The Roses Underneath (27 page)

“How many truckloads do you think there will be?”

“Frankfurt said they think somewhere around fifty. This will go on for a few days yet.” Cooper smiled. “Pretty exciting, don’t you think? Makes our little stash in the villa pale by comparison.”

“Fifty trucks? Full of art?”

He nodded. “And that’s just one repository. There’s a bigger one at Heilbronn. And Neuschwanstein, that’s mostly private property taken from Jewish collectors. Those will go to Munich. And there are still more than that. Göring’s collections alone are enormous. He took everything he could get his hands on. It’s gonna be a long time before this all gets sorted out. The Nazis didn’t just take art for Hitler’s dream museum, they took whatever they wanted for themselves. And if they went down, they were planning to take it with them. I’ve never known such systematic plunder of cultural objects. Gold and valuables, sure, but going after paintings and sculptures for the sake of the art? Never. You gotta hand it to them. Those guys sure knew what they were doing.” He elbowed her and grinned. “Should we take a look?”

Not waiting for an answer, he led her toward a small rectangular crate that had a series of numbers stenciled on the side, like all the others. “Here, this looks as good as any,” Cooper said as he wedged the blade of his
pocket knife between the slats along the top and popped the frame off.

It took a moment for Anna’s brain to register what her eyes saw. An old man sat at a table bathed in a half moon of golden light. He inspected a gold coin that he held into the candlelight. Books and papers were piled precariously behind him like a landscape that disappeared into the shadows. The color, the composition—it was unmistakable.

“Is that…” She put a hand to her mouth.

“Rembrandt. Am I right this time?” Cooper whispered.

“This is most definitely Rembrandt,” Anna said. “I am speechless.”

They stood for several moments, basking in their find and letting the chaos of activity around them fade away.

“I’ve never even seen a real Rembrandt in person, much less had a private viewing,” Anna said. She stroked a finger along the edge of the canvas.

Cooper smiled. “This,
this
is why we are here, do you understand now?” he asked. “This is what matters. It’s how we remember who we are.” He leaned his face close to hers and whispered, “This will heal us. I know it.”

Anna nodded. She was seeing a fragment of a world she thought was gone forever.

Cooper lowered the painting back into its crate. “Now, don’t tell anyone I showed you that. I’ll get in more trouble than I already am.” He winked. “You okay?”

Anna took a deep breath and picked up her pencil. “Tell me where to start.”

It was well past seven o’clock when Anna stepped out into the courtyard. The Collecting Point was still bustling, with workers staying into the night to unload and sort. Guards were now on duty around the clock. Anna felt both exhausted and exhilarated; it took her a while to recognize that this was a happy combination. She took in a deep breath of the summer evening and savored it. Her hands were dry and scraped from handling the wooden crates, and her blouse was dirty with their grime. She had counted more than one hundred crates in her room alone, sorted them, and lined them along the walls. Cooper checked on her a few times but he had been mostly occupied with maintaining some order amongst the chaos. Here and there she heard more cheers when another treasure was discovered. But she had stayed on her own, happy to be alone with the shrouded works, to let their presence soak in.

Anna shouldered her bag and walked toward the front gate into the setting sun. As she walked along the Rheinstrasse toward the Hansa Hotel, the traffic of American officers became heavier. A long line of jeeps was parked along the curb and strains of music floated out from the open doors of the hotel bar. She peered inside through the row of windows open to the street.
Amis
raised glasses and poured generously from bottles. She stopped, gazing on the scene. Cooper should have been there celebrating, she thought, but he was still at the Collecting Point, working into the night. “I won’t be able to sleep anyway,” he had said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” They had exchanged tired smiles and Anna had told him to remember to eat something, like a mother or a wife. She cringed now thinking about the conversation.

The Americans inside the bar—the ones visiting from somewhere else to witness the Monuments Men’s great success—stood around with drinks in hand congratulating themselves. Maybe they had been the ones to find the hidden masterpieces, Anna thought. Maybe they had stumbled upon the Rembrandt in a salt mine and gotten it out safely. Among the cheering
Amis
, Anna spotted a familiar face at the bar toward the back: Ludwig Schneider stood talking to a tall younger man who was wearing a well-cut gray suit. The two of them toasted and threw back their drinks. They fit well into the scene, as if they belonged there. It was the
Amis
who had all the power now, and there was Schneider, once again in the thick of it.

Anna debated with herself. If she talked to Schneider here, she’d catch him off guard and possibly put him on the back foot. On the other hand, she had no idea what to say to him. Ignoring her trepidation, she pulled her identification papers from her bag and walked to the door without any plan for what to do if she managed to get inside. A smiling soldier held up a hand to stop her but stepped aside when she waved her papers. She had half hoped she wouldn’t be allowed in the door.

Inside the small Art Nouveau lobby it was almost as if she had stepped onto another planet. American officers stood and talked in soft voices while aides and staff scurried around them. Others sat with drinks or the newspaper. One well-fed American civilian held court in a stentorian voice around a group of uniformed men, who burst into exaggerated laughter as if on cue.
Politician
, Anna thought. She tried to look as though she had a reason to be there and made her way to the entrance to the bar. A waiter stopped her at the door.

“May I help you?” He looked down his nose at her pants.

Anna flashed her papers. “Yes, I just need to get a message to my boss, the colonel. Just over there.” She waved a hand toward the back of the room. “It’s urgent. A military matter.”

The waiter looked over his shoulder and back at her. “Who is your boss?”

Anna looked past him and waved as if she had spotted someone. She smiled and nodded. “He says it’s all right. Thank you very much.” She pushed past the waiter and was absorbed into the crowd.

As she made her way into the middle of the crowd she hoped her smelly clothes and film of dirt wouldn’t draw attention. Peering around the well-padded shoulders and neatly trimmed heads she could see Schneider and the other man still talking at the bar. Schneider raised two fingers at the barman for another round. From what she could tell they were the only Germans in the place. Such establishments usually were off limits to Germans, unless maybe they had almighty dollars to spend. She squeezed her way to the far end of the bar.

“Herr Schneider? Is that you?” She feigned surprise.

“Frau Klein? What are you doing here?” Schneider said.

“I came to leave a message for…for someone,” she said. “I was just leaving. And you?” She threw a glance at Schneider’s companion.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Frau Klein this is Herr Schenk. My colleague.”

Schenk cocked his head and gave a half bow. “My pleasure,” he said.

Anna returned the greeting with a half smile. She turned her smile toward Schneider to cover the recognition that she felt was obvious on her face.
Fromm, Schenk, and Knopf
she thought, remembering the nameplates at the apartment Schneider had visited.

Schneider was happy to have her attention. “Well, since you are here, may I buy you a drink, Frau Klein?
Maybe a little schnapps? Or they have American things too. A whiskey perhaps? It calms the nerves.”

Schneider’s speech was thick with alcohol and he was even more flushed and sweaty than the last time she had seen him. His eyes were glazed and his face slack. Anna declined the drink although she would have loved to have one.

“Very well.” Schneider raised his glass to his lips. “I thought you’d want to celebrate the big day with us.”

“What are you celebrating?” Anna asked.

“Oh, you know, the return of what’s rightfully ours,” Schneider slurred. “At least for now.”

“Come on, Ludwig, that’s enough,” Schenk snapped. “Keep it down.”

Whatever Schenk’s wartime activities had been, he had come through in good shape. With his muscular build and ruddy complexion he looked like he’d just returned from a hiking trip in the Alps, all aired-out and well-circulated.

“Herr Schenk, are you also in the art business?” Anna asked. “Are you related, perhaps, to Konrad Schenk the restorer? I think he used to have a small place on the Freseniusstrasse,” she said, remembering the card Madeleine had given her.

Schenk gave her a cool smile for several moments before speaking. “Yes, he was my father. Did you know him?”

“Ah, yes of course,” Schneider interjected. “Of course. I should have put this all together the other day. The address, it seemed familiar.
And the name. You are staying with Frau Wolf. Funny how I didn’t make the connection sooner. I have known Madeleine Wolf for many years. Such a lovely woman. She is your…?”

“My aunt,” Anna lied. “My mother’s sister. She mentioned that she knew you, Herr Schneider. I think you also knew my uncle, Otto Wolf?”

Schneider sipped his drink. “Yes, yes, of course. Such a dear man.”

“Then you must know my aunt too, Herr Schenk?”

Schenk shook his head. “No, I’ve only just returned to the city. And, of course, my parents are gone now.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “My aunt will be sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I am so glad to see you.” Schneider lowered his voice and patted her arm like a father getting the attention of a child. “I was wondering if you received the items I delivered to your house last week? Were they to your liking?” He looked around, pulled his dingy handkerchief from his back pocket and began to mop his brow. He looked like he might slide under the bar at any moment.

“Yes. I am glad to be able to thank you in person. Your gift was most generous.” Anna waited.

“It was my pleasure, of course. And it’s been such an auspicious day today. So exciting, really. I watched a little from the sidelines. It’s all I can do for now,” Schneider said.

Anna shifted her weight. “Yes, it’s really quite unfortunate that you’ve had no luck at the Collecting Point so far. They could certainly use a man of your expertise.” She looked around and leaned in to whisper. “They really have no idea what they are doing.”

Schneider nodded.

Anna continued. “Not to mention that all those things must be returned to their rightful owners in Germany. Not taken to America—stealing what’s rightfully ours!” She looked around again. No one in the room paid any attention to them. It was getting more crowded and the air was warm. A line of sweat ran down her back.

Schneider took another drink. “Yes, I agree completely. We can’t allow them to take our property. But what can we do?”

“I have some ideas,” Schenk muttered. “But I am told they are too extreme for peacetime.” He finished his drink and hailed the barman for another.

Schneider waved his hand for Schenk to be quiet. “So, what are they having you do in there, Frau Klein? Have you seen any treasures so far?” he asked.

“Well, the first painting I saw today was a Rembrandt,” Anna whispered.

“A Rembrandt?” Schneider lit up. “Which one?”

“It was
The Money Changer
. Really, the place is just swimming with old masters and anything you can imagine. And so little security. Well, I don’t know.” She tilted her head. “It really would be such a help to have a man like you there. I wish there was something I could do. Maybe I should talk to Captain Cooper again? Or should I go over his head? I know he is resisting pressure to hire you. You have friends in Frankfurt, is that right?”

Schneider sucked on his teeth. “I’ve
made
friends in Frankfurt. You know how it is, my dear. One day your bread is buttered on this side, the next day it’s buttered on the other side. I am a flexible man.”

Anna pretended to consider this as a profound thought. “Well, perhaps I can have another word with Captain Cooper. He can sometimes be easily swayed. And it’s possible, of
course, that the situation will play itself out. If Cooper refuses to hire you, it may mean the end for him. Then you’d be hired for sure. Maybe as a restorer or an appraiser.” She let the temptation sink in before continuing. “But first I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter. I wonder if perhaps I could impose on you to help me with something somewhat delicate?”

Schneider studied her. “Go on,” he said. Schenk leaned in closer.

“Oh, not here, I am not comfortable discussing it with all these
Amis
around. Would you mind if we walk? I need to get home.”

Schneider held his ground. “It all depends, Frau Klein. What is the nature of the matter?”