbed."

"How do you know about what these guys were wearing?" Rachel asked. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm not some dumb-ass North Carolina redneck. Military history is my passion. It's also part of my preparation on these digs. I know I'm right. I felt it Monday. This chamber was breachedpostwar. No doubt about it. These poor slobs were either ex-military, current military, or workers dressed in surplus. They were shot when the job was finished."

"Then all that you did with Grumer was an act?" Rachel asked.

"Shit, no. I wanted this place to be full of art, but after that first look Monday, I knew we had a violated site. I just didn't realize how violated till now."

Paul pointed to the sand. "That's the corpse with the letters." He bent down and retraced O,I, andCin the sand, spacing the letters as he remembered. "They were like that."

McKoy retrieved Grumer's photographs from his pocket.

Paul then added three additional letters-L,R,N-filling in the blank spaces-and changed theCto aG. The word now read LORING.

"Son of a bitch," McKoy said, comparing the photo to the ground. "I think you're right, Cutler."

"What made you think of that?" Rachel asked Paul.

"It was hard to see clear. It could have been a halfG. Anyway, the name keeps coming up. Your father even mentioned it in one of his letters." Paul reached in his pocket and withdrew a folded sheet. "I read it again a while ago."

McKoy studied the handwritten paragraph. Halfway down, the Loring name caught his eye:

Yancy telephoned the night before the crash. He was able to locate the old man you mentioned whose brother worked at Loring's estate. You were right. I should have never asked Yancy to inquire again while in Italy.

McKoy grabbed Paul's gaze with his own. "You believe your parents were the target of that bomb?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." Paul motioned to the sand. "Grumer talked last night about Loring. Karol talked about him. My father may have talked about