Zoe dream-walked her way around the great room. Rare books lined mahogany bookshelves; priceless manuscripts and scrolls from antiquity jammed a glass case. Religious writings gathered from caves and ruins in secrecy by night-prowling Bedouins who peddled them on the underground market hundreds of years before the Dead Sea Scrolls were revealed.

Zoe knew that any single item by itself could be the centerpiece of a great museum. But all of them together? Her head spun. A symphony filled her every thought.

Her circumnavigation brought her back face-to-face with Max, and when she looked at him, Zoe saw his face shine at the awe that his art had inspired in an expert who was widely acknowledged as unimpressible.

“I’m not sure what to say.” Zoe searched for words. She felt her cheeks burn as she struggled to resurrect her composure.

“I believe that words are mostly inadequate,” Max said. His head doddered as he looked up at her. To make it easier for him, Zoe Ridgeway seated herself on a nearby Mies van der Rohe sofa and struggled to assimilate the overload.

Max glanced up and with a nod dismissed the guard, who closed the security door behind himself.

“As you are beginning to grasp, this is a legacy, not a mere collection,” Max began, his words coming in small bursts between deep rattling breaths. “I wish for you to help me atone for my legacy.”

Zoe looked at him questioningly.

Max closed his eyes for a long moment and then continued. “More than half a century ago, I was a conscript in the Wehrmacht—the army of the Third Reich. I was one of many who were pressed into service in the Austrian mountains south of Munich, in the region known for its salt mines.

“Hitler had looted many of the great collections and it was here in the mines that the art was brought for safekeeping. I saw many awesome things and one thing in particular which has been a burdensome secret for me since those days.”

A coughing fit racked the man’s frail body, bringing the guard back into the room. Max took a deep breath and waved the man away.

“When the Allies came, I—and many of my comrades—fled, taking with us each as much of the art, gold coins, manuscripts, religious reliquaries as we could carry.

“I made my way to Zurich and with the help of a network of those who had preceded me set up a new life. I sold some of the art I had brought with me. But instead of simply living on it, I used the proceeds to buy the art and rare objects from those who came after me.

“It was a desperate time,” Max explained. “The market was flooded; cash was scarce; survival was paramount What you see around you was acquired for pitifully little for someone like me who was prepared to take a chance. I kept what I could and disposed of what I needed to in order to obtain the funds for my own survival… and to acquire more.”