Page 6 of Hard to Kill

As she followed Aimes through the brightly lit hallways, she admitted to herself that she was intrigued by the general’s request. She had worked with the general in Afghanistan. He was a good officer and followed the letter of the law and Army regulations in a way that respected both the United States Government and each of the soldiers under his command. She remembered him as curt, calm and distant, but then again, those mountains, the biting cold and the constant guerilla activity would get to anyone after a while.

Afghanistan had tested her, too.

He never took advantage of his power, either. One of the reasons Kellen remembered him so clearly was that he acted quickly but never rashly. He had the final say in troop movements and tactics, but he knew the particular talents and knowledge of each of his soldiers and was always willing to consult with them. He would ask the kid from Idaho how best to deal with fighting in desert conditions, and then he would pick the brain of the soldier with a background as a car mechanic before determining the timeline for fixing a broken Humvee. He was beloved by his troops and, even covered in dust and sweat, a darn good-looking man.

But why would he want to see her?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Major Aimes practically pushed her into the general’s office, and as she passed the threshold, he grabbed the heavy door and closed it softly but firmly.

GENERAL LAWRENCE SLATER:

MALE. WHITE. 6’, 170 LBS. SQUARE JAWLINE, BROAD SHOULDERS, FULL HEAD OF SALT-AND-PEPPER HAIR. GRAY EYES. 54 YEARS OLD. WIDOWED. NO CHILDREN. CAREER MILITARY; THREE STARS.

As Kellen saluted General Slater, she surveyed the room. His office was harshly lit with plenty of fluorescent bulbs above and piercing sunshine from the open windows. There were stacks of papers on his desk, each with a heavy object—stapler, tape dispenser, desk clock—holding them down against the wind coming in through the windows.

General Slater answered her unasked question. “I always request an office on an outside wall. After all that time in the field, I need fresh air.”

Kellen nodded crisply. “Yes, sir. Good idea, sir.”

“Sit down, Captain. I’ve got a proposition for you,” Slater said, flicking his hand at one of two stiff-backed chairs that looked like they’d been commissioned from the cafeteria. Kellen sat in the nearest seat, her back straight, her hands held gently in her lap.

Slater scrutinized her. He made her nervous, as if she was on display. As if he was assessing her in some way she could not define.

“One of my soldiers, a corporal, showed me something I thought you could help me with, Captain. What do you know about the Monuments Men?”

Kellen wrinkled her brow.What a strange question. Where is this going?

“Sir, I know the basics. During World War II, a group of art historians and archivists were commissioned to recover the art and artifacts the Nazis had stolen from the countries they conquered. I believe the idea was to save those objects and return them to their original owners, if possible.”

General Slater smiled slightly. “That is, indeed, the basics, Captain.” From one of the stacks on his desk, he produced a small leather-bound book, cracked with age. “What do you make of this?”

Kellen leaned forward to take the proffered book and flipped through the first few pages. They were beautiful. The lettering looked almost medieval. It was an illuminated manuscript—each new section started with a hand-painted miniature. But the sentences (if that was what they even were) made no sense. Shaking her head, Kellen said, “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what to make of it. It appears to be in code.”

Slater leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. If the general had had a mustache, she would have expected him to start stroking it like a Bond villain. A very handsome Bond villain. “That’s right. A nearly unbreakable code at that. Let me back up. Almost a year ago, one of my soldiers, Corporal Benjamin Roy, showed me this book of code. He told me that his great-grandfather Chester Roy fought in World War II and was chosen as one of the famous Monuments Men. As the story goes, Chester worked around Europe, retrieving precious works of art, and when he got to Germany, he found a cave.”

“A cave?” She leaned forward, her interest caught.

“Right. Corporal Roy wasn’t sure about everything his great-grandfather found in that cave, but one thing was notable—a famous painting stolen by the Nazis and hidden deep inside for safekeeping. Are you with me, Captain?”

Kellen thought he might honestly be pulling her leg with this fantastical tale. Warily, she said, “Yes, sir. I’m with you.”

“Good. At the time, Chester Roy couldn’t extract the painting—the war was ongoing at this point, and the chances of the painting getting blown up outside of the cave were greater than if it remained concealed inside the cave. He and his men decided to hide the entrance to the cave.”

Kellen looked at the leather-bound book in her hand. If she was understanding General Slater correctly, he was inviting her on a treasure hunt.

“Over the next few months, the Monuments Men had a rough time, and nearly everyone who knew the location of the cave was killed, including Chester Roy. Corporal Roy says his great-grandmother received that book among her husband’s possessions after his death.” General Slater paused in his story.

Kellen opened the book again and ran her fingers over the writing. “Sir, are you saying that this book contains the location of a treasure cave?”

“According to his widow, yes. She died of Alzheimer’s a few years back, and one of the things she said on her deathbed was that her husband was a ‘treasure hunter’ and he ‘found a priceless painting in a cave in Germany.’ He must have written her a letter at the time...”

Kellen shook her head. “He wouldn’t send his wife that type of classified information. She had to have cracked his code.”

“Exactly what we thought.” Slater nodded approvingly. “But she’s the only one who did.”

“Sir?”

“Corporal Roy came to me with this diary because no one in his family can figure out what it says. They’ve asked for help from professional code breakers with no luck. Not even the computers are up for the task.”

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