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“You know of it?” Sam asked, surprised.
“Not so much the plane as the pilot who flew it.”
“Lennard Lambrecht?” Remi said.
Andrei’s brows went up a fraction. “You have done your homework.”
“Who is he?”
“Lennard Lambrecht, a Nazi officer, was a double agent, working for Russia and the Allies, even after the war ended.”
Sam was always interested in World War II history, especially when it was something he wasn’t familiar with. “In what way?”
“He helped arrange passage from Europe to Morocco for the Nazi war criminals fleeing prosecution. What those German officers didn’t know was that he was also reporting their whereabouts to the authorities.”
“A ratline spy,” Sam said, thinking that Brand and Karl would definitely want to interview Andrei for their documentary.
“Exactly. Because of his assistance, a number of high-ranking German officers were arrested before they were able to set sail for South America. It was during his work there that he’d heard rumors of a plot against Russia being concocted by a group of Nazi officers. They were going to bomb Russia and blame it on the Americans. You can imagine what something like that would have done.”
“World War Three,” Remi said.
“Quite possibly.”
“How,” Sam asked, “did this Romanov Ransom come into play?”
“If rumors are to be believed, the ransom was stolen from Russia at the same time as the Amber Room, then stored by the Nazis at Königsberg castle. Once the Germans realized they were losing the war, it was smuggled out. The ransom was to be their fail-safe plan. Or—how do you Americans say it?—the Hail Mary plan. They planned to use the stolen treasure to finance the sabotage of the peace efforts.”
He paused for a moment to look around, then back at the group. “My understanding is, Lambrecht died a hero. He knew he’d been compromised. His handlers felt the benefit outweighed the risk and sent him in one last time to get the names of those involved and the route they took to smuggle the ransom out of Königsberg castle. He was bringing that information back when his plane went down in the Atlas Mountains in Morocco.”
He glanced over at them. “What is it you two plan to do with this information?”
“To start,” Sam said, “we document it for historical value.”
“Let’s say you do find the Romanov Ransom?”
“Return it to its rightful owners.”
Sergei nodded, saying, “That’s what the Fargos do. Trust me.”
Andrei directed his attention to Sam, saying, “I’ve had other people make inquiries. People I don’t trust. And neither should you.”
“Understood,” Sam said.
Remi asked, “What do you think the Romanov Ransom is?”
He looked at his watch. “Time to turn back. My break is only fifteen minutes.” They made an about-face, heading toward the crowded stalls once more. And just when Sam doubted that Andrei was going to say anything more, he spoke. “It was rumored that Maria Feodorovna, the Dowager Empress, paid a vast fortune in jewels to free her son and his family from the Bolsheviks.”
“Any idea how much or what it consisted of?” Sam asked.
“As far as a dollar amount? I have no idea since no documentation exists. She kept a diary, but there’s no mention of a ransom paid. A peer of mine suggests the ransom was stolen by someone in her own household before it ever made it to the Bolsheviks. Another believes it was paid, but the Bolsheviks never intended to release the imperial family to begin with. And, as we all know, they were murdered. As to what was in it? Depends on who you ask. That it was paid explains why her fortune was nonexistent when she fled the Crimea.”
“Humor us,” Sam said as they weaved their way through the growing crowd of shoppers. He noticed the couple from the museum shop a few booths away to admire some of the amber trinkets.
“Naturally, everyone assumes there were a few Fabergé eggs gifted to her by her husband, Alexander. After all, it would explain why a handful have never been found or accounted for. She would also have kept any jewelry he’d given her over the years. There are numerous photographs of her wearing tiaras and necklaces that have never been seen since.” Andrei nodded at someone he knew, as they walked, then glanced over at Sam and Remi, saying, “I’m sure that if you’re aware of any of the history surrounding the murders of the Romanovs, you know they’d amassed a fortune of loose stones that were meant to tide them over once they escaped the country. The royal family had sewn them into the lining of their clothes. It would have been no different for the Dowager Empress when she fled to the Crimea. In my opinion, if this ransom truly exists, it would be worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“Do you believe the stories?” Remi asked. “That the ransom really exists?”
“I do,” he said, pausing beside the booth where he’d greeted one of the vendors. Strings of amber beads hanging from hooks glistened in the sunlight. “I believe the Bolsheviks had it, and then the Nazis took it when they invaded Russia.”
