“Right away, sir.”
After a brief wait, Michael heard another voice on the line. “Hello, this is Marc Thomann. To whom am I speaking?”
“Listen carefully; this is Michael Evans. Sven and I have been in a helicopter crash. Sven is doing ok, but the pilot is dead. Hold on, I will try to give you our coordinates. If I lose you, I have texted them as well. I think we are near Zurich; we crashed in a snowy, mountainous area.” The phone went dead as Marc was responding. Michael’s anxiety level was nine on the Richter Scale. What awful luck! He tried to call back. “Damn, Sven, I lost the signal. I believe they received the text with our coordinates. The phone indicates the text was delivered; let’s hope it’s true!”
“We will wait. I know we are close to Zurich. Marc will move on it right away.”
“I hope so. You are cold, and you may have a mild concussion.” Michael could see that Sven was pale, and he had been retching as though he were attempting to vomit.
“It is paramount we are rescued before nightfall. I have faith it will happen, Michael.”
“So do I, Sven—so do I.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The two survivors huddled like lovers, with no feelings of embarrassment. Each man had a unspoken nagging fear they would remain snow-bound through the night. Hours went by; the sun sank low on the horizon, and Michael knew that soon, they would lose the little warmth it provided. Sven went in and out of a light slumber. Michael encouraged him to wiggle his toes and fingers to avoid frostbite.
Michael heard a droning sound overhead. Was it friend or enemy? He could only hope it was good news, although, at this point, he would welcome an enemy, rather than wait ‘til daylight—he was freezing! Sven was hanging on, but any rescue sounded good.
Within a few minutes, he could see the swirling of the snow close by. Yes, a helicopter was landing! Who was it? A man jumped out of the passenger side; he was wearing snowshoes and was dressed in what appeared to be a commando-type camouflage uniform for snow. The man leaned down into the wreckage and spoke with a foreign accent.
“Are you able to get in the bird unassisted?”
Michael’s jaws were stiff and partially locked, “Yes, but my partner is suffering from a concussion. No pain on movement, though. Who are you?”
“My name is Yossi. I work for Sven and Marc Thomann. Put on these snowshoes and get in the chopper, fast. I will assist Mr. Mueller.”
Michael was reassured; any saboteur would not know Marc’s name.
The helicopter had two sets of rotors and looked like the Jolly Green Giant model used in the Viet Nam era. This one was painted in a white and grey camouflage pattern. It was warm inside the chopper with two makeshift sleeping bags prepared for Sven’s and Michael’s comfort. The warmth was welcome beyond description. They were safe! They would survive this ordeal!
After getting the two men situated and comfortable, their rescuer disappeared back out into the snow. He returned shortly with their bags. “I have two suitcases and a messenger bag. Is there anything else out there I should look for?”
Michael looked at what he had. It seemed like everything was there. “No, that’s it. Would you please hand me the messenger bag? I would like it by my side.”
“Here, I hope the contents are not susceptible to the bitter cold.”
“No, it’ll be fine, thanks.”
“Your pilot is in the back of our plane. We will report the accident once you are settled.”
Once they were in the air, Michael looked down to see their helicopter explode in flames, he wondered if Yossi had deliberately set it on fire.
“We are landing now. It’ll be a rooftop arrival.”
They were whisked into the building and down to the emergency room. The doctors tended to Sven while Michael remained in a wheelchair. A nurse assessed him from head to toe. They splinted his arm. She assured him he was fine; the fracture was a simple greenstick type, and there was no visible frostbite. His wrist would be set in a day or two.
A young doctor came in and told him, “Your companion is going to be just fine. He has requested a double room for you two. Mr. Mueller will see his own doctor tomorrow.”
Michael was still in a state of shock; anyone who had experienced this day would be unraveled! He had made it to Zurich—definitely, an out-of-the-ordinary arrival. Nothing like what he and Sara had imagined! He was anxious to fill her in.
*******
Sven and Michael settled down in a spacious hospital apartment suite. Michael suspected that this was the room saved for dignitaries. He checked his messenger bag; the cover was secure. Although he could not see the guard, he heard him talking in German to the nurse, conversing outside the door.
“I can see why you wanted me in a true surprise mode. It would have been difficult to fake the initial scene at the hotel.” Sven mustered up a slight grin, “We both had the surprise of our lives after we were in flight—no faking required for that incident.”
Michael sighed, “It was difficult to trust the sudden change.”
“I am delighted you trusted me, Michael. Had I been in your shoes, the hotel scene would also have also tested my trust. I am going to get some sleep; I hope you do the same. We will discuss the plane incident tomorrow when my thoughts are clear.”
“Sleep tight, Sven.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
When breakfast was served the next morning, Sven was able to keep down liquids. Within the hour, two well-dressed gentlemen entered the hospital room. Their conversation with Sven was conducted in German. Michael knew many Europeans could converse in more than one language. This skill had great value. Sven translated sentence by sentence as the conversation progressed. These men would take them to a private bank as soon as Sven was discharged.
They were both released later that afternoon. An appointment was made to set Michael’s arm in a few days. A limo rolled up to the hospital emergency entrance, and they were whisked away. Michael noticed a man sitting in the front seat with the driver. He was reading a newspaper, his face barely visible. In a vague sense, he looked familiar. When Michael brought this to Sven’s attention, he was advised this man would be Michael’s bodyguard for the remainder of his visit to Zurich. His name was Yossi, and yes, he was the commando who had rescued them from the crash site. Michael felt more secure. He was with a protective entourage in a world-famous neutral country.
As they rode through the streets, Sven shared the upcoming plan. A private banker would open an account for Michael. He would be supplied with a deposit box. Michael was given the choice of keeping the cover with him or using the bank vault. It was an easy decision—he would use the vault.
Michael heaved a big sigh. Very little conversation took place during the ride, and they arrived at the bank within thirty minutes. The name of the bank was Hyposwiss. It was a well-established private bank on Bahnhofstrasse.
Michael had the leather messenger bag over his shoulder and carried his suitcase and trench coat. The bank was very low key but scrupulous in their operation. It was almost surreal; he was now portraying a man of means. He was trying to take it all in while attempting to appear nonchalant. Sven handed him a check from his law firm; it was to be deposited in Michael’s new account. An approximate conversion of the Swiss Francs was estimated at around ten thousand American dollars.
Sven spoke, “This will initiate your account here.”
Michael gave an acknowledging smile.
Sven spoke to the manager in French, apparently asking him to speak English. Michael gave his address as Sven’s office address and produced his American passport. All went as smooth as silk. Michael was escorted to another area, which housed the safety deposit boxes. He had filled out the paperwork and completed a retinal scan. They entered a large vault that looked like something out of a James Bond movie. He was led to an aisle with rows of safety deposit boxes. The banker excused himself after pointing to a desk at the end of the row.
“If you please, si
r, let me know when you are ready to return the box to the vault.”
Due to the size of the box, he was able to lay the cover flat. Yes, he would leave it here; it was certainly safer there than in his possession. After summoning the assistant, they locked the box. Michael put one key in his sock, and the duplicate was placed in his money belt. He returned to Sven in the waiting area. He felt naked without the cover. It would be the first time it was not on his person. It was an odd sensation. He was pulled in two directions. He continued to have a nagging feeling that he might be the victim of an elaborate scheme—no, not possible. The plane crash nixed the idea that Sven was in on any shady dealings, but there was still the question of the beating near their hotel. Did it involve the man with the limp?
“Time to get you checked into a hotel of your selection. I think you would feel more secure with this type of arrangement.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the autonomy, Sven.”
“Perhaps something close to the bank and our office?”
“Perfect.”
“I have made a list of appropriate choices. Zurich is beautiful; it has the good fortune of having the Alps as borrowed scenery.” Michael could see the pride on Sven’s face. “It is one of the wealthiest cities in Europe and very expensive! On the plus side—it is one of the healthiest cities in which to reside.”
“How far are we from your office?”
“About five to ten minutes.”
“You know, Sven, I think I could use some fresh air. I’ll set out on foot and find a hotel in this area. I’ll have a shower and call you within a few hours.”
Sven gave Michael a slight bow. “As you wish.”
Once out on the sidewalk, Michael felt more in control of his destiny—what a enjoyable feeling! After viewing a few hotel rooms on Sven’s list, he chose a small boutique hotel. Although it was expensive, it appeared secure, with a twenty-four-hour desk clerk in place. He could see small security cameras discreetly placed around the entrance and lobby.
He viewed a couple of rooms and chose one with the window away from the street. The room was fitted with a small, mahogany writing desk, plus a comfortable leather chair and footstool. The oriental carpet was in muted tones of maroon and forest green. There was a small, mahogany veneered fridge stocked with splits of champagne and wines and Perrier. A crystal decanter exhibited an ample supply of amber whisky. Crystal glasses were on display for brandy and wine. He sunk into the soft leather chair, a glass of brandy in his good hand. A grin of satisfaction emanated from his face. The room was drenched in understated luxury.
The bed was nestled in a small adjoining room of forest green, complimented by the burgundy velvet bedspread. It reminded him of the room displays at the Ralph Lauren flagship store in Manhattan—true elegance!
The cover was safe, and there were no more borders to cross. To top it off, he was indulging in the lap of luxury. If these folks only knew what he had called home a couple of months ago? He would savor these few days.
He remained a little edgy and was looking forward to handing the cover over to Ireland. With each passing day, Michael was becoming more settled and optimistic. Life was good. He had a wireless connection in his room and used his laptop to research the private bank ratings for Zurich. He was pleased to see that Hyposwiss Bank was touted as one of the premier private banks in Switzerland. He called Sven and arranged dinner plans. After lingering in the marble-lined tub, he dressed for dinner.
He emailed Sara a short note: Hey Sara, I am staying at a hotel in Zurich. Sven and I are having dinner this evening. Much more later. I’ll call you tomorrow. All is well. Miss you, Michael. In another email, he gave the name and address of his hotel.
Michael met Sven for dinner. They ate at a small restaurant just off the beaten path. About halfway through the meal, the small talk changed to a more serious tenor.
“Sven, what do you think about our experience the other night?”
“Since the pilot was killed, I’m not sure we will ever know. I am inclined to think he was not involved. The plane most likely experienced a legitimate mechanical failure. Nor do I think it was sabotage; my reason is clear—if an outside person were involved, the perpetrator would have picked us up soon after the accident. From this point forward—or rather, until the item is placed in the new owner’s hands—you and I will have personal bodyguards. Yossi will be with you. He will know your whereabouts at all times and stay close by. He has the room next to you in your hotel. He booked the room right after your arrival.”
“Thank you. That does make me feel safer. I agree. The crash and the hours of freezing in those conditions made me feel vulnerable. I was afraid for us.”
“It was a harrowing experience.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“Safety-wise, we have taken appropriate action; these guards have years of experience. My vote is to proceed with getting the appraisal of the cover. I have two manuscript appraisers in mind.”
“Tell me more.”
“Of the two, the more important appraiser lives in the Los Angeles area. He has an impressive dossier. I have his C.V. for you to peruse. The other man is from London. My thought is to have the fellow from London view the cover first, primarily to authenticate. I am relying on the American chap to give us a more accurate estimate of its worth.”
“Sounds good. Will the Englishman honor our privacy request?”
“Most certainly. His career depends on his loyalty to his customers. I will have them each sign a confidentiality agreement. Each appraiser will be given a vague description of what you have in your possession. I will mention the manuscript, as circa 1200 A.D. That should be enough to whet their curiosity.”
“Sounds good.”
Sven spoke in a low tone, “I understand you have a letter from the nun who described the cover’s whereabouts.”
“Yes. I put it in the safe with the cover. I also have a letter of instruction from the nun’s parents, a map giving the location, and a detailed history from the nun.”
“Two letters and a map?” Sven appeared surprised.
“Yes. One letter is from the nun’s parents and contains instructions for locating the cover in its original hiding spot. They requested that the nanny move the cover to a safer location. The parents had been taken away in a mysterious fashion and never seen again. In fact, it appears they were murdered. The nanny cared for the nun after the parents’ disappearance. The parents’ house, where it was originally stored, was about to be repossessed by the bank. The other letter was written by the nun, explaining the history of the whole thing and containing a map that described the exact whereabouts of the cover.”
Sven appeared pleased. “Excellent! These letters are of significant value, just in case someone comes out of the closet claiming ownership. With any luck, the British appraiser will verify the cover’s authenticity. If all goes well with him, the next step will be the American.”
“Sounds good.”
“I have made contact with the American. He is available with twenty-four hours’ notice. I might add he is chomping at the bit. He is ready to ‘cross the pond’ upon our request. He is sworn to secrecy and willing to sign a privacy agreement. I will not introduce you under your real name, as you have requested anonymity.”
“Are there any other tentative plans in place?”
“There is not much doubt Christie’s will be considered as a representative for a private treaty negotiation.”
“Speaking of which, the private treaty option—now that I am more relaxed, please run that by me again.”
“The sale of property by private treaty is the common method utilized by estate sale agents. It involves preparing descriptive details of the property, including a tentative asking price. Potential buyers then view the details. If there is serious interest, viewing of the item can be arranged. In our case, we would not include the written appraisals until the buyers are here in Zurich. Of course, we need to look at all options, but because
of the sister’s request, it does appear to be the better choice.”
Michael asked, “Can there be offers above the asking price?”
“Yes, if there is more than one group making bids or the potential purchaser wishes to cement the deal as soon as possible. In this case, you have specified Ireland, so there will be no competitors.”
Michael looked up at Sven. “We can offer the cover to Trinity and the Irish government first; tell them that for the next month, they have the first right to make an offer. If Ireland thinks some other country is getting in the mix, it may force them into a quick offer. I’d like to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”
“I gather this nun states in writing that she wishes the cover to remain in Ireland.”
“Yes. She is quite clear on that point.”
Sven took a deep breath. He appeared pensive. “Private treaty looks like the way to go. Our next step will be deciding who the intermediary will be.”
“What are the options?”
“Your choices would be Christie’s, Sotheby’s, a private lawyer, or a broker who has had experience in this type of contract.”
“I’d like your feedback on this. Let’s discuss it after the Englishman’s appraisal.” Michael glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment to have my wrist set at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Good. You should relax afterward and browse around Zurich in the afternoon. We can meet for dinner tomorrow evening.”
“Sounds good, Sven; see you later.”
The two men parted. Michael’s wrist was set the following morning. He decided not to tell Sara, as it was a mere blip on the screen of this saga. He was deep in thought about the next leg of the journey as he rode back to the hotel in the taxi.
CHAPTER FORTY
Michael had some time to kill while waiting for the appraiser. He headed out for a tour of the city.
Fraumuenster Church was a highlight for Michael. There were five extraordinary stained glass windows designed by Chagall.
He crossed the river and browsed the city’s high-end stores and restaurants. He found cafés serving incredible food and flower markets bustling with shoppers.