The Amber Room Page 0,28

time opens eyes." Knoll was apparently pleased with the concession. "The Commission turned into a

travesty, wouldn't you say? It eventually helped Stalin send millions to gulags." "Which is why I leave."

"Is Chapaev still alive?"

The question came quick. Unexpected. Surely designed to elicit an equally quick response. He almost smiled. Knoll was good. "Have no idea. Not seen Danya since I leave. KGB came years back. Big smelly Chechen. I tell him same thing." "That was very bold, Mr. Bates. The KGB should not be taken so lightly." "Many years make me bold. What was he to do? Kill an old man? Those days are gone, Herr Knoll."

His shift fromMr.toHerrwas intentional but, again, Knoll did not react. Instead, the German changed the subject.

"I've interviewed a lot of the former searchers. Telegin. Zernov. Voloshin. I never could find Chapaev. I didn't even know about you until last Monday." "Others not mention me?"

"If they had, I would have come sooner."

Which was not surprising. Like him, they'd all been taught the value of a tight lip. "I know the Commission's history," Knoll said. "It hired searchers to scour Germany

and eastern Europe for art. A race against the army for the right to pillage. But it was quite successful and managed to get the Trojan gold, the Pergamum Altar, Raphael'sSistine Madonna, and the entire Dresden Museum collection, I believe." He nodded. "Many, many things."

"As I understand, only now are some of those objects seeing the light of day. Most have been secreted away in castles or locked in rooms for decades."

"I read stories. Glasnost." He decided to get to the point. "You think I know where Amber Room is?"

"No. Otherwise you would have already found it."

"Maybe better stay lost."

Knoll shook his head. "Someone with your background, a lover of fine art, surely

would not want such a masterpiece destroyed by time and elements." "Amber last forever."

"But the form into which it is crafted does not. Eighteenth-century mastics could not be that effective."

"You are right. Those panels found today would be like jigsaw puzzle from box." "My employer is willing to fund the reassembling of that puzzle."

"Who is employer?"

His visitor grinned. "I cannot say. That person prefers anonymity. As you well know,

the world of collecting can be a treacherous place for the known."

"They seek a grand prize. Amber Room not seen in over fifty years."

"But imagine, Herr Bates, excuse me, Mr. Bates-"

"It's Borya."

"Very well. Mr. Borya. Imagine the room restored to its former glory. What a sight that would be. As of now, only a few color photographs exist, along with some black and whites that certainly do no justice to its beauty."

"I saw those pictures when searching. I also saw room before war. Truly magnificent. No photo could ever capture. Sad, but it seems lost forever."

"My employer refuses to believe that."

"Evidence good that panels were destroyed when Konigsberg was carpet bombed in 1944. Some think they rest at bottom of Baltic. I investigate Wilhelm Gustloff myself. Ninety-five hundred dead when Soviets send ship to bottom. Some say Amber Room in cargo hold. Moved from Konigsberg by truck to Danzig, then loaded for trip to Hamburg."

Knoll shifted in the chair. "I, too, looked into the Gustloff. The evidence is contradictory, at best. Frankly, the most credible story I researched was that the panels were shipped out of Konigsberg by the Nazis to a mine near Gottingen along with ammunition. When the British occupied the area in 1945, they exploded the mine. But, as with all other versions, ambiguities exist."

"Some even swore Americans find and ship across Atlantic."

"I heard that, too. Along with a version proposing the Soviets actually found and stored the panels somewhere unbeknownst to anyone now in power. Given the sheer volume of what was looted, that is entirely possible. But given the value and desire for the return of this treasure, not probable."

His visitor seemed to know the subject well. He'd reread all those theories earlier. He stared hard at the granite face, but blank eyes betrayed nothing of what the German was thinking. He recalled the practice it took to so inconspicuously post such a barrier. "Have you no concern for the curse?"

Knoll grinned. "I've heard of it. But such things are for the uninformed or the sensationalist."

"How rude I have been," he suddenly said. "You want a drink?"

"That would be nice," Knoll said.

"I be right back." He motioned to the cat sacked out on the couch. "Lucy will keep you company."

He stepped toward the kitchen and gave his visitor one last glance