Tomb of the Lost (62 page)

Jack hobbled after his friend.

On and on Koenig rushed. Along streets and alleys. His leg muscles hurting now, his breathing coming in short rasps. He knew for definite now that if they caught him they would kill him as slowly and as cruelly as they could. This thought alone took him through the red mist of pain and drove him ever onwards. He raced down a poorly lit alley and crashed headfirst into a large pile of terracotta octopus pots. He tumbled over them, sending them chinking and smashing against each other. They continued to fall and break as he tumbled into a heap. He struggled to his feet, slipping on pot shards and large pieces of terracotta. He
’
d banged his left knee so hard that he couldn
’
t actually feel his toes and he hopped on it as one does when they have pins and needles. The pain from this was a hundred times worse. He
’
d also banged his head and when he placed his fingertips on it he winced at the pain from the fresh bruise. Within a minute it was a big bump. Then he remembered his assailants would be gaining on him and he limped off as quick as he could. He cleared the end of the alley. The pots had been outside a fish processing factory. He fell at the end into the road. He wanted to give up now, to accept his fate. He heard running footsteps approaching from behind. The sound of feet treading on broken pottery. Koenig rose slowly and was suddenly aware that he was almost at the water
‘
s edge.

“
Here this way,
”
a voice said not too distant.

Koenig limped to the water
’
s edge to get his bearings. To his right the concrete ran out. It quickly became reeds and further, stretching away into the distance, a moonlit beach. To his left, his destination, the boats and safety, but they were a long way away.

Jack and Terry reached the end of the alley.

“
There he is!
”

Koenig aimed his pistol and fired.

He missed.

Terry fired back but missed too. Then Terry
’
s gun jammed.

“
Shit! Shit!
”
he said shaking the gun, trying to free the blockage. Koenig fired again. This time he hit Terry in the arm. Terry let out a groan and dropped his Sten. Instantly his hand came up to cover the wound. Koenig pointed his Luger at Jack and pulled the trigger.

Click!

He tried again.

Click!

He looked at his pistol incredulously.

Out of bullets!

Out of anger he drew his arm back and threw the pistol. Terry ducked it as it clattered up the street just as Jack threw his knife. It buried itself up to the hilt in Koenig
’
s left shoulder. He let out a yelp of pain and as the two Englishmen looked on he staggered back a few steps and fell the ten feet headfirst into the water.

The Germans were working frantically with the freighter. Guns, equipment and food was being loaded none too carefully. Wurtz
’
men barking orders constantly at the civilian crew. Von Brest was standing alone in the square shouting instructions at a crane operator. The sarcophagus was swinging from chains attached to it. They
’
d removed the canvas back of the six wheeler lorry that had carried it this far to enable the crane to get in. Von Brest was agitated that the crane was very old and the chains rusty.

“
May God help us all if anything were to happen to it now.
”

Wurtz was on the freighter with Captain Mufasa.

“
Make sure we are ready to sail the moment the artefact and the Doctor are on board.
”

“
Yes Sir Major.
”

As Wurtz turned to leave the bridge he noticed an old pistol laying on its side by a window. He also saw an older rifle propped up behind the door. He wasn
’
t happy about these men being armed. Mufasa caught Wurtz
’
stare. He looked from the guns to the Major, their eyes met. Finally Wurtz decided it wasn
’
t worth pursuing. Firstly they needed the crew
’
s co-operation as neither he nor any of his men knew how to sail a boat. Secondly the antique guns looked like they weren
’
t capable of doing much damage and thirdly
’
These men have a right to defend themselves I suppose
’

“
Just make sure we
’
re ready please Captain.
”

Mufasa nodded his head. Wurtz left and Mufasa stared at the open door for a moment before gazing at the pistol. It had been ten years since he
’
d fired it last. He had shot a man. Through the brain. A man who had questioned his orders as Captain. A man who
’
d upset the harmony of his crew. A mutinous piece of scum who
’
d got what he deserved. A bullet between the eyes, dumped overboard off the coast of Madagascar and never received mention again from any of the crew.

Mufasa had seen the look on the SS Major
’
s face. The German hadn
’
t liked the pistol but had said nothing.

“
Good!
”

He checked to make sure that no one was nearby then reached around to the small of his back and pulled out a brand new Beretta pistol from the waistband of his trousers. He checked that it was fully loaded and that the safety catch was on. It was still shiny from being new and he huffed on it and polished it on his sweater before putting it back in his waistband. It was reassuring to feel it there. He knew he could pull it and use it at a moments notice.

‘
What does it have to do with these Germans anyway?
’

They weren
’
t his masters. He didn
’
t take orders from them. Mufasa also knew that there were guns stashed about all over his ship and that most of his crew were armed anyway, all of them carrying at least one knife each.

Mufasa patted the gun behind his back.

“
Maybe I
’
ll get a chance to use you.
”

He had eleven crew to the fifty Germans and whatever was in that stone box hanging from the crane, well, Mufasa and his men knew it must be gold and the Germans wouldn
’
t be watching it once they were safely out to sea. They wouldn
’
t miss a bar or two.

Mufasa began smiling to himself. He was a man who
’
d fought off Barbary coast pirates many times. These disciplined Germans would be easy prey but one thing he knew. If the killing started that SS Major would have to be got rid of first. His smile turned into laughter as he started the engines and checked his controls.

Wurtz by now had rejoined the Doctor.

“
How
’
s it going Doctor?
”

“
I keep telling him,
”
Von Brest pointed angrily at the crane operator
“
To slow down.
”

Wurtz looked at the man. He was a local to Gabes, very tanned and very nervous.

“
Slow down!
”
Wurtz shouted at him.

“
It
’
s not my fault,
”
the man babbled back in a mixture of Arabic and French. Not sure if the German officer understood either or both,
“
This is a very old crane and its controls are stiff.
”

“
What
’
s he saying?
”

“
I have no idea Doctor.
”

Wurtz rounded on some of his men standing by.

“
Do any of you speak Arabic.
”

“
I can a little Major.
”

“
Get over there and tell him to calm down. Tell him if he damages that he can come personally to Berlin to tell Adolf Hitler.
”

“
Yes Sir. But won
’
t that make him more nervous.
”

“
Just tell him. Tell him to keep his eyes on me and follow my instructions.
”

The soldier was right. The crane driver became more nervous.

“
Look at me!
”
Wurtz bellowed at him.

The man nodded, trying to stay calm.

“
Now bring it round. Slowly! Slowly!
”

The lever was stiff. He glanced nervously at the knob he was trying to push. The crane hadn
’
t received the proper hydraulic oiling in years.

“
Keep your eyes on me.
”

The crane driver pushed forward on the lever. It was stiff. He applied more pressure. The lever unexpectedly shot forward. It turned the crane faster than he
’
d intended. The sarcophagus swung uncontrollably out and just as it reached its Zenith, without warning, one of the chains snapped midway. The links below the break smashed down and took a chunk out of the sarcophagus
’
side. Von Brest was absolutely livid at the damage. Wurtz rushed over to the crane driver who was frantically babbling his excuses again in at least three languages this time.

“
Get out!
”
Wurtz shouted at him.

The man jumped down and cowered away from the SS Major.

“
By rights I should have you shot for sabotage!
”

The man had both his hands on his head, tears streaming down his face.

“
Get out of my sight,
”
Wurtz roared, raising a hand as if to strike him. The man fled in despair.

“
You,
”
Wurtz pointed at the soldier he
’
d sent earlier
“
Can you drive this crane?
”

“
I don
’
t know Sir. I could try.
”

“
Get up there quick before the whole bloody thing collapses.
”

Wurtz
’
man climbed reluctantly into the crane. He started by looking at all of the controls. There were no instructions and all of the details that had been on the knobs and levers had long since worn off. Wurtz held his hands out.

“
What are you waiting for?
”

“
There are no instructions Sir. I don
’
t know what any of this does.
”

“
Well there
’
s only one way to find out and you
’
ve got thirty seconds.
”

The sarcophagus was by now gently rocking back and forth, listing to one side because of the broken chain. Von Brest was at one point standing directly below it. He hadn
’
t even considered what would happen to him if it now decided to fall.

“
Get it down quickly,
”
he shouted across at the new crane operator.

Wurtz dashed up the footholds and almost into the cab.

“
Come on man! What are you waiting for?
”

“
Look Sir you can see the problem. There are no
…
.
”

“
What does this do?
”
Wurtz pushed forward on a stiff lever. The crane swung back the opposite way. He tried the next one. The sarcophagus began to slowly rise. He pushed this lever forward and the tomb slowly began to lower. As soon as he could reach the damage Von Brest was feeling the rough edges where the chunk had been knocked out. He was furious. There was other damage caused by the flailing chain. The sarcophagus bumped the ground gently and the chains went slack. Wurtz ordered his men to pick up all significant pieces of crumbled stone from it. He showed them to the Doctor.

“
We will repair it in Berlin. I will find the best sculptor Germany has to offer. Thank you Major.
”

Wurtz gave them to one of his men.

“
Put them in a safe box. You are responsible for them until we reach Berlin.
”

“
Yes Herr Major.
”

“
Don
’
t let them out of your sight. On your head. Understood?
”

The man swallowed nervously.

“
Yes Sir.
”

“
Get more chains,
”
Wurtz ordered.

“
Major,
”
Von Brest took his arm to stop him,
“
I think I would prefer it now if we could man handle it onto the ship.
”