The four hard drives weren’t password-protected and contained various business files and foreign bank accounts, which Vargas figured indicated complex tax evasion by the respective owners of the drives. Hardly a good enough reason to justify a raft of executions. In addition, there were no references to the Franklin Corporation. The two metal storage boxes were locked and needed some work before they could be opened. One of them contained two black velvet-clad trays of uncut diamonds of assorted sizes, while the other revealed a solitary item: a small artwork set inside an ornate gold frame. In the bottom left-hand corner, Rembrandt’s signature was clearly legible. The painting was the long-lost and much sought-after self-portrait he had produced just before his death. Vargas held the masterpiece in his hands and marvelled at its perfection.

Eventually he moved on to the weathered black leather case. He stood it upright and flicked the twin catches on the matching brass locks which, to his surprise, sprung open. But then, he figured there wasn’t really much point in locking a case that was already secure inside a safe-deposit box. Centred between the locks were two gold embossed initials. Although they were badly faded, Vargas could clearly make out the letters M.B.

He slowly lifted the case lid back to reveal its contents. The first items that caught his eye were three Manila files, bulging with hand-typed papers, personal certificates and a number of black-and-white photographs. The majority of the paperwork was in Spanish, although some of it appeared to be written in German. Underneath the folders were two unmarked round metal cans. Each contained a fifty-foot reel of 8mm film. The remaining item was a small yellow tin box. The outside design was virtually worn away but Vargas could just make out the word “Tabak”. He lifted the tin from the case, placed it on his desk and removed the lid. Lying inside were seven antique military medals, which he tipped onto the desktop. Vargas instantly recognised the unmistakable design of a black Iron Cross. He picked it up to study in more detail and, when he read the engraving on the back, his heart missed a beat. It was dated 4 August 1918 and the name of the recipient was Adolf Hitler.

Chapter Thirty-Six

23 January 2012

Buenos Aires

Vargas placed the medal back on the desktop and stared at the bizarre collection of random items that had been stored so carefully for over thirty years in the black case. He didn’t yet understand the implications of what was before him but he knew he was looking at the contents of Box 1321. His instincts told him that, for now, he should keep the discovery to himself. He reached for his internal phone and dialled Torres.

“Juan, there’s a hell of a lot of stuff to go through, so I’m going to work late. I might even pull an all-nighter.”

“Understood, chief. Do you want me to stay and help?”