The Lost Throne

34

Payne considered all the information he had been told and tried to figure out why Richard Byrd had been killed. But it was dif ficult. There were still pieces missing from the equation.

He knew Byrd was a treasure hunter who had an affinity for Heinrich Schliemann, an archaeologist who lived in Saint Petersburg during the nineteenth century. Allison was an expert on the subject, able to talk at length about every aspect of Schliemann’s life, including his passion for Greek treasures. What Payne didn’t know, though, was what role she served in Byrd’s latest project. Or, for that matter, what the project was.

“When we spoke to Petr Ulster,” Payne said, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation back to Allison, “he mentioned Richard’s taste for young assistants. From what we were told, their talents were less than helpful in the Archives.”

Allison agreed with the assessment. She was fully aware of Richard’s former employees and their sexual reputations. “Like I said, Richard was a player. He used his wealth and power to get what he wanted. And they, in return, traveled the globe.”

“Yet you were willing to work for him. How did that happen?”

“For two years I spent most of my free time in Stanford’s library, trying to learn everything I could about Heinrich Schliemann. The more I learned, the more I realized that my thesis was lacking an important element: firsthand experience. Unlike most archaeologists of his day, Schliemann didn’t live in a library. He lived in the field. He took his books and his shovels and started digging. How could I write a paper about him without experiencing the same things?”

Payne said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“One day my thesis adviser told me that Richard was looking for a new assistant, preferably a doctoral student with an extensive knowledge of Greek treasures. Not only was it a paid position, but most of the fieldwork would be done in Europe. Obviously, it sounded perfect to me, so I submitted a letter of interest and my résumé. In the meantime, I researched Richard and discovered several interesting things. He came from old money. Ironically, it was made in the same manner as Schliemann’s — gold and banking. Later I found out their connection was even stronger than that. Richard’s ancestors had actually worked with Schliemann during the Gold Rush. So Richard believed they were kindred spirits, destined to be linked forever.”

Jones said, “That explains his boat.”

She looked at him, confused. Not sure what he meant.

“We saw a picture of his boat. It was called the Odyssey.”

“Ah, yes. Richard’s yacht. A tribute to Homer and the journeys he hoped to make.”

“Journeys that included you,” Payne said, trying to keep her focused.

She nodded. “Richard called me a week later and asked me a number of questions about Schliemann and Greece. I must have passed his test, because he hired me sight unseen.”

Payne smiled at the comment. It said a lot about her personality. She wanted them to know that she had been hired for her brains, not her looks. Then again, Payne had known that within five minutes of talking to her. “When was that?”

“About a month ago.”

“A month? You’ve been here for a month?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve been here less than a week.”

“But you worked with him for a month. What were your duties?”

“At first, not much. He flew me to Berlin, where he spent most of his time at the local museums searching for information about Schliemann’s treasures. He talked to curators and experts in various fields. Meanwhile, I waited back at the hotel.”

“Why was that?” Payne asked.

“He didn’t trust me. In fact, he didn’t trust most people he met. In that way, he was just like Schliemann. He kept his plans to himself and only asked for help when he needed it.”

“What type of help?”

“He would summon me to his room, where I would be told to read a document or look at a picture. Then I would be asked for my opinion. Did I think this? Did I think that? It was very strange.”

“In what way?”

“It was always something different. One minute it was about Schliemann. The next about Zeus. Or the geology of Ancient Europe. There was never a consistent theme, like he was purposely trying to confuse me so I wouldn’t know what he was looking for.”

Payne furrowed his brow. “What was he looking for?”

“I have no idea. He never trusted me enough to tell me.”

“Come on. Don’t give me that. A smart gal like you, you must have a theory.”

She smiled. “I have a couple.”

“Such as?”

“As I mentioned, Richard didn’t care about the treasures that Schliemann found. He was more concerned with the ones he didn’t. So I focused my attention there, trying to figure out what Schliemann was hunting for in the latter stages of his life. Two days before he died, despite a horrible ear infection that had required several operations in the preceding weeks, Schliemann toured the ruins of Pompeii. As you probably know, the city was destroyed by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in seventy-nine A.D. and wasn’t rediscovered until the mid- seventeen hundreds.”

“Pardon my ignorance,” Payne said. “But isn’t Pompeii in Italy?”

She nodded. “Near Naples.”

“What does it have to do with Ancient Greece?”

“Nothing, as far as I know. But Richard had an interest in the place, probably because of Schliemann. One day he showed me ancient maps of Pompeii, along with some artwork that survived the blast. Another time he asked me about Herculaneum, Pompeii’s wealthier sister city, which was also destroyed.”

Jones asked, “And you’re not sure why Schliemann was there?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Schliemann was consumed with Ancient Greece, not Ancient Rome. So it didn’t make sense to me. However, a week before we came to Russia, Richard left me in Berlin for a few days. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going or when he was coming back, but my room was paid for, so I didn’t complain. I used the time to work on my thesis. When he returned, he summoned me to his room, where we did the same routine as before. I looked at pictures and offered my opinions. While this was going on, I noticed his suitcase sitting in the corner. It had an airport tag that read Aeroporto di Napoli. He had been to Naples.”

“Strange,” Jones admitted. “Very strange.”

“So was this trip to Saint Petersburg. We weren’t supposed to come here. We were supposed to go to Greece. At least that’s what I was told when I was hired. We’d be in Germany for a while, and then we were going to Greece. He changed our itinerary at the last minute.”

Payne nodded, realizing that Petr Ulster had mentioned the same thing on the phone. He had fully expected Byrd to be in Greece, not Russia. That meant either Byrd was playing a game, trying to deceive everyone who knew anything about his project, or something had altered his travel plans. If that was the case, it could be the reason he was killed.

“Out of curiosity,” Payne said, “how’d you get into Russia?”

“By plane.”

He shook his head. “Not to Russia, into Russia. This country requires a travel visa, which takes some time to acquire. Without it, you aren’t getting in. So how’d you get in?”

Allison blushed and lowered her eyes. Payne noticed it immediately. It was the first time during their conversation that she had looked away. The first time he sensed something was off.

“What is it?” Payne demanded.

She took a moment to gather her senses, to re-collect her cool. Then she looked at him. “Sorry. I’m just embarrassed. I normally don’t break the law.”

Payne stared at her, studying her every tic. Making sure that she was telling the truth.

She said, “We snuck into the country. I’m not proud of it, but we did. There wasn’t time to get a real visa, so Richard got us fake ones in Berlin. Fake names. Fake visas. Fake everything. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.”

Jones mumbled under his breath. “Fucking Kaiser.”

Payne nodded in agreement. Byrd had the cash, and Kaiser ran the underground in Germany. It was a match made in smuggler heaven. “That explains why you wouldn’t go to the American consulate.”

“How could I? I wasn’t supposed to be here. Richard told me I’d be arrested on the spot.”

“Not arrested, detained. But you still should’ve gone. It’s better than being shot.”

She conceded his point. “You’re right. You’re definitely right. And if it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve gone to the consulate. I swear I would have.”

“Great,” Jones teased. “Now she’s blaming us.”

“What?” she said defensively. “I’m not blaming you. I’m thanking you. Without you guys, I would be dead or in prison. There’s no doubt in my mind. So thank you for coming here.”

“You’re welcome,” Jones said. “Glad we could help.”

Payne glanced at him. “Don’t go patting yourself on the back just yet. She’s still in Russia. She’s still in danger. And we still don’t know why.”

“True,” he admitted. “Very true. But I have a few theories on the topic — including a possible solution to her woe.”

“Did you just say ‘woe’?”

Jones smiled. “I did, my good man, I did. Shall I define it for you?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Then I’ll get straight to my point.” Jones looked at Allison. “How long were you going to stay in Russia?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple of weeks.”

“So there’s a good chance your rooms are still paid for, right?”

“Definitely. At least for a few more days. Richard always paid ahead.”

Jones continued. “And since he was the private type, I’m sure he had a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on his door the entire trip, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m also guessing that wasn’t good enough for him, so he probably locked his documents in his room safe — even when he used the bathroom.”

“Like clockwork.”

“No problem,” bragged Jones, who had picked many locks in his day. Not only in the Special Forces, but also as a private detective. “Hotel locks are easy. Give me five minutes and that safe is mine. Another two and I can collect your research. By the time I’m done, your room will be spotless. No one will even know you stayed there.”

“And then what?” Payne wondered.

“Then we come back here and look through Richard’s stuff. It’s obvious the guy was hiding something. Once we know what it was, we’ll be a whole lot closer to solving his murder.”