Page 38 of Hell to Pay
“But they don’t know that she’s their granddaughter,” Ben said. “It’s like a puzzle, like a math problem, but with an error. A circular reference.”
“Indeed,” Herr Eltschig said. “The board will have to confer.”
“Wait, what?” Ben said. “Don’t you want to get the tiara? I mean, I guess the fact that Tante Marguerite knowsit’s down there isn’t proof that she’s the princess and it’s her tiara, if she’s one of these other two people—she couldn’t be the random girl on the road, because how would she know somuch about the palace and know the hiding place?—but at least you’d get to see it. And if Tante Marguerite can’t prove it’s hers, you get to put it in your museum, right, with all the other jewelry? I don’t see how you can lose.”
Everyone looked at each other. Dr. Eltschig, for once, didn’t seem to know what to do. I pushed my chair back carefully and stood. “If you’d like me to help you find the hiding place,” I said, “assuming the deep cellar is still accessible, call my granddaughter. We’ll be here another ten days or so. Now, though, I’m tired, and I must rest.”
Hitler lost the war, and untold millions lost their lives, because his ego couldn’t allow retreat even when his refusal cost him half his forces. Sometimes, though, retreat is the best course. The board didn’t know where to find the tiara—I hadn’t shared the detail about the cistern, or the location of the winding stair—and maybe they needed time to realize that.
Also, I was hungry.
18
RETURN HOME
We were eating lunch in the hotel’s more casual restaurant when Alix’s phone rang. She looked at the screen, then at me, and said, “It’s Dr. Bauer.”
“Take it,” I said. My heart had started beating too hard again; in fact, I felt a little faint. Everybody else stopped eating and stared at Alix, except for Ben, who kept eatingandstared at Alix. He was having Currywurst andPommes Fritesagain, and this time, I hadn’t had to tell him to use his fork to eat the French fries, or that the excellent and wonderfully spicy German mustard was the preferred condiment, and, no, the kitchen would not have ketchup. Ben was learning.
“Yes,” Alix said, a few seconds after her “Hello?” After a bit, we got, “Yes, we will. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”
Ashleigh had pulled out her phone during the thirty-second conversation and was recording again. “What happened?” she and Ben asked together.
“They aren’t promising anything,” Alix said, “but they want you to take them around the palace, Oma, and go through what happened after the second bombing raid. Four o’clock, which I said ‘OK’ to, because that gives you a chance to have arest before all that extra walking. Or we could get a wheelchair for you.”
“I’ll view it as my daily constitutional,” I said, “and remind myself that it’s strengthening my bones and giving me an appetite for dinner.”
“And wear your comfortable shoes that you don’t like,” Ben chimed in.
“Alas, yes,” I said. “I will indeed have to wear the hideous shoes.”
“But they say,” Alix went on, “that even if we find the tiara, we’ll still need to prove provenance before they’ll hand it over, and we’ll have to work with an expert for that, the same as the woman told us on the phone. The hemophilia has to help, though. Hard to fake that kind of genetic luck. The DNA testing seems like the simplest way, but …”
“But,” I said, “it will take some convincing to get the government to agree to something so intrusive. Possibly even a legal case.”
“But you don’t have time for a legal case,” Ben said. “That could take years, and you’re really old.”
Alix said, “Oh, smooth.”
I had to laugh. “Well, yes. I could be dead by the time they decide, you’re right. If I am, though, or merely too gaga to care, Alix’s mother would be the heir. She could provide her own DNA, so we’d be in exactly the same spot.”
“Other than way poorer.” That was Ashleigh. “My parents are lawyers. That’s why I’m supposed to be in law school right now. Too bad history’s so much more interesting, because they havebucks.”
“German legal fees are more predictable than those in the U.S., from what I understand,” I said, “and generally lower. They’re regulated, you see.”
“What a surprise,” Alix muttered.
“Also,” I said, ignoring her—in some instances, after all, Ido think German ways are superior—“the loser pays the winner’s costs and fees. Which isn’t ideal if we lose, but I don’t intend to lose. If that should somehow happen, though, I can afford it, or my estate can.”
“So Alix either gets a great inheritance,” Ashleigh said, “or, like, nothing.”
“Alix,” Alix said somewhat waspishly, “doesn’t need an inheritance.”
“Well, yeah,” Ben said, “since your parents live in a mansion in San Francisco, and, you know, there’s Sebastian.”
“Do you make a ton of money?” Ashleigh asked Sebastian withgreatinterest. “You’re in the NFL, right? Oh, man, I need to do a segment on you, too, and how you’re paying for this whole search extravaganza. With some video of you playing football, whatever you do football-wise. You must do something pretty good to afford all this. Usually I’m wondering how I can get a few bites out of some story, and this time, there are somanybites. This is, like, documentary territory.” Her eyes got a faraway look. “Totally.”
Ben said, “He’s a kicker—field goals and kickoffs, not a punter—and everything’s online, so you can just look it up. I can save you the trouble, though. He kicked at eighty-seven percent last season and a hundred percent in the postseason, and his new contract is for $21.1 million over the next three years.”
