The Blood Flag (12 page)

“Probably all wearing masks and gloves. What about their cars?”

“Found them all.”

I turned. “What? Where?”

“Half hour ago a woman called the police station and said the cars matching the descriptions had pulled into a warehouse. The police went there, and found them all.”

“And?”

“All intact, clean, undamaged. All stolen. And nothing there. None of the Hitler stuff. None of the people. No prints.”

“Where'd they go?”

“It was a switch. They moved all the stuff to other cars or vans or whatever, and drove out the back door. She saw the cars go in, but she didn't see anybody go out. Different door on the other side of the block. It's a big warehouse. So now they're somewhere in Atlanta in cars or vans or pickups or whatever that we don't know anything about driving all over who knows where.”

To South Carolina, I said to myself. “They pulled it off. They broke into the impregnable vault the Russians brought, made off with all of Hitler's mementos, and now the trail's cold. Fifty minutes later and we've lost them.”

“In a nutshell,” she said. “The press is going nuts. CNN has trucks on the way. Everybody's flying in. Commentators are standing outside the building with microphones, and the entire security force is standing around with their thumbs up their asses looking stupid. Including us. And by the way, just to make your day, since everyone loves a scapegoat, a lot of people think you started all this.”

“If it had gone my way they'd have the fakes. But Washington was—as usual—unwilling to take any risk. Had to play tough. So here we are.”

“I think we'd better get back to Washington.”

We got off the airplane in D.C. and pulled our roll-aboards hurriedly through Reagan airport. At the intersection of two major arms of the terminal we passed a bar where I could see Dmitri on the television behind the bar. I pointed him out to Alex, Florian, and Patrick, and we all stopped. I inched inside the bar until I could hear clearly. The bartender wondered how long I was going to stand there before ordering a drink. As long as I felt like it.

Dmitri looked sober standing in front of the bank of microphones. I put my bag next to me and put my hands on the back of a barstool.

I could hear what Dmitri was saying, “ . . . surprised at the theft of these important items. We have had a very successful tour in the United States and never faced anything like this. I'm sure that the American investigators will find out who did this.”

He was a lot more confident than I was. He also seemed calmer than I would have expected.

He continued, “The thieves had some important information. We had a security team meeting this morning at eight a.m. Almost all the security forces, including the FBI, were in one room. Three masked men broke into that room with Russian Army weapons, the AK-47. Such weapons, of course, would never be tolerated in Russia. It is a surprise to us that they can be obtained by average American citizens. They are very effective weapons, and would overcome any of the bulletproof vests that any of us were wearing. We were trapped while their accomplices broke into our display and stole the Hitler items placed in the bunker.” He paused. “It is troubling that they knew of our security meeting. Someone told them.”

My thinking exactly.

“This event is very disturbing, and it damaged our display by cutting through the Plexiglas window. But we also have good news.”

I motioned to Alex, Patrick, and Florian to come closer. They stood next to me.

Dmitri continued, “The theft occurred two hours before the opening. What the thieves did not know—and that is because no one knew outside of the Russian crew—was that the items they took from the bunker were replicas. We had not yet put the authentic items into place. The items which were there at eight o'clock this morning were there to hold the place, to make sure the set-up was proper when our team went in. We only put in the real items exactly one hour before the opening of the display. That way we are able to keep complete control of the items. We do not allow them to be out of the presence of at least four Russian security individuals. We would never have allowed the real items to be in the vault with only American security police personnel nearby. It is because of exactly what happened that we have this policy. We've always had this policy. We were to place the authentic items at nine o'clock. So while the thieves accomplished their theft, what they got were worthless replicas. I am here to announce we have already replaced the windows in the display, and will be putting the authentic items into the vault in one hour. In two hours' time, the entire display will be open to the public with Hitler's authentic items. We apologize for all the difficulty, we hope that the Atlanta police are able to find the men who did this, but the good news is that other than the damage to the Plexiglas, we have not been hurt by this. That is all I have to say.” Dmitri turned and walked away. The press core was stunned. So was I.

I turned to Florian and Patrick who were standing behind me and smiled, “Well, that's interesting. Wonder if it's true. I wonder if the thieves actually got the real items and they just put the replicas on display.”

Alex said, “It does make sense that they wouldn't let the items out of the sight of Russian security. And there was no Russian security anywhere near the vault at the time. Makes me wonder if Russian security were the ones who told them about the eight o'clock meeting.”

I frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“Because now everybody in the entire country knows about the tour, Hitler's items, and their clever security. You watch. I'll bet their tour—this was the last stop? I'll bet their tour suddenly gets new dates and makes a lot more money. They'll be on
Good Morning America
by Wednesday.”

I thought about it for a minute but it made no sense. “And how would they know who to contact? How would they know how to get in touch with these . . .” I stopped myself, “thieves?”

“I don't know. Maybe the thieves were Russians—”

“Didn't sound like it. And shooting an Atlanta police officer in the hand?”

“We don't know who they were. It was a very professional job. The damage was so minimal they were able to fix it in an hour. Isn't it a little curious that they had replacement windows? You just happen to carry replacement bulletproof windows? Why? What could possibly damage a window like that? It's just hard to believe. You know how we're trained. Be suspicious of things that are too hard to believe.”

I nodded as I reached for the handle of my roll-aboard suitcase. I held it and stood there pondering what Alex had said. It made no sense, but it was possible. It's possible the thieves had nothing to do with the Southern Volk. They had a big guy with them. So what? There are a lot of big Russian guys. Under black turtlenecks they all look alike. Especially when you're not the one looking and you've just heard a description of a guy who was big. I had formed the immediate conclusion that it was Jedediah, but I had no way of knowing. But one thing I did know. The Southern Volk would now want the Blood Flag.

Florian broke into my thoughts. “I know the Russians don't trust us.” He glanced around, then up at Dmitri who was stepping away from the microphones after his press conference. “But I don't trust them either.”

“What in the hell happened down there?” Murphy asked as soon as I walked into his office answering his summons.

He was always so subtle. “I'm wondering that myself. I met with our guy. He wouldn't tell me what they were planning on doing or when, and I couldn't get him to promise not to go forward. I told him they'd be waiting for him.”

He yelled, “But they
did
pull it off! They made
everybody
look incompetent. It's all over the national news! We look stupid because we were there—even though we had nothing to do with security!”

“At least they didn't get anything. It's like stealing a fake Mona Lisa. You get to show the world what a clever thief you are, but in the end you just look like a dumbass. And the whole national news thing. That's really got me wondering. When I told Dmitri that I wanted to put replicas in there, he never said
they
had replicas. I had to come back here and beg Craig at the OTA to make replicas, which you then vetoed. The Russians were
outraged
when I got back to Atlanta, like I'd left them out to dry. Why wouldn't they have told me then they had their own fakes? I don't get it. Plus, the whole way the theft occurred. Incredibly polished, very well thought out, and the more I think about it, the more I think maybe our Southern Volk never got anywhere near this museum. I don't even know how they would have known that there was going to be a meeting of the security team at eight o'clock. How would they know that? How would they know to come into a room armed and hold everybody hostage while they went and looted the bunker? That puzzled me. But then Alex, and Florian and Patrick—from the BKA—smelled Russian. They think the Russians set the whole thing up. They knew about the 8:00 a.m. meeting. They wanted to increase their visibility, get more tour dates, and get more money out of this. And they look smart as hell for putting replicas in place before the display opened. They're already on every national news show there is; the entire country knows about it and I bet they get dates in New York and Washington, which they didn't have before. Makes me wonder.”

“It makes no sense. Why would they do that?” Murphy asked. “Money.
And
to penetrate the thick heads of Americans and tell the Russian story on a bigger stage. Americans think World War II was won by American GIs who went ashore at Normandy in 1944. The Russians know different. They want
everybody
to know that twenty some
million
Russians died in World War II. Only two hundred and fifty thousand Americans died in all of the war, Pacific and Europe combined. They want everybody to be aware that they suffered a hundred times more than America did, and they want everybody to know that they're the ones who captured Berlin and went into Hitler's bunker. I think they're defensive about not receiving credit by historians. What better way to make it known than to have all the artifacts? You can go to all the museums you want, and maybe a few hundred people, or a couple thousand, in each city are aware of it and go. But nothing like this kind of national notoriety. But two other things make me think it might have been the Russians. Can I sit?”

“No.”

What an ass. “Couple of other things. One, a torch was used to cut through the Plexiglas. That makes sense. Maybe it was easier, melted at a lower temperature. Maybe. But the door to the car opened out and the hinges were exposed. Not a brilliant design. Could have cut the hinges off and walked in. But they went through the window, and sure enough, the Russians had a replacement window. And second, no one was seriously injured. One shot to a cop's hand, but nothing else. If it was a bunch of thugs, I think they'd have been much tougher on the guards in the main hall. They were unharmed. I don't know. Maybe they were concerned about what charges they'd get if they got caught. But it may also be that they didn't want to hurt any law enforcement. And then multiple cars and a pre-arranged warehouse switch to multiple other cars? Who does that? You ever heard of that happening? Ever? Very sophisticated.”

“It still could have been your guys.”

“I agree. But we don't know that. And I'm not sure they're smart or creative enough to have pulled it off.”

“I don't believe in some Russian criminal conspiracy.”

“Why?”

“You think they're going to break into an American museum and steal their own fake items to get more publicity and more money? And take the risk of killing somebody and getting some Russian arrested and the whole thing blown up?”

“They
weren't
going to kill anybody, and if one of them got caught, he'd just go quiet. They'd deny all knowledge. The fact that he's Russian would be irrelevant. They would probably claim it was the Russian mafia which is much bigger in this country than anybody acknowledges.”

“Call your man, and find out if they did it. And if they did, we're going to arrest his ass and put them all in jail.”

“You want me to call our CI without any
Miranda
warning, have him confess to a crime, and then arrest him for it?”

His irritation grew. “Call him.”

I nodded, “But if he doesn't admit it we need to keep going with our plan to get them to Germany.”

He was burning inside. “You created this shit stew and you should fix it.”

“I didn't create
anything
. I had nothing to do with this. And I
told
you and the Russians that people were out to get the Hitler stuff. I was trying to stop it and you didn't let me!” He said nothing.

“I'm going to find the flag and we're going to take it to Germany. And when we get them all together in Germany, we'll arrest them all. Or rather the Bundeskriminalamt will arrest them all and put them in jail for using Nazi symbols.”

“Where is this Blood Flag?”

“That's what my two friends from the BKA are helping me with. They think Argentina.”

“So now I suppose you want time and a budget to go get it.”

“Yes.”

He wasn't about to commit. “Find out what your Southern Volk friend says first. Then we'll decide what we're going to do. Does Karl support this?”

I hesitated. “Not sure.”

He replied, “See what you can find out.”

I went back to my office and logged onto my Gmail account. I sent an email to Jedediah. “Was that you?” I waited for a response but there was none. I stared at the screen. Nothing. I minimized the email screen and opened the travel portal and began pricing flights to Buenos Aires.

As I studied the flights my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen to see who it was. It was Florian. “Morning, Florian. You ready to head back to Germany?”

“We have been talking. It was not clear whether you wanted us to go to Argentina. And we don't know if you're still going.”

“Well, frankly I can't imagine how I'll find the flag without you. But I didn't want to impose. I assumed you'd at least help me narrow down where it was, but I'd love for you to come.”

Florian said, “This is what we hoped. But you should know that the German community in Argentina is very closed. They are suspicious. They suspect every Jew they encounter as being from Israel and trying to put a rope around their neck to take them back to Israel for a war crimes trial. And anybody else who is outside of their circle is also suspect. Including Germans.”

“Would they have more suspicion about Germans than Americans?”

“We're not sure. That's why we need a strong plan. We can't just find the person we think has it, and ask him for the flag.”

“Agreed.”

“So, if you have a plan, we would like to help. We have spoken with our superiors and the German government is behind you. They are concerned about what is happening and have given us permission to participate.”

“I wish my government was as concerned. Where are you now?”

“At the hotel.”

I looked at the clock. “Why don't you meet me at Hennigan's for lunch. It's one block west, on M street. I'll be there in about an hour.”

“We will see you there. Bring Alex.”

I beat Florian and Patrick to the restaurant and sat at the table fingering the menu. I wasn't hungry. In spite of my clever Russian theory, it probably was the Southern Volk. I wasn't really sure if the Russians were telling the truth about the replicas, but it wasn't a fine moment for the Bureau, the Atlanta police, or, frankly, for me.