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“I hear you,” Emerson said. “I would expect better communication skills from you than sighing.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Rubbish.”
“That’s very British.”
“I went to secondary school in England. Several of them, actually.”
“Kept getting kicked out?”
“I was an academic challenge.”
“Are you finding anything useful?” Riley asked.
Emerson opened the top drawer on the desk and removed a scrap of paper. “This room is surprisingly sterile. Very much like Günter’s office. No personal effects scattered about. And to answer your question…perhaps. There’s this piece of paper with a quotation from Seneca, the Roman philosopher. Sometimes, even to live is an act of courage.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s either a suicide note, or the exact opposite.”
“What’s the exact opposite of a suicide note?” Riley asked.
“Getting up every day and living. And even better than the quote is the name scrawled on the back. ‘Dr. Bauerfeind.’?”
“Do you know him?”
“We’ve met.”
“Anything else that’s captured your interest?”
“The beetle hanging on the wall. It’s a death’s head beetle.”
Riley crossed the room and examined the beetle. It was perfectly preserved and mounted in a glass frame. The shell was shiny, with two black spots on it. The wings were glossy and golden. Under it was pinned a piece of paper with an inscription, written in a fine scientific hand. SCARABAEUS CAPUT HOMINIS.
While Riley looked at the beetle, Emerson removed a Rembrandt etching from the wall and exposed Günter’s safe.
“So predictable,” he said. “It really takes some of the fun out of it.”
He stared at the digital keypad for a minute or two, punched in a combination, and the safe swung open.
“How did you know the combination?” Riley asked.
“It was obvious. I only doubted it because it was so simple.” Emerson pointed to the framed insect on the wall. “What can you tell me about that?”
“It looks fake.”
“It is. Someone must have given it to Günter as a joke. It’s painted to look like a golden skull. And the inscription on the label, ‘Scarabaeus Caput Hominis’—Man’s Head Beetle. Clearly, it’s an homage to the Edgar Allan Poe story in which a man finds a fabulous treasure with the help of a fantastic insect, ‘The Gold-Bug.’?”
“?‘Goldbug,’?” Riley said. “That’s also a term used in investing. It means an expert who recommends buying gold as an investment.”
“Exactly. A person who believes that gold is a stable source of wealth, like it was during the days of the gold standard. So it wasn’t hard to guess that ‘goldbug’ would be Günter’s combination. That and the fact that the numbers are written under Bauerfeind’s name on the scrap of paper. Of course the numbers are rearranged, but the code is a simple one.”
He reached into the safe and pulled out the single object inside. A gold bar. A fly fluttered off the bar and Emerson handed the bar to Riley. She was amazed by the heft of the thing.
“I’m pretty sure this is a Good Delivery bar,” she said. “It’s the first time I’ve seen one in person.”
“Like you, my knowledge is academic. I know that Good Delivery bars are noted for high purity and large size, weighing in the vicinity of thirty pounds each. Most gold collectors collect coins or small bars of one ounce. Good Delivery bars are much harder to analyze or to trade. They are used in major international markets like Tokyo and London and New York and the gold reserves of major governments. And the International Monetary Fund. This one was made in Munich. It has the word ‘München’ carved in it, along with a half moon and crown, followed by the minting date and serial number.”
