Maybe. Maybe not. A solution seemed there, though tantalizing in its incompleteness. A lot of thought had gone into creating this repository. He had to assume that everything in it had been carefully selected based on value and importance. In the overall hierarchy of things, that deed had to be right at the top.
“What would Ludwig have thought of that deed?” he asked.
“Von Löher, the man who visited Hawaii,” Fenn said, “wrote in his journal that Ludwig made the comment, after the deed was signed in 1881.At least permit me this final joy. I adore the mysterious and wish to remain an eternal enigma.So it is safe to say that the deed was vitally important to him.”
“Which means,” Fenn said, “it was also important to the regent, Luitpold, and his son Ludwig III. But more for sentimentality than anything else. Those two could not even manage to hold on to Bavaria, much less lay claim to an American territory.”
“No,” Dorner said. “That endeavor had to wait until the twenty-first century.”
If all that were true, then there was but one explanation.
He stepped over to Ludwig II’s casket. Its mahogany exterior had definitely deteriorated over time, but it was still reasonably intact. He released the brass latches and steeled himself.
Not every day you opened a king’s grave.
He hinged the lid upward.
Ludwig lay prone, most of the skin and tissue gone, just bones and tattered pieces of clothing. He’d been buried in black silk breeches, a black velvet cloak, and a white shirt with ruffles. Remnants of those remained, along with a heavy gold chain collar and medal that had been left around the neck.
The others came close.
“The king was buried in the robes of the Knights of the Order of St. George,” Fenn said. “The collar and medal are from the order too.”
Lying on the chest, atop the decayed clothing and collapsed rib cage, was an oilskin pouch. It appeared to be of some sort of sailcloth with a thin layer of tar for added protection. He freed the pouch, which had survived in reasonably good condition. It measured about eighteen inches square. The top was sealed with more tar.
Cotton closed the casket. “Let’s allow the man to rest in peace.”
He walked back to the table and carefully felt the pouch. Something was inside. Stiff. With enough thickness that he could feel its edges.
“We have to know what’s in there,” Dorner said to him.
“I realize that.”
Koger produced a pocketknife. He accepted the blade and punctured the oilskin, keeping the blade between the outer layer and whatever was inside. He cut a slit in the material. Beneath he saw that it contained a piece of stiff, yellowed parchment. Now that he knew what was there, he worked the knife and opened the oilskin up, exposing one side of the parchment, which was blank. He carefully removed the page and turned it over. At the top, in a large Edwardian script.
This Indenture, made this eighth day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eighty-one between His Royal Highness, King David Kalakaua, of the first part, and His Royal Highness, King Ludwig Friedrich Wilhelm von Wittelsbach II, of the second part.
The deed went on and proclaimed
Witnesseth. That the said party of the first part does hereby present, grant, and convey to the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, all that part or parcel of islands located within the Pacific Ocean and known to the world as the sovereign kingdom of Hawaii.
Then it verified and asserted that
the said party of the first for himself, along with his heirs and assigns, does hereby covenant and agree to with the said party of the second part, along with his heirs and assigns, that he shall have quiet and peaceable possession of the said islands and all of the land and lawful territory associated therewith and that he will forever warrant and defend it against any person whomsoever lawfully claiming the same or any part thereof.
The deed was signed by both kings in a stark, heavy, masculine script and was properly witnessed by four individuals, their names and addresses noted.
“Is it valid?” Koger asked.
“That doesn’t matter,” Dorner said. “It’s a legal document that the Germans can use to assert a legal claim in the courts. And when they assign it to the Chinese, that will double the problem.” She paused. “It’s a battle we don’t want, or need, to fight in front of the world.”
He knew that was true. But he was holding something important and history mattered. Yet there was still reality.
And now he realized why the White House was involved.
He looked at Trinity Dorner. “You or me?”
She nodded toward him.