Page 120 of The Last Kingdom

“We need to know what is happening inside the castle,” Albert said, the voice sounding far away, the duke facing away.

“We should know shortly,” he said.

“Then what?”

“Hopefully, depending on what’s found, we can kill Koger and Malone and this will all be over, and everybody gets what they want.”

“You sound skeptical,” Albert said.

He shrugged. “Bavaria has to vote yes on independence first.”

“It will.”

“You that certain?”

“I know this land and people. We have never felt a part of Germany. We crave independence. A recent candidate for German chancellor used the slogan ‘Back to the Future.’ It was ill-played for Germany as a whole, but suits Bavaria perfectly. The people want their king and kingdom returned.”

“You’re a ruthless SOB.”

“That I am. Please do not forget that.”

Sure. But who cares? All he wanted was payback. But he wondered. “No remorse about your brother?”

“He was never much of a sibling.”

Albert glanced at his watch, bared between the tip of his coat and the end of his glove. Rife turned to leave and saw two men at the end of the bridge. Stout forms, toting automatic rifles. Not there before.

“They with you?” he asked Albert.

“More with the Guglmänner. But they serve me.”

“Good to know.”

He motioned to Knight and they started walking toward the forms and off the bridge.

“Where are you going?” Albert called out.

“To finish this.”

* * *

COTTON STEPPED OFF THE CHAIR.

The others crowded around the cabinet with its newly revealed secret compartment. Inside he spotted a small wooden container made of dark, satin-smooth mahogany, the corners strapped with dull brass. In the center was a brass plate engraved with “Konig Ludwig III von Bayern.” Its lock, also clad in brass, demanded a ward key. He laid the box on the desk and fished the key from his pocket.

The one Randy Miller had kept around his neck.

“I think we now know what this opens,” he said to Koger.

“Where did that come from?” Fenn asked, clearly perplexed.

Since that was none of the guy’s business, he ignored the question, then inserted the key and turned. The lock freed. He hinged open the lid to reveal an inside divided by a row of wooden inserts that held ink, powder, quills, and wax.

“It is the king’s scrivener’s box,” the curator said. “Quite common in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.”

Cotton knew about these cases. He’d seen several before. This one, though, had been hidden away for a specific reason. Remembering what he could about them, he felt around and found a small metal catch that he released. The row of inserts swung forward to reveal a compartment beneath where writing paper would have been stored.

But none was there.