Zach nodded. “I pitched it to Theodore Baer. He’s never been big on backing up sources, and after last night, he’ll do anything to shift the attention from his landslide loss. So I’m going on the air with him when his show starts at nine … if that’s okay with you?”
It was a risk, no doubt, but Veronica knew if they didn’t get their story out, and quickly, they were goners. “Okay, but you can’t use Maggie and Jamie’s names. They stay out of it.”
“Of course—I will not mention your family, other than Ellen.”
Veronica believed him. “We better get going then,” she said, caressing the key given to her by Flavia, “I need to stop off at the bank first.”
Theodore Baer had sent a limo to deliver them to his Midtown studio. He’d take no chances of Zach not making it—he needed a subject change, and bad.
They were ushered into the limo by a group of Secret Service agents. Baer wouldn’t get to use them much longer, so he might as well take full advantage.
Once settled in the back of the vehicle, Veronica instructed the driver to take them to First Manhattan Trust on The Avenue of the Americas between 39
th
and 40
th
. The agents didn’t seem thrilled with the change of plans, but must have been under orders to make Zach and his group happy.
They drove through the heavy morning traffic until they arrived at the historic limestone building that housed the bank. It opened at eight, and they were the first people in. Maggie informed them that it was the same bank that Oma brought them to get the Raphael painting, among other items. Veronica was still a little bitter over Ellen’s reckless soirées into the city with her children, but chose to bite her lip. For now.
When they entered, Maggie ran ahead. Veronica ordered her to come back, her voice echoing off the cathedral-like ceiling. Maggie kept running ahead, not hearing her. Or more likely, ignoring her.
She headed toward a gray-haired woman, who wore a dark suit and a pair of eyeglasses with pink frames. Veronica had no idea why her daughter was running toward this woman, and she got the feeling that security was asking itself the same question.
“Mrs. Blythe!” Maggie shouted.
The woman recognized her. “Ms. Peterson, so nice to see you again. I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
When the others caught up, Maggie did the introductions. Veronica learned that Mrs. Blythe had been in charge of Ellen’s account for the last twenty years, and Maggie had met her upon Ellen’s last visit.
More lip biting.
When Veronica began spouting information about the key to a lockbox, password, and other assorted privacy issues right in the middle of the bank, Mrs. Blythe urged them into her office. In private, she explained that the key and password were not enough to get her into the safe-deposit box. Only Ellen, or an “agent for the account” created by Ellen, could enter. Or, the executor of the will, but it could be weeks before the will officially went through probate. They didn’t have that kind of time.
Luckily, Ellen had had the foresight to make Maggie an agent to the account. Although, with what Veronica knew now, she doubted Ellen left anything to luck.
Despite Maggie’s chumminess with Mrs. Blythe, she still needed to prove identification. So Veronica hunted through her bag until she found Maggie’s passport. She’d gotten it for the family trip to Europe that they never ended up taking. It was the trip to save the marriage, even though nobody ever admitted that was the reason.
Satisfied, Mrs. Blythe led them into a grand vault. There, she left them alone with Ellen’s safe-deposit box. When they pulled it out of the wall, it was much larger than the shoebox size Veronica had expected. This box was large and rectangular
.
About the size of a box that could store a priceless Raphael painting
,
she thought.
The contents consisted of one bound document, a slip of paper, and what looked to be a small electronic device. Veronica picked up the document. The first thing she noticed was it was written in German. “It’s titled,
Die Endlösung der Judenfrage
,” she said to Zach in a puzzled tone, as she flipped through it.
The title sparked Zach into action, which surprised her. “Let me see that.”
He intently scrutinized the words, before looking up with wonderment. “These are the meeting minutes from the Wannsee Conference from January of 1942. A copy was found after the war, and is displayed at a Holocaust museum, but this one has the infamous missing minutes that were blocked out of that version.”
Veronica wasn’t sharing the enthusiasm. “The Wannsee what?”
“
Die Endlösung der Judenfrage
is German for the Final Solution to the Jewish question.”
“As in …”
“As in, the Germans wanted to displace their Jewish population, and the answer they came up with was extermination. But because the meeting minutes that were found didn’t contain specific language about the death camps, certain neo-Nazi types have argued the Holocaust was a figment of a pro-Jewish media.”
Zach zoomed to the spot he was looking for in the document.
“Yes—right here,” he said, tapping his finger on the page. “Methods of killing … liquidation … extermination.” Zach looked up, his face looked ill. “God, these guys were sick bastards.”
And now they were after
them
. Veronica took a quick glance at Maggie and Jamie. They were racing each other up the long corridor of the vault. Jamie was more athletic than his older sister, but he was still wearing his tuxedo shoes and they were holding him back. Any advantage one might gain, the other would counter with sheer competitive will. Brother and sister acting like brother and sister.
Veronica’s eyes returned to Zach, who was still buried in the document. “I didn’t know you could speak German?”
“Our neighbors growing up in Michigan immigrated from Germany.” He smiled. “If I told you, would you have put two and two together with my Audi and declared me to be conspiring with the enemy?”
Veronica smiled back. He always knew the right tone to take. “So what does this have to do with me? Why would Ellen give me the key to this box?”
“I have a theory. The most important player in regards to these lost minutes was Reinhard Heydrich. He represented Himmler at the meeting. Heydrich’s direct understudy was Heinrich Müller.”
“It’s a small Nazi world.”
“My guess is that Müller was the one who ended up with the document, which he gave to Ellen with instructions to take it to America and keep it safely hidden. I think he saw the original document with the missing minutes as a future piece of leverage if he ever got in a tough spot. That would appeal to his pragmatic side.”
Zach placed the document back in the box with a sad shake of the head. “Ninety minutes—that’s how long the conference lasted. Ninety minutes to decide to murder six million people—and half the time they seemed more interested in their cognac.”
Veronica reached into the box and pulled out a small index card. On it was the First Manhattan Trust logo with the term
VSD
. Underneath
VSD
was a username and password.
Veronica had no idea what it meant, so she handed it to Zach. He looked equally confused. They called in Mrs. Blythe to explain, since it was a bank issued card.
“
VSD
stands for Virtual Safe Deposit,” she stated. “Recent legislation has made digitally signed documents legally binding. To accommodate this, First Manhattan Trust became one of the first banks to offer an online safe-deposit box.”
“So we go to the Internet site, sign in using our password, and that will take us to our virtual safe-deposit box?” Zach asked.
Mrs. Blythe nodded. “Yes—the great advantage is 24-hour access.”
Zach and Mrs. Blythe briefly chitchatted about new bank technology. When she left, Zach pulled out his phone and brought up the Internet.
“I can’t believe the kids’ great-grandmother was so much more tech savvy than I am,” Veronica bemoaned.
Zach put in the user name and password that was left for them in the lockbox. On the screen appeared the one document Ellen stored in her virtual safe-deposit box. Zach smiled, as did Veronica.
The memoir.
A second copy.
A second source to back up Youkelstein’s tape.
There were two more items in the bin. One was a small booklet that looked like an address book. It was an inventory of precious art stolen by the Nazis. Some Veronica was familiar with, while others were obscure. She vowed to return the art to its the rightful owners, and knew just the person to make that happen.
The last item was a hand-held video player. Veronica placed the earbud headphones in and turned it on.
When she hit play, Ellen’s face came onto the screen. She was wearing the same outfit she wore on the tape they viewed in Kingston’s room. At first, Veronica thought it was a copy of the same video. A necessary copy, since Ellen accurately predicted that Kingston would destroy the video and the memoir. The old lady had been right about every move so far.
Veronica made eye contact with the dead woman. It was an eerie experience.
Ellen somberly began, “Veronica—this tape is for your ears and yours alone. Do not allow anyone else to view this video.”
When she said it, Veronica felt a chill down her spine.
Veronica wandered away from Zach and sat on a bench. She held the small video screen inches from her face, as if that would help her hear better.
“Now that you’ve found a copy of the memoir, I want to let you know I left out one important chapter. The reason I did so was that I believe you, as Maggie and Jamie’s mother, are the executor of their heritage. Only you can decide what information will help them to grow, versus what will hang a burden on them. As my husband Harold used to say—pressure will either crush you or turn you into diamonds.
So that’s where Carsten got that saying.
“If it were up to me, I’d choose for you to never inform them of what I’m about to tell you.”
Veronica filled with fear. There was something about those piercing, pale blue eyes staring back at her. She took a quick look at a pacing Zach, whose natural curiosity was eating at him. Maggie and Jamie remained oblivious, still involved in the Sibling Olympics.
Ellen continued, “It is true that my mother, Etta, was a prostitute in Munich during World War I. It was there she met and became impregnated by a young German corporal. But it wasn’t until I was almost fourteen that my mother, then bedridden and nearing death, revealed to me who my biological father was.
“During the creation of her Heritage Paper, Maggie kept asking me why my son Josef was ‘chosen’ to lead the return of the Reich. I never answered her. Because he wasn’t chosen … he was born into it. He was an heir to the throne. And that’s because I’m the daughter of Adolf Hitler. And that’s the real reason he took me in and protected me.”
Veronica felt like her head just exploded.
Did she just say what she thought she just said?
Veronica rewound the video, but the result was the same.
I’m the daughter of Adolf Hitler.
She did it again.
Adolf Hitler.
Again.
Hitler.
When Veronica found her bearings, she updated the family tree in her head. If what Ellen said was true, Adolf Hitler and Etta Sarowitz had a child, Ellen Sarowitz-Peterson. That was what Kingston meant about royal blood.
The bloodline had thinned dramatically over the years, including young deaths for Josef, Harry Jr. and Carsten. And coming in contact with the lineage from the outside appeared to be just as deadly. It had befallen Greta Peterson, Flavia’s mother ... and Eddie. She didn’t think that any of this was a coincidence.
Veronica looked into Ellen’s eyes, desperately searching for some clue as if to say she’s a little coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. But there was none. And after the last couple of days, how could Veronica legitimately dismiss it?
She stared out at Maggie and Jamie, feeling helpless. She had tried to protect them from everything—took every precaution—but in the end there was an evil embedded inside them. Derived from a gene cesspool. They were descendents of the devil.
Ellen provided a moment for it to sink in, as if she understood what her reaction would be, before continuing, “There are four remaining members in the blood line—Maggie, Jamie, Flavia, and James, who I presume has been elected president. He has known the secret since his formative years, and I informed Flavia yesterday in a similar manner to this. I asked her to bring that video to James—a last ditch effort for him to come to his senses, which I’m sure failed.
“Otto, or Aligor Sterling as you might have known him, is the only other member of the Apostles who is aware of this secret. So whether Jamie or Maggie ever learns of this information, is completely up to you. But recently I’ve become worried that an outside force has discovered this secret, and in the future, will attempt to harm those in the bloodline. So telling you this is also a call for awareness on your part.