Masterpieces and Murder

By Randall Christen

Melissa and Turner had thought they survived Melissa’s affair in Buenos Aires when she promised to make it right with her husband, but her unexpected pregnancy and sudden miscarriage sent her into a depressive state and their marriage into a dangerous downward spiral. Fast forward six month. Her new assignment working for MFAA in Berlin to help return stolen Nazi art pieces to their original owners had done wonders for her self-esteem and their marriage, but after showing up at a meeting with Heidi Fendler to make the purchase of an art related document for Melissa’s employer, their world was once again turned upside down.
The document they purchased detailed ten European masterpieces that had been presumed lost forever during World War II but were actually stolen by a German general as he attempted to flee Germany. Heidi and her twin sister Emma’s father was in charge of guarding the paintings in Neuschwanstein Castle at the time, and after the general made off with the paintings he removed the corresponding sheet from a Nazi stolen painting log book. When he attempted to sell the sheet years later, it set the stage for his murder and his daughter’s names being place on a list of loose ends that needed to be tied off by the ruthless aristocrats who were hell bent on retrieving the paintings and eliminating everyone who knew about them.
Once Turner and his wife are brought into her employer’s illicit transaction, they find themselves intertwined with the Fendler girls’ quest to regain the custody of Heidi’s daughter and escape Berlin before being crossed off the aristocrat’s to do list. Turner and Melissa quickly realize that the only way to save the Fendler family is to expose the caper before the paintings disappear forever, but the three aristocrats they are jousting with have both the resources and manpower to steamroll anything between them and the paintings.
Will the Fendler girls be able to secure the freedom of Heidi’s daughter and escape Berlin, or will the tripartite agreement made by some of Europe’s most ruthless robber-barons be consummated, allowing the dastardly trio to cash in on the paintings and continue their looting of the Post-World War II European Recovery Project’s coffers?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randall Christen
• Release date: Dec 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215378205

Randall Christen

Randall Christen had been writing complex professional documents for decades, but once he retired in 2014 it allowed him to pursue his true passion, writing historically based mystery novels. In his first offering, he has combined the research skills he has acquired over the past 25 years with a Creative Writing degree from Wisconsin to create a fascinating Historical Mystery novel, "The Carpenter's Chalice." Driven by the personal need to convince audiences that the Holy Grail is the vessel that Christ drank from at the Last Supper and not Mary Magdalene, he has mined through centuries of historical information to show how the chalice could have logically moved through history from the Last Supper to London, circa 1950. In novel #2 of the Michael Turner trilogy, his main characters Turner and Melissa Pembury continue their cat and mouse game with the book sets main villain, Heinrich Himmler. With the surfacing of the Arc of the Covenant in book 2, the stakes rise to a whole new level as the pair urgently tries to penetrate the walls of the Vatican Archives in search of the Third Key, the one thing that can negate the Arc's power and determine the fate of man. Unnamed book 3,the final offering in the trilogy will be released in 2021.

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Masterpieces and Murder

Published by Randall Christen at Smashwords

Copyright 2023 – Randall Christen

Masterpieces and Murder

1

Bavarian Alps, May 1, 1945.

Nazi SS Untersturmfuhrer Lothar Fendler curiously noticed that one of the castle’s key checkpoints was left unattended as he hastily traversed a faintly illuminated stone corridor deep within the belly of Neuschwanstein Castle in the Bavarian Alps. Suddenly, he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks, and then he slowly rotated as his eyes suspiciously narrowed. The corridor’s three niches that only a day earlier housed three ancient Egyptian vases from the Twelfth Dynasty were now puzzlingly empty. Fendler carefully considered several reasons that might explain their disappearance as he steadily stroked his chin, but then he abruptly turned and resumed his pace after realizing that he had no time to solve the perplexing mystery.

Troubling reports that detailed the collapse of German regiments under the unrelenting advance of the Allied Forces in the west and the Russians in the east had been alarmingly crossing his desk for weeks, and the panic the reports were causing within his Waffen-SS unit was driving veterans and new inductees alike to quietly disappear into the night after the mandatory evening rollcall. As a second lieutenant and squad leader of the castle’s security regiment, he seldom had cause to traverse the ancient hallways with urgency because the castle’s location deep within the Alps and far from the lines of combat had made his unit’s task of protecting the castle and its vast collection of priceless artifacts and paintings an uneventful, if not sleepy assignment throughout the year he had been assigned there. Unfortunately, that designation unnervingly changed one week earlier when the castle received reports of Munich’s downfall and the Allied Forces’ rapid advance through Germany in their direction, which instantly prompted all the castle’s other officers to take flight in search of a place of refuge across the Swiss border or a remote sanctuary deep within the impenetrable cliffs of the Austrian Alps. After the mass exodus, Fendler surprisingly found himself as the castle’s only remaining soldier of rank, thus casting him into the unenviable role of its commanding officer.

Fendler’s newly inherited assignment was daunting, to say the least, but after being informed that an important guest had unexpectedly shown up at the castle’s front gate and was awaiting his arrival in Singers Hall, he found himself more confused than ever. As he maneuvered through the final corridor of his journey, his mind was still unable to rationalize why his former commanding officer would travel to the isolated castle only days after the castle’s assigned officers had fled to Austria. Generalfeldmarschall Georg von Kuchler had risked capture and death to make the perilous journey from Berlin as the Reich rapidly collapsed around them, and after another ten paces he hoped to learn why.

Only one year earlier, Fendler was dutifully serving as Kuchler’s Chief Adjutant Officer as Army Group North laid siege to Leningrad in an effort to crush the Russian counteroffensive and control the Eastern Front. Kuchler’s military division had sternly maintained their iron-fisted stranglehold on the city for over two years, but when the Russians unexpectedly broke their blockade in 1944, Hitler unceremoniously relieved Kuchler of his command and sent him to a desk job in Berlin, and at the same time he was exiled to his current post in the Bavarian Alps. He feared that his abrupt transfer to Neuschwanstein Castle would remain an incurable blemish on his previously spotless service record, but after several months in the Alps had passed, he had empirically determined that protecting thousands of priceless art treasures that the Nazis had collected throughout Europe was much more desirable than freezing to death on the Eastern Front.

Unfortunately, his communication specialist had handed him a troubling message that was received on the castle’s Enigma coding machine earlier in the day. German high command had assumed that the British 2nd Army would continue on the same eastern trajectory from Munich to Salzburg, but the urgent message stated that the Brits had surprisingly turned to the south in the direction of Innsbruck, Austria, which meant that the new path of their pursuit would take them directly through the lush green countryside near Neuschwanstein Castle. If the latest reports were to be trusted, it meant that the fast-moving Brits had already advanced to within several days of their hidden fortress and his meager force of thirty would be no more than a speed bump to the rapidly moving invaders. Fendler finally reached Singers Hall, an opulently spacious ballroom with towering ceilings and walls lavishly decorated in themes from the famous German opera Lohengrin and Parzival, and then he forcefully pushed through the solid oak doors. A broad smile instantly erupted on his face as he recognized his former commanding officer and his aide patiently awaiting his arrival.

Heir Fendler, Kuchler said after being startled by his former aide’s unexpected burst into Singers Hall.

Fendler firmly saluted. Heil Hitler.

Kuchler feigned a salute in response. Enough of the formalities my old friend. Allow me to introduce my adjutant, Heir Baumann. Fendler disinterestedly nodded to Baumann, and then he quickly returned his attention to the familiar face that had unexpectedly materialized at his doorstep.

Generalfeldmarschall von Kuchler, it has been far too long since we last talked. However, I wish our reunion tonight was under more favorable circumstances.

The general removed his hat and then he used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. Thus, the reason for my visit. Even though I would love to spend an hour or two rehashing the good times with you my old friend, I am afraid I bring disturbing news. It has been reported that the Fuhrer has committed suicide in his bunker in Berlin. Also, I am told that Grand Admiral Donitz has assumed command and has instructed Generaloberst Jodl to coordinate a limited surrender with Eisenhower. Kuchler’s voice lowered as he slowly shook his head. I am afraid my friend, the war is lost.

Fendler suspiciously eyeballed Kuchler. This is very disturbing news, to say the least. However, I find it odd that you would expose yourself to such immense peril by traveling over 600 kilometers to personally tell me this. I suspect that there is another reason for your impromptu visit?

Kuchler pulled a chair out from under the six-meter-long table and sat as his nod encouraged Fendler to do the same. Fendler quickly slid into the chair across from him and his adjutant as his suspicions grew.

You are correct my friend. I did travel here for a different purpose, Kuchler confessed. As a matter of fact, I have a very delicate task I need you to assist me with. Since we are all aware that many parts of our motherland have collapsed, and the British 2nd has taken Munich and is closing in on Neuschwanstein Castle as we speak, I have traveled here to safeguard some of the castle’s paintings by relocating them to a place that is far more secure. Fortunately, the paintings I wish to remove are all listed on a single journal page that I noticed in one of the painting ledgers when I visited the castle two years ago. To aid your search, the sheet I am referencing includes Portrait of a Young Man by Raphael and nine other titles. Kuchler confidently leaned forward and nodded. I am confident your men will have no difficulty locating the proper section.

Fendler defensively raised a palm. I am sorry Heir Kuchler, but Heir Goring has not instructed us to release any of the paintings. Protocol would require his authorization.

Kuchler’s voice hardened. Heir Goring is in no position to make any decisions other than how he will survive the Allied invasion. Unfortunately Heir Fendler, the Reich is all but lost and there is nothing we can do to stop it from happening. As a matter of fact, the only thing we can do now is get our hands on anything of value that will help us survive the day of reckoning that is sure to come. Kuchler noticed Fendler’s hesitancy. And there is no reason you should not be rewarded for your commendable service as well. However, since it would be impossible for you to benefit from the paintings that are stored here, I have carried with me £10,000 British pounds which will enable you to survive Germany’s inevitable surrender and the economic collapse that is sure to follow. Kuchler slowly wagged his finger as his head moved back and forth. The army will no longer be your home and source of income my friend, so this money might determine if you and your daughters survive the ensuing chaos, or not!

Fendler’s face was grim as he slid back in his high-backed chair and began to silently digest the stark forewarning his former commander had just presented to him. He had served the Nazis faithfully since he was swept up in the Hitler movement of the 1930’s, but now that the Reich was on the verge of collapse, his thoughts turned to the wellbeing of his two daughters in Berlin. With each tick of the huge Schilderuhr clock that graced the vast hall, it became more and more obvious what his answer would be. He would save his family.

Fendler briskly rose from his chair. Follow me!

Kuchler and his aide quickly vacated their chairs and followed Fendler through the door and down the cool corridor that would lead them to the castle’s makeshift painting vault. The repetitive sound of their briskly moving footsteps reverberated off the walls as they traversed the passageway, and as they reached a set of marble steps, Kuchler unnervingly noticed a pair of imposing rifles pointing directly up at them from the landing at the bottom of the staircase. Fendler maintained his pace as he descended the steps, instantly prompting one of the guards to anxiously salute and the other to hurriedly open the door.

The general greedily licked his lips as he excitedly entered the huge art repository that previous served as the castle’s main dining hall, and then he paused for a second to marvel at the two-story room that was filled from floor to ceiling with priceless paintings and rare artifacts. Fendler feigned clearing his throat to remind the distracted general that time was of the essence, and after regaining his attention he swiftly led him to a pair of ledgers that graced a table in the far corner of the room. He quickly handed the general one of the books, and then he grabbed and rapidly dug into the other as they both desperately searched for the page that included Portrait of a Young Man by Raphael.

Kuchler’s fingers moved a little deeper into the ledger, and then a smile quickly appeared on his face as he confirmed that the layout of the ledgers and the bins was just as he remembered. Each bin location had a dedicated page that identified the ten paintings stored in it, the pages were unnumbered, and the back of each page was blank. This meant that the removal of the page would eliminate the record of that bin, and that bin only. He also noticed that although the pages were sequentially placed in alphabetical order by bin location, pages were not allotted for empty bins, which meant that some of the bin numbers were already missing. Where is that damn page, he thought as he frantically flipped through the pages.

Fendler finally let out a deep sigh of relief. I found it. Your paintings are in K12.

Tear the page out and destroy it, Kuchler ordered as he hurried toward the designated location. Fendler used extreme care as he gingerly tore the page out as close to the binding as was humanly possible, and then he joined the other two men at storage bin K12.

Kuchler methodically flipped through the ten paintings in the section until he located the one he was searching for, and then he carefully wiggled the painting out of its space in the rack. The room’s light suddenly exposed the striking colors of the painting he had selected, and then an avaricious smile began to grow on his face after gleefully verifying the painting was Portrait of a Young Man by Raphael.

Kuchler anxiously pointed. We need to move the ten paintings in this section and only those paintings to my truck. That way, if anyone compares this section to the painting ledgers, they will assume that paintings were never stored in it, he deviously thought.

The three soldiers who were guarding the room carefully removed the paintings from the section and then gingerly carried them up the marble steps where they loaded them with extreme care onto a small pull cart with a flat wooden bed and wobbly metal wheels.

That is fine. We must get moving, Kuchler barked as the final painting hit the cart bed. He anxiously checked the time on his watch as he led the way down the deserted corridor that led to the castle’s courtyard, and then without losing stride he glanced over his shoulder and grinned broadly at the sight of the precious bounty of priceless paintings that soon would be his.

Fendler diligently maintained a five-pace following distance as he steadily followed the cart down the faintly illuminated corridor, and after confirming that everyone in front of him was focused on the task at hand, he discretely folded the ledger sheet twice and then he covertly slipped it into his front pocket. His insurance policy was now safely tucked away, so he swiftly moved to the front of the procession and as the cart swung around the final bend of its journey, he hurriedly unlocked the door that emptied into the castle’s courtyard and pushed it open. Moments later, the general smiled broadly as he watched the final painting being loaded into his covered army truck.

Kuchler’s subtle head tilt prompted Fendler to follow him to a secluded area of the courtyard that was void of yard lights and cast faint shadows under the cloudy nighttime sky. As Fendler looked back in the direction of the truck, he curiously noticed that Kuchler’s aide was having a deep conversation with the other three soldiers, and then Baumann suspiciously pulled a pencil and paper out of his pocket and began writing on it. His eyebrow suspiciously tilted, and then he returned his attention to the general.

I am certain I do not have to remind you that my visit here is to be held in the strictest confidence, Kuchler categorically stated. Even though the end is near for the Reich, there is no reason anyone needs to know about the paintings or the money I am about to give you. After all, it is in both of our best interests to help the other survive the unpleasant events that are about to beset us.

Fendler gave an assenting nod. I understand completely. If I am ever questioned about today, this visit never happened.

Kuchler briskly shook Fendler’s hand, and then he discretely handed him the £10,000 pounds he had promised. God be with you.

Fendler kept a keen focus on the truck’s taillights until they passed through the castle’s gate, and then he turned to the three soldiers that stood nearby and eyed them intently. What were you discussing with Heir Baumann?

He thought it would be a good idea to stay in touch after the war, Oberschutze Wagner offered. After that, he asked for our names and where we were from. Wagner chuckled as he shook his head. He even had a good laugh after hearing that we were all from Berlin.

Fendler’s expression was blank as he struggled to produce a logical reason for Baumann’s desire to keep in touch with three men he had just met, and after a couple of seconds he disinterestedly moved that thought into the irrelevant information file within his mind. He quickly dismissed the three men to allow them to return to their posts, and as they walked away, he gingerly reached into his pocket and felt for the page he had removed from the ledger.

Fendler’s chest puffed as a smile formed on his face. If my intuition is correct, this sheet might eventually be even more valuable than the £10,000 pounds, he thought.

2

Three days later, Neuschwanstein Castle.

Lothar Fendler could clearly appreciate the irony of his current circumstance as the two British MPs who had escorted him to his old office forcefully placed him onto the chair that sat directly in front of his old desk.

Fendler had seriously considered defending the castle to the death with his thirty-man detachment when they first spotted the small platoon of soldiers from the British 2nd Army appear in the forest below. However, when the main force arrived an hour later it was self-evident that they would be no more than a nuisance to the vastly superior wave of invaders that had rudely arrived at his door.

Fendler unsettlingly noticed the sour scowls that graced the faces of Field Marshal Harold Chapman’s MPs as they diligently kept an eye on him, and the not-so-subtle message they silently conveyed was crystal clear as well. He would be on his best behavior when their superior arrived, or else!

As the British 21st Army under Montgomery fought its way through the Rhineland toward Berlin, the British 2nd Army under Chapman’s command had simultaneously raced toward Munich to cut off the defeated Nazis’ desperate retreat through the Eastern Alps. Along the way, local anti-Hitler Germans had informed a British squadron at the point of Chapman’s spear of a secluded castle that was still being guarded by a Nazi Zug, or small platoon of SS soldiers. A day later, they had taken Fendler’s beloved castle without firing a shot. Much to the surprise of the point team’s lieutenant, not only was the castle lightly guarded with men who had little will to defend it, the centuries old castle was also stuffed from floor to ceiling with priceless works of art. Upon hearing this revelation, Chapman hastily planned an impromptu visit to the secluded Nazi hideout.

Fendler cringed as he noticed the British brigadier he had surrendered the castle to enter the room accompanied by a thin military officer of higher rank with bristly white hair and another man who appeared to be a junior officer. The thin officer settled into the desk’s high back chair and then he stared deeply into the eyes of the confined Nazi. Fendler watched attentively as the brigadier whispered something into the ranking officer’s ear and then he moved to his side. The other officer, who was the general’s translator, informed Fendler in German that he would be converting the conversation back and forth between English and German.

Untersturmfuhrer Fendler, my name is Field Marshal Chapman of the British 2nd Army, and I must say, you have quite an impressive collection of art here. Of course, I am only minimally surprised because we were aware that Reichsmarshal Goring was tasked with looting every museum and stealing every art treasure on this continent. However, I was wondering if he had recently contacted you or anyone at this site about transporting some of the paintings from here to another location?

Fendler nervously twisted his ring. Reichsmarshal Goring did call the castle the day before the Fuhrer died. Of course, he had no idea that all our ranking officers had already fled, so upon hearing this he declared me the castle’s new commanding officer over the phone. He told me that the Reich was still strong, and also said that he would be making arrangements to have some of the castle’s more valuable paintings moved to another location.

Chapman frowned. Unfortunately, although the Russians are tirelessly searching Berlin for the Fuhrer’s staff as we speak, they have yet to locate Heir Goring. Did he recently show up here, or did you hear from him again after the initial telephone conversation?

He did not, Fendler adamantly declared. Although we crated the paintings he had specified in anticipation of his arrival, we surprisingly have not seen or heard from him since the original conversation. If you do not believe me you can see for yourself. The crate that we prepared for him is still in storage.

Chapman raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. I have been informed by the brigadier that he has reviewed the storage area in the cellar and there appears to be several sections of paintings that may have been emptied before our arrival. Once we review the painting ledgers that were found, we should be able to verify if anything catalogued is missing. Of course, if anything is missing, I am certain that as the castle’s commanding officer you would have been informed of its removal before the fact. So tell me, has anyone else visited here and removed art treasures in the past few weeks?

A small bead of sweat inexplicably formed on Fendler’s brow. Loyalty had always been one of the main pillars that defined him, and as he judiciously though about what his response would be, he admiringly recalled how his loyalty to Generalfeldmarschall von Kuchler had been earned, not ordered.

Chapman instantly noticed Fendler’s nervous pause. We are performing intensive interviews with everyone in the castle at this very moment to see what they know about the art treasures that are here and any that might have recently left the castle. I suggest it would not fare well for you if we learn you have misled us in any manner!

Fendler once again weighed the pros and cons of withholding information from the British commander. The fact that he had possession of the ledger sheet would make it almost impossible for whoever reconciled the storage areas to unequivocally determine that pieces were missing. However, the fact that three of his men were also present when Kuchler made off with the ten paintings made it likely that one of them might feel it was in his best interest to convey that information to the Allies. On the other hand, since no one knew that he pocketed the ledger sheet, he could play dumb on that subject and save it for a rainy day.

There was one such visit, Fendler reluctantly acknowledged. Generalfeldmarschall von Kuchler arrived here three days ago and removed ten paintings from the cellar. He told me he was instructed to safeguard them, but it is more likely that he was hoping to sell or barter them, perhaps in exchange for clemency.

Chapman’s eyes widened. Interesting! By any chance, do you recall which titles he took with him?

I do not know the titles of the paintings he removed. To tell the truth, I would be unable to differentiate a Vermeer from a Rembrandt, Fendler bluffed. However, I can show you the bin location that the paintings were removed from. Perhaps you will be able to determine which paintings were removed from it after you review the archives.

Chapman grinned broadly. That would be a very good place to start. If you would be so kind, lead the way.

The British officers and MPs followed closely as Fendler zigzagged his way through the castle’s musty hallways and then down the marble steps to the lower level where the painting vault resided. As they entered the storage cellar, Chapman’s greedy eyes bulged as they visually ogled the rows and rows of priceless paintings that had unexpectedly caused his mouth to water. Suddenly, another soldier hurried into the storage area and whispered something into the ear of Chapman’s aide, who then grimly reached out and interrupted the general’s hurried pace toward the paintings.

The aide leaned in toward Chapman’s ear and whispered. Sir, I was just informed that MFAA (Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives team) is only about thirty minutes away.

You cannot be in earnest! Chapman loudly replied in disgust. They were not supposed to arrive until tomorrow.

Sorry sir, his aide sheepishly replied.

In that case, we better speed this up, Chapman grumbled. Show me the section that Kuchler looted.

Fendler briskly led the general to the bin location that previously housed the set of paintings Kuchler had removed, and then he slowly waved an open palm. This is where he removed them from.

Chapman suspiciously reviewed the empty shelf while slowly rubbing his chin, and then his eyes drifted to the brass tag that was attached to the bin. His eyebrow curiously rose as he noticed that K-12 was stamped onto the tag, causing him to slowly rotate as he scanned the room. I assume there are ledgers somewhere that list the paintings contained in each bin location?

Fendler rapidly nodded. Yes, they are on the table at the end of the room. Please follow me.

Fendler’s heartrate accelerated as he marched toward the ledgers. The page that referenced bin location K-12 was safely hidden where only he could retrieve it, so selling the field marshal on his ignorance of the page’s disappearance would be paramount to his survival. He came to an abrupt halt in front of the metal table, and then he fought to disguise his uneasiness as he pointed to the two painting ledgers, hoping desperately that his captors would not detect that his apparent unfamiliarity with them was contrived.

These are the books Kuchler sorted through, he offered as he removed one of the books and then gingerly handed it to Chapman. The Brit greedily snatched the book and then began thumbing through it. After reaching the page titled K11, his eyes widened with anticipation as he flipped to the next page. K-13? Chapman hastily thumbed through a few more pages and disturbingly noticed that there were other bin location numbers that had also been sequentially skipped in the ledger, leading him to question the veracity of Fendler’s story.

Are you certain the paintings were in K-12? Chapman pressed.

Fendler’s head rapidly nodded. I am positive that was the location. I even pulled out several paintings from that bin myself.

Chapman dejectedly returned to page K-13, and as he suspiciously moved the book closer to his nose, he disconcertingly noticed a minuscule jagged paper stub that suggested the page before it had been removed.

Chapman spun back toward Fendler and eyeballed him with an accusatory stare. It appears as if the corresponding page for K-12 has been removed. By any chance, would you happen to know who took it?

Fendler scratched his forehead for effect. "Generalfeldmarschall von