Abels left and the door made its irritating vault sound again.

Still holding the paper and envelope, Mutters walked over to where Seth and Zoe still sat. He glanced at the bottle. “An excellent choice,” Mutters said. “One of the finest wines available.”

“Not bad,” Seth replied, trying to sound unimpressed. “But I do think it is not aging gracefully.”

Mutters raised an eyebrow, then without comment picked up the painting from the table. “Shall we proceed with the arrangements?” he said.

Ridgeway nodded, placed his glass on the coffee table, then joined Mutters at the cart Abels had brought. Zoe came up beside him.

They watched as Mutters looked at the paper, placed it and the painting on the work surface of the cart, then unlocked the cabinet doors. He studied the paper again.

From a shelf in the cabinet he pulled a bottle of turpentine, a rag, and a gray metal safe deposit box. It, too, had a small padlock securing its opening.

Without rolling up his sleeves or even taking off his coat, Mutters opened the bottle of turpentine, drenched the rag with it, and began wiping at the surface of the painting.

Zoe’s breath caught at the back of her throat. Seth’s eyes widened, but he gripped her forearm gently to warn her to be silent.

The decades-old paint softened slowly. It had been applied in some places with a spatula and Mutters had to use cloth after cloth to remove the stubborn pigments. The colors ran and smeared to a streaky brown. But finally, after nearly twenty minutes of work, the surface began to change.

“Ah!” Mutters said cryptically, and kept on rubbing.

First one shiny gold spot and then another appeared in the middle of the painting.

Ten minutes later, Mutters was through. He had exposed a very small gold ingot fixed into a recess of the wood substrate on which the paint had been applied. The ingot was the size of the broad side of a pack of cigarettes. Mutters held it up for them both to see. The ingot was embossed with a series of letters and numbers: the stamp of the foundry certifying the gold as .99999 fine, the weight of the ingot, and the swastika, eagle, and lightning bolts of the SS. Zoe gasped.

“I believe this is what you were expecting, is it not?” Mutters directed his question at Seth.

“What?… Ah… yes. Yes!” Seth said, trying to hide his surprise. “Precisely what I was expecting.”

Mutters held the block of wood out for Seth to hold. “Careful,” Mutters said. “It might still have some soft paint around the edges.”

Seth took the object from Mutters and held it up to the light. He held his breath, a sharp pain forming in his stomach as he gazed at the swastika pressed into the gold. The tangible symbol of evil brought home to him the awful web that had ensnared them.

He handed the object back to Mutters. The bank vice president picked up the paper he had carried into the room. As he did, the envelope fell to the carpeting. Seth reached down and picked it up. He noticed then the name on the return address. It was that of Hermann Goering. Below the Berlin address, there was a single word: “Instructions.” Ridgeway’s hand trembled as he placed the paper back on the table.