The Grandfather Clock (18 page)

“
I’m going to try to see
Desjardins.”

“
If the Nazis took the gun
from Monaco, where did they take it, and where do you think your
grandfather got it?”

“
I don’t know,” I said. I
felt totally lost. “I may never know.”

On my third visit, Dr. Desjardins
greeted me with less enthusiasm.

“
Did you find anything in
the book?” he asked.

“
I did. One thing, that
may or may not be helpful. Look.” I opened to the page with the
photo of the Napoleonbuste from Monaco. He studied it. “My
grandfather had his picture taken with the statue of Napoleon by
Antonio Canova in London.”

“
Interesting.”

“
Is it?”

“
The collection in Monaco
is extensive. It was mostly untouched during the war. The Nazis
were discriminate thieves. Most of their looting was of art in the
homes of wealthy Jews and people who did not cooperate. They didn’t
empty the Louvre and they certainly didn’t disturb the Prince of
Monaco.”

“
Well, they took the
Napoleon bust.”

He typed a few words into his computer
and dialed his phone. He left a short message asking for a return
call. He cleared his throat.

“
My guess is that the bust
was not in the palace when the Nazis took it. Perhaps it was on
loan to another museum. But if you want to deliver Le Tromblon to
Monaco with a note attached, be my guest.”

I walked to a busy cafe down the
river. I pulled out my laptop and looked for a wireless signal.
Over the past month I had Googled every combination of blunderbuss,
musket, tromblon, Napoleon, Nazi, Hitler, and museum. I’d searched
in English, French and German. I’d seen pictures of a similar gun
on the Internet, and every picture of Napoleon and Hitler. It was
useless.

I ordered a coffee and thought about
my grandfather, Louis Andersen. Was there a clue in the slides that
I had missed? How did my mother not know about the gun? Did my
grandfather even know its significance? The only thing interesting
I was ever taught about our family was that we were distant
descendants of the family of Hans Christian Andersen. It was one of
those things we were always told as kids, but I wasn’t sure I
believed. I Googled Hans Christian Andersen and
Napoleon.

And everything changed.

The first thing I learned was that
Hans Christian Andersen’s father died fighting in the Napoleonic
Wars. The legendary storyteller inherited an admiration for
Napoleon and even witnessed the unveiling of the famous statue of
Napoleon in the Place Vendome. I’d walked under that statue too
many times to count. Perhaps most significantly, the Hans Christian
Andersen museum in Odense contains a well-known painting by
Jean-Louis Ernest Meissonier of Napoleon leading a group of
soldiers on horseback. I didn’t know the painter, but had seen the
painting in books. It was similar to Washington Crossing the
Delaware. In just a few minutes I established that an item related
to Napoleon was in a museum that was connected to my ancestors, and
that museum was in a country occupied by the Nazis in World War II.
I quickly typed an email to Dr. Desjardins telling him my
finding.

His response was quick. “The original
Meissonier painting is at the Orsay. Bring in the
slides.”

I went to Klara’s apartment and got
the slides. I was energized by the breakthrough. Two hours later
Desjardins led me back to his office where a striking older woman
was waiting. She had long dark curls and thick-rimmed
glasses.

“
Meet Dr. Myra Gasciogne.
She has spent time with the collection in Monaco.”

“
You have pictures of the
Tromblon de Napoleon,” she said in French.

“
I do. On my
phone.”

“
And you have the tromblon
as well.”

“
It’s safe.”

She paced the room. “Dr. Desjardins
told me that you found it inside a clock.”

“
Yes.”

She motioned to Desjardins and he
turned his computer screen. On it was a picture taken of a picture
on a wall: Hitler, in a group of Nazi officers.

Hitler was holding the gun.

“
This photograph hangs in
the palace museum in Monaco.” She paused, as if waiting for the
information to sink in. “It hangs where the tromblon itself once
hung, as an example of the item taken by the Nazis and never
recovered.”

“
Incredible,” I
said.

Desjardins jumped in. “The gun was on
display in Denmark when it was taken.”

“
At the Hans Christian
Andersen Museum,” I said.

“
Yes,” said
Gasciogne.

“
But we don’t know who
recovered it after the war,” I said.

“
No.” She smiled. “But if
your grandfather had a connection to the museum, perhaps he was
attempting to deliver it there.”

“
Maybe,” Desjardins
interjected, “it was in some sort of case. Let’s see the
slides.”

Desjardins was right. I had been
looking for some picture of my grandfather with the gun. Some
record of when he took possession of it, assuming that surely it
was an event worthy of a photo. But it was not obvious. In the
dozens of photos were occasional shots of my grandfather, luggage
in tow, boarding a ship or a train. Appearing for the first time
after his stop in Munich was something that he hadn’t carried
before.

“
It looks like an
instrument case,” I said. “He played French horn.”

“
That’s not a case for a
French horn.” Dr. Gasciogne was sitting on the desk, looking at
every detail. “It may have been by design. Perhaps that was to
conceal what was inside.”

“
Did your grandfather
leave any writings behind? Letters, journals?” Desjardins
asked.

“
I’m not sure. But I will
find out.”

“
Amazing,” Gasciogne
smiled. “Amazing.”

“
Let me ask a question,” I
said. “Clearly, this item does not belong to my family, but it
seems strange to just hand it over. Is there some process to
follow?”

Desjardins burst out laughing. “Most
people get a lawyer. The courts force the issue.”

“
Do you seek a reward?”
Gasciogne asked.

“
No, no,” I stammered. “I
came here to help the Chateau de Malmaison, and we hoped that the
exhibition of this could help raise money for the Chateau. It’s my
job right now. People are counting on me.”

“
I guess we need to talk
to Monaco and Odense,” Gasciogne said. “This is delicate. The
minute this goes public, people will begin to speculate on what has
happened. It can get ugly. If the press knows and you don’t hand it
over immediately, they’ll paint your family as Nazis.”

I stood up. “I’m not getting a lawyer.
Not yet. Can you arrange to speak with the right people at these
museums?”

“
Yes,” she
said.

It was mid afternoon when I walked out
of the Louvre. Klara still had an hour at school and I was
starving. The adrenaline had left my body and I was feeling light
headed. I walked over the bridge toward Notre Dame, though the
ever-present throngs of tourists. I squeezed into a cafe and
ordered a sandwich and a beer. The last of the lunch crowd was
leaving and a tour group of grade school children left.

I called my mother.

“
Mom,” I said. “The
history of the gun is becoming clearer and its only making the
question of how Grandpa got it more baffling.”

“
I don’t know what to tell
you. There’s no one to ask.”

“
I was able to confirm
that he got it sometime as he passed through Germany and France
when he traveled through Europe. You’ll never believe what I just
learned.”

“
What?”

“
We now know that the gun
was taken by the Nazis. And it belonged to the Prince of
Monaco.”

“
Monaco?
Incredible.”

“
But it didn’t just get
sent to some massive collection of loot. There’s a picture of
Hitler himself, holding the gun,” I said.

“
Hitler? With that same
gun?”

“
Not one like it. The same
exact one. Hitler admired Napoleon, for all the reasons we don’t
admire Napoleon.”

“
I haven’t the
foggiest...”

“
You said it hung on the
mantle when you were a kid.”

“
It did. He’d polish it
once in a while. Maybe he didn’t know.”

“
Here’s the really strange
connection. It was taken from the Hans Christian Andersen Museum in
Odense. It was in the museum on loan. The photos show him traveling
through Munich. Maybe someone passed it to him there.”

“
That’s right! He had an
uncle that lived in Munich. Alfred.”

“
Alfred?”

“
Alfred was only a year or
two older than him, so they were more like cousins or brothers.
Alfred was young during the war, so his family sent him to live
with your great grandfather. My father and him were boys together.
After the war Alfred moved back to Europe.”

“
He’s in the pictures with
Grandpa,” I said, recalling a man taller than my grandfather in
some of his travel photos.

“
He died before Grandpa. I
don’t think he ever married.”

“
Did you know
Alfred?”

“
He would visit when I was
a little girl. But I didn’t really know him, Michael. I wish I
could be more help.”

“
Every little bit helps,”
I said. “I love you, Mom.”

“
I love you too, Michael.
How is Paris treating you.”

“
Amazing,” I
said.

“
Vince said you met a
girl,” she said. I could hear her smiling.

“
We just met,” I said. “I
barely know her. Her name is Klara.”

“
Oh,” she said, surprised.
“Vince said it was ‘Celeste.’”

“
That’s complicated,” I
said.

I knew by now that dead ends weren’t
dead ends. They were leading to answers. I called
Desjardins.

“
I need someone who speaks
German to look up Alfred Andersen.”

“
I speak German,” he
sighed, his irritation still apparent. “Mr. Chance. I’ve got my own
work to run. Ms. Demers is going to have to work on getting you the
resources you need to see this through.”

“
I understand,” I
said.

“
This really should be
left to the experts,” he added in a tone that made clear that I was
not included in that group.

“
Dr. Desjardins, you’re
the one who told me to be careful who I trust.”

“
This gun is a major find.
I work for the Louvre. I don’t know how far I can help you before
this museum expect me to advance its own interest in the
item.”

“
Will you look into Alfred
Andersen?”

There was a long a long pause.
“Yes.”

I texted Klara and told her to meet me
at the cafe. Feeling celebratory, I ordered another beer. A
Carlsberg in honor of Denmark.

Desjardins called back.

“
That was fast,” I
said.

“
Der Speigel. It’s like
Time magazine in Germany.”

“
I know of it,” I
said.

“
Well, it’s published in
English too, my friend. Sending you two articles right
now.”

EDUCATOR BELOVED BY GERMANS AND DANES
REMEMBERED

It was an obituary article. A sidebar
of three paragraphs. It said that Alfred Andersen was a beloved
theology teacher who passed away in 1997. Desjardins had
highlighted a sentence near the end. “Andersen came to Germany with
a team of Danes who worked to return items removed from Denmark by
the Nazi regime.”

The second article was three pages and
dated May 1947. It was in German. The comment from Desjardins said,
“This describes the program he worked with. He isn’t mentioned by
name, but the records are out there.”

I called Desjardins. “Did Uncle Alfred
steal it?”

He laughed. “He probably didn’t know
what it was. That card was probably in there from when it was taken
from Odense by the Nazis. Your uncle was looking for art taken from
Denmark. The gun may have been with the painting of Napoleon from
Odense. He couldn’t have realized its significance.”

“
My mother said she never
knew the story.”

“
More reason to think that
your grandfather took it not knowing what it was. You have to
remember, the sheer volume of plunder was overwhelming and
identifying what was missing, and connecting it to an owner was
practically impossible. The Meissonier painting was known. But even
today, people are unknowingly buying and selling art that was taken
during the war. The Nazis sold stolen art to finance the war
machine. By now a painting has changed hands a half dozen times and
the original owners probably died in a concentration
camp.”

“
And the Hans Christian
Andersen connection.”