The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (6 page)

Bear stared at him. “You talk, I’ll listen.”

“Not much more we can tell them. Let’s face it, we haven’t a clue what’s in the crates.” With a gulp, he finished his first cup of coffee. “I’m going for a shower. Leave me enough in the pot for another cup. When you’ve finished stuffing your face and had a shower, give us a knock. We might as well hit the press together.”

Bear grunted.

***

Petros looked around the crowded dining room before he turned to Rabbi Jacob. “I’ll leave the questions to you, Rabbi. In spite of everything that’s happened we haven’t seen the treasure.”

             
Bear motioned to Alicja, who stopped pouring coffee and sidled towards them. “Any chance of a coffee?”

             
She smiled. “On the house, three coffees and sandwiches on their way.”

             
“Ready?”  shouted Petros to the waiting news teams.

“
Two long wasted hours,” bellowed a male reporter from the nearest table.”

Jacob
smiled. “I will give you a few details of the items found and answer any questions. Three boxes have been opened. I can tell you there are many more.”

A barrage of questions followed.

He waited until there was silence. “Thank you, I hate having to shout. The finding of this treasure is of great importance to our community. In times of distress these items are often hidden and for many reasons never found. On opening the first box we discovered the Torah scrolls from a synagogue destroyed during the occupation. Most appear to be in excellent condition and will be in time displayed in the Museum of the History of Polish Jews. Much to our surprise, the next contained silver plates and Menorahs. The last held a large quantity of jewellery. Every item will be documented and photographed in the hope existing members of a family can make a claim. With the passing of time this may be unlikely but we must try.”

He
sipped at his coffee. “I must thank these two men who followed the words written by a man who died in one of the camps. Any questions?”

A blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, stood. “Rabbi, is there any truth in the rumour a passage leads to the Catholic Church?”

“While
these two men were underground they discovered many tunnels, most are storm drains and others roughly constructed. These might or may not lead to the church you mention.”

She beamed a smile. “So there’s no truth that the dark-skinned gentleman alongside you rose from a tomb inside the church?”

“You have obviously spoken to m
embers of the congregation who he frightened. Yes, he travelled through various tunnels, which ended in that church. In those passages are the remains of Poles who died defending their country. Whether they remain there or these tunnels are defined as a war grave is not our decision and most certainly not yours. Please allow the authorities to complete the grisly task. I’m certain the correct decision will be made.”

A small rotund man stood. “On
behalf of all here I thank you, Rabbi. Would it be permissible for us to enter the theatre and photograph those treasures you have?”

Jacob turned to Petros and Bear and in English asked,
“Would you like to see what you hit upon?”

“Of course
, Jacob,” said both men as one.

Jacob faced the media. “Ten minutes and
you may take your photographs. Let’s go.”

Outside, Jacob followed by Bear and Petros
, walked fast to the Jewish Theatre. He nodded to the two security guards and entered. Three empty boxes rested on the stone floor. “We opened them here and shifted the contents further inside where it has been documented.”

“Never realised there was so much,” said Bear.

“Why would you? One wall as you saw it was five boxes deep and you know how high.”

They followed Jacob.

“Wow,” said Petros, “all these scrolls.”

“Historically, priceless,” said Jacob.

“The jewellery?” asked Bear.

“Sorry,
in my safe until we take it to the bank.”

“Jacob, how mu
ch sleep did you get last night?” asked Petros.

There was a pause. “None.
Half a dozen employees of the museum and I worked through the night.”

“The army must have removed the grenades and ammo
,” said Bear. “Old grenades can be lethal if you pick them up.”

“Yes, th
ey were there most of the night as well.” He threw back his head and stretched his arms. “Must get on and let the media in. Thank you.”

“We get paid for our work,” said Petros
, “but this time it was a pleasure.”

T
he two men left the building and the media charged in.

On entering the ho
tel, Alicja handed Bear a printed message. ‘Saw your pictures on the news. Please return my call re a collection from Libya. Eva. Berlin.’

“Anyone we know?
” asked Petros.

“Not yet. But I have a strong suspicion we might.”

Part Three

Chapter One

Berlin 2012

The interior of the large white
concrete rectangular room was Spartan. In the centre stood a wooden table with thirteen chairs placed at regular intervals around its circumference. On the walls hung pristine Nazi flags; their red background with white circle and at the centre a black swastika. One gilt-framed picture of Adolf Hitler adorned the far wall.

             
Eva Engel, carrying a black leather briefcase, followed Maximilian Meyer into the room. Eleven men stood and waited. A close knit group recruited from around the world, their eyes fixed on him. In his early thirties, with hair styled similar to Hitler, he wore a light grey suit, white shirt and a red tie. Walking to the high-backed wooden chair he motioned for all to sit.

             
He gave the Nazi salute. “My friends,” his voice boomed around the room, “thank you for making time to be here. I know you have busy lives in your diverse occupations. We are the core of the New Order and will, when the time is right, rule Germany, our beloved Fatherland.” Maximilian spoke with excitement. “Europe is in financial chaos, immigration is uncontrolled, unemployment is at its worst for decades, and our people want change. Tonight we begin the campaign to rid our country of those who have full bellies and bow to the rest of the world. We reflect the emotions of the people for strong leadership. We will tell the masses what they need to know. Your patronage of the New Order is for the future of our country. Tonight at 22.00, many of our followers will start damaging riots across Europe. No one will know whom to blame. The police will find suitably drugged or drunk immigrants after the first confrontation. Evidence is in their homes to incriminate them and their like. London, Rome, and Paris will erupt with burning cars and mayhem. The most important factor in our schedule to win power and support is correct timing. We must not waver or turn back.” He continued, with his own version of Hitler’s twenty-five point plan for the new Germany.

             
He lifted the briefcase to the table and removed eleven named packages. “Gentlemen, in these are your orders and money for our storm-troopers. You will position yourselves as directed and film tonight’s action. These snippets you will place on face-book and twitter and any other site that will spread the word. Now go. Be proud, you are part of the rebirth of Germany.”

             
“You have worked out the strategy for this well,” said the nearest man.

             
“Unfortunately, I cannot see into the future and predict the exact time governments will fall under the pressure from the people. When chaos rules we will make our move. Until that moment sow the seeds of domination.”  

             
Eva smiled but remained silent, her pleasure being with him.

Maximilian stood
and ended the meeting.

             
When the room emptied, he turned, his voice tense, “Eva, are you certain the diamonds are where your grandfather left them?”

             
“I’m stunned. Don’t you believe me?”

             
His voice softened. “The New Order needs money to continue its great work.”

             
Eva stood and pressed her body against his and whispered, “It will have millions.” She sighed, “I need a shower, join me and scrub my back.”

             
He hesitated. “I must work. I’ll come to your room in half an hour.”

***

Maximilian opened the door
wide to Eva’s room. He needed her money but had an aversion to her sexual demands.

             
She sat naked on the end of the bed and beckoned him. When he stood in front of her, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her hard nipples. He sank to his knees and she pulled his head to her sexuality. Her thighs opened and he did what she wanted until her body shuddered in              uncontrolled spasms.

For a few moments, she held his head tight between her legs.
“Enough, I leave tonight for London.” She lowered her hands before pushing him away.

He stood, picked up the corner of a sheet and wiped his mouth.
“You do this for the cause?”

“Of course not. I do it because I like it
and you do it so well. Now go and make sure everything is ready. I must pack and travel to London and convince two men to enter Libya and retrieve a fortune in diamonds. Tonight is the beginning.”

Maximilian grimaced. “What if these men decide to return the diamonds to the authorities?”

Eva laughed. “They will not be
in a position to do so. My companions, Tim, Paul, Jan and the lovely Alex will make sure they tell no one.”

Max shrugged. “And which one will fill your bed in
London?”

Eva glared at him. “
When I have the diamonds, I will choose my lovers.”

Without a backward glance
, he left her room.

***

“Maria, look at this. There’s a riot in Newham, East London.”

T
he camera operator focused on groups of masked demonstrators as they smashed and set fire to parked cars, damaged shop windows and urged others to help themselves. The few police in attendance hung back as Molotov cocktails curved flaming arcs in the air before shattering on the road.

“
Why don’t they use water cannon? Blast the bastards out of existence,” shouted Petros.

“Calm yourself,” said Maria. “Why are they doing this?”

“Haven’t a clue. Perhaps the colour television they nicked has stopped working. No doubt the bloody do-gooders will shout and demand the government do something. I’d put the whole bloody lot of them in the army and after basic training send them to Afghanistan. After a few hours you’d find them under the same rock. Arseholes the lot of them.

“
Jesus Christ, the police just charged, snatched a protestor swinging a cricket bat. With the hood removed, he’s an Asian.” In a co-ordinated attack half a dozen petrol bombs struck the protestor. “Bloody hell, he’s ignited like a flare and no one cares. No, I’m wrong, two coppers have arrived with extinguishers, bet they’re too late for the poor sod.”

“I’m tired, turn it off and l
et’s go to bed.”

“Good idea.”
They climbed the stairs with Maria leading. “I’ll tell you this, if those bastards came near here, I’d give them something to complain about.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure you would.”