The Grumman Gulfstream touched down on the tarmac with its trademark silky landing and the two VIP passengers immediately disembarked and walked across to the waiting blacked-out Mercedes 600 limo.
Richard Franklin relished his foreign trips with Bormann, especially when it was just the two of them. He would regale him with stories of the glory days when the Third Reich was in its pomp and his father was riding high and looking invincible. Richard loved hearing first-hand accounts of the Anschluss – the unification of Germany with Austria; the unopposed seizure of Czechoslovakia and the spectacular Nazi parade down the Champs-Élysées after the French capitulated. Then came the betrayal. The arrogant generals who stubbornly refused to follow the Führer’s military orders. Finally, the reality, in late 1944, that the war was lost and the recognition that Nazi treasures would inevitably fall into the hands of the communists and Western Allies. Bormann explained to Richard how, at that time, he looked for a safe haven and began shipping Nazi gold and priceless artworks to Switzerland and South America.
Goehner and Roths was one of the oldest private Swiss banks, having been established in1865. Their motto, engraved on the gold oval nameplate above the main red-brick entrance stated “Personal Service and Discretion”. Discretion was a code word for secrecy. The bank, which was situated on Bahnhofstrasse, one of the most exclusive avenues in Zurich’s business quarter, also operated a small number of undisclosed vaults that were hidden in underground bunkers built into the foothills of the Alps. These secret facilities were not subject to normal banking regulations and were only available to clients who held over a billion dollars on account. They couldn’t be accessed by road or foot and therefore the bank laid on a helicopter for those “special” clients who desired to visit their secret possessions.
After a short fifteen-minute flight, Franklin and Bormann, accompanied by the bank’s chief executive, Christian Keller, passed through the various security protocols and finally reached the entrance to their private vault. Richard felt as though he were entering a classic Bond villain’s lair that had literally been carved out of the side of a mountain.
Keller was a smooth operator; his wiry six-foot frame was coated by a light blue designer linen suit, complemented by a crisp white cotton shirt and matching blue silk tie. He had a sharp, angular face dominated by heavily defined cheekbones that created a rather gaunt but nevertheless striking appearance. His thick brown hair was perfectly coiffured and held in position, courtesy of a generous amount of product. He moved with remarkable elegance, appearing to glide over the shiny concrete floor of the underground corridor that led to Bormann’s vault. The three men came to a stop, facing the massive circular entrance door, which was slightly ajar. Keller, who had led the way, turned and addressed Bormann.
“Mr Franklin, welcome back to your vault. I will leave you now and return to the waiting lounge upstairs. Please take all the time you require and, when you are ready to leave, as usual, simply press the red button located just inside the entrance and I will return to collect you. I trust you will find everything in order.”
Keller slightly bowed his head and wafted off down the long narrow corridor. It was the first time Richard had visited the vault and, as he followed Bormann inside, he was immediately surprised by how vast it was. It needed to be. It housed a collection of unique treasures with the combined value of hundreds of millions of dollars. Bormann ignored the high stacks of gold bars that spanned floor to ceiling and covered nearly a quarter of the entire space. Instead, he walked directly to the back wall where dozens of artworks were neatly positioned in upright piles, determined by size. He knelt down and picked up a large oil painting, partially covered by a white dust sheet. It featured a stunning display of red poppies, set in rolling green fields, underneath a crystal-blue sky. The ornate gold-painted wooden frame added an air of authority and beauty to the artwork and Richard immediately recognised the unmistakable brushstroke work of the artist. Bormann gently touched the painting with his fingertips.
“This Van Gogh is one of my personal favourites. It used to hang above the fireplace in a baronial mansion owned by the Weichmann family in Munich. They ran a massive chain of jewellery shops across the country and for years they ripped off the German people with extortionate prices. Like all Jews, they exploited and manipulated our economy, always looking to feather their own nests. Naturally, as with all the artworks in this vault, it rightfully belongs to the Führer, and, therefore, it now belongs to you and your family.”
He carefully handed it across to Richard, who was stunned by its natural beauty and provenance.
Bormann uncovered a number of other paintings, all works of grand masters. He smiled to himself as he appreciated that the hidden vault contained one of the greatest art collections in the world. Another secret only he, and now Richard, knew about.
“Remember, Richard, the gold and gemstones can be leveraged at any time, should you or the corporation need an injection of capital, but these artworks are never to be sold. They are your legacy and one day will hang in your home and the home of your son.”
Richard nodded and closed his eyes. He thought about the master plan for John’s future and couldn’t help but wonder if, one day, the Van Gogh would hang on a wall inside the Oval Office.