The Isis Covenant (7 page)

‘I thought slaughtering Jews was his passion?’

‘Actually, he was quite a reluctant killer, physically that is, but that’s not the point.
Geistjaeger 88
operated in southern Russia, Romania, Hungary and France, but in the great battles that followed D-Day they were forced to retreat back to Germany with everyone else.
I’ve
found a specific reference to them in May nineteen forty-five as part of a hotchpotch of SS units defending the Reichschancellery.’

‘How does that help us?’

‘Their commander,
Standartenführer
Bodo Ritter, survived the war. He seems to have got out before they were trapped. Most of the rest were killed, but two of them just disappeared.’

‘Let me guess. Hartmann?’

‘Berndt Hartmann and Max Dornberger.’

There was a pause as she considered the names.

‘What do we know about Dornberger?’

‘Next to nothing, except that he was the unit’s political officer, which probably makes him a rabid Nazi.’

Danny tested the new information for possibilities for a few moments before discarding it. Something else occurred to her. ‘Hey, I almost forgot. I have a picture I’d like you to take a look at. I’ll e-mail you right this second.’

He heard the click as she sent the message and they waited for it to drop into Jamie’s inbox.

‘So what does an NYPD detective do when she’s not catching killers?’ he said to fill the silence.

‘Are you flirting with me, Mr Saintclair?’

He laughed. ‘If I am, you should call me Jamie.’

‘She sleeps, Mr Saintclair. She works, she eats and she sleeps. Not quite as glamorous as being an art dealer.’

He was about to disabuse her of the preposterous notion that his life was in the least glamorous when the
computer
gave a distinct ‘beep’ as the e-mail arrived. It contained an attachment and he double clicked to download it.

‘Just bear with me a second.’

‘Sure, take all the time you want.’

The image that appeared on the screen was of a stylized single eye, topped by a curving brow, and it looked oddly familiar, except for one thing.

‘At first glance, I’d say it looks Egyptian.’

‘That’s what our experts over this side of the pond reckoned. Trouble is we can’t find anything that links the dead family, or any of their potential killers, to Egypt. The question I have to ask you is: do you know anything that might tie it to this Nazi ghosthunter outfit or Heinrich Himmler and his obsession with the occult?’

‘Good question.’

‘And the answer is?’

‘I have no idea.’

He could feel her disappointment at the other end of the line.

‘Maybe it would help if I knew where you found the symbol?’

‘It was on one of the victims.’

‘When you say on, what specifically do you mean?’

‘Specifically?’ She hesitated, unsure just how much information to reveal. ‘Well, Mr Saintclair, it was carved into her forehead with the point of a hunting knife. Now what do you think of that?’

IX

IT HAD BEEN
three long days since the last half-conscious monologue. Three days of frustration and doubt. Paul Dornberger had barely dared move from his father’s side in case he missed something vital. He had called his employer and asked for a few days’ leave, with the excuse that he feared the old man was dying. At times that had been true. Max slipped between semi-consciousness and coma, and for seventy-two hours had barely uttered a word. Paul had spent the first few hours in a fever of anticipation. What happened next? What had they found when they eventually escaped from the perpetual darkness? But later the niggling worm of doubt had begun boring into his brain. Was he going mad? Surely only a madman could believe that Max Dornberger had lived through this two-millennia-old fairytale. There were a dozen reasons why it could be in his father’s head. Perhaps he had read it in a book, or it was a scene from one of those surreal movies of the
thirties
? The old man’s mind was crumbling. There was no reason why he couldn’t have made it up. In either case, he was wasting his time here. Yet there was another possibility that made it worth continuing. If he discarded the possibility – the insanity – that Max Dornberger was relating an event he had lived through, what if the old man was dredging up a memory of a tale that had been passed down from father to son through the centuries? Word-of-mouth stories told around campfires and on death beds in the old way. A forgotten family legacy buried deep within the subconscious.

On the bed beside him, Max Dornberger clawed his way up to the place of the dream and Paul reached for the recorder as he resumed his saga.

The fifty remaining men of the Second Cohort stumbled blinking from the darkness into the light
.

We emerged into a narrow, steep-sided valley in the centre of the mountains, accessible only by the tunnels we had just negotiated. On the far side, carved from the living rock, lay a wondrous sight. Soaring columns of red sandstone flanked the doorway of a great temple
.

The valley stretched for a mile from left to right, a bleak, boulder-strewn fissure that looked as if it might have been cut by a giant axe. No living thing, man nor beast, was in sight, and I ordered my legionaries to draw swords and advance in line to secure the temple.
It
was the work of moments to cross the hundred and fifty paces that separated the cave mouth and the building and soon we were standing in its shadow on a flag-stoned court. In scale and magnificence, the temple would count as one of the wonders of the world, and was as out of place in this barren wilderness as a gladiator in the House of the Vestals. Intricate carvings of gods and kings covered the walls, which were cut by niches for statues of the queen who had ordered its construction and of strange, half-human, half-animal creatures; men with the heads of dogs, crocodiles, snakes and hawks. And, in the centre of the lintel, a single staring eye. Clearly the eye was Dido’s symbol, or that of the god whose will ruled here, for it also adorned the great altar, cut from a single block of stone, which stood in front of the temple steps. The polished surface was stained with the blood of the last sacrifice, but there was worse to come. ‘Mars save us.’ I heard the whisper from the soldier to my right and saw him make the sign against evil. I could not help following him as I realized what I was seeing. In a shallow bowl carved into the top of the altar lay the body of a child, its belly slit the way an augur might slit a chicken to read from its entrails. In the same instant we froze as a tall figure in a green robe appeared at the top of the stairs screaming insults in a stumbling, heavily accented Latin
.

‘
None who enter the sacred valley may ever leave it. A curse upon the red scourge that defiles this place.’ Spittle shot from his lips as he raised a shaking finger
and
pointed it at my face. ‘A curse upon the seeker. A curse upon the betrayer.’ The finger swung to Bassus, who drew back as if he expected to be struck down by a lightning bolt. ‘I call upon the all-seeing eye to destroy the usurpers.’ This last in a rising shriek which ended in an unmistakable rumbling from our rear that told me that somehow the tunnel entrance had been blocked. I felt the men at my back shifting uneasily and saw the triumph in the priest’s eyes
.

‘
Steady,’ I commanded. ‘You are soldiers of Rome, not some leaderless rabble. Do not be taken in by a charlatan’s tricks. What has been done can be undone. These people must be supplied from somewhere. They cannot trap us without trapping themselves.’ As I spoke I marched to where the priest waited with a look of perplexed savagery, which I wiped from his face with the hilt of my sword, splashing blood across the stones and snapping his front teeth at the root. He went down with a howl and I hauled him to his feet with my sword point in his ribs, forcing him in front of me into the shadow of the great pillared entrance
.

‘
Torches!
’

Ten men followed me inside, while the rest deployed to protect the temple against any threat from without. The torches flared, and for a wonderful moment we were blinded by the light reflected from a million golden surfaces and awed by the riches confronting us. But we had no time to dwell on this magnificence. Uttering a cry in some foul language, the priest slipped from my
grasp
, and we were attacked from all sides. In that first second I was tempted to form the testudo, the impenetrable carapace of shields that is the legionary’s defence of last resort. But a moment’s reflection told me these were not warriors who faced us, only mere priests and slaves, old men, women and children armed with hunting spears, knives and scythes. Instead, we retreated in good order to the door and formed line. Our attackers pressed us hard, hacking desperately at shields and armour, but within seconds I heard the voice I had been waiting for. Bassus had at last reacted to the commotion and led the rest of the men to our aid. With a supreme effort we pivoted like a door opening to allow our reinforcements to join us and the slaughter began
.

As I moved forward my sword sank deep in the belly of a wild-eyed elder and I rammed him aside with my shield. Following behind, the armoured wedge of my men stepped over twitching bodies as I sought the High Priest among the panicking throng. A flash of green caught my eye and I turned to see him clambering up between two enormous statues on the far side of the temple. Snarling, I hacked my way towards him determined his soul would be mine to take. Before I reached the base of the figures I was confronted by a teenage boy wielding a long spear. A spear in the right hands can be a dangerous weapon, even against a man in armour, but this spear was held like a farmer’s hoe and I was inside the point before he made up his mind where he
was
going to place it. My sword arm rose and I saw the light of hope die in his eyes. He fell back knowing he would never be a man
.

‘
Hold!
’

A man in battle kills and keeps on killing until he is dead or there is nothing left to kill, but something in that desperate shout stayed my hand. I looked up to find the High Priest framed by the statues, holding a glittering relic above his head
.

‘
The crown for his life. The Crown of Isis for the boy’s life
.’

The words stayed my hand and the anguish in them told me this was his son. ‘Enough.’ My command rose above the clash of swords and the shrieks of the dying. The clamour receded, leaving only the harsh breathing of the killers and the groans of their victims. I placed the point of my sword at the boy’s throat and his dark eyes widened as he felt the cold iron
.

‘
Why, priest? What makes your trinket worth a life compared to all this?
’

‘
Of all Queen Dido’s treasures the Crown of Isis is the greatest.’ He advanced deliberately down the steps still holding the crown aloft. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed for the first time the enormous gem set between the twin horns, its rays flickering like liquid balefire. ‘It was created by Isis herself from the gifts of her father Keb, the gold of the earth and a star plucked from the sky, which she named the Eye of Isis and through which she sees all things. It has been passed
down
through the ages bestowing immortality on all who wore it
.’

He knelt before me and laid the crown, with its golden horns and great diamond, at my feet. I laughed, but my throat felt as dry as the perpetual deserts we had crossed
.

‘
If it confers immortality, why is Queen Dido herself not here to place it in my hands?
’

He looked up and I read the contempt in his eyes at the hunger in my voice
.

‘
Only Dido had the strength to set it aside and place it beyond the reach of men
.’

‘
Yet men have come here, and now you offer it up to me. Why?
’

His eyes flicked to the boy so quickly I wasn’t certain what I’d seen. I increased the pressure on the point and heard a satisfying gurgle of terror
.

‘
Why?’ I repeated
.

‘
If you are here, it is by the will of the goddess.’ His eyes locked on mine and I saw something beyond human comprehension in them. At the same time his voice grew in strength. I will remember his words till the day the world ends. ‘You may have fifty years in each hundred without paying a single day’s price, but stay a moment longer and Isis will keep your soul for an eternity of torment
.’

‘
Out. All of you, out.’ Bassus darted a suspicious glance at me as he left the temple, and in that moment signed his own death warrant. ‘Leave the priest and his son, but remove the rest
.’

An hour later, when the screams had faded, I emerged into the light to find every man staring at me and the burden I carried. I wiped my bloody sword on a cloth cut from the priest’s green robe
.

X

IT WAS ANOTHER
week before Jamie found the time to visit the Egyptian section of the British Museum. At first it seemed simple, but the more he studied the printout of the file Detective Danny Fisher had sent him the more he realized that something was wrong. The all-seeing eye was a common enough symbol in Egyptology, featuring in amulets, pendants and sculptures, but there was something different about this eye. He spent most of the morning in the museum’s great domed reading room studying dusty tracts and scholarly works. Well after lunchtime, with hunger gnawing at him like a starving rat, he eventually found what he was looking for and an intriguing pencilled cross-reference attached to it. The only problem was, what did it mean?

He searched for the volume the note referred to, but it wasn’t on the shelf where it should be. The tome was so obscure it didn’t seem likely someone else had
borrowed
it, more likely it had been put back in the wrong place. Still it was worth checking.

‘I’m looking for a book called
Myths and Legends of the Ancient World
. The computer says it should be on the shelf, but it seems to be missing?’