Tomb of the Lost (63 page)

“
That could take some time Doctor
…
.
”

“
Have you not noticed that the gunfire has stopped.
”

Wurtz had to admit he hadn
’
t. He listened now.

“
Whatever the danger was is obviously over now.
”

“
It sounded like quite a gun battle Doctor. You!
”
Wurtz spoke to one of his men
“
Go and find out what
’
s happening. Find Colonel Koenig and get him back here where he is needed.
”

The SS man saluted and dashed off.

“
The rest of you roll your sleeves up. We
’
ve got some hard work to do. Doctor they
’
re all yours.
”

“
Thank you. Men it is time to reveal what we
’
re doing here. I know that some of you have speculated on our mission out here in Tunisia. I can tell you that mostly you have been wrong. This
…
.
”
he said smacking the lid,
“
Is the greatest prize in the field of archaeology. The Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, chancellor of the third Reich, envisioned a dream. His dream is for a thousand years of peace in the fatherland. Once his time has passed the Fuhrer wishes to be interred in the greatest tomb of all time
…
.
”

The gathered SS men, peered over each other to look at the plain stone sarcophagus with Egyptian hieroglyphics.

“
Gentlemen we have achieved this for him. For I give you the last resting place of the greatest General who ever lived, the conqueror of Persia, the Macedonian lion, Alexander the great!
”

Wurtz began clapping. Soon his men joined in to a huge round of applause for the evil little Doctor. This carried on for a further minute, then Wurtz put his hand up for silence.

“
We have ropes, pulleys, all the materials necessary. Let
’
s get the sarcophagus on board the ship as quickly as possible please without any further damage,
”
he clapped his hands
“
Come on put your backs into it. Let
’
s go men.
”

“
Lets move out quietly,
”
Alf said.

His group had been watching the whole thing. They
’
d seen Koenig leave, heard the fighting intensify, seen the chain break. Now a lucky break for them as all their opponents now seemed to be occupied.

Alf dashed silently across the road. He reached the edge of the dock where the tall reeds were. He crouched and turned to look back. Johnny came next. Then the S.A.S followed one by one. Once they were all safely across Tosh took point. They raced along the dockside. The smell of the sea strong in their nostrils. It reminded Alf of childhood holidays at Bournemouth. On they moved in silence, each man in the darkness just able to see his colleague in front. Where the reeds ran out Tosh gave the signal to stop and they crouched and waited. Just ahead were the first of the boats. The first two were sunken, their masts and rigging all that was visible above the surface of the water. A slick of debris and detritus clung around them. The next boat was an incredibly rusty fishing ship. It had once, in its history, been painted white with a blue stripe. But today it was streaked with brown to orange. A sad state for a once proud vessel. The next four were serviceable but all civilian boats and ships were forbidden to leave port due to the German retreat, their crews temporarily commandeered to help in the evacuation.

Tosh reached the first of the German motor boats. It was sitting low in the water. Tosh lay down and crawled forward, a silenced pistol clenched in his hand. He stopped as he heard movement on the boat. Someone was moving something about on deck. Tosh waited until he was sure that the person was alone then gave out a low whistle. A head appeared above the side of the boat and Tosh fired a single shot into it. The man had a blank look on his face as his blood splashed the deck behind him. He crumpled to the deck where his legs twitched a few times and then fell still. Tosh got up, peered inside the boat, signalled to Alf and crept on to the next one. Incredibly the two men in this boat were asleep. A shot each and they were no more.

Alf stepped onto the first boat. He instantly went down to the engine, took out a knife and cut the fuel line off. Petrol began leaking immediately. Alf took a roll of tape from his pocket and wrapped it around the severed end. He then placed the cable so that it didn
’
t look obvious at first glance. Two other S.A.S came on board and they quickly undressed the dead men. One of them quickly stripped down to his vest and pants and put on one of the dead mans clothes. Then together they bundled them down the stairs and jammed them into a large upright locker. Alf and the other S.A.S man left and proceeded to the next boat. They repeated it all again. At each boat they were losing a man.

Three more to go.

At the next gunboat the downstairs locker was full so they gently lowered the dead body over the side and into the water. They let him slip the last two feet with hardly a splash. His head bumped against the side of the boat half a dozen times and then he bobbed up and down as the current pulled him away. He soon disappeared into the dark and out of sight.

“
Do you think he
’
ll be discovered?
”
Alf asked.

“
Let
’
s hope not. Any boats leaving that hit him will probably think it
’
s just flotsam or jetsam or whatever they call it.
”

They took out the next three boats. Now members of the S.A.S slipped into the water and swam to commercial boats and ships. Their mission to attach mines to hulls of fishing boats, freighters, cargo carriers. The submarine they would attempt last. It was heavily defended and each diver knew there was a strong possibility they
’
d be caught. The last gunboat had been unmanned. Alf watched from over the side as the divers swam with mines and placed their charges in the darkness. Now they were ready. They hadn
’
t lost a single man.

Johnny Larder ran across the empty road. Four men with him. They had watched Alf and his group secure the first of the patrol boats. Now they raced for the warehouses. The one man carrying the explosives at the back. Johnny peered around the huge double doors into the warehouse. It was a mess inside. Crates were piled high in places, smashed in others. Discarded or empty jerry cans littered the floor.

The five men crept inside. An iron walkway ran all around the inside of the roof. The Nazi flag hung limply from it at the far end directly above a red tank holding five thousand gallons of petrol. There were three other such tanks in the warehouse. The S.A.S men moved quickly using the crates as cover. They reached the first of the red tanks, it
’
s gauge showing empty. The second showing three hundred gallons. The last two showing empty like the first. They quickly planted explosives on the four tanks and moved on. There would still be enough fuel in them to cause a fire. They left through a rear door and headed into the next warehouse. Inside this one men were working. Johnny peered around the doorway. More red tanks at the back, similar gantry above. Johnny got out of the way so Tosh could take the lead.

“
Everyone got grenades?
”

They all nodded.

“
We
’
ll throw them in, wait for the explosions, then storm them. On my count one, two, three.
”

Each man took a grenade and held it in front of himself.

“
Pins out.
”

They fell to the floor with a little metallic ringing sound.

“
ONE. TWO. THREE. THROW!
”
Tosh shouted.

The five men dashed to the doorway and threw their grenades. They ducked back for cover.

Corporal Josef Meier was operating his forklift truck when something came spinning past him. Puzzled he stopped the truck and jumped out to investigate. What was more and it sounded ridiculous was that he imagined it to be a British hand grenade. Half smiling to himself for being so stupid he crouched down to look under the front wheel for whatever it was. For safety reasons he didn
’
t want to run it over.

He saw the item.

He didn
’
t even have time to be afraid.

The grenade exploded turning Meier
’
s face to ribbons of red. Blood pumped from his gashed throat. His fellow workers heard the crack of the grenade and stopped what they were doing, to stare. Their looks turned to horror as the other grenades exploded amongst them. The grenade that killed Meier had been cooked.

The five British rushed in and finished off any German that still moved with bursts from their Stens.

Outside Otto Wurtz turned from the sarcophagus to the direction of the gunfire.

“
Mein Gott! They
’
re in the warehouses!
”

He pulled out his Luger and brandished it at his men.

“
The warehouses! The warehouses!
”
he bellowed.

Von Brest jumped aboard the freighter. The sarcophagus was being lashed into place on the ship
’
s deck.

“
Hurry men! We have very little time. Captain! Put to sea!
”

“
Aye Doctor!
”
Mufasa yelled back. He jumped into action suddenly realising that there were virtually no Germans as yet on board his ship,
“
Should we not wait for the Major and his men?
”

“
There is no time. The British are here in the town.
”

“
Very well Doctor.
”

“
I will not have this mission jeopardised any further. Put to sea now!
”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Koenig
’
s head broke the surface of the water. His lungs ached for air. He inhaled deeply. How long he
’
d been underwater he didn
’
t know. The cold water had numbed the knife wound and dulled his senses. He
’
d felt himself free falling in the cold darkness around him, his arms out in front of him, legs trailing, head forward. He felt himself slipping away. Suddenly no longer cold or in pain, somehow warm and
…
.comfortable.

He wasn
’
t afraid. He saw images of his life before him.

His family.

His friends.

Elsa!

She looked so beautiful, so real. She was here, now, in the water with him, reaching out for him. Then suddenly she was gone. He blinked his eyes in the darkness. Then his senses came back to him. He felt his head pounding, lungs bursting. He realised he was going to drown. Then he remembered the two Englishmen and the knife. He reached to where the knife had entered his flesh. It was still there. Gritting his teeth he took hold of the handle and pulled it out. For a moment he thought he would faint. He felt warmth on his fingers and knew it was blood, his blood. Then with his lungs straining he kicked for the surface as the knife turned and twisted as it sank to the sea bed.

“
You hear that Jack?
”

“
Yeah what was it?
”

“
Must have been him,
”
Terry said staring out into the darkness, unable to see the surface of the water after more than twenty feet.

“
Could have been anything.
”

“
No it was him, had to be him,
”
Terry raised his Sten gun and fired from the hip in a sweeping pattern. Koenig stayed still as the water churned up behind him. He could see the two British some fifty yards away on the dock under a weak streetlight. Incredibly none of the bullets had hit him. Koenig, despite the cold and the pain was ready to dive again if more bullets came at him.

Terry Smythe pulled the trigger again. The clip was empty.

“
Damn!
”

He threw the Sten to the ground and pulled out a pistol and fired random single shots into the darkness. Jack watched him. When the pistol was empty Terry felt around his pockets for more ammunition. Then he caught Jack
’
s gaze.

“
What?
”

“
What
’
re you doing that for? You
’
re wasting your time.
”