The Ludwig Conspiracy(113)
Steven started in surprise. “So late already?” He packed the diary away in his rucksack and put on his shoes. Then he and Zöller went down the well-worn hotel stairway.
“Anything new?” Uncle Lu asked, pointing to the rucksack with the book in it.
Steven shook his head slightly. “Only that just before his death Ludwig wanted to send what was obviously an important letter to Linderhof. According to Marot, he considered it possibly the most important document he had ever written.”
Zöller paused for a moment on the stairs. “How remarkable,” he murmured. “There’s nothing in the scholarly literature about any such letter. Does Marot say what was in it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Steven replied. “But maybe the letter will come up in his diary again.”
“Maybe. If it does, you absolutely must tell me about it. It matters, do you understand? It matters a great deal.”
Steven scrutinized the old man, who was now thoughtfully running his hand over his mouth. It seemed to him that Zöller was keeping something from him. Obviously Sara had been right in her assumptions about those phone calls. But why in the world had Uncle Lu been in touch with a private detective agency? And what was so important about the king’s last letter?
Suddenly Zöller’s expression changed. He grinned and patted a shopping bag full to bursting that he had brought out from behind his back. “Well, never mind that now,” he said happily. “I have twenty pounds of books that could help us in here. Critical literature, illustrated books, a collection of ballads . . . I even have the librettos of Tannhäuser and Lohengrin with me.”
“So long as you don’t start singing from them.” It was the voice of Sara, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She clapped her hands impatiently. “Hurry up, you two. Or we’ll be too late for Steven’s tryst.”
It was already dark outside. A drizzling rain had begun to fall, blowing into their faces as they went up the broad road to the castle. Steven had refrained from wearing his disguise of the traditional hat and Bavarian T-shirt. It was too dark for anyone to be able to recognize him, anyway. The road stretching before them was empty of people. A black ribbon through the woods, it lost itself in the darkness after only a few yards. Only the steaming heaps of horse dung, the crumpled tickets, and the ice-cream wrappers by the roadside still bore witness to the hectic activity of the daytime. It occurred to Steven that Theodor Marot had hurried to the side of his mentally disturbed king through this very wood 125 years ago. Many of the trees around them might date from that time.
“You know, Neuschwanstein should be glad to have a famous firm like Manstein Systems seeing to its modernization,” Sara said as they hurried ahead through the wood. “When you think that more than a million visitors from all over the world come here every year, the place could do with a more distinguished touch.”
“If I understood Frau Manstein correctly, the firm is more concerned with the security aspect,” Steven said. Feeling cold, he buttoned up his jacket. “Since she mentioned potential terrorists, I’ve had a distinctly queasy feeling. I think Manstein was in charge of all the security for Oktoberfest in Munich. And how about this place? A terrorist could easily attack it if he wanted to.”
“Don’t go inviting trouble,” Zöller said, gasping for air. “And I’d be glad if we could go a little slower, or you’ll lose your Ludwig expert without needing any terrorist attack.”
When they came to the next bend in the road, all three stood spellbound for a long moment.
The castle towered ahead of them, radiant with almost unearthly glory in the beams of countless floodlights. At night, Neuschwanstein looked even more like a Grail castle than in the day. Its battlements and towers were almost dazzlingly white, standing out against the black wood around them. Somewhere an owl called, and a large bird of prey flew by in front of the bright crescent moon, disappearing on the other side of the castle. Steven could not suppress a smile. Ludwig II and Richard Wagner would both have appreciated this spectacle.
He looked away and was about to go up the drive to the gatehouse, when two more lights came on below the Knights’ house, as it was known. They were the headlights of a car.
“Looks like la baronne is waiting for you,” Sara said, and went over to the Maserati, walking as if she were stumbling clumsily on the wet cobblestones. “Right, so I’m silly Peggy from Texas.”
The lights were switched off, and Luise Manstein got out of the car. After glancing with disapproval at Sara and Uncle Lu, she greeted Steven with a brief nod. “Good evening, Mr. Landsdale. I see you brought your charming companion. Pity, I would have liked to be alone with you. But as you wish.” She looked at her silver watch. “You’re late. I was about to go in without you.”