Although the nearby mountainous peaks of the Pilatus, Rigi, and Stanserhorn had lost their crowns of snow, the appealing contrast between the bright green alpine landscape and the steel-blue Lake Lucerne was worthy of a two-franc postcard.As impressive as the vista was from behind the series of two-meter-high plate glass windows, the view didn’t hold a candle to the Mona Lisa, whose enigmatic smile teased him from Wessner’s buffet hutch, where she leaned against a wall. He allowed his mind the luxury of thinking through how his life would change once he escaped from his role as Göring’s minion.The Mona Lisa had taken his breath away, not because of her towering stature in the art world, but what she meant to his future. The war would be over soon, and with the inevitable loss Germany was now facing, a sizable account at the Dolder Bank would be his only hope for a new identity and a new home far from the Fatherland.The options were dizzying, especially from his current lofty vantage at Chalet Rigi, but he didn’t allow his mind to get ahead of himself.
