The Amber Room Page 0,123

East. We have been involved in some public negotiations there. The callers apparently did not desire my corporate presence in the country. We reported the threats to the Saudis and I can only assume this may be related. Beyond that I cannot say. I never realized I had so violent an enemy."

"Do you have any information on these calls?"

Loring nodded. "My personal secretary is familiar with them. I have instructed him to be available today in Prague."

"My superiors wanted me to assure you that we will get to the bottom of what happened. In the meantime, do you think it wise to reside here without protection?" "These walls afford me ample security, and the staff has now been alerted. I will be fine."

"Very well,PanLoring. Please be aware that we are here if you need us." The policemen withdrew. Loring stepped back to the table. "Your impressions?" "No reason not to accept what was said. Your connections in the justice ministry should also help."

"I will place a call later, thanking them for the visit, and pledge full cooperation." "The club members should be called personally. Your sorrow clear."

"Quite right, I'll tend to that now."

Paul drove the Land Rover. Rachel sat in the front seat, McKoy in the back. The big man had stayed silent most of the way east from Stod. The autobahn had taken them as far as N眉rnberg, then a series of two-laned highways wound across the German border into southwestern Czech.

The terrain had become progressively hilly and forested, alternating grain fields and lakes dotting the rolling countryside. Earlier, when he reviewed the road map to determine the fastest route east, he'd noticed •Ceske Bud•ejovice, the region's largest town, and recalled a CNN report on its Budvar beer, better known by its German name,Budweiser. The American company by the same name had tried in vain to purchase the namesake, but the townspeople had steadfastly refused the millions offered, proudly noting that they were producing beer centuries before America even existed.

The route into Czech led them through a series of quaint medieval towns, most adorned with either an overlooking castle or battlements with thick stone walls. Directions from a friendly shopkeeper adjusted the route, and it was a little before two o'clock when Rachel spotted Castle Loukov.

The aristocratic fortress was perched on a craggy height above a dense forest. Two polygonal towers and three rounded ones rose high above an outer stone curtain encrusted with shiny mullion windows and dark arrow slits. Casements and semicircular bastions wrapped the gray-white silhouette, and chimneys rose all around. A red, white, and blue flag flapped in the light afternoon breeze. Two wide bars and a triangle. Paul recognized it as the Czech national emblem.

"You almost expect armored knights to come storming out on horseback," Rachel said.

"Son of a bitch knows how to live," McKoy said. "I like this Loring already." Paul navigated the Rover up a steep road to what appeared to be the main gate. Huge oak doors reinforced with iron straps were swung open, revealing a paved courtyard. Colorful rosebushes and spring flowers lined the buildings. Paul parked and they climbed out. A gray metallic Porsche sat beside a cream-colored Mercedes. "Sucker drives good, too," McKoy said.

"Wonder where the front door is?" Paul asked.

Six separate doors opened to the courtyard from the various buildings. Paul took a moment and studied the dormers, crested gables, and richly patterned half-timbering. An interesting architectural combination of Gothic and baroque, proof, he assumed, of a prolonged construction and multiple human influences.

McKoy pointed and said, "My guess is that door there."

The arched oak door was surrounded by pillared ashlars, an elaborate coat of arms etched into the gable surmount. McKoy approached and banged a burnished metal knocker. A steward answered and McKoy politely explained who they were and why they were there. Five minutes later they were seated in a lavish hall. Stag heads, boars, and antlers sprouted from the walls. A fire raged in a huge granite hearth, the long space softly illuminated by stained-glass lamps. Massive wooden pillars supported an ornate stuccoed ceiling, and part of the walls were adorned with heavy oil paintings. Paul surveyed the canvases. Two Rubens, a D眉rer, and a Van Dyck. Incredible. What the High Museum would give to display just one of them. The man who quietly entered through the double doors was nearing eighty. He was tall, his hair a lusterless gray, the faded goatee covering his neck and chin withdrawn with age. He possessed a handsome