Read Online The Samurai Inheritance by James Douglas - Free Book Online
Authors: James Douglas
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Jamie accepted one.
As he scanned the contents, he realised it was a list of annual audits mentioning the objects sold by Adolfus Ribbe to the Neues Museum in 1885. Each was identified by a catalogue number and marked with a (d) for display, (s) for storage or (l), which meant out on loan. His eyes automatically went to the year 1946 and disappointment hit him like a sucker punch when he saw that though the four skulls were listed, the shrunken head had disappeared along with the fish spears, the bowls and the model canoe.
‘It looks as if it went up in smoke at the end of the war.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, it seems I’ve been wasting your time.’
‘You were seeking something specific?’ Did her eyes betray something more than casual interest?
‘My client is keen to see the shrunken head repatriated if it still exists, but …’ He tailed off with a shrug. ‘I have a photograph if that helps?’ From his inside pocket he produced a brown envelope with the picture Keith Devlin had supplied him.
She took it and removed the picture. ‘Yes,’ she squinted as if she was trying to extract every pixel of information from the sepia print, ‘I recognize the technique and the style. Typical of similar artefacts from the island from around the mid-nineteenth century. The skull has been removed and the features preserved and padded out with organic material.’
She handed back the print and looked over the printout again, lips pursed in concentration. Eventually, she gave a nod of understanding. ‘Yes, it disappears, but I think you’ve reached the wrong conclusion. See …’ She twisted so he could read the sheet and drew her finger across a series of dates. ‘The head was never in the museum during the war. The last time it appears is in November nineteen thirty-six, but by the time of the next audit,’ she gave a shrug, ‘it’s gone.’
Jamie’s heart took a lurch and he studied his own sheet more closely. ‘So it could have disappeared any time over the next year?’
‘No.’ Magda shook her head. ‘Two or three months. The next audit is in January of the following year.’
‘Isn’t that unusual? After all, an audit of a museum is a massive undertaking.’
She gave him a look that hinted he was straying into dangerous territory. ‘Not so unusual if you consider the times, Mr Saintclair.’
‘You mean the Nazis, of course.’
She nodded. ‘Obviously those were difficult days for everyone in Berlin.’
It took him a moment to work out the real message in the carefully chosen words. ‘So basically anything with a taint of Jewishness had to be disposed of or destroyed.’
‘That’s correct, or …’ For the first time Magda Ross looked less than confident and Jamie raised an eyebrow, half certain what was coming. ‘… or certain artefacts might have been of interest to, er, certain members of the regime.’
‘Items linked with the occult, you mean,’ he persisted.
‘Yes,’ she said carefully. ‘So you understand the significance of what I am saying?’
‘That if the Reichsführer-SS, Heinrich Himmler, believed the shrunken head of a South Sea savage and probable cannibal could aid his search for the homeland of the Vril, he wouldn’t have hesitated to have it, shall we say, borrowed for his collection.’
Now it was her turn to raise a perfectly curved eyebrow. ‘You’re very well informed, Mr Saintclair.’
The statement contained an unspoken question, but one that would take much too long to answer. ‘Is there any way of finding out where it went?’
She went back to her computer, frowning as she typed. She shook her head. ‘There is no record of its disposal. I’m sorry; it is as if it just vanished.’
Jamie hid his disappointment. He stood up and handed over a dog-eared business card – he really must get some new ones now that he was in funds. ‘If you do happen to come across any more information, please give me a call.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Saintclair.’
As he scanned the contents, he realised it was a list of annual audits mentioning the objects sold by Adolfus Ribbe to the Neues Museum in 1885. Each was identified by a catalogue number and marked with a (d) for display, (s) for storage or (l), which meant out on loan. His eyes automatically went to the year 1946 and disappointment hit him like a sucker punch when he saw that though the four skulls were listed, the shrunken head had disappeared along with the fish spears, the bowls and the model canoe.
‘It looks as if it went up in smoke at the end of the war.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, it seems I’ve been wasting your time.’
‘You were seeking something specific?’ Did her eyes betray something more than casual interest?
‘My client is keen to see the shrunken head repatriated if it still exists, but …’ He tailed off with a shrug. ‘I have a photograph if that helps?’ From his inside pocket he produced a brown envelope with the picture Keith Devlin had supplied him.
She took it and removed the picture. ‘Yes,’ she squinted as if she was trying to extract every pixel of information from the sepia print, ‘I recognize the technique and the style. Typical of similar artefacts from the island from around the mid-nineteenth century. The skull has been removed and the features preserved and padded out with organic material.’
She handed back the print and looked over the printout again, lips pursed in concentration. Eventually, she gave a nod of understanding. ‘Yes, it disappears, but I think you’ve reached the wrong conclusion. See …’ She twisted so he could read the sheet and drew her finger across a series of dates. ‘The head was never in the museum during the war. The last time it appears is in November nineteen thirty-six, but by the time of the next audit,’ she gave a shrug, ‘it’s gone.’
Jamie’s heart took a lurch and he studied his own sheet more closely. ‘So it could have disappeared any time over the next year?’
‘No.’ Magda shook her head. ‘Two or three months. The next audit is in January of the following year.’
‘Isn’t that unusual? After all, an audit of a museum is a massive undertaking.’
She gave him a look that hinted he was straying into dangerous territory. ‘Not so unusual if you consider the times, Mr Saintclair.’
‘You mean the Nazis, of course.’
She nodded. ‘Obviously those were difficult days for everyone in Berlin.’
It took him a moment to work out the real message in the carefully chosen words. ‘So basically anything with a taint of Jewishness had to be disposed of or destroyed.’
‘That’s correct, or …’ For the first time Magda Ross looked less than confident and Jamie raised an eyebrow, half certain what was coming. ‘… or certain artefacts might have been of interest to, er, certain members of the regime.’
‘Items linked with the occult, you mean,’ he persisted.
‘Yes,’ she said carefully. ‘So you understand the significance of what I am saying?’
‘That if the Reichsführer-SS, Heinrich Himmler, believed the shrunken head of a South Sea savage and probable cannibal could aid his search for the homeland of the Vril, he wouldn’t have hesitated to have it, shall we say, borrowed for his collection.’
Now it was her turn to raise a perfectly curved eyebrow. ‘You’re very well informed, Mr Saintclair.’
The statement contained an unspoken question, but one that would take much too long to answer. ‘Is there any way of finding out where it went?’
She went back to her computer, frowning as she typed. She shook her head. ‘There is no record of its disposal. I’m sorry; it is as if it just vanished.’
Jamie hid his disappointment. He stood up and handed over a dog-eared business card – he really must get some new ones now that he was in funds. ‘If you do happen to come across any more information, please give me a call.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Saintclair.’
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