Ring of Lies (10 page)

Jane hadn't said a word since they left Berlin.

The road wound its way up the snow-covered Alps. The frozen conifers bent under the weight of the snow. Even behind dark glasses, the light was blinding. Alex drove in uncomfortable silence.

The Magic Mountain Sanatorium had been built in the nineteenth century to treat tuberculosis patients. In 1971 it was converted into a home for wealthy retirees with pulmonary diseases. From an altitude of more than five thousand feet, the four-story building looked out over the Landwasser Valley, with Davos below like a giant mint candy.

Reuven called.

“I thought you were at Justus's house.”

“We're in Davos.”

“It's a wasted trip. Five months ago Gunter had a massive stroke, and he's also at an advanced stage of Alzheimer's.”

Alex disconnected.

The lobby of the sanatorium was studded with arches and broad staircases with oak banisters. A modern elevator took them to the third floor. The steel walls smelled of disinfectant.

“Justus always read to Gunter from
The Magic Mountain
. When they finished the book, Gunter would ask him to start again from the beginning,” Jane said. “A few months ago, he stopped asking.”

The elevator halted and they got out. The sobering odor of old age and medications hung in the air.

“Herr Erlichmann is over here,” said a nurse in her sixties. Her hair was pulled back with a disturbing severity. The shadow of a mustache could be seen under her broad nose. Her gilt name tag was engraved with the name
CHRISTA
. She opened the door on a blinding light. Alex put his sunglasses back on.

“Ten minutes. No more. Those are the regulations.” The nurse left.

A scrawny young man with a sharp nose and round glasses was holding a spoonful of porridge to Gunter's mouth. There was no mistaking the dolphin brow and blue eyes. His skeletal body was engulfed in an orthopedic chair. A thin tube hanging from his ears pumped oxygen into his nostrils.

The young man returned the spoon to the bowl and reached out his hand. His name was Gustav. “I understand that you came all this way to talk to Gunter,” he said. “You should know that since the stroke, he hasn't been able to speak or write.”

Alex nodded.

The comfortable studio apartment was furnished with a high hospital bed, a television, a small refrigerator, a Biedermeier wardrobe, chairs, and an antique desk with a writing surface lined with faded green felt. A gilt-framed photo showed Justus and Nelli on their front lawn in Grunewald, with the grand house and the tall linden in full bloom in the background.

Gunter's skin was wrinkled and spotted with the signs of age. Beneath his dry eyelids there was an expression of confusion that did not match the carefully combed waves of his white mane.

The room they were standing in was like a solarium, with wood-framed glass walls on three sides. It was as bright as a
greenhouse, and the heat was turned up to the maximum. The room was stifling and dazzling.

Alex took his coat off.

The view was breathtaking. The horizon was filled with a row of snow-covered peaks of different heights, like an EKG graph.

“I'll be right outside,” Gustav said, leaving.

Gunter was sitting at the far end of the room, staring out at the valley. His withered body was wrapped in a rough gray sweater and thick woolen blanket. His eyes were cloudy.

Jane went to him and wiped the remnants of porridge from his mouth with a paper napkin. Her forehead was glistening. The faint whirr of a helicopter could be heard in the distance.

“Gunter, der Ring des Nibelungen,” she said, stressing each syllable.

His blue eyes showed confusion.

“I'm London,” she said, speaking louder and pointing to herself. “I'm London, Gunter. London. Do you remember me?”

The old man stared unseeingly at the white peaks.

“Der Ring des Nibelungs, remember?” Jane repeated, as if she were climbing a slippery wall.

Gunter's dry lips parted slightly.

“Paris. Barcelona. Moscow. Athens . . .” she said loudly, and then pointed to herself again. “London. I'm London.”

No response.

Alex opened one of the glass panels, and the bracing air stung his face.

Gunter smiled. The left side of his face sagged.

“Where is the list of the Nibelung Ring?” Jane asked.

The old German turned and looked at Alex.

“Help me, Gunter, please. It's important.”

An emaciated hand peeked out from the brown blanket. The back of the hand was wrinkled and covered in liver spots. Jane took it in her own. Gunter pulled his hand away and pointed falteringly at the photo.

Jane got the picture and handed it to him. He brought it up to his eyes. His lower lip was trembling.

With a shaking hand, he pointed to Justus.

“Yes, Justus has the list. Where does he keep it?”

Gunter pushed the photo into Jane's hands.

“What is he trying to tell us?”

The old man pointed to the picture with a limp finger.

“The list is in Justus's house,” Jane said. “Where in the house, Gunter?”

Gunter's eyes again looked unfocused.

Jane got a sheet of paper from the desk and drew a house. She showed it to Gunter. The wheels in the old man's head seemed to have stopped turning.

“Where in the house?”

The door opened and Nurse Christa announced firmly, “Your ten minutes are up. You have to leave.”

“In a minute,” Jane said as she handed the sheet of paper to Gunter and placed a pen in his hand.

He stared at her, not understanding what she wanted from him.

“No minute. Right now!” Christa barked.

The noise of the helicopter was getting louder.

Alex positioned himself in front of the nurse. “We're here on a very important matter, madam. I'll thank you to give us a few more minutes of privacy.”

Gustav fidgeted uncomfortably.

Jane again showed Gunter the drawing of the house. “Where?” she insisted.

“Now!” Christa roared. “Herr Erlichmann has had a stroke. You interrogate him without any consideration for his condition.”

Alex quickly scanned the room. Opposite the bed was a tiny security camera. Had she been listening in on their conversation?

Gunter struggled to draw something.

An arch?

The helicopter was nearby. Alex searched for it in the sky, but the snow was blinding.

“It's very important, madam. Please go away and let us finish,” he said.

Gunter was absorbed in his effort to move the pen over the paper. But it wasn't an arch he was trying to draw. What was it?

Gustav approached Alex and Christa, obviously seeking to negotiate a peace between the two warring parties. “Look,” he began, but Christa dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I call security!” she declared. Taking a small beeperlike device from her pocket, she pressed the button, smirking at them triumphantly.

That's when Alex saw it.

A miniature RC helicopter, about five feet in length, rose above the wooden support wall beneath the glass windows. Its black carbon-fiber body was topped by a yellow canopy. Smoke issued from an exhaust pipe as the rotors shrieked in the air. They all gazed at it in wonder. The helicopter drew closer to the open window.

Gunter was intent on his drawing.

A lens in the nose of the chopper glinted in the sunlight. The wind carried in the odor of burning nitro engine fuel.

“What's that?” Jane blurted.

Alex suddenly caught sight of what was hanging from the chopper's underbelly and leaped at Jane, pulling her toward the door, slamming her to the floor, and lying down on top of her. She hit her head as she fell, but her cry of pain was lost in a blinding flash that ended in a deafening explosion. Objects rose into the air and crashed onto the floor. The glass walls shattered, sending shards flying around the room.

Afterward, there was only an eerie silence and a blast of air from a dislodged tube.

Alex opened his eyes. The solarium was filled with thick smoke. Nurse Christa was lying on the floor, blood spurting from her neck. She was gasping for air.

With the glass walls gone, a freezing wind struck Alex in the face. Gunter was still in his chair by the window, but something was missing. Alex stood up and peered out over the remains of the wooden wall. An odd movement below caught his eye. Rolling down the slope of the Magic Mountain was Gunter Erlichmann's head, leaving behind a trail of red blood on the white snow.

Jane's face was covered in grime. Her moist eyes were wide open. As she picked herself up off the floor, she saw Gunter's headless body. Hunching over, she opened her mouth and puked.

Smoke and dust filled the room. A wailing siren could be heard somewhere. The sound of a motorbike riding into the distance carried on the wind, but the slope beyond the ruined wall was empty. There was no one there. Alex's ears were ringing, and there was a sharp pain in his eardrum.

The nurse was lying in a large pool of blood studded with shards of glass that glittered like diamonds. Her eyes were open, and her body was twitching.

Gustav had cuts on his limbs and face. His blood was squirting onto the floor, and fear showed in his eyes.

Jane's face was tight. “The police will be here any minute,” she said.

“Bring the car around to the front. I'll be right there.”

Jane was frozen in place.

“Go now. We don't have time,” Alex ordered.

She hesitated, taking in the floor, the bed, and the shards of glass. “Aren't you coming?”

“In a minute. Go!”

She bent down and picked up a sheet of paper. It was covered in blood. Gently, she shook off the dust and wood splinters and took it with her.

Alex ran toward the hall, slipping on the glass and skidding across the floor until he banged into the sink near the door. He grabbed bandages and antiseptic off a medical cart outside and raced back into the room. Nurse Christa had fallen silent. Her eyes were glazed over.

As he wrapped tourniquets around Gustav's arms and legs, he saw that blood was also spurting from his neck. He held a large bandage to the wound and pressed down hard. Blood flowed out between his fingers.

“I'm cold,” Gustav said, shivering.

“You'll be fine.”

A young doctor in a white coat hurried in, followed by a nurse. They both froze in the doorway. The nurse covered her mouth with her hand, a look of horror on her face.

“Over here,” Alex called to the doctor. “Keep the pressure on,” he shouted, his voice too loud. The awful ringing in his ears was coming from inside his head.

Sweat marks showed under the doctor's arms. He pressed down on the red bandage. Alex pulled a gray blanket from the bed, shook off the glass, and threw it over what was left of Gunter Erlichmann. A dark stain appeared at the top.

“Code Blue!” the doctor shouted into the hallway. Instantly, medical personnel came rushing in. Under cover of the commotion, Alex slipped out of the room.

The asphalt in the parking lot was dotted with snow.

He searched for Jane between the parked cars. The sirens were getting closer. They had to get out of there. He found her kneeling beside their rental car, hurling. She didn't see him. The car door was open. He found a bottle of water and handed it to her. Without a word, she rinsed her face, took a sip, and spit it
out. She was pale and sweaty. He helped her up and settled her in the car. As soon as she seemed calm enough, he turned the key in the ignition.

A red fire truck and two ambulances appeared around a bend, their red lights flashing as they sped up the snowy mountain. Alex made the descent at a measured speed. The ringing in his ears was becoming intolerable.

After a while, they left the Landwasser Valley and Davos behind.

The bomber that killed Gunter was identical to the RC helicopter that Justus had built.

A tear escaped from Jane's eye. She wiped it away with her sleeve. “Did you see his head?”

He touched her shoulder gently. She leaned her head on the window. “If we hadn't come, he'd still be alive.”

He couldn't find the words to comfort her.

A few minutes later he whispered into his cell phone, “Someone blew up Gunter Erlichmann.”

Reuven took a deep breath. “Are you serious?”

“Plastic explosives attached to a small remote-controlled helicopter. Justus built one just like it. We're on our way back to Berlin.”

“What are you planning?” Reuven asked.

“To pull Justus's house apart until we find the list of Nibelungs, and then warn the ones we still can.”

“Okay. Do whatever you want, but you're on your own. No calling Buthed or Exodus.”

“I want Butthead and his staff to find out all they can about Erlichmann, and I want Exodus and her people involved, too. I need to know everything,” Alex demanded.

“The PM is adamant. No secret ops, and that goes for Butthead and Exodus, too.”

Alex didn't give up. “The list of Nibelungs isn't hanging from a magnet on Justus's refrigerator. We have to find it. I need to know the man better. We don't have time.”

Reuven hung up.

Jane didn't utter a word. She'd been crying quietly.

Alex reached out and caressed her wet face. She pressed her cheek against his large hand and closed her eyes.

Alex glanced at the stained sheet of paper Jane had picked up.

“What's that?” Alex asked.

“Gunter's drawing,” she said, showing it to him.

Alex stuck the drawing on the steering wheel and examined it while he drove. A large section of the naive depiction was covered in blood, but the image was clearly identifiable.

A croissant.

8
A
UGUST
1943

The trains returning empty from the East will bring fresh supplies from the Vaterland, the deputy commandant said. Sacks of flour, yellow butter, eggs, real coffee, sugar, salt, milk powder—even raisins.

Now that he serves his customers a drink made of acorns instead of coffee, how will Hector, the gentile from the brasserie, take the news?

13 A
UGUST
1943

Where have you gone, you nights filled with the joy of life, when cognac, calvados, and pastis were sipped from glasses; Château Margaux was poured slowly; Dom Pérignon foamed and overflowed? People drank and dreamed and fell in love. Back then, the Café Trezeguet was suffused with the intoxicating aroma of a full, rich life.

17 A
UGUST
1943

I use the supplies that arrived from Germany to surreptitiously bake sixty small baguettes de tradition. Before dawn, at the back door to the boulangerie, I give them to widows and the needy.

I am digging my own grave.