Page 113 of The Last Kingdom

“Haltepunkt.”

He didn’t need to speak German to know what that command meant.

“Hände in die luft.”

“Nodeutsche,” he called out.

“Hands in the air. Now,” another voice called out.

No choice. He raised his arms, showed his empty hands, and stood. The four policemen were on the stone steps, guns aimed his way. Toni was nowhere to be seen or heard. Hopefully, she got away.

“Down on your knees,” came an order.

He hesitated, trying to decide if he could outmaneuver these guys. Doubtful. They were ready to unload on him. At least one or more of the rounds would find their mark. Christophe had not moved. Surely dead. Arrest seemed preferable to that alternative. But it would most likely end his involvement with this operation. Once compromised, rarely did an intelligence officer reenter the game. Instead, they were sent off to join another.

Suddenly, the entire plaza was ablaze with light.

Atop the buildings ringing the open space, banks of floodlights dissolved the darkness and lit the world in a bright glow. Not halogens. These were the old-fashioned bulbs, springing to life at full intensity. The police reacted by shielding their open pupils from the glare with raised arms. Luke fought the urge to squint. Instead, he closed his eyes, turned and rushed for the breezeway. He made it inside to the welcome darkness and saw Toni standing beside an open electrical box.

“My father was an electrician. I know my way around a circuit box. I was hoping the switches worked.”

“God bless Thomas friggin’ Edison. Those cops aren’t going to hesitate long.”

“I agree.”

And they both ran off.

Chapter 65

COTTON STARED AT MARC FENN AND WAITED FOR AN EXPLANATION.

“Within a few years of Ludwig II’s death, this castle was opened for tours by the prince regent, and people flooded in to see what their dead king had created. At first, things were left as they were, out of respect. But that gradually became more and more difficult to achieve.” Fenn stepped from the study and back through the arch to the corridor. “Much of the furniture and Ludwig’s personal items had to be removed and stored away to give people room to walk.”

A whistling wind rattled the window casement, pressing on the panes.

“Downstairs,” the curator said. “In the basement. That’s where things are stored. In the same room the Nazis used during the war to hide stolen art.”

Fenn pointed at the desk. “As I mentioned, that writing table was out here, in the corridor, under the window. The oak cabinet, there on the right wall, stood on the left, where the ceramic stove is now.”

Cotton stepped across the study to the cabinet.

“It’s a storage unit,” the curator said. “Ludwig kept the architectural plans and sketches for the castle inside. It dates to 1881.”

“The king personally used that piece of furniture?” Koger asked.

Fenn nodded. “One of those rare pieces that has survived.”

“More important,” Cotton said, “did Ludwig III use it?”

The curator nodded. “It was here during his short reign. Our records indicate that he visited this castle quite often.”

Cotton inspected the front of the oak cabinet. Four arches with beautifully carved panels and capitals supported an elaborate head piece, the front of which was constructed of seven entwined, carved columns. The panels of the cupboard doors were ornamented with artistic fittings, the top crowned by pinnacles, gables, towers, and crosses.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, examining the craftsmanship. “Who made it?”

“A man named Hofmann,” the curator said. “He also crafted a desk that is displayed in the study at Herrenchiemsee.”

He caught the connection. That desk he knew.

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