The Stolen (36 page)

‘They fit!' Latcos exclaimed.

‘They are designed to. Beautiful, eh?'

‘Witchcraft,' Latcos murmured and crossed himself for good measure.

‘Ulrich would question me for hours about the amulets and curses my grandmother taught me,' Keja suddenly said from her chair. ‘I never betrayed our people. Sometimes I would even make up things. This has his mark all over it. The arrogance – to give himself his own cross.'

‘Don't worry, he is in hell now, Mother.'

‘Not hell, his spirit is wandering and it will wander for ever, never finding peace. It was my
armaja
, placed on him the moment he killed my father.'

‘May he rest in peace,' Latcos added then turned back to Matthias, who pulled the pieces apart again. ‘These symbols are like a code, an emblem that I suspect links the four men. Three Swiss and the German man who fathered you.'

Matthias pulled a pen from his pocket and drew in the two other missing symbols – Fire and Earth – around the three fitted metal ones. ‘The whole piece is actually made up of the four elements, with the hourglass representing Time placed in the centre. This left triangle is Fire, the one at the top is Earth, the right one is Water and the bottom one is Air.'

‘So you need the two other pieces to make up the key?' Latcos said. ‘A key that might open the vault where the valuables are hidden?'

‘Yes – and that's the trouble. I'm pretty sure Zellweger has one piece, and it's impossible to get near him. He has serious security, an ex-member of the Vory.'

Latcos whistled. ‘I don't go near those guys. And you don't know who might have the other piece?'

‘He would be ex-Nazi, around Christoph's age, associated with Earth. So you see the dilemma: there's got to be at least a thousand men in Zürich that fit that description.'

‘You have the exact dimensions?'

‘I could calculate them.'

Latcos grinned widely. ‘So what's the problem?'

Delighted, Keja clapped her hands then kissed Latcos on both cheeks as Matthias looked on perplexed.

‘I don't understand…'

‘My son, he's the best metalworker I know,' Keja said triumphantly.

‘I will have them ready in a day.'

‘Really?'

‘Sure. They won't be perfect, but I can fix the edges so that they will fit and they will have the correct weight if this pretty little thing is actually a key.'

‘Excellent. But I have a gut feeling about the meaning of the whole symbol; I don't believe it's just a key – there's some other meaning here, a map, or some kind of message that indicates where the statuette might be. But I've been staring at it for a day now, and I can't solve it.'

‘
De
j
?
' Latcos turned to Keja. ‘You try.' He looked back at Matthias. ‘She's a
phuri dej
, a wise woman. Sometimes they come from as far as Turkey seeking her advice.'

Keja lifted up the three pieces firmly fixed as one. ‘Two words make a sentence – two sides one whole. Fire, Earth, Water and Air, you say – with Time placed on top – the time before and the time after creation rolling into the blackness for ever…' She shut her eyes as she held up the piece before the candlelight, then her eyelids snapped open. ‘It is describing a place.' She pointed to the top triangle of the square. ‘Earth sits above Air. This is unnatural, except when Air is underground, as in a cave, or catacomb or any underground space.' She pointed to the left triangle. ‘There is Fire to the left of this cave, and Water to the right.'

Matthias stared down and Ulrich's words came back into his head again.

‘“What rolls on regardless of everything else?”' he said out loud. The others looked up at him, puzzled. ‘It was one of the last things Ulrich said, and I told him Time. So what holds up Time?'

Latcos shouted: ‘A clock tower! Matthias, a clock tower holds up Time for all to see!'

‘It's so simple it makes sense.'

‘But Zürich is full of them,' Latcos said, a little defeated.

‘Except for one thing: this location is the heart of the map. Find this location and you will find the plunder, but the elements in the actual design – Fire, Water, Air and Earth – are also symbolic. I believe they might represent businesses linked to the cartel behind the plunder,' Matthias pointed out.

‘The Swiss men involved?'

‘The clock book Klauser gave me that once belonged to Christoph – it has the descriptions of his most prized clocks. Each timepiece was made to represent an element and they have the same symbols for Fire, Water, Earth and Air etched into their bases. The final clue to the exact location of the plunder lies with them, I know it.'

‘So where are they now?'

‘Still in Christoph's house.'

‘I'll have the two pieces made by tomorrow night; I have friends here with a workshop I can use.'

‘Tomorrow night it is.'

The villa was a citadel of shadow and moonlight – silent and resentful behind its high walls. The two men stood outside the large iron gate as Matthias tapped in the security code painfully aware of the camera staring down. It was hard not to feel like an intruder; his father's absence was almost as oppressive as his presence had been when he was living, and although Matthias knew the camera was blind and that there was no one staring through it he still felt as if his every move were being observed.

‘Christoph's soul,
peskiri dii
; it would be able to find its way back from the family tomb,' Latcos murmured, staring up at the name of the villa worked into the ironwork.

‘Trust me, Christoph's ghost is the least of our worries.'

‘How do you know? How do you know he knows he is even dead?' Latcos persisted, a growing anxiety in his voice. ‘You said he died with regrets.'

‘Latcos, there is no ghost.' But the young Rom was already over by a tree pulling a large leaf-covered branch off. He carried it back to the gate then, after climbing up, wove the branch through so that the name of the villa was concealed.

‘Now his spirit will be confused; he will not know the door of his own house.'

A second later there was a click and the gate swung open. Matthias stepped into the front garden, the frost-crisp grass crunching under his boots. Latcos, his breath misting in the chilly air, suddenly halted. He stared up at the large building. ‘This is where you grew up?' he murmured. In his eyes it looked as unfriendly as a prison.

‘For the first eight years until they sent me to boarding school. Impressed?' Matthias joked.

‘No,' Latcos said, then spat on the ground. ‘It has no colour and you would need a family of twenty or thirty people to fill it, yet you tell me it was just you and two others. Such a place has no heart.'

‘You're wrong. Christoph was a good father, even if he wasn't a good man.' They reached the front door and he began fumbling for the right key, the search becoming a journey through memories: the Christmas when Christoph created a treasure hunt in the garden, the clues he'd laid an intelligence test for the ten-year-old Matthias. Matthias had revelled in the problem-solving and Christoph had been delighted at the speed at which the boy found his first gift – a chemistry set. The snow-laden fir trees that edged the large garden brought back that evening, the complex metaphors Christoph had composed containing symbols of the elements mixed in with small metaphoric drawings.
Making puzzles – Christoph was always making puzzles
, Matthias thought to himself.
Did he want me to solve the puzzle of the symbols? Perhaps even the puzzle of my own origins
?

‘Did you always know I would find this trail, Christoph?' he completed the thought out loud.

Latcos looked at him, shivering in the cold. ‘I hope he can't hear you.'

‘So do I.' He finally managed to turn the key and they entered.

‘Where are the clocks? I don't want to stay in this place for long,' Latcos hissed, smelling something fearful in the stale air. Matthias nodded towards the study, always his favourite room of the house. He closed the door, shutting out the heavier atmosphere of the reception hall. Latcos's eyes widened in wonder as he went over to the fireplace and picked up a Fabergé egg sitting on a mount.

‘Is this real?'

‘Of course.'

Latcos whistled in appreciation. ‘I've never seen a real one, although I've manufactured a few fake ones. Heavy, isn't it?' He held it up under a lamp and peered at the gold filigree work that covered the top half. ‘Such fine work.' He was about to slip it into his pocket when Matthias grabbed his wrist. Reluctantly Latcos returned the egg to its stand.

Matthias walked over to the clock collection on the side table. On the far side sat the clock that symbolised Water and next to it was the timepiece that represented Earth. Then came Fire and lastly Air. He wondered why he'd never really noticed their design before. Was it because they were always Christoph's domain, emblematic of his great need to control the environment around him, perhaps even Time itself?

‘They are beautiful.' Latcos's whisper right beside him jolted Matthias back into the room.

‘Commissioned by Marie Antoinette and almost two hundred years old. Water, Earth, Air and Fire. Which do you think should be placed next to which? Perhaps there's meaning in the way the four faces relate to each other?' he pondered, at a total loss as to how they could possibly provide a clue to the location of the statuette or any other treasure.

‘Think about which came first, when the Earth was created,' Latcos suggested hopefully.

‘Well, first there was Fire, Earth, Water then Air.' Matthias switched the positions of the clocks accordingly but any connection between the four seemed arbitrary.

He noticed that the time on all the clocks was a minute to midnight. He checked his own watch – the time was correct; they were still running on Christoph's last winding. The hands ticked into one and the clocks began to chime the hour. To Matthias's surprise the individualised chiming joined together to make a tune, as if the chimes had been re-engineered to be heard in concert. The melody was tantalisingly familiar yet unrecognisable out of context.

Latcos clapped his hands in excitement. ‘These clocks, they have a song – one song from four clocks.'

‘Christoph must have done it deliberately before he died. It's a clue, Latcos, one he wanted me to find. I know the tune, but from where?' Matthias said as the chiming stopped. The grief he hadn't been able to express at Christoph's funeral now swept through him. The image of his father mustering enough strength to recalibrate the clocks in the hope that he would find the trail of clues distressed him.
Was I too harsh in my judgement?

‘Matthias? Are you okay?' Latcos asked, worried by his sudden silence.

‘It's nothing…' Matthias, embarrassed, turned to carefully rotate the old brass knobs at the back of each clock, winding each hand back so they were again set just before the hour. After a minute they all began chiming again. And then, ‘I know it, Latcos, I know it! This is the way the bells chime at the Alte Uhr Kirche.
Christoph and several others funded its restoration years ago. It's off the Hirschengraben. That has to be the location!'

Latcos's eyes narrowed in perplexity.

‘But why go to so much trouble to conceal the goods? Why not just lodge it all in a Swiss vault?'

‘Because this way there was absolutely no possibility Interpol, the Swiss banking association or the world Jewish lobby would ever discover it. And if I'm right the direction of the four sides of the other symbols will tell the rest of the story.' Swept up in the exhilaration of discovery, he held out his hand. ‘Give me the pieces you made.'

Latcos fished into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a small packet wrapped in tissue. Matthias pulled out the three pieces he had and, with trembling fingers, slotted the five pieces together. It was a perfect fit.

‘Latcos, you're brilliant,' Matthias said, impressed. ‘If this is a key, all four men would have to meet to open the vault.'

‘Including Ulrich?'

‘Exactly. Remember he told me just before he died that he had been betrayed to a Nazi hunter. He must have made visits and then…'

‘The other men cut him out of the deal.'

‘But the question is where exactly in the church…' Matthias glanced round the room. Sandwiched between two books was a map of central Zürich. He pulled it down. Excitedly he opened it to the page where the Alte Uhr Kirche was located then placed the symbol so that the hourglass apex lay on top of the church.

‘There is a clock tower at the church – that is our hourglass. All we need to look for now is where
Earth sits above Air
. I'm guessing that will be the crypt.' He peered at the street names and exclaimed, ‘The bottom symbol is Air and the showroom for the Holindt Watch Company lies in that direction. The left triangle is Fire…' His finger traced the marked streets, west of the church. ‘There you go, Zellweger Industries, Arms Manufacturers of Zürich.' His finger moved along to the Water symbol on the right of the hourglass. ‘Something or someone represents Water to the east. Remember Ulrich told me he chose that in honour of his brother who was in the German navy. Now the top symbol is Earth, that's north.' Looking closer, he racked his brains for a substantial business headquarters in that area and direction. His eyes fell on a particular street and he blanched visibly.

‘Matthias, are you all right?'

‘It's not possible.' Due north of the Alte Uhr Kirche was the Mueller Bank. He looked for alternatives but could see none. ‘Thomas is Earth? Not Otto Kuven? Thomas was my wife's mentor and he is my daughter's godfather.' Matthias stared at Latcos, shaking with rage. ‘I have been a complete fool.'

The gypsy put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Matthias, we must find the vault.'

Matthias took a long shuddering breath.

‘Matthias, come back to me,' Latcos shook his shoulder then looked back down at the symbol lying over the church on the map. ‘These men, they choose a holy place to hide our stolen treasure. This is sacrilege…' Latcos crossed himself, ‘but clever. If I'd stolen such treasure I would hide it where no one would think of, and you know the place people always forget to look?'

‘No?'

‘Right under their noses.'

‘There has to be information about that restoration. Christoph was meticulous; he filed everything.'

Matthias began pulling open the drawers of the desk, and found a lower drawer stacked with files, the top one marked with the word
Philanthropie
. He pulled each file out furiously until he found what he was looking for. A slim A4 cardboard file marked
Alte Uhr Kirche
. His fingers trembled with excitement as he opened it and began reading out loud. ‘
Restoration 3rd of March 1963 until 7th of January 1964
– just after the murder of Eberhard Neumann – and here the list of private donors who funded the restoration —'

‘Let me guess. Christoph von Holindt, Janus Zellweger and Thomas Mueller.'

‘Exactly, and look – a nice little footnote explaining that Thomas himself personally oversaw the restoration.'

Matthias swept up the map and the key then made for the door. Latcos hurried after him.

‘Where are we going?'

‘Church.' Matthias raced through the entrance hall and yanked open the front door.

‘But it's almost midnight.'

‘So? No time like the present.'

‘But there are graveyards next to churches,' Latcos called after Matthias. ‘And graveyards have ghosts.'

 

By the time they'd found themselves walking through the narrow lanes of the Altstadt it was past midnight and the streets had emptied of the night revellers and tourists that frequented the area's bars and clubs. They walked swiftly, Matthias with a large canvas bag over his shoulder filled with some of the mountain-climbing equipment he kept in his car boot: a crowbar, climbing rope and a pickaxe. Latcos was in his sheepskin jacket, his leather boots quiet against the snow-covered pebbles. They turned the corner into a cul-de-sac with a tinkling fountain in the middle. Latcos, seeing the exclusive shop window advertising Holindt watches, froze.

‘This is the place where my uncle was killed, isn't it?'

‘We'll finish what he began, I promise you, Latcos. Yojo will not have died in vain.'

‘It is not about revenge. As the firstborn son it would have been Yojo's duty to protect the statuette, to hand it onto his sons. All he wanted was to bring it back into the family. For this he was killed.' Latcos walked over to the fountain and touched the surface of the water. ‘Sometimes I feel he is with us, his breath on the back of my neck trying to tell me things I can't quite hear. Until we finish this he will not rest in his grave. Keja knows this also; she just cannot bring herself to say the words.'

Matthias studied his half-brother's face, the faint echo of his own features catching the lamplight. He recognised so little and yet at times Latcos would surprise him with traits he knew they shared: the tendency to obsess, a fierce pride, an aloofness born of shyness.

‘Come, we should get there while there's still cloud over the moon.'

 

The narrow side lane broadened into a tiny square with Alte Uhr Kirche looming opposite. A small church, it was sunk by its antiquity into the pavement. The clock tower dwarfing the structure was like a finger pointing up at the heavens, piercing the huge yellow disc of a full moon, half-covered by the feathery lace of a cloud. The street was empty except for a stray cat that yowled then dashed across the cobblestones as if being chased by something invisible. Matthias stared up at the tower, the memory of the opening ceremony all those years back flooding through him: the brass band, the gaggle of officials clustered awkwardly in their suits and hats, the parade of priests as they carried in a large gold altar cross.

The cloud cleared allowing the moonlight to fall on the clock face. It was then that Matthias noticed something extraordinary. ‘Latcos, look!' He pointed up to the clock face. There were no hour or minute arms. ‘Infinity!
What holds up Time?
' he quoted. ‘There's the answer to the riddle.'

‘God, my brother, God holds up time – only him.'

 

The side of the church had no windows, except a small one set high up. He guessed this probably led into an office. He turned back to Latcos.

‘How good are you at climbing?'

Latcos followed his gaze then grinned. ‘Good? I am professional.'

Ten minutes later Matthias found himself waiting silently in the shadow of a tree, staring up at the side window for a signal from Latcos inside, when a policeman on foot patrol walked into the square. Matthias immediately pressed against the wall, hoping he would melt into the background, praying Latcos would not open the church doors just yet. He glanced up – luckily the gypsy had swung the window shut after he'd crawled through it. He'd had to stand on the physicist's shoulders to hoist himself up, but he was as nimble as a monkey and Matthias suspected it wasn't the first time Latcos had broken into a building.