The Stolen (35 page)

Now Matthias was wide awake. ‘Were you able to find the exact location in Rajasthan?'

‘No. Naturally many of the original names of the villages and towns have altered over time and it's a massive province.'

‘So at least I have a rough idea where the statuette may have originated. Now I just have to find where it's hidden in Zürich. Helen, from an anthropologist's point of view, tell me – why would a powerful man openly advertise a symbol that could incriminate him if the true meaning of that symbol became clear?'

‘Well, in terms of tribal cultures, symbols – like warrior markings – are advertisements for strength or magical symbols that will bring you strength or protection. I suspect it would be sheer hubris, or even an unconscious desire to be caught, or alternatively if the symbol is a true cipher, a message to others, who would understand the hidden meaning instantly.'

Matthias sat up in bed. ‘Other Nazis,' he said softly.

The water lapped against the sides of the rowing boat, and a bitterly cold wind blew across the Zürichsee, making the coloured buoys bounce like madly bobbing clowns' heads.

‘Do people even fish in winter?' Matthias wondered out loud.

‘They do now.' Detective Timo Meinholt, dressed in a thick winter jacket and hat with earflaps, sat opposite and began emptying his pockets. He pulled out some fishing bait and, to Matthias's surprise, a battered old yo-yo. ‘There's no surveillance out here – they can't even lip-read with binoculars from this distance. Something Klauser taught me, God rest his soul.'

‘Why the yo-yo?' Matthias couldn't resist asking.

‘Oh that was Klauser's – always claimed it helped him brainstorm. Can't say it works for me. But I keep trying.' Timo's voice cracked, and Matthias guessed he missed the maverick.

Embarrassed, the detective threaded the bait onto the hook then swung the fishing line into the choppy water. The line floated then caught on something pulling against the rod. ‘Fuck, I hate fish.' He fastened down the rod, then handed Matthias some fishing tackle and a few feathered flies. ‘Here, make out you're preparing your rod – we'll be less conspicuous. Now, what do you need? I can tell you that I've been followed since Klauser's funeral and I've only just lost the little prick.'

‘Janus Zellweger…' Matthias said.

At the name Timo missed his bait and pierced his thumb with the hook.

‘Fuck it!'

‘Was Klauser researching him when he died? Yes or no…'

‘Yes.' Timo yanked the hook out and blood immediately began beading up. ‘There was a pre-war connection between him and Christoph von Holindt – they both were politically active just before it broke out.' He pulled out a large handkerchief and wrapped his bleeding thumb up in it. ‘Both members of that happy little club, the nationalsozialistische Bund treuer Eidgenossen, not that that was illegal itself – some of my best friends and all that shit. I think Otto Kuven might have been involved also – he was in the army, and he's quite blatant about his politics.'

‘Christoph and Janus were also in the military – Christoph in the air force and Zellweger in the auxiliary… Air and Fire… although, of course, Zellweger must have been just a kid then.'

‘So what? It's compulsory in this country, as you know. Your father spent a lot of money making that little piece of history go away. But Herr Zellweger was cleverer. He made sure he had a change of name and identity. With a little help from Dieter Schwitters, who, I've discovered, had access to that old fascist Rolf Henne's files, Klauser made the link.'

‘Do you think that was why Schwitters and Klauser were killed?'

‘No. I don't think people care that much. After all, those who are old enough remember what our government had to do to avoid Aktion Schweiz – the Nazi invasion of Switzerland – and the laundering of plundered Nazi gold through the Bank for International Settlements then onto the SNB is a very badly kept secret. No, I believe Klauser was about to discover something far uglier and he was silenced. And there's something I turned up after Klauser's death about the murdered gypsy outside the von Holindt showroom – the only other vehicle seen on the road at that time was a cleaning machine. I contacted the company that owned the machine and that day it was being operated by a temporary employee with the interesting alias of Gennady Kharkov, theoretically once an employee of Zellweger Enterprises, who deny they've ever heard of him. A crack shot and a boss of the Vory, the Russian criminal mafia, Gennady Kharkov was definitely not pissing about in Zürich on a freezing winter's morning taking pot-shots at gypsies. However, there is a Russian who
does
work for Zellweger, an Olek Popov, who is no friend of Kharkov's and is obviously an amateur comedian. Herr Janus got him out of the Soviet Union and there's fierce loyalty there.'

‘Tattoos on the knuckles, missing an index finger?'

‘That's the bloke.'

‘Janus approached me at my father's funeral and more or less told me to stop asking questions, then threatened me and my daughter.'

Timo shook his head. ‘Zellweger's reputation is pristine – no other arms manufacturer has given so much to charity, donated to museums, art galleries, conducted political campaigns for fair pay, equality and all the rest of the arse-licking propaganda. If he goes down, half the canton goes down with him.'

‘Which is why I have to get my facts right.'

A duck landed nearby, indifferent to the two men in the boat.

‘I'm sorry about your father.' Timo held Matthias's gaze and Matthias wasn't sure whether he was referring to Christoph, but to his relief the detective continued, ‘He may have been a bad man but no one deserved to die that way.'

‘He died of a heart condition.'

‘No. Your father died because he'd been terrified to death. I got access to the police report and the assistant had had his throat cut – but only after he'd been tortured. And yet your father's statement was notably devoid of any real information. It was as if he were hiding something.'

‘I think he was protecting me; in his own way he loved us.'

Matthias looked away. The duck was fishing tail up, head down; its mate, a drab female, followed behind it. Sitting beside him Timo studied the physicist for a moment, wondering about the emotional complexities behind his seemingly calm façade. ‘You understand I have a family. I'm one of the little men. I'm not like Klauser; I'm no crusader,' the detective concluded, his voice tinged with chagrin.

‘Switzerland is full of little men defending the little turf they have. There is no such thing as morally ambiguous times, not now, not during the war, nor the next dictatorship. We, the Swiss, can be a little too pragmatic.' Matthias tried to sound understanding but failed.

‘I should go. I have to be back by three otherwise my absence will be noticed.' Timo started to pack the fishing tackle away.

‘One last thing: Zellweger Enterprises had changed their logo by March 1963.'

‘You think that was significant?'

‘Yes, I do. The brand and the company were already internationally renowned; it would have been extraordinarily expensive to have changed the logo on a whim. Besides, I don't think Janus Zellweger does anything on a whim.'

‘If Klauser was here he'd tell you to separate the two facts – the logo change and the date it was changed. Both have meaning; what you have to work out is how the two meanings are linked. Klauser was working on a connection to the murder in 1963 of an Eberhard Neumann, who was linked to several artefacts named as Nazi plunder. It was his gallery's name that was on the book of clocks that once belonged to Christoph von Holindt.'

‘I know. The question is, is there any inciting event that might link these two facts?'

‘In December 1962, pressured by the world Jewish lobby, the Swiss bankers' association asked its banks to investigate any accounts that might have belonged to holocaust victims. This was really the first time the amount of stolen gold, money and art lodged by the Nazis at Swiss banks and art galleries came to public light. If Janus was involved he would have been nervous. If it were discovered he was involved with Nazi plunder he would stand to lose everything.'

Matthias sat back, the exhilarating sense of being close to solving the meaning behind the ornate symbol flooding through him. He was so close…

‘You are taking on the whole world, Herr von Holindt; more pertinently you are taking on
your
whole world. Klauser said you were a good man but I still don't get it. With Christoph von Holindt dead, you will presumably inherit the whole estate. You have your science, your own international reputation, so why this battle? It's one you might well die fighting.'

‘If I told you, you would never believe me,' Matthias replied, smiling for the first time since he stepped into the boat.

Timo studied him thoughtfully. ‘I can't openly help you, but if you need any information I might be able to oblige. After all, it just takes a few little men to bring down the great.'

 

 

The steaming thick black liquid was poured into glasses like Turkish coffee. Without asking Keja spooned two large teaspoons of sugar into each cup then placed one before Matthias and the other in front of Latcos, who was huddled beside the wood stove.

After meeting with Timo, Matthias had driven directly out to the gypsy camp, wanting to share his discoveries. As he'd pulled away from the foreshore he'd noticed a silver BMW pulling out behind him and recognised it as being the same car he'd seen Janus in at Christoph's funeral. The BMW had stayed with him until Matthias managed to lose it by pulling into a side road and tracking back for a kilometre or so. It hadn't been easy – he was sure the burly man behind the wheel was Janus's so-called dog-walker. Was it possible the arms manufacturer would make good his threat? Now, in the anonymity of the caravan it was comforting to be back in a world that felt a hundred years from Zürich.

‘
Dej
, you should be in bed,' Latcos said.

‘There is time for me to die yet. Until then I move when I can. Besides, to have my two sons here – I take this moment.'

Exasperated, Latcos turned to Matthias. ‘You see what I've had to put up with all my life? My own mother does not know the place for women; as for my wife!' He threw up his hands in frustration.

‘Your wife is a saint; a saint with balls, but a saint nevertheless,' Keja retorted and turned to Matthias. ‘The women in our family are all strong. My granddaughter Liliane is the same, I know it; she's told me.'

‘But you haven't met her yet.'

‘We have met in our dreaming. She has the eye, the only one of my grandchildren who has my gift. She is my blood.'

‘My mother is the best at
drabarni
in the Rom
nacija
– she knows when she's in danger. The two women are linked through spirit and mind,' Latcos explained.

‘That isn't possible.'

‘Maybe not in the
gadjé
world, but in ours it is.'

Matthias studied the two gypsies; they truly believed there was a psychic connection between his daughter and her grandmother. The empiricist in him protested, but then who was he to pass judgement? It was indisputable that Liliane was plagued by her visions.

‘It's true she has seen “things”… Could you help her? Stop her seeing them?'

‘When she has
heard
properly, the spirit will stop asking,' Keja said, then, in a brusque tone, ‘When do I meet her?'

Matthias looked away. His instinct had been to protect Liliane from too much sudden and possibly disturbing information.

‘I'm waiting for the right time, when all of this is over and she's a little more settled…'

‘Don't wait too long; I won't see summer.'

‘
Dej!
Stop!' Latcos laid his hand on her stick-thin arm.

‘Stop what? Now we lie to each other?' Keja snapped back.

Latcos grinned. ‘It's good to see your temper is back. It shows that you are fighting.'

Then to Matthias's further confusion, Keja leaned over to kiss Latcos's forehead as though he were still a little boy. ‘May God bless you, you're a dreamer, just like your father.'

‘Dreaming solves puzzles – you taught me that.' Latcos turned to Matthias and the three metal symbols laid out on a piece of paper on top of the small card table in front of him. ‘So, how do you think these… trinkets will lead to my family's heirlooms?' Latcos was beginning to tire of the freezing northern winter. He glanced at Matthias, with his expensive
gadjo
suit on and that city face that made him wonder whether there weren't in fact two men called Matthias, the man his brother had become in Zürich and the man Latcos saw on the road in Germany – someone both freed and openly troubled, able to show his emotions. Here Matthias wore a mask.

In lieu of an answer Matthias held up one of the triangular shapes. ‘This belonged to Christoph von Holindt and symbolises Air. The hourglass symbol and the Water triangle both belonged to Ulrich Vosshoffner. All of the metal pieces have been machined to perfection, and the hourglass symbol was the logo for Janus Zellweger's arms manufacturing company that he set up in 1950. He changed the logo in March 1963, just after there was real international pressure to investigate the Nazis' gold. I suspect Janus got nervous about any possible association. The extraordinary thing is that these guys have been so confident that the theft of both the Romane and Jewish gold and heirlooms will never be discovered they had been flaunting the fact until then. I guess they thought no one would care.'

‘No one does,' Latcos said grimly.

‘I do, you do and we will expose Janus and the whole conspiracy, I promise you that. What you have to understand is that these are not mere trinkets.' He clicked the symbols together.