Read White Death: An Alex Hawke Novella for Free Online

ago and said one of his grenadiers, a Lieutenant Hartz, had a very odd thing happen while on search-and-rescue duty that morning. He took a near fatal fall. And then found a decapitated head on the snowy ledge that had broken his fall. Saved his life.”
    “A what?” Congreve exclaimed.
    “A head. Hartz thought it was just a head, lying frozen on the snow. That’s what it looked like anyway. He took a squad of grenadiers back up to the site next morning. They dug away all the ice beneath the head for over an hour. And, voila, le corpse! Dressed quite oddly. Baron von Stuka has a strong feeling that, based on its appearance, that body is related to our mystery.”
    “How?” Hawke asked.
    “Wolfie intends to investigate it. There were certain things about the corpse that . . . never mind, I’ll let him tell you about it. He’s not saying anything for public consumption, but privately he thinks he may well have found the Bat Cave.”
    “Bat Cave?” Congreve said.
    “Hmm. Bat Cave, yes. I’m sure Sir David mentioned someone known as ‘the Sorcerer’? When he briefed you?”
    Congreve said, “He did. Very mysterious chap, apparently. Disappeared a decade or more ago.”
    “Wolfie believes Sorcerer may be involved in this computer crime wave. And that the corpse may lead us to the Sorcerer’s lair. Where he’s been hiding all these years.”
    “Batman is our new villain? How marvelous!” Congreve said, smiling amiably at Blinky.
    “Batman? No, not exactly. No cape, no Robin, no Batmobile. But a cave? Maybe, maybe not. It’s something we must talk about after you both know a bit more about the case. Yes?”
    Blinky was indeed a delight, Congreve thought. He had an infectious smile, lightning-quick mind, and a very direct approach to things. He wore a lovely Austrian jacket, grey wool with forest-green trim and reindeer-antler buttons. Blinky seemed to epitomize all of Congreve’s most cherished romantic notions about the eccentric Swiss character come down from the mountains. And he wanted that grey wool jacket.
    Blinky said, “Let me tell you a little about Wolfie, Chief Inspector: Baron Wolfgang von Stuka. Patriarch of one of our country’s wealthiest, oldest, and most noble families. A citizen soldier and a businessman. That is our baron. No matter where this trail leads us, Wolfie will be a vital asset to us, as you’ll soon discover.”
    “Sir David told us only about von Stuka’s sense of duty and sterling reputation for bravery,” said Hawke. “Now tell us the truth about this fellow who’s too good to be true.”
    Blinky smiled. “Of course, of course! We grew up together, and my children and Herr Baron’s children are still great friends. Well. Where to start? It’s a little-known fact that Europe’s twelve ruling families remain deeply competitive about who has the swankiest palaces, the biggest yacht, the shiniest diamonds, and the biggest bank balances. It’s always been an expensive business, being a Royal. Wars to fight, castles to build, daughters to marry off, pageants to perform, and all that.
    “Then there is our poor Wolfie. Poverty stricken by the standards of the original Twelve Families. He keeps the von Stuka family dynasty going by selling off land and art. He also invested in a wildly successful business in Texas that develops not oil fields but hybrid rice for developing nations. He has devoted his life to charitable work, much like your friend Prince Charles, Alex.
    “These exalted people are expected to look shiny and regal and good on a postcard. But you’ll never see a picture of Wolfie published anywhere. He’s too modest and too humble. No Rolls in his garage—he drives around Zurich in an old blue Lexus.”
    “I find this chap rather likable already,” Hawke said.
    “Hmm. I suspect you two will get along, Alex. Wolfie was recently asked by a newspaper reporter about his legendary humility. His answer? ‘I would rather not talk about humility, as to do so