Vance tapped a highlighted line on the top sheet:
ASSET RECORD: 1944-W-004 (INDIAN CHIEF CHASSIS / MIL-ORD-B04).
CONSIGNMENT VALUATION: $3,400,000.00 USD (OFFSHORE ESCROW).
DESTINATION: HAMBURG MARITIME TERMINAL / FREIGHT CONSIGNMENT 'AETHELRED'.
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PRIMARY BIDDER: BARON FRIEDRICH VON HAUFF — BADEN-WÜRTTEMBERG.
"Three point four million dollars?" Thomas gasped, leaning forward onto his knuckles, his brown eyes widening in shock. "For a surplus Indian Chief? Arthur Vance told Margaret the machine was worth fifty-five thousand! He was preparing to wire three hundred and eighty thousand to his own holding company!"
"Arthur Vance didn't know what was inside the fuel tank, Thomas," Agent Vance said softly, every word landing with the weight of an iron anchor dropping through cold water.
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Agent Vance turned the page, sliding a high-resolution, black-and-white military reconnaissance photograph from December 24, 1944 across the wood.
The photograph showed a nineteen-year-old First Sergeant Thomas Whitfield standing knee-deep in the frozen mud of the Ardennes, his head bandaged with field dressing, his M1 Garand slung over his shoulder, leaning against the exact olive-drab motorcycle now parked in my shed.
