Paradox Part 23

Chapter 22
April 26, 2012 – Hotel Altez Zollhaus - Bad Tölz

“They visited a wine shop,” Mueller stated, glancing at Fleischer for confirmation. “There was a new person with them.” He handed the digital camera to Schäfer who took his time surveying the photos then passed it to Szekler. “Is that who I think it is?”
Szekler studied the photo for a few moments before replying. “Doctor Dominic Prestano,” he affirmed. “What interest could he possibly have in the gold? He’s already very wealthy.”
“He’s also closely connected to the Church,” Schäfer said. “So, if Prestano is interested that means the Church is interested. I’m willing to bet that the gold is of little importance. Prestano is after something else entirely.”
“The second part of the mystery?” Szekler mumbled. “The Church had some secret dealings with the Nazis during the war, perhaps they do not want those dealings to come to light. Prestano may be a plant to ensure no embarrassing information leaks to the public.”
“What were they like when they left the wine shop and where did they go?” Schäfer turned to Fleischer. “Were they elated, sad, eager, in a hurry, what?”
“They went directly back to their hotel,” he answered. “They did not appear to be any different than when they went in. The same man who dropped them off picked them up in a dark SUV.”
“I’m thinking they did not find what they were looking for,” Szekler mused. “If nothing else they would have appeared as if in a rush to go somewhere.”
“From everything we’ve learned so far, the wine shop is the secret to finding the gold,” Schäfer stated. “Did you spot anyone watching them outside the shop?”
“I wasn’t looking that close.” Fleischer shrugged. “You didn’t say anything other than to watch them.”
Schäfer rolled his eyes then concentrated on the photo of the shop. “I think it’s time we paid the wine shop a visit. Mueller, Dr. Szekler and I will enter the shop and you are to remain outside and observe,” he addressed Fleischer. “And do pay attention. I want to know who walks by, who drives by, who stands for too long in one place, the basic information any novice investigator would notice.” His tone of voice was obvious. He was not happy with Fleischer’s previous performance.
Herr Krupke was curious to see three men walk into his shop. One looked as if he could appreciate a good bottle of wine. The other, a very overweight and cold looking gentleman was eyeing the wine racks with distaste while the third, a brutal looking man, was obviously not a connoisseur of wine by any means. “May I help you?” he politely asked the first man.
“My name is Schäfer.” He did not offer his hand. “Bruno Schäfer. I am the Assistant Director of the Cultural Ministry for Antiquities. I understand you had some visitors in earlier, perhaps asking questions about the history of the shop?”
Krupke formed an instant dislike for the man. He was too officious, full of self-importance and had addressed him as an inferior. He was not inclined to answer the question. “What I discuss with my customers is privileged information. Is this an official government visit? If not, you are wasting my time.”
Schäfer nodded at Mueller who walked over to a rack of very expensive wine. He picked up a bottle marked with a high price tag and pretended to look closely at it. A few seconds later he threw the bottle to the floor sending wine and shattered glass in every direction. “Oops!” he grinned, picking up another expensive bottle.
“They were looking for an artifact!” Krupke glanced at the shattered glass and wine. “They said it was an important historical artifact. They asked to see a photo of Claus Jager, the owner’s son who was killed in the war, then they asked to see the cellar.”
Schäfer sneered. “They are thieves. They are looking for items that rightfully belong to the German government. Show me the photo of Jager and the wine cellar.”
Krupke knew the man was lying. He was obviously the real thief otherwise he would not use such abusive tactics to get the information he wanted. He also knew he had to cooperate or their hired gorilla would destroy a fortune in wine. Krupke reached into the cabinet behind the counter and removed Claus Jager’s photo and handed it to Schäfer, who glanced at the photograph and passed it to the fat man standing behind him.
“The Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross,” Szekler grunted. “Another part of the puzzle solved. We need to see the basement.”
Krupke led them down the winding stairs to the cellar. As soon as they were all gathered, Szekler spoke again. “What were they looking for down here?”
“A block with the number 44 on it,” Krupke answered. “But when they found it there was nothing beneath it.”
“The blood of Caesar,” Schäfer muttered. “Now I know why they wanted to see the photo of Jager and the stone marked number 44. Fourty-four BCE, the date Caesar was assassinated. It makes complete sense now. But why didn’t they find something under the stone?”
“Because they were looking in the wrong place,” Szekler said with a self-satisfied smile. “I however, know exactly where to look.”
Krupke did not like the smug look on the fat man’s face.