Jonty climbed into bed.
He’d chosen the largest chamber in Sturney Castle for his own, the one used long ago by the castle’s lord, the room fully furnished with period pieces, all representative of Slovakia’s past. Eli Reinhardt was down the hall, since he’d thought it a good idea to keep his newly acquired partner close.
They’d left the cache of documents in the mine, replacing the salt wall and disguising their invasion as best they could. Konrad had assured them that Level X was rarely accessed, since it was not actually part of the working mine. More a reminder from the past when the Soviets were in control, one few today cared to recall.
So the secret should be safe.
He’d promised Konrad some additional money, both to assure his silence and to cement his loyalty. They would need more visits to Level X in the weeks ahead as they determined what, if anything, there was to find. Unfortunately Jonty would be of little help, since his Polish was weak and his Russian nonexistent. Eli, of course, was fluent in both. But he was not about to allow his “partner” unfettered access. That would only end with Eli keeping the most valuable information for himself. No. He’d hire a surrogate and pay him or her enough to ensure that person stayed loyal. To further cement the relationship, Vic would accompany them at all times, since a little fear was a good thing. Both for Eli and for the hired help.
Eli had kept Art Munoz as his own personal protection. The Bulgarian was ensconced in the bedroom next to Eli. Why the need for a bodyguard? Who knew. But he’d decided to allow Reinhardt whatever he wanted. The important thing was to get through tomorrow and conclude the auction. The twenty million euros he would owe Eli was a small price to pay for no drama.
Yesterday’s enemy can be today’s friend.
How true.
Vic reported that six teams had been dispatched to various points in Poland, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and Austria. All within a few hours’ driving time. The Germans would not be participating. Eli had assumed their place and provided the Holy Nail from Bamberg Cathedral, which would be sold with the rest of the holy relics. He’d been worried about the Americans, but now they were in. Finally. He’d received both the RSVP and an image of the Spear of St. Maurice. Their presence was essential. During their phone call a few weeks back, Warner Fox had assured him that they would not only bid but actually win the auction, and that meant lots of U.S. dollars coming his way. Fox had been quite supportive of the endeavor, congratulating him on his enterprising ingenuity. More of that former businessman coming through, where money talked and more money talked louder.
He settled between the four posters, the firm mattress a wonder. The castle was wonderfully equipped. No expense had been spared in making it comfortable. For what he was paying for only a week’s worth of use, the whole place should be lined with gold.
Normally, he liked to read before falling asleep. A habit he’d acquired as a teenager, and one he’d maintained his entire adult life. He loved the classics but, if truth be told, a good mystery intrigued him, too. Something about the puzzle. Much like his own life, which at times seemed straight out of an international suspense thriller.
He was comforted to know that Vic was keeping an eye on things during the night. He doubted he’d be able to sleep otherwise. His man was also monitoring the six teams, ready to begin transportation of their charges in the morning. He’d chosen the middle of the day for the auction on purpose. Easier to spot trouble coming, and easier to get away. He trusted none of the bidders, but was counting on their parochial self-interests to ensure that all proceeded as planned.
The Pantry still bothered him. There were tens of thousands of documents there. It could take a long time to go through them and there was no guarantee there’d be anything of value. Repeatedly going in and out of that mine could eventually draw attention, though Konrad had informed them of a way down where there was little to no monitoring, used exclusively by the miners. Still, one lesson he’d learned from years of careful bargaining was never press your luck. Take what was there and get out. Nothing good ever came from prolonging things, and everything about that cache screamed long-term.
Eli had been right about one thing.
Why not make a deal with the Poles and sell it all, intact.
That would surely be worth millions of euros and he’d derive half, per his deal.
He was hungry. Perhaps he should have the staff bring him a snack. Maybe a fruit bowl. Nothing heavy. He’d always found sleep hard to acquire after too much of a good thing.
More of that never pressing your luck.
He rested a little easier knowing that all communications in and out of the castle were now being jammed. They’d stepped up that precaution before leaving for the mine earlier. So there was no way Eli could speak to anyone beyond the castle walls. He was mindful, though, of Eli’s threat about what would happen if he did not report in every few hours, so Vic had been told to allow those calls, but monitor every word. He was counting on his competitor’s greed to ensure that nothing went wrong.
He decided to pass on the snack and the reading.
His mind was already racing, and any more stimulants should be avoided.
He switched off the light.
Time for sleep.
Tomorrow would require his best.