The Amber Room Page 0,38

us. Ha! All the fool did was extract a half billion marks in aid from Bonn, then apologized, saying the records weren't for the Amber Room but other treasures pilfered from Leningrad. More Russian bullshit. The Russians, Soviets, Nazis. All the same. The current talk about restoring Russian heritage is more propaganda. What they do is sell our heritage. The papers every day are full of stories about paintings, sculptures, and jewels being sold. A rummage sale of our history. We must keep the panels safe. No more letters, at least for awhile. The photo of your granddaughter is appreciated. The joy she must bring you. Good health, my friend.

Danya

Danya,

I hope this letter finds you well. It's been too long since we last wrote. I thought perhaps after three years, it may be safe. There have been no more visits, and I have

read few reports on anything concerning the panels. Since we last communicated, my daughter and her husband divorced. They love each other, yet simply cannot live together. My grandchildren are well. I hope yours are, too. We are both old. It would be nice to venture and see if the panels are really there. But neither of us can make the journey. Besides, it might still be too dangerous. Somebody was watching when Yancy Cutler asked questions about Loring. I know in my heart that bomb was not meant for an Italian minister. I still grieve for the Cutlers. So many have died looking for the Amber Room. Perhaps it should stay lost. No matter. Neither of us can protect it much longer. Good health, old friend.

Karol

Rachel,

My precious darling. My only child. Your father now rests in peace with your mother.

We are surely together, for a merciful God would not deny two people who loved each other the opportunity of eternal happiness. I have penned this note to say what perhaps should have been said in life. You have always been aware of my past, what I did for the Soviets before emigrating. I pilfered art. Nothing more than a thief, but one sanctioned and encouraged by Stalin. I rationalized it at the time with my hatred for the Nazis, but I was wrong. We stole so much from so many, all in the name of reparations. What we sought most was the Amber Room. Ours by heritage, stolen by invaders. The letters bound to this note tell some of the story of our search. My old friend Danya and I looked hard. Did we ever find it? Perhaps. Neither of us really went and looked. Too many were watching in those days and, by the time we narrowed the trail, both of us realized the Soviets were far worse than the Germans. So we left it alone. Danya and I vowed never to reveal what we knew, or perhaps simply what we thought we knew. Only when Yancy volunteered to make discreet inquiries, checking information that I once thought credible, did I inquire again. He was making an inquiry on his last trip to Italy. Whether that blast on the plane was attributable to his questions or something else will never be known. All I know is that the search for the Amber Room has proved dangerous. Maybe the danger comes from what Danya and I suspect. Maybe not. I haven't heard from my old comrade in many years. My last letter to him went unanswered. Perhaps he is with me now, too. My precious Maya. My friend Danya. Good companions for eternity. Hopefully it will be many years before you join us, my darling. Have a good life. Be successful. Take care of Marla and Brent. I love them so. I'm very proud of you. Be good. Maybe give Paul another chance. But never, absolutely never concern yourself with the Amber Room. Remember the story of Phaëthon and the tears of the Heliades. Heed his ambition and their grief. Maybe the panels will be found one day. I hope not. Politicians should not be entrusted with such a treasure. Leave it in its grave. Tell Paul I'm so sorry. I love you.

NINETEEN

6:34 p.m.

Paul's heart pounded as Rachel looked up from her father's final note, tears falling from her sad green eyes. He could feel the pain. Hard to tell where his stopped and hers started.

"He wrote so elegantly," she said.

He agreed.

"He learned English well, read incessantly. He knew more about participial phrases

and dangling modifiers than I ever did. I think his broken speech was just a