Indiana Jones and the Lost Painting

Prelude

Heidelberg, Germany

March 29th, 1945

Indiana Jones had to find the right train. There were dozens of them haphazardly arranged on tracks that fanned into the depot. One of them was carrying a cargo of priceless paintings that would soon be swept out of Germany. He was working with Aaron Roark of the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program, and the two were getting desperate.

Nearly a week ago Roark had managed to wrangle intelligence from a local citizen, one of the few who shared no love for the Nazis and blamed them more than even the Allies for the hell brought down on their country. The helpful German claimed that a cache of stolen art was on its way out of Heidelberg in a last-ditch effort to abscond with what a high ranking official clearly believed was rightfully his according to his Aryan birthright. Boxes of art-paintings, statues-were stashed on a train car that would make its way out of the country and perhaps out of time and memory as well.

Roark knew their time was limited. The war was over, even if Germany hadn't yet surrendered, which meant that every Nazi with a rank on their shoulder were trying to figure out their endgame, either fleeing the country or strategizing how useful they might be to the new occupiers. Some had even decided to exit this plane of existence while staring down the barrel of a gun.

By the time Roark learned that a train was leaving Heidelberg with boxes of art, some of the most prized cultural heritage of Europe, he knew something had to be done. The German army was abandoning Heidelberg, and the Allies would soon march into the city, a predetermined and arranged bloodless exchange of territory. This was a relief to most. No one wanted to die for a war that was for all intents and purposes over, even if they believed in the cause.

The army had their plans to move in aggressively. They didn't want to be caught off guard just in case the Nazis changed their minds or if some true believers stayed behind to take potshots from church steeples. No, they were not going to move up the invasion on the count of a train car full of art, no matter how precious.

"I like perusing a museum as much as the next culturally educated American, Roark," the General told him. "Hell, when I'm back home in New York I'll catch myself a glimpse of Van Ghogh's Wheat Field. But I can't give up my men's lives for paintings, no matter how important. You understand."

And he did understand. But Roark had dedicated his life to the study of art, something his immigrant parents never really understood but let him dabble in nevertheless. He couldn't stand by, but he couldn't run into the city alone when, for all he knew, the German Army still controlled every building and street. There was one last option, a member of the OSS embedded with the Army. He didn't know him well, and what he knew were the kinds of rumors that were passed around from private to colonel only increasing in size. They claimed he had fought in World War I at Verdun, rode with Pancho Villa, and went hunting with Teddy Roosevelt as a boy. If that wasn't enough, some of the rumors beggared belief. He was said to have encountered Dracula himself and discovered an immortal knight of the crusades living in a desert cave.

Roark found Indiana Jones in his tent with his face lathered in shaving cream. "What can I do for you?" he asked as he carefully drew his straight razor down his face.

Roark explained his problem and the urgency of the situation. He needed someone at his side to track down the art cache and stop it from escaping Germany. "By the time our army arrives tomorrow, it will already be too late."

"You know, this is the first chance I've gotten for a shave in weeks. I didn't even have shaving cream until a little old lady handed it to me as a 'gift.' I'm pretty sure she thought if she handed out goods to the Americans, then we wouldn't loot her house. I tried to give it back, but she insisted."