73 |
73 |Unknown Location
Laura was led to the rear of the plane, squinting at the bright sunlight flooding in the rear as the ramp lowered. From the dry, hot air that swept in, and the barely two hours of flying time from Europe, she knew they had to be in a country rimming the Mediterranean. She had been recaptured in Poland, and the light through her hood and her previously unrelieved bladder, suggested it was the next day. They had obviously traveled a good distance by land, since two hours in the air from Poland would at best put them in Spain or Italy, neither countries she could see these men taking their cargo to.
And politics also reduced the possibilities. Turkey was likely out of the question, Syria and Israel definitely were, which left North Africa. She could see Egypt, Libya, or Tunisia, perhaps even Algeria, but that would be about it.
Yet knowing that didn’t help her while still a captive.
A man in flowing white robes typical of a Saudi sheik, climbed the ramp, his head covering and sunglasses concealing his identity fairly well. Laura made it a point not to look at him, just in case he got nervous she might identify him.
“Show me.”
Two of her captors opened several of the crates, revealing parts of the Amber Room dismantled by the Nazis over 70 years ago. A finger was run gently along the revealed panels, a finger that seemed to be trembling with excitement.
“How do I know it’s real?”
Her captor stepped forward, holding a hand out toward Laura. “I’ve brought an expert.”
A tablet was handed to the sheik, and she caught a glimpse of her photo. “Professor Laura Palmer. Currently with the Smithsonian.” The sheik turned toward her. “Tell me, Professor, is this the genuine article?”
She hesitated, and her captor’s eyes flared, reminding her of his threat. As desperately as she didn’t want to cooperate, she could see no point in lying or delaying the inevitable. It would merely ensure her death. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes drifted to her feet. “Yes.”
“You’re certain.”
“Yes. I’m convinced it’s genuine, as was my husband.”
He looked at the tablet. “Professor James Acton.”
Her heart ached at the mention of him. “Yes.”
“Very well.” He handed the tablet back then flicked a wrist at one of the men who had accompanied him. “Transfer the money.”
A laptop was produced, keys pressed, and moments later, one of her captors was smiling at the man in charge.
“Our business is concluded?” asked her captor.
The sheik nodded. “Yes. I insist you visit me when it has been reassembled. You should see what you and your men have accomplished.”
Laura couldn’t resist. “Why are you doing this?”
The sheik appeared surprised, his eyebrows rising past his sunglasses as he turned to her. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you taking this? This is a part of history. The public should be able to see it.”
“And they will, in time. But for now, it is mine, and I, along with my public, will be able to enjoy it in peace.”
She glared at him, reaching out for the crates protectively. “This is wrong.”
Her captor stepped closer. “Professor Palmer, I highly recommend you shut your mouth now, or you just might find our agreement terminated, and you along with it.”
She bit her tongue, and the sheik smiled. “Professor, do not worry. Your discovery will be perfectly safe, but at least now, some will get to enjoy what was presumed lost forever. In time, I will tire of it, and it will be sold to someone else. Eventually, somehow, somewhere, it will be once again shown to the masses, though as we both know, it never really was, now was it?”
Laura frowned, the man right. It had been created for royalty, and in fact, had spent most of its existence hidden away. She decided holding her tongue was for the best, and she merely nodded, turning to her captor. “Now what?”
“Now we say goodbye.”
She frowned, her heart hammering. “Why do I doubt that?”
Her captor smiled. “I don’t know, why would you?”
“I’ve seen your faces.”
The man laughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Professor, you’ve seen this face. I’ve had many, and I’ll have many more.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re just going to let me go.”
“Nothing is ever quite that simple.”
He stepped forward and sprayed something in her face.
Laura woke to yet another headache, her mouth dry, her bladder protesting even more than before. She sat up, discovering she was in the back seat of a car, a rather cheap one at that.
And she was alone.
Somebody tapped on the window and she flinched, scurrying to the other side of the car as a uniformed man peered inside, asking something in Arabic. She opened the opposite door and climbed out.
“Where am I?”
He gave her a look, surprised at the ridiculousness of the question. “Tunis. Are you okay?”
She nodded, debating whether she should confide in the man. She surveyed the area quickly, then gasped at the most beautiful sight she could imagine.
A Union Jack, fluttering in the wind.
She smiled at what she assumed was a police officer. “I’m fine, thank you.” She pointed at the flag. “I’m just going over there.”
She quickly headed toward what she prayed was the embassy, and as she rounded the corner, she nearly cried in relief, breaking out into a run as she neared the gates. She grabbed the bars, and a soldier approached. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Please, I’m a British citizen. I was kidnapped and don’t have my passport. My name is Laura Palmer, please let me in!”
His eyes widened. “Did you say your name is Laura Palmer? Professor Laura Palmer?”
She nodded, then paused.
How does he know I’m a professor?
The man stepped back, waving to someone. “Open the gates!”
The gates parted and she stepped inside, relief washing over her as she was now on British soil, safe from whatever might harm her only paces away. The guard disappeared into a gatehouse, and she could see him on the phone.
Somebody shouted from the entrance of the embassy, and she turned toward the sound, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun, then her shoulders heaved as she recognized her beloved James.
“Laura!”
She couldn’t move, her legs frozen in place, her shoulders slumping as the tears rolled, her body finally giving in to all the tension and pressure of the past day, finally knowing it was all over, that James was safe, and they would soon be home.
He grabbed her and lifted her into the air, hugging her hard as they both cried. “Thank God you’re okay!”
She held his face in her hands as she stared into his eyes, still not believing it was him. “What are you doing here?”
“We received a call. We were told that you would be showing up here at some point today, and that you were okay.”
She sighed, then hugged him again.
“Glad to see you’re okay.”
She smiled at the sound of her friend, and let go of James, grabbing Reading, giving him a kiss on both cheeks, and she knew he was relieved to see her by his lack of protests. He returned the hug then gently pushed her away. “Let’s get inside. They’ll want to debrief you, then fly us back to Europe.”
Acton put his arm around her shoulders, leading her to the embassy. “We lost the Amber Room. We thought we had tracked it to a ship, but it was a decoy. We eventually figured—”
“I saw it.”
“What?”
“They made me authenticate it to the buyer.”
Reading stopped, turning toward her. “Who was it?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. Looked like a Saudi sheik, but could have been anyone from that part of the world.”
“The transport you were on had Saudi diplomatic status,” said Reading, resuming walking.
Laura sighed. “I’m afraid we’re never going to see it again.”
“Why did he take it?”
She laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. “For his private collection.”
He cursed. “We need to find it.”
“I don’t see how, unless you can track the airplane.”
Reading shook his head. “It won’t matter. Not with diplomatic status. We can’t touch it.”
She frowned. “Which means we can’t touch him.”
James growled. “We should at least be able to catch the thieves. We got a good look at them, and they were on enough cameras.”
Laura shook her head. “No. They apparently change their faces all the time. I got the impression they do this for a living.”
Reading grunted. “I think you’re right. Unfortunately, the only lead we had on them, their contact with the Dark Web troll, turned up nothing. Everything was handled through encrypted messengers, and paid with Bitcoins. It’s a dead end.”
Acton sighed. “I can’t believe that the Amber Room is once again lost to the world.”