COTTON HEADED BACK FOR THE MURAL.
Fenn waited, water dripping from his clothes. “That was uncalled for.”
He was not in the mood. “If you can’t take the heat, you know where you shouldn’t be.”
He returned to the area on the mural he’d already identified and found the center of the hollow space. He stepped back and cocked his arm, slamming the business end of the sledgehammer into the wall.
With little effect.
But what had he expected?
He pounded again.
And again.
Cracks developed across Tannhäuser’s chest. He expanded them with more blows. Finally, the wall gave way and a section broke off, crumbling to the floor. It seemed the wall was more plaster than thick concrete. Which should help.
“Did that cipher lead here?” Koger asked.
“Right to it.”
And he kept hammering the wall, opening up a small doorway about two feet wide and five feet tall. He stepped back and allowed the dust to clear. Across the lake he saw the others watching intently, Luke keeping guard over them.
He turned back.
Koger was a step ahead of him, already heading for one of the light bars workers had set up to illuminate the ceiling, which he carried over, setting the tripod just inside the doorway and switching on the array.
Cotton led the way inside.
Beyond was a chamber about twenty feet deep and at least that wide. The ceiling reached up to the heights of the grotto, which made sense, as the hidden chamber was just another part of the overall enclosed space. But nothing fancy here. The walls were plain gray concrete, none of them artistically fashioned in any way. Which also made sense. Hiding something away was tough enough. Hiding it away inside some fantastical space that would require a score of craftsmen months to design and create? That was next to impossible. Not to mention costs. Instead, you just commandeer a hole in the wall.
Around the outer perimeter were three caskets, each atop a stone plinth. Again, nothing elaborate. Simple unadorned wood and stone. The only decorations were chiseled names.
Otto, Luitpold, and a third.
LUDOVICUS II REX. BAVAR. COM. PALAT.
Ludwig II, King of Bavaria, Count Palatine.
A round table, sheathed by a richly embroidered cloth thick with dust, filled the center. The top was littered with papers and books. He stepped over and studied them without touching.
“Careful,” he said. “A lot of this is really fragile. It would not take much to turn things to dust.”
Fenn was carefully examining the books and papers. He’d allowed him to come inside since they might need his expertise. He was hoping the guy’s fanaticism would get the best of him. “Many of these bound volumes are personal journals. The loose papers are various family documents. Birth certificates. Investitures. Financial accountings. Inventories.”
He heard what was not said.
But no deed.
Koger and Dorner had stayed quiet, but both were studying the surroundings with trained eyes. Two wooden trunks sat on the gritty floor. He bent down and lifted one of the lids. Inside were more smaller wooden boxes that, when opened, contained jewelry, crystal, glassware, silver and gold objects. All varieties of things.
“The family’s wealth,” Fenn said. “Or what was left of it after everyone had their choice of taking after Ludwig II died.”
“We have to go through all of this,” Dorner said. “And make sure there is no deed. I assume everyone thinks it has to be here.”
“It has to be,” Fenn said. “There is no place else.”
“Unless it doesn’t exist,” Koger stated. “It was signed a long time ago and has never been seen since. This could all be a wild-goose chase.”