Page 27 of The Last Kingdom

That ain’t good.

Chapter 15

COTTON DROVE THE CART BACK TO THE PALACE THROUGH THE COLD.He’d left Derrick Koger at the convent and used the boat he’d commandeered earlier to head across the lake to Herreninsel Island. The night had turned even more biting with a new wave of moisture in the frigid air.

Koger’s comment about some sort of last kingdom being in America had intrigued him. What in the world? But Koger had declined to elaborate further, saying all would be made clear in the morning. Since it was late, and he was tired, he’d decided to give that stall a pass.

He followed the same road back to Herrenchiemsee and parked in the rear courtyard. Inside, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and returned to the king’s study. Koger had wanted him to take another look at the desk and make sure nothing, in all of the haste, had been left behind. Luckily, no one was around, though he heard voices from somewhere far off inside the building. He took a moment to examine the desk, which contained a gaping hole in its marquetry on the front right side. Definitely some sort of secret compartment. He knew nineteenth-century desks like this often contained hiding places. A trend of their time. Stephanie told him about one in the Smithsonian that had figured into a previous assignment that had taken him to Croatia.

He bent down and stared into the open cavity and spotted metal workings. He reached in and jiggled the rods, which apparently would have released the compartment’s door. He saw that when he pulled, one of the drawers also moved.

He stepped to the other side of the desk and noticed the symmetry in design and decoration. The same bulge in the woodwork existed and he wondered if its makers had included a second hiding place. He approached the drawer that had moved on the other side and tested it. Locked. An antique letter opener lay on the desk. Surely some sort of Ludwig II artifact. He had no choice, so he jammed the metal edge of the opener into the tight-fitting crease and heaved.

Nothing.

Two more attempts finally forced the drawer open. But something prevented it from sliding all the way out. He reached in and felt a metal stud protruding down, which seemed spring-loaded. He pressed and the stud pivoted upward, allowing the drawer to be freed from its slot. Farther inside he felt a lever that, when pulled, rattled the metal exposed in the already open cavity. Apparently the intruders, in their rush, had failed to find the concealed release.

Quickly, he pried open the drawer on the other side and discovered a similar stud. He freed that drawer from its slot and yanked on a metal rod. A panel released on the left side of the desk in exactly the same place as the cavity on the other. He stepped close and saw that the compartment contained a small envelope, once white, now faded to yellow. No time to read it at the moment. He was already pushing his luck, so he stole the envelope and slipped it into his back pocket. He then snapped the compartment’s panel back down and replaced the drawer.

He then walked downstairs and found the tour group from earlier just inside the Ludwig museum, which filled a portion of the ground floor. He walked over to the camera’s owner and offered an apology, which the man seemed to accept. Three hundred euros also eased any hard feelings. The tour guide was there, along with an older man who was introduced as the site administrator.

“What did you do up there?” the man asked in English.

“I tried to prevent a theft.”

“I was told you snapped pictures. Did you photograph the thieves?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. When the guy shot at me, I dropped the camera.”

“It wasn’t found upstairs.”

“Its owner just told me that. The thieves must have taken it.”

“Why didyoutake it?”

“I saw what they were doing and decided to get some photos. I thought you might want those.”

“Why didn’t you tell the guide what was happening?”

He feigned confusion and shrugged. “Heat of the moment. But I didn’t think they’d shoot at me.”

The edgy little man did not like that explanation.

“The desk that was vandalized,” he asked the administrator, “is it valuable?”

“I should say so. It was made for Ludwig II and was used for many years by his uncle, the prince regent Luitpold, during his time in power and, for a while, by his son King Ludwig III. Eventually, it made its way here in 1920. Where it has stayed. Inviolate. Until tonight.”

The man sounded quite agitated.

“What was inside it?” he asked.

“Who are you?” the stodgy little German asked.

“Just a guy who tried to help out.”

“Your help made things worse. I need you to stay here, along with everyone else, until the police arrive. They have been called and will have questions.”

Like that was going to happen. “Sure. No problem. But why would anyone want to break into that desk?”