Glenn Meade (45 page)

The chauffeured Mercedes glided to
a halt in the enclosed courtyard at the rear of the Chancellery building and
Schellenberg climbed out. An acrid smell immediately filled his nostrils, and
he covered his mouth and nose with his hand. He hadn't failed to notice a
couple of large, smouldering bomb craters in the Chancellery grounds, nor the
dozens of thick, black oily plumes drifting up from the west of the city, and
he could still hear the clanging of fire engine bells in the distance.
Berlin
was covered by a
pall of choking smoke after another devastating air raid that late afternoon,
the sky so dark it looked as if the world were going to end.

Two SS guards of the Liebstandarte
Division, Hitler's private bodyguard, immaculate in their black uniforms and
white gloves, snapped to attention as Schellenberg went past into the bunker
lobby, where a waiting adjutant took his overcoat and led him straight down two
flights of steps to the Fiihrer's private underground office.

When Schellenberg was led into the
sparse concrete room, Hitler was in an anxious mood, wringing his hands as he
paced the floor. 'Well?'

'I've been personally waiting in
the signals room at SS headquarters since early afternoon, and will return
there to be on hand, but still nothing yet, mein Fiihrer. However, as I
explained, we don't expect Deacon to transmit until tonight.'

Hitler looked gravely disappointed.
'And Skorzeny and his men?'

'On alert, and ready and waiting.
The colonel informs me he can be off the ground and on his way to
Cairo
within five minutes
of receiving our instruction.'

'This afternoon Allied bombers
destroyed a dozen more of our factories, not to mention direct hits to two of
our railway stations.'

'Yes, I heard, mein Führer. A
terrible business.'

'Terrible? It's catastrophic!'
Hitler's face turned purple, the veins swelling on his neck and forehead.
'Dozens of carriages destroyed, hundreds of military and civilian casualties,
total disruption to our armaments shipments by rail to the Russian front,
production halted in four of our tank factories and small arms plants. It's
getting worse, Walter. Every day it's getting worse. If this continues, our
armies will have nothing left to fight with but sticks and stones.'

'I'm certain Production Minister
Speer will do his absolute utmost to rectify matters quickly.'

'If he doesn't, I'll have his neck
on the end of a rope.' Hitler slumped into a leather armchair, his body
crumpling with despair. 'So, you still think Haider can get through and carry
out his orders?'

'I'm convinced of it.'

Hitler fixed Schellenberg with a
cold stare. 'As always, your optimism is enviable, Walter. But if Sphinx fails,
mark my words, heads will roll. Perhaps even yours. With every day that passes,
it becomes even more imperative we annihilate our two mortal enemies, Roosevelt
and Churchill. Two bombs hit the Chancellery grounds this afternoon. Can you
believe it? They're trying to kill me, Walter. Me! We must destroy them first,
before they destroy us all.' ‹ 'I agree totally, mein Fiihrer.'

'The very second you receive word
from Deacon, you call me, personally. Dismissed.’

Weaver went up the steps past the
uniformed dragomans at the entrance to Shepheard's. He found an empty seat
under the palms on the front terrace. It was Friday night and the streets were
overflowing. He ordered a large Scotch and sat there, barely taking notice of
the chaos of traffic that went past the hotel.

He had phoned Clayton at least
half a dozen times, but the general wasn't taking his calls. He felt angry and
frustrated. And there was a strange feeling he was aware of, now that he had
got over the shock of seeing Rachel alive. The fact that she was with Jack
Haider sent a pang of jealousy through him, so powerful it almost made him wish
Haider dead. It was as if he had been wounded, a pain spreading through his
entire body.

A waiter scurried past and he
ordered another large Scotch.

In the warm evening air, the
alcohol was fast going to his head, but he didn't care.

'Hello, Harry.'

He saw Helen Kane standing over
him. 'Mind if I join you?'

He was surprised to see her, and
felt faintly embarrassed. 'No, of course not. How did you know I was here?'

She pulled up a chair. 'I didn't.
I called at the villa but there was no one there. I was on my way back to the
office and saw you on the terrace as I drove past.' She looked at him
sympathetically.

'I heard what happened with
Sanson. I thought maybe you could do with some company. And I also wanted to apologize.'

'For what?'

'My behavior this afternoon. I was
being selfish, playing the spurned woman and only thinking of myself. You're a
good man, Harry Weaver. And for what it's worth I believe you when you say
Rachel Stern is innocent.'

He put a hand on hers, and this
time she didn't pull away.

'I'm sorry about what happened,
Helen. It's just-'

'You don't have to explain, really
you don't.’

Weaver felt a terrible stab of
guilt, and quickly changed the subject. 'You mind me asking if Sanson's made
any progress?'

She blushed, took her hand away
slowly. 'I suppose I shouldn't be telling you this, but there was a phone call
from a Sergeant Morris at the Provost's office. It had to do with the enquiry
Sanson made about stolen vehicles. There were exactly four thefts in the last
week - all of them in the last five days, all of them military, and from the
same transport pool in Cairo.'

'What kinds of vehicles?'

'A Jeep and three trucks. The
sergeant seemed to think it unusual that all four should be stolen almost
simultaneously.

Another thing. There were three
uniforms taken from a clothing store at about the same time as the Jeep, which
made him faintly suspicious there might be something more to it.'

'Uniforms?'

'Military police. One officer's,
and two NCOs'. The sergeant suggested he might have some information about the
thefts.'

'What kind of information?'

'He didn't say.'

Weaver perked up. 'What's Sanson
doing about it?'

'He's on his way back from Alex. I
don't think he's had much luck interrogating the Arab agent that Myers picked
up.'

'How long before he gets back?'

'An hour, maybe more.'

There was a spark in Weaver's
face, and Helen Kane said seriously, 'If you're thinking what I think you are,
don't even consider it, Harry. If Sanson found out you went behind his back
he'd have you court-
martialled
.' She stood. 'I'd
better be going.

He's got everyone working round
the clock. Do you mind if I say something? I hope for your sake Rachel Stern
doesn't come to a bad end in all of this, I really do.' She smiled bravely,
still faintly upset. 'Be good, Harry.'

'Helen, wait-'

But she turned, hurried down the
veranda steps, and was gone.

Deacon halted the Packard near the
western slope of the Cheops pyramid. Bathed in pale silver moonlight, the
ancient burial site looked truly awesome, its gigantic silhouette filling the
night sky. There was a scattering of ruined tombs near by, all made of massive
limestone cubes, dozens of them set around the pyramids.

Most of the blocks were in total
disarray, as if they'd been tossed about by the force of an earthquake.

When they climbed out of the car
into the shadowy darkness, Haider said to Rachel, 'You'd better lead the way.'
He turned to Kleist and Deacon. 'We'll bring the things from the car. But don't
light the oil lamps just yet.'

They retrieved a couple of spades,
a pickaxe, several oil lamps, a large crowbar, some balls of twine and two
water canteens from the boot and stumbled over the rocks, fumbling in the dark
for about fifty meters, until Rachel said, 'It's down there somewhere. I'm sure
of it.'

She pointed to the ruins of one of
the tombs. It was no more than a deep gaping recess in the ground, about twelve
feet square and six feet deep, surrounded by a jumble of huge limestone blocks.
Some were cracked and broken and had spilled into the recess.

'My father left a marker, on a
stone block above the entrance.'

'What kind of marker?'

'Two parallel lines chiseled in
the stone.'

They climbed down into the recess,
but it was impossible to see anything clearly in the moonlight. 'Let's have
some light on the situation,' Haider said. They lit a couple of the oil lamps
and searched along the walls until Kleist said suddenly, 'Is this what you're
looking for, Major?'

Haider and the others joined him.
There was a pile of old rubble, chunks of rock and earth left stacked up near
the bottom right-hand corner of the tomb. Above the pile, etched in one of the
stone blocks lining the walls, was an unmistakable pair of straight lines.

'That's it,' said Rachel. 'The
entrance should be underneath the rubble, covered by a slab of rock.'

Haider grabbed the crowbar and
picked away all the rubble.

Below was a large round stone,
about two feet in diameter, lying flat on the ground. Using the crowbar, he
tried to
jemmy
it back, but the slab didn't budge.
'It's no use - it's damned heavy and wedged hard.' He stripped to the waist and
tossed away his shirt, sweat pumping from him now in the clammy heat. 'Give me
a hand here, Kleist.'

The SS man joined him and together
they levered the crowbar and applied all their strength, groaning with the
effort, but still the slab didn't move.

'Bring the rest of the tools and
give us some help,' Haider called out to Deacon.

The three of them worked around
the edge with the crowbar, shovel and pickaxe, sweating in the darkness,
loosening the slab and heaving together until it began to move a little. When
they finally managed to lever it back, the slab fell away with a crash, and a
sudden rush of dust and foul air wafted up at them.

They covered their mouths until
the air had cleared, and Haider held up the lamp. There was a small rim of rock
that surrounded a round, black hole, sloping down into darkness, barely enough
room for a man to crawl through. 'It seems we're in the right spot.'

His excitement mounting, Haider
rolled off a length from one of the balls of twine, tied it to a slab. 'I'll go
first. Deacon, you'd better stay here and keep watch. If anyone comes by, tug
hard on this a couple of times. Got that?'

'Whatever you say, Major.'

Haider grabbed the oil lamp, got
down on one knee, ready to crawl into the hole, and looked back up at Rachel
and Kleist.

'The moment of truth. If it's
safe, I'll tug on the string and you follow me in.'

He crawled for about five meters,
the journey claustrophobic, the air stale. The ground was covered with a
scattering of rough limestone chips, and when he came to the end of the passage
he found himself in a narrow upright vault. It was pleasantly cool.

He stood, dusted himself, and
picked up the lamp.

He was in a dark and ghostly
chamber, about eight feet across, the roof just touching his head. In the
centre was a large stone sarcophagus, covered in a layer of thick brown dust.
He ran his fingers over the grimy lid of the ancient coffin, revealing a
smoothly polished surface beneath, parts of it etched with hieroglyphics. He
raised the lamp and turned slowly in a circle.

The chamber walls were decorated
with even more magnificent hieroglyphics, the colours still fresh and vivid
despite the centuries that had passed, and for several moments he marveled at
the uncanny splendour of it all, until he picked out with startling suddenness
two skeletal remains lying in a heap against the bottom left-hand wall, the skull
sockets staring out at him eerily. Haider shivered.

At the far end of the tomb was a
gaping hole in the ground, leading into darkness. He knelt and crawled forward
on his belly.

This time the passage was no more
than a couple of feet long, and it came out into a cavern. The rock walls were
about five feet wide, and the roof formed a jagged apex a couple of feet above
his head. The shaft had obviously been formed naturally, and extended about ten
paces before it came to an archway of rock. He went forward, ducked through the
low entrance, and saw that the passageway carried on into blackness.

He crawled back into the burial
chamber, tugged hard on the string, and called up the passage. 'You can come in
now. Bring some of the tools with you, and the canteens and kit-bag.'

A few minutes later, Kleist
crawled through, grunting as he pushed the shovels and crowbar ahead of him,
then came Rachel, with the kit-bag and water canteens. 'Did you find the
passageway?' she asked.

'Over there.' He pointed to the
entrance, then played the I lamp over the skeletons.