The Ludwig Conspiracy(114)
“I’m sorry, but it took Peggy a little time to do her face.” Steven smiled. “You know what young assistants are like these days. They think of nothing but their makeup.”
The industrialist cast a mocking glance at Sara, who went pale and bit her lip. Luise pointed to a small iron door at the foot of the castle. “Well, one can’t always choose one’s own staff. Come along, then. I don’t have all night.”
Steven looked up at the white walls of the castle towering into the air once more. All of a sudden Neuschwanstein looked genuinely menacing, like a castle in a ghost story with gates that might close behind them forever. He shook off the thought and followed Luise Manstein to the iron door.
To the right of the entrance, a small keypad was set into the wall. The head of Manstein Systems tapped in a numerical code, put her thumb on a panel, and stared into a convex lens at eye level. After a few seconds the safety door opened with a quiet hum. Together, they entered a long corridor with a vaulted ceiling stretching ahead farther than they could see. The light at the entrance illuminated only the first few yards, but whenever they came to a new section of the tunnel, a red emergency light flicked on. As they went along, Steven felt that they were walking at least twice the length of the castle.
At last, by means of a stairway, they reached a souvenir shop on the first floor of the castle. The tall room was crammed to the ceiling with kitschy cups, plates, and jigsaw puzzles in boxes, every item bearing the famous portrait of the king. Ludwig beer mugs, Ludwig wooden platters, Ludwig dolls, Ludwig coloring books, and even Ludwig pencil sharpeners in the shape of a white plastic swan covered tables and racks set out all over the room. There were several posters behind the cash desk, showing Ludwig II in the prime of his youth. None of the pictures were of the fat, toothless tyrant who had died at the age of forty in Lake Starnberg.
If the king could see all these knickknacks, he’d probably be turning in his grave, thought Steven. In fact he’d be positively spinning in it.
Luise noticed his glance and looked at him sardonically. “Did you know that Ludwig wanted to blow up his castles rather than have them desecrated by the unworthy?” she asked. “Maybe that would have been a better solution. As it is, the world is full of this tasteless junk. But what’s to be done?” She pointed to a plastic dinner service with the design of a golden castle. “What do you think Neuschwanstein makes annually out of this tatty stuff and tickets to see the castle? More than six million euros. The king has repaid his debts a hundred times over.”
“Great, I’ll put all that in my . . . er, story,” Steven said, taking out a notepad. “It would be terrific if we could take a little look at the royal apartments.”
“Ah, the Americans and their proverbial superficiality.” Luise smiled ironically. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to give you a long lecture on cultural history. I’m going to the security control room now, and meanwhile you can walk around the palace as you like. We’ll say two hours, all right?” She pointed to a door at the back of the souvenir shop. “Keep going straight ahead, but please don’t touch anything, or you’ll get a firsthand experience of the new alarm system, and the police will turn up with a hundred officers.”
She turned away and disappeared through an iron door on the right, which was secured by another numerical code. For a while Steven and the others stood in the room in silence, and only when the footsteps beyond the door had died away did Sara clear her throat loudly.
“‘You know what young assistants are like these days,’” she said, mimicking Steven. “‘They think of nothing but their makeup.’ Ha, ha, very funny, Mr. Landsdale.”
“Only joking, nothing to get jealous about.” Steven winked at Sara and then walked ahead. “Now, let’s get this over with. We only have two hours, and if we haven’t solved the puzzle in that time, I’m going to throw the damn book into the Pöllat Gorge and turn myself in to the police.”
30
THE KING’S APARTMENTS were on the third and fourth floors of the palace, on the west side of the castle.
As soon as they were up there, Zöller tipped out his books on the mosaic floor of the throne room and declared the high vault of the hall, with its massive chandelier, their headquarters. The place was gigantic, reminiscent of Byzantine architecture, with a cupola bedecked with stars. It occupied the full height of those two floors, and it had a gallery running around the room halfway up.
They set out from there to investigate the separate rooms, but a first, superficial inspection produced not a single useful clue. In addition, they dared not touch the furniture and mural paintings, for fear of setting off the alarm. Small cameras in the ceiling showed that security featured prominently in Neuschwanstein these days. Zöller took pictures of some of the furniture with his new camera, but he was looking more and more distracted. Steven even thought he detected a trace of panic in Zöller’s expression. However, he had no idea why that might be.