Mozart’s Last Words

Roy Ziegler

Description

A Retired Brussels chief inspector and MI6 agent team up to pursue a stolen precious artifact containing Mozart’s last written words snatched by Neo-Nazi terrorists.

At the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair, the Austrian government exhibited the original autograph manuscript of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Requiem Mass in D Minor. During the exhibition, a corner of a page of that precious manuscript was torn off and stolen. According to many musicologists, that missing fragment contains the last four words ever written my Mozart.

Mozart’s Last Words is a compelling story about a recently retired chief inspector of the Brussels Police Department who teams up with MI6 agents from London on a frantic chase across Europe trying to recapture the Mozart fragment from a group of Neo-Nazi terrorists.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Bruselas
• Brussels
• Suspense
• Fiction
• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
• Bruxelles

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 25 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669843825
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Other Works by Roy Ziegler
 
Novels
Twilight of Separation
Dawn’s Eerie Light
Requiem for Riley
 
History
New Hope, Pennsylvania: River Town Passages
The Parrys of Philadelphia and New Hope
Unfaltering Trust
 
Children’s Literature
 
Let’s Visit New Hope (Co-authored with Gayle Goodman and Pat Achilles)
MOZART’S LAST WORDS
ROY ZIEGLER

Copyright © 2022 by Roy Ziegler.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022915613
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4384-9

Softcover
978-1-6698-4383-2

eBook
978-1-6698-4382-5
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of historical fiction.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 10/25/2022
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
846138
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
T he author wishes to thank Charles F. Tarr, the City of Brussels, Archives Department, and the Austrian National Library for their assistance with the production of this book.
SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO
Bernard F. Stehle
 
“Mozart’s music is so pure and beautiful that I see it as a reflection of the inner beauty of the universe .”
– as recalled by Peter Bucky, The Private Albert Einstein (1933)
© The Hebrew University of Jerusalem With permission of the Albert Einstein Archives
Chapter 1
C hief Inspector Leopold Beckers leaned back in his office chair, couching the back of his head in his hands as he scanned the ghostly grey outlines on the empty wall across the room. Until two days earlier, it had displayed memorabilia highlighting his 45-year career with the Brussels Police Department. Recalling the certificate for the National Medal of Honor, and the photograph of himself with King Albert that had graced that wall for three decades, Leopold felt the widening bald spot on the top of his head—C hrist, did I ever really have all that hair? He remembered posing for that picture with his military-style bearing. Glancing at his belly, he sighed. Gravity! What can you do?
The chief inspector signed the last of the documents on his desk and tossed it into the OUT basket. His retirement had finally come. But one case obsessed him to his final day on the job. Leaning sideways, he fished a ring of keys from his pocket, selected the smallest one, then grunted as he bent over to unlock the bottom right-hand drawer. Tugging at it, he finally forced open the warped oak receptacle. Damned thing never worked from the day they delivered it! He stared for a moment at the light-blue gusseted folder inside—the faded red “CASE CLOSED” rubber-stamped on the cover. Grasping it with both hands, he hoisted the file onto his desk. There’s no way I’m leaving this one behind!
Officially ruling it a suicide, the department had closed the case twenty-five years earlier. But Beckers regretted that bureaucrats above his rank had failed to pursue the case with enough diligence, despite his repeated efforts over the years to keep it open. Unexplained circumstances surrounding the incident at the Atomium in Brussels on that torrid summer evening in 1990 remained unresolved. An American Vietnam War veteran lay sprawled on the floor, a gunshot to his head at close range, and a black CZ-70 firearm next to his body; bloody shoeprints tracked out to the iconic building’s rear door, which had been forced open. A penknife was discovered ten feet from the corpse—its blade wide open, its pearl handle adorned with two ruby-encrusted crosses and the initials CJL engraved in 24-karat gold between the gems. All of this continued to haunt the old detective. Screw the evidence records retention laws!
Beckers lifted his time-worn leather briefcase to the top of the desk. After stuffing the file inside the case and tightening both tarnished brass buckles securely, he paused as he thought about his wife’s smile when he opened it that first time—her gift celebrating his promotion to chief inspector. God, I miss you, Elizabeth! Leopold picked up the briefcase and walked to the door, hesitating for a moment after opening it. Turning around, he scanned the room that had defined his workdays for half a century. Then, one last time, he flicked out the lights and shut the door behind him.
Outside, Beckers’ staff had formed a row on each side of the door, cheering as he emerged.
“Speech!” shouted his secretary, who, for thirty years, had unsuccessfully tried to organize Leopold’s schedule. A dozen employees taunted him until Beckers set his briefcase on the floor and, raising both arms high in the air in surrender, obliged them.
“Well, I thought you had quite your fill of me at last night’s dinner—thank you again for that unforgettable evening. … Now, I know you all have a hell of a lot of work to do, especially in light of my imminent departure, so I won’t keep you from your grave responsibilities.”
The staff’s catcalls rejected their chief’s urging them to return to work.
“Seriously, though, and I know I am repeating myself, you all have been a top-notch team and I … well … you’ve made my job such a damned pleasure these many years—most of the time,” he said. “And think about all those phenomenal cases we solved together!”
They applauded, cheering him again.
“I am heading to the states to visit my daughter in New York City, but, otherwise, I’m not going to be so far away that you won’t be bumping into me at the local pubs and markets. Just keep doing the spectacular job you do.”
He reached down and lifted his briefcase, took a deep breath, and walked down the faded marble hallway for the last time.
Chapter 2
D uring her fifteen years specializing in intellectual property law with Kellerman, Keyes, Cohen, Beckers and Flagstone, a leading firm located on Lexington Avenue in New York City, Linn Beckers had risen from a staff attorney to senior partner, affording her a comfortable lifestyle. Laurence Kellerman, the firm’s founder and CEO, had taken an early interest in Linn’s career development, seeing how deftly she managed her initial negotiations for three of his top clients regarding their copyright infringement lawsuits. Thereafter, her assignments increased dramatically, Linn becoming the go-to attorney for the most severely contentious copyright and patent litigations.
Today, in her corner office, Linn Beckers glanced at a photograph of her father taken last Christmas, thinking about his retirement and impending visit. A host of ideas were running through her mind when her intercom buzzed.
“Brian and Adam are here for your eleven o’clock meeting,” her legal assistant announced.
Five minutes later Linn and her associates Brian McKelvey and Adam Jacobson were seated around the conference table in her office, plotting their strategy for the most urgent case on the current agenda.
“Brian, let’s review your summary of the Skylar proposal,” Linn began.
The young attorney presented his findings from the case research, and his recommended course of action for the negotiations moving forward. Linn hesitated for a moment before responding.
“Fine, Brian, but you haven’t included any relevant data about Skylar’s previous merger effort with Consolidated Industries, a similar move they attempted several years back. Did I miss something, or …?”
Brian blushed. His body stiffened as he realized the seriousness of omitting the crucial review.
“Sorry, Linn, I don’t’ know how I overlooked that connection. I’ll get right on it.”
“Brian, that’s a key reference to this entire case,” Linn said, adjusting her eyeglasses. “It’s vital to our presentation. You’ve got to check these connections more thoroughly.” She stood up. “Please get on it so we can finish this discussion before the end of the day.”
Brian nodded, and he and Adam rose to leave. Brian had started his career with the firm only a year earlier. Although this incident was not his first oversight, Linn believed he was a promising young attorney worthy of her patience and coaching. Her European-style sophistication and intrepid attention to even the most arcane elements of cases never diminished her concern about the development of the associates on her team. On the way back to their offices, Brian and Adam grabbed coffee in the break room. “I don’t know how she keeps her cool,” Brian said. “I mean, you’d think that my missing a crucial angle like that would send her through the goddamned ceiling.”
“Hey, dude, I’m not one bit surprised. She bailed out my ass, too, when I started here. And I think I’ve mentioned it before, but when my ex-wife put me through the ringer during our divorce, Linn had my back while I went through the