The Assault
The Major did not even have to go to work to learn that Eroica had begun his assault. The following week, he received a baffling phone call from NATO’s London office before he’d even sat down to breakfast.
“Sorry to disturb you at home so early, Major,” the voice on the phone said as soon as Klaus answered. “But the note had your name and number on it.”
Klaus scowled. “Note?”
“What? Oh, sorry, let me start over. We’ve had a…um, delivery, I suppose you’d call it. Here at London HQ.”
A delivery for me in London? Klaus was all the more baffled. “What the hell is it?” he heard himself demanding. He almost dropped the phone when he heard the reply.
“It’s a tank,” the man in London was saying. “Arrived sometime during the night. Caused quite a stir, I’ll tell you.”
I’ll bet, the Major thought as he silently started seething. As the man on the other end of the phone went on, Klaus started mentally listing the ways he was going to hurt the Earl the next time he saw him.
“There was a card on it that said— Here, hold on, let me read it.” There was the sound of muffled voices, some fumbling of the receiver, and then the man was back on the line. “Here we go. It says, ‘Please return this property to Iron Klaus, care of NATO headquarters, Bonn, Germany. From Eroica with love.’”
The rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur after that as Klaus tried very hard not to explode until after he’d hung up the phone. After that, he blew his stack, sending his staff running for cover and his butler to the kitchen phone to call Mr. A and warn him.
Things only went downhill from there.
Over the next several weeks, items addressed to the Major continued to mysteriously appear at NATO’s London and Bonn offices. Several of the items Klaus had not even been aware that Eroica had stolen. All had notes attached requesting the property be returned “To Iron Klaus from Eroica with love.”
All save one item. The one the Major had demanded returned in the first place.
When no further mysterious deliveries appeared after three weeks time, the Major started to wonder if Eroica had deliberately withheld the box in hopes of having the officer personally call to demand its return.
Like hell, Klaus thought. Two can play at this game.
* * *
Despite all of James’ protestations, Eroica had returned everything he had ever stolen from the Major or from NATO in general. His men weren’t sure if he had taken leave of his senses or had simply acquired a death wish. They had reluctantly followed his orders, delivering each package as instructed. After the delivery of the tank, they were sure Iron Klaus would turn up to— Well, they weren’t quite sure what he would do, but they were quite certain it would involve violence and bloodletting.
Eroica had held back his most recent acquisition. The acquisition that had triggered the investigation into the Major’s background and later confrontation. Now the Eroica gang wanted to know what exactly had transpired at that confrontation that would have the Earl divesting himself of all items connected to his beloved Major.
After being badgered for weeks, Bonham finally agreed to ask for an explanation. Or attempt to ask. The Earl had been uncharacteristically reclusive since his assault on the Major started.
Unfortunately for Bonham, he chose the day that the Major’s return volley arrived at the Earl’s residence. A large, stiff envelope, boldly addressed to Eroica, appeared from Germany, and Bonham found himself elected as the one to deliver it. The only thing he learned was it contained a letter that sent the Earl into a fit of apoplexy. He did not remain long enough to learn why.
Once Dorian had sufficiently calmed down enough to realize he was raving like a lunatic, he also realized he was going to have to apologize to Bonham for scaring the life out of him. After all, it wasn’t poor Bonham’s fault the Major had—
Just the thought of what the Major had done caused Dorian’s blood to boil all over again. He looked at the mess he had made of the room in his fit of pique and sighed, dropping into a chair. Then his eyes fell on the cause of it all. Yet another love letter to the Major’s beloved Flower with a note attached.
Eroica,
You missed the one on the desk when you stole the others.
—KvdE
Damn you, Major! Now you’re mocking me! I will not be mocked!
Time for a second assault.
* * *
Despite the fact that Klaus knew his taunt would elicit some kind of reaction from the Earl, he found himself in surprisingly good spirits. Somehow he felt he now had the upper hand. He would be able to gauge how effective his strike had been by Eroica’s retaliation. The more elaborate the counter-strike, the closer to the mark.
When flowers started arriving anonymously for every female in NATO HQ, the Major determined he had made a bull’s eye. Then he wondered how long it would take before the Earl’s patience ran out and he was back making demands again.
* * *
During the course of his assault on the Major, Dorian had actually ignored the object that started it all. When Bonham finally managed to ask what all the fuss was about with Uncle Nato, Dorian finally remembered the porcelain box. He gave a vague sort of answer that seemed to satisfy Bonham that he had not completely taken leave of his senses, going on to delight the man further by suggesting they pull a job—-just as a lark. Bonham left the room, content in the knowledge that Eroica had not forgotten he was the best thief in the world.
Once alone, Dorian sat down with the box. He checked the glaze for crazing from age. There was none, which surprised him. The cover was typical of the Victorian era with large dark red roses in the center of the lid surrounded by smaller, delicate flowers, vines and leaves. The rose vine motif was carried on onto the sides. The border was an unusual gold filigree that formed a musical staff. This motif was carried on along the inside top edge the box, the rose vines weaving their way around the inside beneath. Considering the box was from Bonn, the Earl had no doubt the music was excerpts from various Beethoven pieces. The name of the city as well as the name of the artist were on the bottom. Dorian had never heard of him, not to his great surprise. The artists that he was interested in painted on canvas. What did surprise him was the date. 1979. Wait a minute, 1979? That can’t be right. The Major said this belonged to his mother! Surely that should be 1879.
Before he even realized, the Earl was at the door calling for Bonham. Time to have this so-called Eberbach family heirloom appraised.
* * *
Just as the Earl suspected, the so-called heirloom was indeed from 1979. The artist was apparently rather well known for his porcelain work, a fact Dorian felt embarrassed not knowing. It injured his professional pride more than anything else. But then again, he finally admitted to himself, hand-painted ladies trinket boxes weren’t exactly Eroica’s area of expertise. What he did find interesting was the artist wasn’t known for making such large pieces. These were always custom made.
Now a whole new set of questions arose in Dorian’s mind. Would the man remember this particular piece after all this time? Surely if the Major had ordered it, that would be memorable unto itself. Iron Klaus never failed to make an indelible impression. Of course, even if the artist did remember, would he be willing to divulge the information? A small smile played at the edges of the Earl’s mouth as he considered how he might persuade the man to part with the information.
* * *
It seemed that even when he tried to concentrate on thieving, Dorian could not get away from flowers, and that just reminded him of the Major’s Flower. He was convinced now more than ever that she was real. No one could make up such heartfelt longing as was contained in those letters, especially Iron Klaus. Yet even after all these months, he was no closer to learning who she was than he had been the day he read the first letter.
Not so subtle reminders from James returned him to the reality of his promise to pull a job. The accountant had been none too pleased by all the attention being given to the Major. The huge bill for all the flowers sent to NATO was the last straw.
Eroica was fond of saying that he had the Devil’s own luck, and this appeared to be true as one of his underworld contacts sent a tip about possible lost masterpieces in an old storeroom of a small country church that was undergoing renovations. The workers who had found them thought they were just paintings that were donated by overzealous parishioners and church had simply stored them so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings. The contact thought differently. Even better, along with the renovations going on inside, the outside of the building was being sandblasted, and the grounds were being extensively landscaped.
Eroica could not have been more delighted. With all kinds of strangers coming and going, no one would notice a few more come to help haul away the trash—with a few masterpieces mixed in amongst the debris.
Dorian arranged to meet with his contact in a neighboring town so he could go over the layout with Bonham. The contact worked for the landscaping company and said that several deliveries were due in the next few weeks. Dorian decided to contact a horticulture expert to give him a crash course so he would at least sound like he knew what he was talking about.
The crash course consisted of a stroll through a park with the knowledgeable Mr. Davis pointing out various plants, rattling off their Latin names followed by their common names. By the end of the afternoon, Dorian’s head was swimming. Bonham and James, who had accompanied him, had chosen to not even bother trying to absorb any of the information being giving. Bonham didn’t think it was necessary, and James saw no profit in it.
As they were making their way out of the park, and to their mutual horror, they ran smack into the Major. It was immediately apparent he was there for a mission as he gave no outward indication to knowing any of them from Adam. Never one to be ignored, Dorian could not stop himself from taunting the man as he strode by. “Here to meet your lady love, Major?”
The Major only slowed slightly. “You haven’t returned my property yet, Eroica.” He turned his gaze to James, who immediately hid behind Bonham. “You better not have sold it behind his back, Scrooge!”
Dorian immediately intervened. “No, no, Major. It’s still safe and sound.”
“Good. See that it stays that way.” With that, the officer continued on down the path, vanishing around a bend. It was then that Dorian noticed a couple of the Alphabet nervously watching the exchange from behind upraised newspapers.
“Um…I don’t mean to pry, Lord Gloria,” Mr. Davis said, returning the Earl to reality, “but why did that man just call you Eroica?”
Dorian gave small laugh. “Oh, don’t take any notice of that German boor,” he said evasively.
“’E’s the only one what calls ‘im that,” Bonham chimed in.
“I see. A private joke?”
“You might say that. It’s because of something I once said about Beethoven and his ‘Eroica’ symphony--”
“Oooo!” Mr. Davis gave a nervous laugh. “My apologies. I thought it must be some German way of calling you a pansy.”
“Lord Gloria is not a flower!” James huffed.
Dorian started, turning sharply to the little man. “What did you just say?”
Mr. Davis took no notice of this as he had dropped into horticulture lecture mode. “There’s a German hybrid tea rose called Eroica, you see. Beautiful dark red color. And a purple perennial...” The man’s voice trailed off as he suddenly noticed an odd look on the Earl’s face. “Lord Gloria, are you quite alright?”
“What?” Dorian looked up and then shook his head. “No,” he said, looking in the direction the Major had taken. “No, I’m not alright. I am quite the imbecile.”
* * *
After the chance meeting on the mission in England, Klaus had expected the Earl to turn up and cause all kinds of problems. When this did not happen, he braced himself for another assault in Germany. Again, nothing. Weeks passed without so much as a whisper of mischief from Eroica.
Klaus wasn’t sure what to think. It had been six months since the Earl had broken into his house. Six months and he still had not returned the stolen box despite having returned everything else he’d ever stolen, down to the last pencil.
He’s planning something. I know it, I can feel it. What would he be waiting for? Klaus considered who it was and how he operated. He’s a romantic, so he’ll want whatever it is to have some kind of significance. A special date, perhaps? But when?
He glanced at the calendar and the answer struck like a bolt of lightning.
Christmas.
* * *