ROOM OF FIRE 30

Chapter 30

The Amber Room, 1715

If you’re just joining this story, you may want to start from the beginning.

This story follows the first in Jenn’s Rediscovered series, Last Assault on Oak Island.

Onward with the search for the Amber Room. . .

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Elden met Carlos and Lauren's train at the small station near the Elbe River and escorted them to a waiting taxi. They wove through the narrow streets to the bustling Elbchaussee where Hamburg's most exclusive restaurants nestled.

Lauren wasn't timidly peeking in her compact mirror now; she'd resorted to actually peering over Elden's arm on the back of the taxi seat. No gray Mercedes.

"What do you keep looking for?" he asked.

Carlos answered. "We picked up a little Polish attention."

Elden gave Lauren an inquiring look, but she only returned a heartfelt smile.

"Is he joking?" he asked her lowly.

She shook her head. "Are you backing out?"

He laughed, his arm settling closer. "No."

The café they found specialized in the standard German fare. Lauren found it especially comforting, considering the company was good and they'd lost their Polish shadow. Carlos seemed to agree.

The colorful pleated umbrella canopied over them in the gentle afternoon breeze carrying the scent of the river nearby. Elden had tried to apologize to Carlos for leaving the chateau without a formal farewell, but the curator refused to hear him out.

He waved away the younger man's attempt at amends and ordered the best wine on the list. "We haven't properly celebrated our latest acquisition. This will do for now."

Elden was still mentally retracing their journey through Austria, Poland, Hungary, and Germany since he had last seen them. "And I thought I had a busy week. The Amber Chamber. To think you really found it."

"Part of it," Lauren said as the server returned with the wine and their food orders.

"Someone else got a sizeable portion also. Poland, we believe," Carlos said when the waitress was gone. He went into detail about the Polish man's ring and Lauren added what she could of his physical description.

Elden nodded. "You haven't seen him lately?"

"Not since Tarnow," Lauren recalled. "I doubt he's still babysitting the hotel."

Elden cut into the bratwurst that promised him indigestion later. "I looked into that potash mine Marlon used a couple of years ago," he told them in a low tone as the other tables filled with diners. "It's still producing and Marlon said there is no way anything could currently be hidden there today."

Lauren's hopes sank. Carlos sighed.

"But," Elden continued brightly, "there are a few other mines in that area not operating. Most closed down recently; dried-up. Except one. It's been out of operation since 1947, but it's not dried-up."

Carlos frowned. "Government owned?"

"No. A war orphan—Young Patriot of the Great and Glorious Communist State, his words," Elden said, "not mine—who passed away recently. Now it's in the hands of his stepson, who happens to be a lousy gambler in need of funds." He watched Carlos' face closely. "He's anxious to sell."

Carlos considered this slowly, shaking his head. He traced the braided glass stem of the wineglass as he spoke. "Obviously the panels were stored in a potash mine at one time, but we can't go around trying to buy every one we find." He read the disillusion in Lauren's face. "Does this stepson suspect what he may have?"

Elden shook his head. "It doesn't look like it, judging from the price of the mine. Dr. Sheldon, I think it should at least be looked at."

The curator sat back, shaking his head. "The chances are slim, Elden."

Lauren tried a different approach. "Maybe we should look into in," she added. "If Elden found it, so can Reuben and the Polish agent."

Elden sat straighter at this mention. "Reuben? Tolchov?"

Carlos nodded as he rethought the idea. "That was one of his interests at Gustalav's auction," he murmured. He didn't fully realize his gaze had settled on Lauren until she cleared her throat.

Elden caught the look exchanged between them. "What were his other interests?"

"Hmm? Oh, I spoke very little to him," Carlos said briskly. "But we do know that he knows about the crypt amber. Not because any fault on our behalf," he insisted. "But he knows."

"You've been bidding against him?" Elden's attention was on Lauren. "At Fredericks'? Lewkowsky's?"

"Lewkowicz," she said.

"We're not sure of it," Carlos said with finality. "It'll look suspicious for a museum to show interest in an old mine." He disliked dwelling on the subject of the Russian, especially when Lauren's face was taking on a bright shade of pink. "This stepson might do a little checking himself, and that would escalate the price. Has it been surveyed?"

"Not recently. The last one was done over fifty years ago. I doubt Waldheimer, that's the stepson, has ever been there. It's probably his last asset."

Lauren moved her chair as the sun crept onto her from under the blossoming shade. "It wouldn't be out of place to have a mining engineer look at it."

She had spoken to Carlos, but Elden looked at her quizzically.

Elden asked, "Would you want to bring one into this?"

Sometimes Metz's bothersome quotient outweighed his assets as a convenience, Rybak thought as they waited in Passau. Omvedt had dispatched a man named Wieczorek to meet them for the truck of crates, but it still meant that Rybak was stranded near the Austrian border as Lewkowicz's prize was being safely transported.

By whom and to where, he didn't know. If he knew that, Omvedt would have permitted him to follow instead of returning to Passau.

If the Americans had the amber, Rybak was at a complete loss in predicting a course. They had simply disappeared in Tarnow.

He watched Metz doing in the chair across the tavern table. The man's lone front tooth was broken at an angle, leaving a stained, white jag in the snoring hollow. It was times like these that Rybak had to curb the urge to break off the remaining point.

If Reubens had the panels, however, Rybak knew he could intercept him in Berlin or on the road to the city. Somewhere in that vast city, the Russian had a very angry client who had been gypped of a treasure. He knew Reubens was the type to make well on a failed acquisition. He wouldn't turn tail and run. He would at least try to bargain—even if it cost him both knee caps.