Ghosts of the Past (6 page)

Pence Hall was abandoned, the last of the classes having finished two hours earlier. The sound of Ferguson’s shoes on the waxed floor eerily reverberated off the walls of the stairwell on his climb up, and then off the walls of the long empty hallway of the second floor. Dr. Karl’s office was supposed to be halfway down the corridor on the right, adjacent to room 216.

The phone call three hours earlier to the U of L information services had gone from the operator, to the Foreign Languages Department, where a secretary had answered and directed him on to the Dean of the department.

After leaving a message on his initial attempt, Ferguson had called repeatedly, every fifteen minutes for the last two hours. On the third ring of his ninth attempt, Dr. Johann Karl picked up. The conversation was brief and to the point, resulting in an appointment in Dr. Karl’s office for a translation of the letter and the accompanying notes. He would be available at 5:00 p.m.

At 4:53, according to the round, black clock located directly above his head, Ferguson knocked on the frosted glass door in front of him. Stenciled in bold, black type on the glass was the man he was looking for. “Please come in,” came the accented reply from within.

“Dr. Karl?” Ferguson inquired as he opened the door and peeked around the edge.

“
Kome
in,
bitte
.”

Dr. Johann Karl was seated behind a large, antique mahogany desk, congested with a morass of papers and books. His full head of white hair and pale, wrinkled complexion made him and the desk complimentary collector’s items. He stood up, slightly bent at the waist as he welcomed Ferguson into his office with a gesture of the hand to the seat in front of the desk.

“You must be Herr Ferguson,
Ja
?” The German accent still heavy in the delivery.

“Yes sir.” Ferguson moved toward the chair. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“My pleasure young man. What is it I can help you with? Your phone call seemed to be most urgent.”

“Well… I have a letter that I recently inherited from a close relative, and before he died he was rather emphatic that its contents were… important.” Ferguson reached into the manila file folder he had brought with him and removed the letter encased in the zip lock bag. “My dilemma is that everything in it is in German, and I’m afraid I can’t read a lick of what it says.”

Dr. Karl reached an open palmed hand through a crevice in the quagmire that was the top of his desk. “May I have a look at it,
bitte
?”

Ferguson, with a considerable amount of trepidation, leaned toward the desk and handed it over. “Please be very careful, I haven’t made any copies, and it’s very old.”

Dr. Karl nodded and gently lifted the letter over to him. He carefully unlocked the plastic zipper and slid the contents out in front of him on the only remaining portion of his blotter not engulfed by the chaos. He raised the reading glasses that had been resting on his chest, held there by the chain around his neck, placed them on his crooked nose, and proceeded to study the letter intently. Ferguson leaned forward some more, keeping a cautious eye on the precious piece of paper.

After flipping it back and forth several times, and showing no outward signs of any emotional interest, the old man set the letter down with a grunt.

“Most interesting. I am not an art expert, but it appears you have a manifest or bill of lading in the form of a letter, and the goods listed suggest a significant assembly of artwork. I recognize several of the artists, but I’m sorry, I don’t recognize the titles.”

Ferguson straightened up, and then fell backward into the soft burgundy leather back of the chair. “What about the notes and stuff on the other side?”

“Those are a little more difficult. They’re legible enough, but I’m not sure I understand their meaning.”

“What exactly does it say?” Ferguson queried.

Dr. Karl referred back to the letter. “It’s a series of notes that provide several descriptions of a lake, a boathouse, and cliffs that are in the shape of a ‘W’. It mentions a plane. It says where it crashed and entered the cliffs. It is specific about the plane being intact, the fuselage of the plane being intact, and it is inside a cave that is behind the cliffs. There is a crude drawing of a map, with an arrow pointing to an “X” that has ‘Ju52’ next to it. There is also, what I would assume, a series of directions, they seem to be map coordinates, from ‘Glarus’, and the ‘Swiss border’. Does that make any sense?”

“It’s starting to.” Ferguson stared at the framed map of Germany hanging behind Dr. Karl’s left shoulder. “It’s definitely starting to.”

“I have someone that I’m currently tutoring that may be of some help with identifying the list of works on the front side of this letter. She is an assistant curator at the Speed Art Museum, and has been going through a fairly intensive one-on-one program studying several languages through our department. Ironically, I am scheduled for a session with her in about an hour. If you would like to come back, I am sure she would be very happy to try to help you identify these artists and their work. I recognize several of them… quite famous.”

“That would be excellent! Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Not at all Herr Ferguson.” The old man stood up again, still possessing the crook in his body. “We will study for an hour, you can join us afterward… say two hours from now.”

Ferguson got a better look at him as he circled his desk and extended his hand. He was very old, that was obvious, but not frail by any means. He found it remarkable that this man was still teaching, not to mention being Dean of the department. Obviously, senility had passed over this relic allowing him to do what he loved to do… teach.

“Thank you very much Dr. Karl.” Ferguson reached for the extended hand and was surprised with a very firm shake. “I’m very grateful for your help.”

“
Bitte
Herr Ferguson, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Dr. Karl handed back the letter, having returned it to the bag, and gestured toward the door.

Ferguson turned, opened the door, and exited the office trying to think of how to kill two hours with the excitement of the discovery barreling through his body.

One hour and forty-nine minutes later, Ferguson was standing in front of the same office door, his pulse still well above normal. He knocked and the same voice responded, “
Kome
in,
bitte.
”

Ferguson opened the door, nodded at Dr. Karl, and approached the desk. “Sorry, I know I’m a little early, but I’m pretty excited about what we discovered.”

“I understand. Miss Lewis will be back in just a few minutes, she went to her car for something and then to the restroom. Please sit, make yourself comfortable until she returns.”

Ferguson returned to the same chair and pretended to study the office furnishings as Dr. Karl returned his attention to the pile on his desk.

Mercifully, the brief silence was interrupted by a knock on the door and a self-invited entrance by Courtney Lewis. “Hello, sorry I took so long!” She held out her hand.

Ferguson rose and turned to face her as she came through the door, and was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. Tall, at least 5
'
10
”
, an incredible pair of slender legs that finally ended in a curvaceous upper torso, everything accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting Gap jeans and sleeveless, white cotton blouse. Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing a long face illuminated by a soft, healthy, tanned complexion. Her bright green eyes met his as he reached to shake the extended hand.

“Hello, I’m Matt Ferguson.”

“Hi, Courtney Lewis.” She was also beset by a sudden awareness of how attractive Ferguson was, shaking his hand and then turning to Dr. Karl. “So this is our treasure hunter.”

“This is the young man I spoke to you earlier about who appears to have stumbled across a letter that lists a significant amount, of what we think, may be works of art. Whether they are fictional or real is what we hoped you could shed some light on.”

“I appreciate your coming back to take a look at this.” Ferguson retrieved the letter once again from inside the folder and removed it from the plastic bag. “I assume Dr. Karl has filled you in on what little we know?”

“He gave me a brief overview of how you got the letter and the gist of what was in it.”

“The list in question is on the front, numbered as you can see. If you need me to translate, please point out anything in question,” said Dr. Karl.

Courtney gingerly received the letter and leaned back against the wall as she scanned the contents. Her reaction was much more animated. A series of raised eyebrows, a twist at the corner of the mouth, finished off by a whistle.

“This is artwork alright, and there’s nothing fictional about what I’m seeing. In fact, I recognize a few of these pieces and they are quite famous. Some of the others I don’t know, but I’m very aware of the artists, and they are a who’s who of the art world. Where exactly did you get this?”

“I inherited it. Why?”

“Some of these works that I recognize have been missing for years. My guess is they are presumed lost or destroyed. Two in particular were known to have perished in World War II.”

“Take a look at the top Miss Lewis,” interjected Dr. Karl, “the letterhead.”

Courtney took in the embossed Nazi eagle’s wings and the name of Riechmarshall Herman Goering at the top of the letter. “Wow! He was a huge collector of art. Most, if not all was stolen and looted during the war. You’re not going to tell me you know where this stuff is?”

“No, we don’t know, but there is a chance it might still exist. Finding it might be a different matter,” Ferguson said.

Dr. Karl stood up from his desk and began to walk over to Courtney. “There are some notes and other musings on the other side that indicate a geographical location. Whether there is any relevance to that description, and if these goods could be there, together and intact, is not entirely clear.”

At this point, it dawned on Ferguson that maybe this whole process had gone too far. There was an awful lot of information and knowledge being accessed by two total strangers, who unfortunately seemed to know more about his letter than he did. Now might be the time to take possession of the letter, return home for a clearer review of his situation, and how to proceed from here. He reached out at Courtney, physically asking for the letter back. She handed it back to him with great care.

“Do you really have any idea if these works are still around?” inquired Courtney. She was beginning to feel the excitement of the potential existence of an incredibly significant find of lost masterpieces. The implications to the art community would be incredible.

“I don’t have a clue,” Ferguson said, packing the letter away again.

“But the clue might be on the back of the letter Herr Ferguson. Should we not try to analyze it further?”

Ferguson was looking to stall, and it was time he made an exit. “Dr. Karl, let me go back and look through some of the other stuff that was with this letter to see if there’s anything else that might be able to help.”

“Miss Lewis and I would be glad to help in any way we can.”

“Yes, definitely. Here is my card. You can reach me at the Speed Art Museum during the day, and here’s my home number.” Courtney scribbled down her number on the back of the card and handed it over to Ferguson. She was beginning to understand that this was starting to become overwhelming for him, and that he was looking for some time to think.

Nevertheless, Dr. Karl was still pressing to get some answers. “If you would like to stay late this evening, I’ll be happy to phone in something to eat, and we can work until we flesh out some details.”

“Not tonight, thanks. I think I’m going home to examine the other things and think this out. I’ll contact you soon.”

“
Ja,
quite. If I were you, I wouldn’t let too many other people in on your discovery. Information like this has a tendency to take on a life of its own if it were to become public.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Dr. Karl. Would you please keep this between us Miss Lewis?”

“Courtney, please. And yes, this goes no further than this room.”

“Thank you Courtney. And thank you Dr. Karl for all your help.”

With that, Ferguson walked out of the office with Courtney trailing him.

She accompanied him to the parking lot and grabbed him by the forearm as they reached his car.

“Mr. Ferguson, I didn’t want to pry in front of Dr. Karl, but do you have anything, any tangible evidence that this is whole thing is real?”

Matt looked at her skeptically, but thought that with her background and connections she could help him determine if what he found was real. He decided to let her in on his artistic discovery, and he opened the rear passenger-side car door, retrieved a portfolio case, and laid it on the front hood.

“I have two paintings.” He held his hands about a foot apart. “Small, but I’m assuming very valuable. They were in a safe at my great uncle’s house. Here’s one of them.”

As he unzipped the case and lifted the bubble wrap encasing, Courtney leaned in to look at the gold leaf framed oil painting of a young girl perched upon a split rail fence. As her heart nearly skipped a beat, she searched the bottom corners, and found the Morisot signature in the lower right.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled aloud.

“That was my first reaction,” said Ferguson. “My second reaction was is it real.”

Courtney touched it gingerly. “No way to know unless you have it authenticated and appraised.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can’t, and I’m not confident of any talent here in Louisville for something of this magnitude, but if you don’t mind taking a trip to Chicago, I know someone we can trust to get it done.”

Chapter
3
 

May
17,
2001.
Louisville,
Kentucky