18 |
18 |South of Kwidzyn (formerly Marienwerder), Poland Present Day
Acton stretched with an exaggerated groan, eliciting smiles from those around him. They were all feeling the burn of having worked through most of the night. Two members of the Gdansk University’s security team were stationed outside to keep any nosy neighbors out, but beyond being bouncers, they weren’t of much use.
Almost a dozen faculty and students from Lisowski’s university were now here helping catalog what was turning into an incredible find. Twenty-seven crates, all on the boxcars, were confirmed to contain panels from the Amber Room and nothing else. They had obviously been transported in a hurry, just before this chamber was sealed to the outside world.
After documenting the scene with photographs and video, local officials collected the bodies, some German soldiers, but most appearing to be miners, probably local, finally ready to be reunited with their families.
They had been somber moments, observed by all as each body was removed, reminding him of 9/11 when the entire recovery operation was halted each time another of the fallen heroes was recovered.
He still choked up at the memories.
Working through the night, and with the extra personnel, they had managed to catalog most of the discovery beyond the train. Hundreds of pieces of priceless artwork from paintings to sculptures, had been discovered, many of which they recognized. It was stunning.
And yes, there had been gold.
But despite there being stacks of it, it couldn’t compare to the treasure trove of creations from skilled artisans over the centuries.
It was the discovery of a lifetime.
Something echoing from the shaft leading to the entrance had him spinning and raising a hand. “Everyone quiet!”
Everyone froze, and he cocked an ear, not hearing anything else.
“What is it?” asked Laura, tiptoeing beside him.
“I thought I heard something.”
“What?”
“I could have sworn it was gunshots.”
The room noticeably tensed, even Acton’s heart hammering, his encounters with the evil of this world happening far too frequently for his liking, and they were sitting on a find so valuable, that few thieves could resist its lure if they knew it existed.
“I’m going to check it out.”
Laura grabbed his arm, holding him back as footfalls echoed from the tunnel, one set joined by another, then another. Soon the chamber was filled with a cacophony of heavy footsteps, sending Acton’s heart racing as he held out an arm and gently pushed Laura behind him.
What I’d give for a Glock right now.
Yet even if he were armed, it sounded like there were too many for one person to make a difference.
The first emerged, dressed casually, a submachine gun strapped around his neck, bold as brass as if he had nothing to fear.
And he didn’t, not with the three other men behind him, their weapons aimed at the terrified academics.
“Who’s in charge here?” asked the man in a thick accent Acton guessed was Russian.
Lisowski stepped forward. “I am.”
The man pulled a pistol and shot Lisowski in the thigh. She cried out in agony, collapsing to the ground as Acton and Laura rushed toward her.
“I’ll ask again, who’s in charge?”
Acton glared up at him as the rest of Lisowski’s staff cowered in fear, whimpers and sobs already breaking out. He rose, stepping toward the man.
“You are.”
“Exactly.” The man eyed him up and down, as if assessing whether Acton was a threat. “Identify yourself.”
Acton decided there was no point in lying. “Professor James Acton.”
One of the henchmen pulled out a tablet, typing something, then held up the result for the leader to see. He nodded, then looked at Laura, tending to Lisowski’s wound. “Then you must be Professor Laura Palmer.”
Laura glanced over at him. “I am.”
“It says here you are both archaeology professors.”
Acton suppressed a frown, his stomach flipping as he realized where this might be heading. “We are.”
“Then you are who I need.” He motioned to his men. “Tie the rest up.” They rushed forward, bundles of zip ties pulled out and tossed to the others.
Laura glared at the man who tossed two zip ties at her. “This woman needs medical attention.”
The leader stepped forward. “And she’ll get it, as soon as we’re gone, so the quicker you cooperate, the quicker we’re out of here. Understood?”
Laura turned her head away, likely to hide her disdain for the man. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” The leader turned toward Acton. “You know what we’re here for. Where is it?”
Acton shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
The man shook his head, tapping his watch. “Tick tock, Doc. We’re here for the Amber Room. Which crates contain it?”
Acton was tempted to make the man look for it himself, but as the blood continued to pool beside a pale Lisowski, he decided any delaying tactics would merely put his colleague’s life at risk. He pointed at the two boxcars. “The entire room is contained in the crates aboard these two boxcars.”
“Is there anything else on them?”
Acton shook his head. “No.”
The leader climbed into the back, examining several of the opened crates, a smile spreading.
And it enraged Acton to think that after seventy years, what had been thought lost to humanity forever, was about to be lost again. He hated thieves with a passion, and would have no problem if men like this were simply summarily executed for their crimes.
But that was fantasy, and he had to deal with reality.
And that meant asking why the man had said he and Laura were what he needed.
The man hopped down and nodded at another of his team, a radio raised with something said. Engines roared at the opposite end of the tunnel almost immediately. A forklift and small truck appeared moments later, the leader pointing at the two boxcars. “Let’s make this quick, gentlemen. We’re on a timeline.”