The Amber Room Page 0,110

she trying to kill him?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He'd been waiting nearly two hours

after driving west from Stod to Nebra, a tiny hamlet halfway to Burg Herz. He stood and opened the door. Monika immediately stepped inside. The scent of sweet lemons accompanied her entrance. He closed and locked the door behind her. She surveyed him up and down. "Rough night, Christian?"

"I'm not in the mood."

She plopped on the bed, cocking one leg in the air, the crotch of her jeans exposed. "For that, either," he said. His groin still ached from Danzer's kicks, though he was

not about to tell her that.

"Why was it necessary that I drive here to meet you?" she asked. "And why can't Father be involved?"

He told Monika what happened in the abbey, about Grumer, and the chase through Stod. He left out the final street confrontation and said, "Danzer got away before I could reach her, but she mentioned the Amber Room. She said the chamber in that mountain was where Hitler hid the panels in 1945."

"You believe her?"

He'd considered that point all day. "I do."

"Why didn't you go after her?"

"No need. She's headed back to Castle Loukov."

"How do you know that?"

"Years of sparring."

"Loring called again yesterday morning. Father did as you asked and told him we hadn't heard from you."

"Which explains why Danzer so openly traipsed around Stod."

She was studying him closely. "What are you thinking of doing?"

"I want permission to invade Castle Loukov. I want to go into Loring's preserve." "You know what Father would say."

Yes, he did. Club rules expressly forbade one member from invading the privacy of another. After an unveiling, the whereabouts of any acquisition was nobody's business. The glue that bound their collective secrecy was the mere knowledge of acquisition that all nine possessed on each other. Club rules also forbade revelations of sources unless the acquiring member desired to say. That secrecy protected not only the member but the Acquisitor, as well, assuring that cultivated information could be harvested again without interference. Privacy was the key to their entire union, a way for similar men of similar interests to exact similar pleasure. The sanctity of their individual estates was an inviolate rule, any breach of which required instant expulsion.

"What's the matter?" he said. "No nerve? Are you not now in charge?" "I have to know why, Christian."

"This is way beyond a simple acquisition. Loring has already violated club rules by having Danzer try to kill me. More than once, I might add. I want to know why, and I believe the answer is in Volary."

He hoped he'd gauged her correctly. Monika was proud and arrogant. She'd clearly resented her father's usurpation yesterday. That anger should cloud her better judgment, and she didn't disappoint him.

"Fucking right. I want to know what that bitch and old fart are doing, too. Father thinks we're imagining all this, that there was some sort of misunderstanding. He wanted to talk to Loring, tell him the truth, but I talked him out of it. I agree. Do it." He saw the hungry look in her eye. To her, competition was an aphrodisiac. "I'm heading there today. I suggest no more contact until I'm in and out. I'm even willing to accept the blame, if caught. I was acting on my own, and you know nothing."

Monika grinned. "How noble, my knight. Now come over here and show me how much you missed me."

Paul watched Fritz Pannik stroll into the garni's dining room and walk straight to the table he and Rachel occupied. The inspector sat down and told them what he knew so far.

"We have checked the hotels and learned that a man matching Knoll's description was registered across the street in the Christinenhof. A woman matching the description of this Suzanne was registered a few doors down at the Gebler." "You know anything more about Knoll?" Paul asked.

Pannik shook his head. "Unfortunately, he is an enigma. Interpol has nothing in their files, and without fingerprint identification there is no realistic way to learn more. We know nothing of his background, or even where he resides. The mention of an apartment in Vienna to Frau Cutler was certainly false. To be safe, I checked the information. But nothing suggests Knoll lives in Austria."

"He must have a passport," Rachel said.

"Several probably, and all under assumed names. A man such as this would not register his true identity with any government."

"And the woman?" Rachel asked.

"We know even less about her. The crime scene