Ghosts of the Past (30 page)

The call back took less than twenty minutes, and Mr. Lewis had agreed to a thirty-minute block of time that afternoon. He was speaking at a fundraiser luncheon and was due back at the office at 2:00, and was scheduled to be at the mayor’s office at 3:00, so he would have to leave no later than 2:30.

Enstrada assured Allen the half hour would be sufficient and he was emphatic that the meeting be private, between Lewis and himself. However, he wanted Allen to stick around until after they had discussed Mr. Rocca’s offer.

In reality, the meeting only covered about fifteen minutes of Grayson Lewis’ busy day. He was ten minutes late returning from the speaking engagement, and the limo sent by the mayor arrived at 2:25. Nevertheless, Lewis was ecstatic at the proposal of a Rocca exhibit, but was expectedly skeptical as to why Chicago and why now? What was Rocca’s motivation for taking his collection public? Regardless, another meeting was scheduled for June 15, where he and Mr. Estrada could flesh out some details, and maybe uncover the true stimulus for such a proposition.

Enstrada shook hands with Grayson Lewis as they exited his office and stood in the narrow hallway.

“Thank you again for seeing me on such short notice Mr. Lewis. My schedule was so hectic I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back to Chicago for several weeks.”

“It was my pleasure Mr. Enstrada. Your Uncle’s collection, as I mentioned, is a source of much speculation and conjecture, and would generate an incredible amount of interest. As you well know, the secrecy surrounding it only fuels the buzz. The Institute would love to be a part of such an impressive exhibition. Thanks again for thinking of us! And please extend my thanks and appreciation to your Uncle!”

Jason Allen walked down the hallway, having heard the conversation move out of the office.

“Jason, can you please see to Mr. Enstrada. I’m afraid the mayor’s office has a car waiting for me downstairs and I need to be going.”

“Certainly Grayson.”

As Lewis turned and walked away, Enstrada interrupted. “Mr. Lewis, I need to make a private phone call, would you mind very much if I could use your office for a few minutes?”

Lewis never stopped walking, but turned his head to face the two men in the hallway. “Absolutely. Jason, anything he needs, please feel free to help.”

“Thank you again,” shouted Enstrada as Grayson Lewis disappeared from their sight.

“Well, did you get what you so desperately needed?” Allen asked.

“Yes, thank you for your help. Give me a few minutes on the phone and I’ll be right with you.”

“Dial 9 to get an outside line. I’ll be out in the reception area. Take your time.”

Enstrada entered Lewis’ office, closed the door and sat behind the large hand tooled leather and wood antique desk and picked up the phone. He removed his palm pilot from his sport coat pocket and punched up the number he had loaded in this morning. Courtney Lewis answered on the fifth ring.

“Hi Daddy.”

There was a slight pause. “No Miss Lewis, you can call me Michael. I’m sitting in your father’s office meeting with him on some rather delicate matters regarding art, which segues nicely into a similar predicament that involves you and your boyfriend.”

Enstrada could sense the fragility of the connection. “Please don’t hang up on me Miss Lewis, or you risk putting your father’s life in jeopardy. Are you alone?”

Courtney’s throat had grown incredibly dry, and she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak.

“Miss Lewis are you still there? I’m not a very patient man.”

“Yes, I’m here. And yes, I am alone. What do you want?”

“I’m getting to that. You see, we have been following you. You and your companion are on the trail of a potentially incredible art discovery, one in which we have a great interest in, and you and Mr. Ferguson have been very uncooperative in allowing us to tag along.

“In fact you have done a remarkable job of giving us the slip in Lucerne. My want… is to know where you are now, and if you fail to tell me, I will personally see that your father encounters an unexpected, but tragically fatal accident. Do you understand what I’m telling you Miss Lewis?”

Courtney responded in a parched and nearly inaudible voice. “Yes, I understand.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear your answer.”

With more anger this time, she answered again. “I understand!” “Excellent.” There were several seconds of silence. “I’m waiting Miss Lewis. Where are you?”

The few seconds had allowed her to gather her thoughts and she recovered quickly. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Matt’s the only one who knows where we’re going, and he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me. I was asleep in the car when you called. We’re parked in front of a small roadside restaurant. Matt went into to get some coffee and a bite to eat. I was tired so I stayed in the car to sleep.”

“What is the name of the restaurant? What road are you on?”

Courtney had the presence of mind to go way back in time. To a photo shoot she had done in St. Moritz almost a decade ago. There was an all night diner that had been around for years that the whole crew had frequented on more than one occasion. She only hoped it was still standing and open. “The sign says the
Olympischen
Hutte
. I don’t know what road we’ve been on, but I do know we’re somewhere near St. Moritz.”

“I do hope you’re telling me the truth Courtney Lewis, for your father’s sake.”

“I don’t have any reason to lie to you.”
So
why
am
I
lying?
What
in
the
hell
am
I
doing?

“I’m going to call you back tomorrow. At exactly 6:00 pm your time. Be prepared Miss Lewis to answer the phone… alone. By that time, I fully expect you to have all the answers. Where you are going. Where you are staying. Where are you at that time. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very! My father has no idea what’s going on here. Please, do not hurt him.”

“Do as your told Miss Lewis and no one will get hurt. Your father is a very nice gentleman. I would regret anything happening to him. Six o’clock tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

The line went dead and Courtney’s heart was about to bust out of her chest. She ran to the dresser and grabbed a water bottle from the welcome basket. She fell back on to the bed in a state of shock. She had to think… clearly, if it was at all possible.

After several minutes of agonizing over the phone call, she turned her attention to analyzing the situation, and what she had just done. She could not believe she had just put her father’s life in danger over somebody else’s problem, a problem that she didn’t have enough sense to walk away from the outset.

Matt
was
right
from
the
very
beginning.
I
should
have
never
gotten
involved.
God
bless
him,
he
tried
to
tell
me
stay
out
of
it.
This
whole
affair
was
turning
back
into
the
nightmare
it
had
been
at
home.

It
should
have
never
gotten
this
far.
We
should
have
gone
to
the
police.
For
what
selfish
reasons
do
I
not
tell,
whoever
it
is
that
just
called,
the
truth,
and
then
get
the
hell
away
from
this
mess?
What
is
it
about
a
discovery
of
this
magnitude
that
is
worth
risking
anybody’s
life?
What
about
Matt?
What
if
I
get
out
now,
what
about
him?

Courtney’s head swirled with a multitude of questions and what if’s. She lay still and concentrated on nothing. She successfully blocked out everything in her mind for a few valuable seconds. Slowly she began to calculate a solution. She thought about Matt, and his comment at the
Palace
hotel. ‘You’re not going to like me very much’. That would have to be her answer to Matt when everything was said and done. For everyone concerned, this would resolve it once and for all. She reached again into her purse and retrieved her wallet. Inside one of the pockets, she pulled out a thin stack of papers and cards, and leafing through them, found the business card of Detective Toby Shutt. She dialed the number on the card into her cell phone and waited patiently as the plan formulating in her mind began to make perfect sense.

The T-Mobile cell phone simultaneously rang and vibrated in the breast pocket of Toby Shutt’s tweed blazer, as it lay draped over the stool in the
Kaufleuten
bar. One of Zurich’s more popular and trendy nightspots, Jean-Luc Daniel had decided they both could use a nice meal and couple of cold drinks to wash away the complete disaster the day had brought.

After their failure at the
Palace
hotel, and subsequent interviews with the staff, they decided to return to Zurich and try to manage the investigation and search for the new rental car from there. Alerts had been issued to the other cantons for the make, model and number of the Volkswagen, and photographs and descriptions of Matt Ferguson and Courtney Lewis. Explicit instructions were given not to apprehend if sighted, but to contact the Federal Police, specifically Daniel, and keep the two Americans under surveillance until further notice. Shutt had been overly impressed with the assistance Daniel and his office was providing, and the resources they were making available.

Shutt was fortunate to have his rib cage leaning against the jacket, where the vibration caught his attention, because the noise of the crowded bar drowned out the muffled ring.

He looked at the number of the incoming call and frowned as he failed to recognize the number or the caller. He thought about not answering it, but he was cognizant that there were a number of people involved in the search for Ferguson and Lewis, and it could be anyone of them trying to reach him.

He punched the send button as he covered the opposite ear with his free hand to block out the racket of conversation and music. “Hello, Detective Shutt.”

“Detective Shutt, it’s Courtney Lewis. You’re a hard man to get a hold of, but I managed to convince your office to give this number.”

Shutt looked up wide-eyed at Daniel and didn’t say a word.

“Please try to hear me out before you interrupt me or attempt to rip me a new one.” She paused to see if he would go ahead anyway, but the other end the line remained silent. It actually gave Shutt time to run from the bar to the quiet of the evening sidewalk on
Pelikanstrasse
.

“I’m ready to tell you everything that is going on, and I’m ready to tell you where we are and why we’re here. But you have to promise that you will give me something in return.”

Shutt pushed his way out through the crowd at the front door, hesitating until he knew she was waiting for a reply. “Do I have a choice? What do you want?”

“I need your assistance in protecting my father, and your word that you’ll not interfere with what we’re doing until I give you the okay. It’s important that we complete what we came here to do, and in the process I think we’ll uncover your murderer, or at the very least, the people associated with him. Can you agree to that?”

“I can probably live with that.”

“No probably’s, I need a firm yes!”

“Yes, damnit!”

“Good. Here’s the deal.” Courtney took a deep breath knowing full well she was about to compromise Matt and his whole endeavor, but she had worked it out several times in her mind, and she was convinced that it would work out for him in the long run. Most importantly, it would keep her father safe, and bring this whole quagmire to an end.

“We’re both in Switzerland. We’ve been here for a couple of days. We’re in a small town called Wildhaus, in the eastern part of the country. We’re here because Matt has information that was passed on to him from a recently deceased Uncle who was a German aviator in World War II.

His Uncle was responsible for transporting looted artwork out of the country at the end of the war and crashed into the mountains in this area. He survived the crash, and always maintained that the plane and the artwork survived as well. Whether it has survived almost sixty years in conditions where it crashed is another matter. We do know that the plane crashed into a cave at the time, and we’re hoping that it remained in the cave and entombed itself
.
If the artwork was crated or had some sort of shipping over wrap of any kind, and the environmental conditions of the cave were reasonable and maintained over the years, it’s entirely possible the pieces are still in repairable condition.

“If that’s the case, the works that we have since discovered were on that plane, are worth millions. Major millions!”