Free The Secret Crown (2010) by Chris Kuzneski Page A

Unfortunately, due to Ulster’s love of gourmet food and his passion for fine wine, it was rarely past midnight when he crawled into bed with a full belly and a slight buzz. His intent was there, but not the conditioning.
    The ringing of Ulster’s private line pulled him from his sleep. Few people had his private number, and those who did called infrequently - not because he wasn’t loved and admired, but because everyone assumed he was busy.
    Intrigued by the call, Ulster rushed to his desk. ‘Hello, this is Petr.’
    ‘Hey, Petr, it’s Jonathon Payne.’
    Ulster beamed. Even though he was in his mid-forties, he came across as boy-like, due to the twinkle in his eye and his zest for life. ‘Jonathon, my boy, what a pleasant surprise! How are things in the States?’
    Sitting on a log near the entrance to the site, Payne grimaced at his unpleasant task. Telling Ulster bad news would be like kicking a puppy. How could he hurt someone so warm and cuddly? ‘The States are great. Then again, I’m not in the States.’
    Ulster took the phone from his desk and returned to his couch. It groaned from his bulk as he sank into its cushions. ‘You’re not? Where are you then?’
    ‘I’m in Germany.’
    ‘
Was machst du in Deutschland?
‘ he said fluently.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    Ulster grinned at Payne’s confusion. ‘I said, what are you doing in Germany? Wait! Let me guess. You and David are at Oktoberfest! Am I right? Have you been drinking?’
    ‘I wish I had been. It would make this conversation a little less painful.’
    For the first time, Ulster recognized the tension in Payne’s voice. ‘Tell me, is everything all right? You sound rather glum. Do you need bail money?’
    Payne glanced over his shoulder, making sure no guards were around. Obviously they knew about the bunker, but according to Kaiser, they didn’t know anything about the crates. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Payne said, ‘Petr, are you alone?’
    ‘Am I alone? Why do you care if I’m alone? Wait, just a moment. You aren’t at Oktoberfest, are you?’
    ‘No, Petr, I’m not.’
    Ulster gasped. ‘Good heavens! Are you on a
mission
?’
    ‘Something like that.’
    Ulster grinned with delight. Over the past few years, Payne and Jones had used his expertise on topics ranging from the crucifixion of Christ to the prophecies of Nostradamus. And Ulster had loved every minute - even the times he had feared for his life. Running from gunmen while carrying scrolls and artefacts made him feel like an overweight Indiana Jones. ‘Tell me, my boy, what do you need? Just make a wish, and I shall grant it.’
    Payne exhaled as his blood pressure spiked.
    The next few minutes would be brutal.

13

    Monday, 20 September
    Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany
    Ulster’s flight from the Archives was a short one, less than 200 miles to the German city with the twenty-one-letter name. Long before they could see it, Payne and Jones heard the roar of the helicopter as it soared over the Alps and swooped into the valley like an angry hawk. Standing near the foot of the hiking trail, they shielded their eyes as the chopper landed fifty feet in front of them, its downdraught kicking up dirt and debris from the surrounding field.
    The night before, Ulster had been despondent after hearing the potentially devastating news about his grandfather. He realized if Conrad had conspired with the Third Reich, it would cause irreparable damage to the Archives and the Ulster family name. Three generations of hard work and goodwill burned to a crisp like the Nazis used to burn books. In a flash, Ulster would be persona non grata in the world of academia, an outcast in the only field he ever cared about - even though he had done nothing wrong. Suddenly, every object at the Archives would be questioned. Not only individuals, but entire governments would crawl out of the woodwork, claiming to be the rightful owners of every scroll, painting and artefact in his family’s collection.