Authors: The Sands of Sakkara (html)
Glenn Meade (46 page)
'The remains of the grave-robbers
I told you about,' said Rachel.
Haider shot a look at Kleist. 'Not
the most reassuring of company, are they? Let's just hope they're not an omen
for us.'
He put down the lamp and knelt,
ready to enter the cavern again. 'OK, follow me, and we'll see where the
passageway j leads. And be careful how you go.’
After the first ten paces, the
cave floor sloped downward for about twenty feet, then came up again. They
moved through it smoothly, the walls narrowing and widening along the way, but
it was an easy enough passage, and while Kleist held the lamp, Haider carefully
let out the string, trying to keep it from snagging on the jagged rock edges.
He counted off the number of paces. After they had gone about two hundred, they
came to the end of the tunnel.
An immense slab of stone, at least
five or six tons, stretched across their path, and sloped backwards towards the
high roof.
Haider swung the lamp in an arc
but could see no way forward.
'Unless I'm very much mistaken,
we're at a dead end,' he told Rachel, his voice rebounding off the cavern
walls.
She pointed above them, to where
the slope met the roof.
'You should see some rocks near
the top. That's where the exit is, I think.'
Haider raised the lamp. Sure
enough, there was a sloping bank of rubble and stones in a recess between the
top of the massive boulder and the roof. 'Give me a lift up,' he ordered
Kleist.
The SS man cupped his hands and
hefted him up. Haider balanced precariously on the sloping boulder for a couple
of moments, his boots scraping on stone, then managed to get a firm grip. 'Now
hand me up a shovel, and try to give me some light.'
Kleist did so, directing the oil
lamp into the recess as Haider picked away at the rubble, his face and body
streaked with sweat, the blade of the shovel flashing in the light as he worked
feverishly at scouring away the rocks and clay, until a mass of debris came
tumbling down, filling the passageway with choking dust. An eerie sound
whispered through the cave, as a warm finger of fresh air licked their faces,
causing the lamp to flicker.
When the dust cleared, Haider
looked up and saw an open rock shaft leading upwards, more than wide enough for
him to pass through. ‹ He wiped sweat from his face. 'I'll see where it leads.
Wait here.'
He handed the shovel back down to
Kleist and climbed up through the darkened shaft. A moment later he was
securely wedged against the rock, his back against one side, his feet against
the other, his hands fastening on the rock as he heaved desperately, moving his
way up. After about six feet he came to the top. He saw moonlight, smelled the
scent of warm perfumed air, and hauled himself out over the edge.
He was lying in a slight hollow in
the ground, the area in deep shadow and partly protected by a cluttered circle
of bushes.
A vast manicured lawn stretched
around him. At first, he saw only darkness beyond, but then he noticed a
perimeter fence about eighty yards away, patrolled by dozens of armed American
GIs and British squaddies, some with dogs.
Behind him was a large building,
perhaps a hundred paces distant, the clipped lawns in front dotted with
flower-beds and palm trees, the windows ablaze with lights. He recognized the
Mena House. Up on the roof a muzzle protruded from a sandbagged machinegun
emplacement, and a short way behind it the twin fingers of an anti-aircraft gun
pointed skyward.
Several of the windows below the
roof parapet were lit up, and he noticed a couple of
At that precise moment, two GIs
appeared from the palm trees, rifles over their shoulders, talking idly as they
strolled towards him across the lawn. Haider flattened himself into the ground,
waited until the men had passed a short distance away, then climbed back into
the shaft, feet first. Moments later he was inching his way down the slope of
the massive boulder, back into the tunnel.
'Well?' Kleist asked expectantly.
'I think we might be in business.'
The SS man beamed, his excitement
obvious, and Haider said to Rachel, 'Take one of the lamps and make your way
back to Deacon. Wait there until we return.'
'Don't you need me any more?'
'No, your work's done.' He smiled,
touched her arm reassuringly. 'I'll join you later.' He saw the concern on her
face.
'Whatever you're going to do, be
careful, Jack.’
She took one of the oil lamps and
moved back into the tunnel. Haider took a swig from one of the canteens, poured
some water on to his palm and cleaned his face, then said to Kleist, 'Hand me
the kit-bag with the uniforms, then get yourself tidied up. We're going up to
have a proper look.'
'You mind telling me exactly what
you found up there?'
Haider explained as he struggled
out of his shirt, dried his face with it, and began to change into the
captain's uniform.
'The shaft leads up to the hotel
grounds, about a hundred paces from the main building.'
The SS man beamed again. 'It
almost sounds too good to be true.'
'Which is why we shouldn't speak
too soon. There are lots of guards about, and remember, we have to confirm that
the targets are inside. Even if they are, we have another concern - the
entrance to the tomb, and the shaft here, will have to be widened. Dozens of
paratroops in full combat gear are going to have to crawl through those holes,
not to mention return the same way.'
'It can be done.' Kleist nodded
firmly, his excitement mounting. 'You can be sure of that.'
'We'll see.' Haider finished
putting on the uniform and buttoned the tunic, while Kleist began to struggle
into his.
'You'd better blow out the lamp
before we go up. It wouldn't do for anyone above to catch a glimpse of light
down here. If anything goes wrong and I don't make it, try to get back to the
others and away from here as quick as you can.' A troubled look flashed in
Haider's eyes. 'One other thing - you don't harm the woman under any
circumstances, is that understood, Kleist? If I don't return, you simply let
her go - I want you to promise me that. She's more than played her part in all
of this. She doesn't deserve to die.'
A slight grin played across
Kleist's face as he finished adjusting his uniform. 'Whatever you say, Major.
But I'm quite sure you'll make it back. You have something at stake, I think?'
Haider glared at him silently in
reply, then tugged on his officer's cap. 'Give me a lift up.’
Kleist cupped his hands again.
Haider scurried up on to the boulder, then helped up the SS man. A moment later
he blew out the lamp, the cavern was smothered in darkness, and he climbed up
through the shaft again, Kleist behind him.
Fifty-Eight
Haider lay flat on his belly among
the bushes in the hollow. He remained like that in the darkness for several
minutes, surveying the grounds. The two sentries were nowhere to be seen, but
behind him the guards were still patrolling the perimeter. When he was
reasonably certain it was safe to move, he whispered down the shaft. 'You can
come up now, Kleist.'
A minute later Kleist struggled
up. 'Stay flat,' Haider ordered, and gave the SS man a few moments to adapt
himself to his surroundings. 'We'll head towards the front of the hotel. Just a
nice leisurely pace like we're out for a stroll.'
'What then?'
Haider dusted his clothes, ready
to move. 'We play the cards as they fall. So long as we keep our heads we
shouldn't arouse suspicion, but you can bet the sentries have got a password
system in operation, in which case we're at a disadvantage. So you'd better
keep that weapon of yours handy just in case we're challenged.'
They walked towards the front of
the hotel. There was a flurry of activity, dispatch riders arriving and
departing on the gravel driveway out front. A half-dozen white-helmeted MP
sentries stood on either side of the entrance steps, and there was a desk in
the open-
doored
foyer beyond, manned by an officer
and a corporal, checking the papers of anyone who entered. On the grass lawn
directly outside were the
cigarettes.
Haider strolled over casually. One
of the tank crew sergeants saw them and went to salute. 'At ease, Sergeant.
Have you got a light?'
'Sure, Captain.' The man rummaged
in his pocket and handed over a box of matches. Haider took his time lighting
his cigarette and observed the entrance. The grounds were very heavily patrolled,
sentries moving singly or in pairs out in the gardens. He could see no obvious
way they could gain entrance to the hotel without being spotted or challenged.
He handed back the matches.
'What's your name, Sergeant?'
'Grimes, sir.'
'Where are you from, Grimes?'
'Speedwell,
Haider smiled. 'So how does it
feel for a boy from the sticks to be guarding the President of the
The young sergeant beamed. 'I
guess it's quite an honor, Captain.'
'You can say that again. So make
sure you stay alert.'
'Yes, sir.' The sergeant snapped
off a perfect salute, Haider returned it, and he and Kleist moved away from the
tanks. The SS man let out a sigh of relief and grinned in the darkness. 'I'll
say this for you, Haider, you have a neck as hard as brass. And clever with
it.'
'If I was that, I'd never have
allowed myself to get involved in this mess. And we can hardly take the
sergeant's word for it that Roosevelt and Churchill are here. We'll have to make
certain for ourselves.'
Kleist looked aghast. 'You mean
you're going to try and get inside the hotel?'
'Let's face it, how else can we
confirm their presence?'
'And what if we're caught? It
would ruin everything.'
'All part of the risk. And really
there's no other way.
Remember, a nice leisurely pace,
and don't even think about reaching for that pistol unless I tell you to.’
They strolled along one of the
flower-bordered paths that wended around the grounds. Sandbagged machinegun
nests were dotted on the front lawns, and behind the hotel hundreds of tents
were visible in the pale moonlight, dozens of trucks and half-tracks parked
near by. Troops were moving about them in the darkness.
'These defenses are tighter than
the Fiihrer's lair,' Kleist said, dispirited.
'Just keep walking. And keep your
eyes open for any chink in the armour. We simply have to find a way in.'
They walked on, towards the hotel
grounds at the back. It was the same everywhere they went, more sentries and
gun emplacements, and on the roof they noticed another antiaircraft position
and several more machinegun nests. As they came towards the rear service
entrance, Haider saw a parked army delivery truck, two soldiers in fatigues
unloading crates of provisions and carrying them into the hotel kitchens, while
an armed corporal with a clipboard supervised at the door. There was a busy
scene inside, army cooks and soldiers in fatigues working away in clouds of
steam, a wall of heat wafting out.
Haider paused, and Kleist seemed
to read his thoughts. 'Well, what do you think?'
'Let's give it a try.' Kleist
sounded doubtful. 'You're sure about this?'
'I'm sure of nothing, so be ready
to cover me if anything goes wrong. Otherwise, just keep your mouth shut and do
exactly as I say.' Haider brazenly walked over to the corporal supervising the
unloading. 'What's going on here?' he demanded. 1 The man saluted. 'Kitchen
deliveries, Captain.'
As one of the soldiers made to
move past him carrying a crate of supplies, Haider laid a hand on the man's arm.
'Did you check this man's papers, Corporal?'
'They were examined thoroughly at
the gate, Captain. No one gets past without inspection-'
'I'm well aware of that, Corporal,
but that wasn't the question I asked. Did you check them?'
The man looked flustered. 'Well -
no, sir, I didn't rightly see the need.’
'Didn't see the need?' Haider
exploded. 'It's that kind of negligence that can cost us the war, Corporal.
"What about the supplies in the truck?'
'They were examined at the gate
too, sir.'
'And that's good enough for you,
is it?' Haider raised an eye sarcastically, and shot a look at the men. 'Let me
see your papers.'
The men saluted and proffered
them. Haider scrutinized the documents. 'They look in order, right enough.' He
handed them back to the corporal. 'But in future, you double-check every
goddamned person who comes through here. And the contents of any delivery
vehicle. Starting right now. Is that clear, Corporal?'
'Yes, Captain.'
As he handed back the men's
papers, Haider moved towards the kitchen doors and snapped back at Kleist,
'Stay here, Sergeant, and make sure this vehicle is thoroughly searched and
these men properly supervised. I want to make sure no one's slipped past this
idiot here.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Captain, you can take my word-'
the embarrassed corporal began, but Haider totally ignored him, stepping
through the door and into the kitchen.
The Provost's office was busy that
evening. Weaver asked for Sergeant Morris at the front desk. It was ten minutes
before the man appeared - a burly military policeman who looked under pressure.
'Sorry for keeping you waiting, sir. How can I help?'
Weaver showed his ID. 'It's about
a call you made to Lieutenant-Colonel Sanson's office, concerning a number of
stolen vehicles and uniforms.'
The sergeant scratched his head.
'You caught me at a bad time, sir. I'm up to my eyes. Is it urgent?' ‹ 'Very.'
The sergeant sighed audibly.
'Right. You'd better come into my office, sir.’
Morris led him down the hall to a
communal room with some desks and typewriters, where a couple of NCOs were
busily working away. He sat down at one of the desks, searched for a file,
found it, and glanced through the pages inside.
'Three Ford two and a half-ton
canvas-top trucks, a Jeep, and three MPs' uniforms - all American equipment,
and all stolen from Camp Huckstep stores in the last five days. You mind me
asking why you're interested, sir?'
'It's a security matter,' Weaver
said simply. 'I believe you have information about the thefts?'
'I thought if Lieutenant-Colonel
Sanson had any clues about the matter, we might have been able to help each
other. There's someone we think may have been responsible, but we're a bit shy
on hard evidence.'
'He doesn't. It was an American
staff or civilian sedan we were interested in. But who's the suspect?'
'A Sergeant Wally Reed, British
Army. "Baldy" to his friends. He's a pen-pusher attached to our
quartermaster's office.
We believe he's been responsible
for quite a bit of pilfering from army stores - everything from diesel to
provisions destined for the officers' mess - except so far we can't prove a
thing.'
'But Reed's British Army, and the
stolen vehicles and uniforms are American?'
The sergeant grinned. 'Easy to
explain, sir. Reed's got an arrangement with the stores master-sergeant at Camp
Huckstep.
If either has a shortage of
vehicle parts and equipment, they help each other out. It's all perfectly above
board.'
'And what makes you think Reed
might be responsible for the thefts?'
'I've had my eye on him for quite
a while. Your MPs made enquiries and discovered he was a visitor at
questioned the stores personnel and turned up nothing - but they heard a
whisper that Reed might have had a hand in it, though there isn't a shred of
proof. No one saw him steal the equipment - he probably had the stores people
do it for him, and paid them to keep their traps shut. You get a nose for these
things after a while, and I'm pretty certain he's the culprit, but he's a
slippery customer is Baldy. It'll be hard to catch him red-handed. We need to
nab him in the act, or somehow link him back to the stuff he's nicked.'
'What does he do with the supplies
he steals?'
The sergeant shrugged. 'Sells them
on the black market, I should imagine. There's a lot of call for that sort of
thing in
If something's not nailed down, it sprouts legs and walks.
But I don't see how any of this
can help you, sir. You said you were looking for a stolen sedan?'
Weaver frowned. 'I am, but this
sounds a lot more interesting.
Any idea what anyone would want
with US military vehicles?'
The sergeant scratched his head.
'Now there you've got me, which is why I phoned Lieutenant-Colonel Sanson. The
Arabs wouldn't take the risk of dealing in stuff like that. An army truck isn't
exactly the kind of thing you can paint over and disguise.
Or a Jeep for that matter. And I
reckon most of the parts wouldn't be much use to them. But it's the uniforms
that really get me. Pretty odd that. Any chaps I know from here to
Blighty
are trying to get out of the bloody things, not
into them.'
'Maybe it's time you questioned
this Sergeant Reed.'
'Now, sir?' the sergeant
protested. 'But I haven't got the evidence I need. And putting the screws on
Reed right now could ruin any case I try to build against him.'
Weaver was already on his feet.
'Now Sergeant. I'll explain on the way. It could be a matter of life and
death.'
Haider went through the kitchen
unchallenged, and halted at a pair of swing-doors at the end. There was a
dining room beyond, in use as a temporary mess, dozens of officers seated at
tables, being served by a battery of soldiers. The swing-doors opened and a GI
came through carrying a tray of dirty dishes.
Haider moved out of the way and
looked around for another exit. Off to his right was an open door, a narrow
stairwell beyond, steps leading up. He went through and came up into a hallway
on the first floor, doors leading off on either side. At the end of the hall he
found himself in the deserted hotel lounge.
Leather couches and easy chairs
"were scattered around the room, which was decorated in the style of an
Egyptian hunting lodge, the walls lined with the trophy heads of game animals.
An enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling as a striking centrepiece, and a
broad staircase led down to the lobby security desk.
A couple of senior officers came
up the staircase.
Haider saluted as they went past,
waited until they had disappeared down one of the corridors, then climbed the
stairs to the next floor. At the end of a corridor, he saw two military police
and a couple of burly-looking men in civilian clothes standing guard outside a
room. Before he could move another step, an American two-star general came out
of one of the rooms across the hall, carrying a briefcase.
Haider saluted, but the general
frowned, keenly sized him up. 'What's your name, Captain?'
'Kowalski, sir.'
'You don't look familiar. Have I
seen you before?'
'They sent me over from
sir.'
'Is that a fact?' The general
raised an eye. 'Come down with me to the lobby, at the double.'
Before Haider could reply, the
general moved down the stairs, pausing to look back when Haider hesitated.
'Well, what are you waiting for, Captain? Are you deaf?'
'No, sir.'