Chapter Thirty-Two
Patrick removed his collar. He was tired. The years of being someone else and playing the game were starting to wear on him. The last few days had been especially trying, and for the first time, it just wasn't much fun. He didn't like the people, he didn't like the solitude…he especially hated Garneau.
Patrick reached up under his desk, pressed the exact right spot, and a tiny panel opened up on the side. From the secret hiding spot, he removed a journal. It had the numbers of his bank accounts in Switzerland and accurate accounting of every penny he had squirreled away over the years. He flipped through the pages and read the dates. It was four years ago when he reached his own magic number, the one where he planned on retiring and giving up the life. Now he had almost doubled the number, and with this last big score, would double it again.
He turned on the radio and listened to the news. He couldn't focus; he just wanted to be done. After so many years, the thought of even one more day dealing with this last big score, was almost more than he could stand. He considered praying for strength, which made him chuckle. If the other priests only knew he was a fraud, and a damn good one, they would have a fit.
There wouldn't be time for dinner – his daydreaming about leaving the life had run longer than he expected. Patrick needed to go out for the evening, without the risk of being stopped for a chat by a parishioner. He needed freedom to move unseen. It had been years since he had worn a disguise, but he hadn't forgotten how to do it right.
From under his bed, he pulled out his case, opened it up, and set it on the kitchen table. In a moment of inspiration, he knew the perfect disguise: he would become a rabbi for the evening. It made him laugh to think about it. It wasn't the first time he had dressed as a Jew. Back during the early days of war, he learned Yiddish, to be able to sell the part.
As he carefully added a substantial beard to his face, he remembered his days of breaking bread with the top Jewish families in Berlin. He spent a year cataloging the art and wealth in these homes. It was substantial. When the Nazis began to round up families, sending them to the camps, and ultimately to the gas chamber, Patrick changed his plan and took the opportunity to form a partnership with an enterprising sergeant and his colonel. He had originally planned on robbing the families. He figured he could get away with four to five masterpieces and they would never know. He would copy them and then switch his copies with the originals.
The Nazis deciding to round up all of the Jews presented a different set of problems. There were countless Germans who took great pleasure in burning the paintings, books, treasured photos, and clothes.
He was smart. He found two Germans, in the right position, who were far more concerned with greed than hate. Oh, they had plenty of hate, but they had much more greed. Since neither of them knew much about art, and both preferred diamonds and gold to paintings, it was easy for Patrick to divide up the treasure. The colonel was smart, very smart, and Patrick knew it. Patrick worked hard to educate his partners about the art, explaining what constituted great works and why. He then valued many of the pieces at 90% of their worth. The colonel frequently consulted others, who often knew less than Patrick, about the pieces, and the prices were usually pretty close.
What Patrick did not do was teach him about the rare exceptions, which were often the most valuable pieces. Patrick was also excelled at making a list of items to burn, which kept the troops happy and helped to avoid suspicion from superior officers. Of course, the generals received much of the obvious wealth, but Patrick was able to create a steady flow of treasure, such that everyone was happy.
He also considered his image among the most influential Jewish families. The first thing he did was to arrange for three of the most popular Rabbis to escape to France. This left fewer people to discover he was a fraud. Then he convinced the colonel to let him arrange for one of the moderately wealthy families to escape. He convinced the family to take only what they could carry. Before they left, they entrusted their most valuable possessions to their wealthy friends. Of course, Patrick knew where all of the best stuff went.
Patrick occasionally thought about all of the people who died because of him. It never bothered him once. So tonight he put the beard on again. He was meeting his contact at the docks, who would also be in disguise. The Siena was one day late, owing to bad weather. The contact was paid $20,000 as a down payment for the work he had already done. Assuming the object arrived, there would be another $200,000 to house it in a secure area. The contact, a former magician, was able to work alone, because he didn’t use muscle for security; he used deception.