Free The Einstein Prophecy by Robert Masello

maid in a white apron ushered him into the foyer, a solemn circle of polished marble, then up the wide staircase, past a grandfather clock ticking on the landing, and into a parlor where two men—one in a crisply laundered officer’s uniform, the other in his customary three-piece suit—were already seated, in deep discussion over cups of coffee and a plate of quartered sandwiches.
    “Thank you for coming, Professor,” Harold Dodds said, rising from his chair and extending his hand. “This is Colonel Macmillan, attached to the Office of Strategic Services in Washington. He’s come up to Princeton expressly to meet you.”
    Lucas shook his hand, not knowing what to expect next. The colonel gave the impression of a granite block. “I hope I’m not AWOL,” Lucas joked.
    “You hope you’re not AWOL, sir ,” Macmillan said, without a hint of humor. “But it’s unlikely. You’ve already been discharged.”
    This was not a man, Lucas thought, who engaged in pleasantries.
    “How much does the one eye interfere with your depth perception?” he asked bluntly.
    “I get by.”
    “Everything I’m about to say here is classified,” he went on, his curiosity apparently sated, “and President Dodds has assured me it will remain that way.”
    What could be so important to national security, Lucas wondered, and yet call for his involvement? He’d only been a first lieutenant.
    “In regard to your mission to the iron mine outside Strasbourg,” the colonel said, “the one where you received your injuries—”
    “A very good soldier,” Lucas interjected, “Private Teddy Toussaint, was injured a lot worse than I was that day.”
    “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Macmillan said brusquely. “I saw in your report that you had submitted his name for a service medal, and it’s been taken care of.”
    “Thank you,” Lucas said with a nod.
    “But let me say that it was all in a good cause, because you two found one of the Nazis’ largest repositories of stolen art. On that, I commend you.”
    Lucas needed no more acknowledgment of that. Many a night, when his head throbbed from the shrapnel wound, and his eye socket ached, he wished he had not been so lucky.
    “Including a certain sarcophagus,” the colonel continued, “which I believe you called an ossuary in your notes.”
    At the very mention of the word, the chilled air of the mine rose up around him. “Yes, we did. Although I was still in the hospital when I wrote up my notes, I think you’ll find a complete description of its discovery there.”
    “Well, we’ve brought the damned thing here. To Princeton.”
    “It’s being deposited in the conservation wing of the art museum even as we speak,” Dodds said.
    Lucas was stunned. He had never known why, out of all the Nazi plunder, of all the treasures stolen everywhere from Lyons to Luxor, that particular item had been singled out. And now it had been transported all the way to New Jersey?
    As if divining his thoughts, the colonel leaned forward in his creaking chair, and said, “You remember who it was addressed to, don’t you?”
    “Of course.” He could no more forget that than the ring of ore carts protecting it, the hollowed out corpse, or the strange way in which the thing had seemed to bask in its own penumbra. “But there must be thousands of pieces reserved for the Führer.”
    “True enough, but not that many that were specifically mentioned in communiqués, from Hitler himself to General Rommel.” He withdrew a telegram from his inside pocket and handed it to Lucas. “We intercepted this reply about a week before you were sent to the mine.”
    Even with his rudimentary German, Lucas was able to read enough to understand its gist. Rommel was reassuring Hitler that the sarcophagus was safely hidden, and that he’d issued orders for it to be forwarded to the Eagle’s Nest under special guard as soon as the rail lines were secured.
    But Lucas was still puzzled. “What do you expect to