The Warsaw Protocol: A Novel(43)
A puzzled look came to Konrad’s face. “There is such a chamber. It’s the grand ballroom, not far from here, where banquets, parties, and conferences are held. You can’t mean that.”
“This one would be secreted away.”
“I know of lower-level chambers named Modena, Weimer, Florencja, Toskania, and other locations in Europe and Poland, but none named for Warsaw.”
As before, they were each dressed in coveralls with a helmet and light, ready for a special tour. They’d descended from the Regis Shaft, then walked half a kilometer over in a Level II drift to the main tourist areas. Jonty had wondered about the change in procedure, as they usually descended straight to Level IX in the Regis Shaft elevator.
“Why did we come here?” he asked. “And not go directly to Level IX?”
Konrad pointed. “Because this map is for Level X.”
He caught the look on Vic’s face. He was thinking the same thing. “I didn’t know there was anything that deep.”
“It was opened in the 1950s, expanded in the 1960s, but closed in the mid-1970s.”
He caught the significance of those dates. “All during the time of communist control.”
Konrad nodded. “There’s no elevator to that level. Only a wooden staircase, that’s not in good shape, from Level IX. No tour groups are ever taken down there. The elevator to get us closest to that staircase is not far from here.”
“How accurate is this map?” Vic asked.
“I have no idea. I know of a few miners who’ve been there. They say the tunnels are fairly clear, but there’s a lot of water seepage. No maintenance has been done there in decades.”
He caught the unspoken warning. Danger existed.
“We have no options,” Jonty told Konrad. “We have to take a look.”
“The good part is that there are only a few tunnels. Lots of offshoots, but only three main drifts. As you can see on the map, nothing is labeled. No names on anything. But that could be different down there.”
Jonty stared at Eli. “Are you sure about this? It seems a lot of risk for something that could be pure fiction.”
“We’ll never know unless we look.”
He stared around at the incredible church. Its pulpit at one end imitated Wawel Hill with its fortifications and dragon. The opposite end was dominated by a salt statue of John Paul II. A sign in several lan guages advised that this remained a living place of worship as mass was still said here every Sunday. Visitors were busy admiring everything.
He glanced at Vic, whose good sense and patience he’d come to rely upon. His associate had not been happy when told about the budding partnership with Eli Reinhardt. Nor had he been eager to release their prisoner, who was now waiting up at ground level in the car that had brought Reinhardt north into Poland. Their past experiences with Eli had all been competitive, but this deal was different in scope and magnitude. Hundreds of millions of euros were at stake. They were juggling the competing interests of seven sovereign nations, most of which cared little to nothing for the others. All seven possessed the resources to wreak havoc, if they so chose. Now another element had interjected itself. If the Pantry proved real, the potential could be enormous. If not, then this was a colossal waste of time and an unnecessary risk.
But what the hell.
He’d not become one of the world’s most successful information brokers by being timid. Besides, Eli Reinhardt was coming with him, so both their asses were on the line.
“You’re right,” he said, motioning that they should leave. “There seems to be only one way to find out if we have something.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cotton checked his watch.
8:20 P.M.
He’d been inside the chifforobe almost three and a half hours, catching a little bit of rest, but staying alert in case there was any movement outside. So far, he’d heard nothing. All quiet. He could wait until later in the night, or the early-morning hours of tomorrow, but if his hunch proved correct the time of his visit would not matter.
His intel had noted that the castle was cleaned three nights a week, and this wasn’t one of those nights. So there would be no janitorial staff about.
Was Sonia expecting him?
Probably.
And if she was here, what outcome did she want? Him to take the spear? Most likely. Why else play along with Fox and Bunch? Best guess? Their alliance with the Russians was tenuous at best. Sure, neither Russia nor Poland wanted missiles. But Poland would want the information being offered destroyed, while Russia would love to have it. For the future. Just in case. He realized that the Poles could not just give the spear to him. It was a national treasure. Too many questions would be raised. Ones with difficult answers. All of the other relics had been stolen. Their thefts suppressed. But the fact that something had happened where they were kept had made it to the media, and all of those relics were no longer on display. The same had to happen here, with a verified “incident,” minus the actual theft, to report.
Time to get this party going.
He pushed open the chifforobe’s door and climbed out. The exterior windows in the vestibule were darkened, signaling that night had begun to arrive. Only a few lights burned inside, illuminating the staircase that angled its way up to the next floors. Stephanie had thought ahead and left him two lock picks in the manila envelope he’d pocketed earlier. For a long time he used to carry them in his wallet, but he’d dropped the habit a while back. After all, his primary profession was now bookseller, and nothing in that job involved illegal breaking and entering.