The Secret Crown (2010) by Chris Kuzneski Page A

asked.
    Ulster returned the masterpiece to the crate before he answered. ‘Towards the end of the war, Japan was repeatedly warned about an Allied super-weapon, capable of wiping out an entire city in a single blast. Fearing the destruction of their most important treasures, members of the Japanese upper class scrambled to protect their assets. Those who doubted the rumours hid their heirlooms in basements and bank vaults, more concerned about invading troops than atomic bombs. But those who believed the stories about the bomb made arrangements with men like my grandfather who were willing to protect their treasures until after the war.’
    Payne grimaced. ‘Why didn’t you mention that last night?’
    ‘Why? Because I didn’t have any proof. Over the years, I’ve heard dozens of stories about my grandfather’s escape to Switzerland in the early 1930s. I know he returned to northern Austria and southern Germany a few years later and helped many of his friends get to safety, leading them through the Alps to evade Nazi patrols. According to my father, the people who made the journey weren’t allowed to bring anything with them except the most basic supplies. Everything else - heirlooms, artwork, jewellery - was stashed before they left.’ Ulster glanced around the bunker, wondering how something so large had been built without detection. ‘That’s what this place was for. To protect the treasures that were left behind.’
    Payne rubbed his eyes, still not understanding Ulster’s happiness. As far as he could tell, they still faced a major uphill battle to clear his family’s name. ‘Please forgive my scepticism, but where’s your proof? Right now all we have is a crate filled with artwork that may or may not have been looted by your grandfather and fifty other crates filled with God knows what. Obviously I’m on your side and willing to give your family the benefit of the doubt, but the rest of the world is going to require a lot more evidence than a few anecdotes from the war.’
    Ulster smiled, hoping to ease his concerns. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’
    ‘Really? Then why are you so damn happy?’
    ‘As I mentioned earlier, I lacked tangible evidence at the time of your call, but things have since changed. Fearing the worst, I spent the entire night going through my grandfather’s papers, searching for anything that had to do with Japan. Early this morning, about an hour before my departure, I stumbled across a folder filled with correspondence from the rightful owner of the van Gogh. Suffice it to say, my grandfather was named legal guardian of the painting way back in 1945, and he figured out a way to smuggle it overseas. Once my lawyers sort through the paperwork, we will formally return the painting to Japan.’
    ‘Hold up,’ Payne growled. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone smuggle a work of art
into
Nazi Germany? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.’
    Ulster laughed. ‘I thought the same thing until I read through the correspondence. Towards the end of the war, most Japanese shipping lanes were blocked by Allied troops, so there was very little getting in or out of the country. That is, except for a distribution channel from Tokyo to Munich controlled by the Nazis. Apparently, this was how German diplomats and their supplies were ferried back and forth between Europe and the Far East. I’m not sure who thought of it - whether it was my grandfather or the man who owned the van Gogh - but they forged Nazi paperwork and used their route to get the painting out of Japan.’
    ‘That’s awesome,’ said Jones, who loved hearing stories about the war, especially when the Nazis were made to look like fools. ‘What happened then?’
    ‘If you look at a map, this bunker is between Munich and the Austrian border. If I had to guess, my grandfather didn’t want to subject the artefacts to an arduous trip across the Alps, so he stored them here. Sadly, he must’ve passed away