“So you lied to me before about your identity. Mr Dennis we meet at last.”
Dennis looked down at the offered hand and then at the small Nazi party badge on the left breast pocket of the white suit and then into the man’s eyes.
“Who are you and what do you want with me?”
“You really should have returned my calls,” the voice said quietly. The hand dropped to the man’s side.
Something in Dennis clicked.
“It was you wasn’t it? On the phone in my office late one night. You refused to give me your name.”
“Yes it was. Very well. My name,” he boomed so the whole ship could hear him, “Is Otto Brest Von Werner. Count Otto Brest Von Werner. You may call me Herr Count if you wish. I have a castle in Bavaria owned by my family for generations. I am a collector of fine art and antiquities….”
“Mercenary more like,” Hutchinson said, “I’ve heard of you.”
He stopped and put his hands up as the nearest gun barrel was jammed into his ribs.
“Do not interrupt me Mr Hutchinson.”
“You know my name.”
“Yes.”
Again the smile, this time genuine.
“I am a collector of fine art and antiquities as I said before. As was my grandfather.”
Dennis turned his head slightly to one side, studying the man. It was starting to fall into place. The white suit, the Nazi party badge, the name.
“I see you’re studying me in a new light Mr Dennis. You know who my grandfather was. Perhaps you would care to share with us.”
Dennis nodded.
“Dr Werner Von Brest.”
“Excellent,” Von Werner clapped, “That is correct. Dr Werner Von Brest. The finest archaeologist the world has ever known. I am privileged to follow in his footsteps.”
“The man who found the sarcophagus,” Natalie said to Dennis.
“That is correct Miss….?” Von Werner paused for her name.
“Feltham. Natalie Feltham.”
“Miss Feltham.”
Von Werner took her hand gently and brought it up to his lips to kiss like a gentlemen but she snatched it away before he could. This time his smile was real.
“You do not need to fear me,” he whispered to her.
She shuddered. He was vile.
More of his men arrived. They had been searching the lower decks.
“The ship is clean Herr Count,” their leader said, “There is no one else on board.”
“Very well. Radio Danilov and get him back here with the helicopter.”
“Yes Sir.”
The man moved away and placed his finger on his ear piece to make the call.
“None of you need fear me,” Von Werner’s voice boomed out over the ship again, “Or my men. We are merely professionals doing a job.”
Now his eyes went to the sarcophagus for the first time. He went to it, his palms outstretched.
“Ah it is beautiful is it not? This was my grandfather’s life’s work. To find the resting place of one of history’s most famous men and to know he almost succeeded.”
Hutchinson scowled at Von Werner. This was the first time the German had even looked at it.
’He’s not interested in it. It’s just a trophy to him.’
The sound of the helicopter returning was getting louder. Von Werner reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small leather bound and very well used notebook. He flipped open the little popper that held it shut and thumbed through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He began to study the pages with the sarcophagus before him. Hutchinson craned his neck to see. Von Werner noticed out of the corner of his eye.
“I see you’re interested in my little book. Well there’s no harm in you knowing. My grandfather kept this diary as a record of everything he ever did or found out about the sarcophagus, possible locations, events, legends, etc. He spent his whole life looking and he made notes of it all, even the most minute detail. He took it everywhere and yet ironically on this, which was to be his final journey, he left it behind. I keep it for sentimental reasons. For you see my dear fellow,” he said to Dennis,” You found the sarcophagus for me. All of you.”
Dennis’ reply was drowned out by the Lynx helicopter returning. It flew in low and landed on the heli-pad of the ’Volante’. Danilov glaring out of the windscreen at Dennis. Dennis swallowed hard, his future prospects didn’t look good. He was quite sure that Danilov would happily kill them all single handed. The helicopter engine was switched off and the rotors began to slow. Danilov climbed out carrying a large aluminium briefcase. He never once took his eyes off Dennis as he strode over. He looked Natalie up and down approvingly as he passed.
Von Werner was checking carved inscriptions with the pages of his notebook. He ran his hand over the cartouche while thumbing through pages searching. Nothing as yet matched. Nothing, recognisable.
’This has to be it. My grandfather wouldn’t, couldn’t, be wrong’
Danilov stopped a few feet away. Von Werner took a few steps back.
“This is it,” he said, “Prepare it to be lifted,” he ordered the team leader.
“Yes Sir.”
Three of his men jumped into action.
“So that’s it is it?” Hutchinson said, “You’re no more than a petty thief.”
“On the contrary,” Von Werner said, not in the least insulted, “I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse. Danilov!”
The huge Russian came forward and put the briefcase on a crate. He entered the combinations and the locks clicked open. He opened the case and moved away. Von Werner invited Hutchinson to the case. Inside there was a red digital display and a computer keyboard.
“I would like to offer you $5 million U.S. dollars for the sarcophagus or 3 million euros. Whichever you prefer. All you have to do is enter your bank address and account number and it is yours.”
Hutchinson stared at the display screen showing a row of zeros.
“As you can see,” Von Werner continued, “I am no thief.”
Natalie and the dive team watched with bated breath. What would their boss do. Five million dollars was what the institute made in about ten years. Von Werner moved aside to give Hutchinson some room. The American reached forward with his index finger poised near the keypad. He closed the finger, his hand now a loose fist. He turned his head in Von Werner’s direction. His eyes settled on the Nazi party badge, his gaze taking in the swastika. Hutchinson’s grandparents had been Jewish. Immigrants who’d arrived in the United states at the beginning of the twentieth century. He tore his eyes away from the hated symbol, once a sign of friendship used by the Romans, now the remnant of what was once evil in war torn Europe six decades ago, and looked up at Von Werner. The count stared back behind his small round spectacles, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Hutchinson not taking his eyes off the German took four steps back until he was alongside Dennis and Natalie. George stared at his boss open mouthed.
‘Has he gone mad? He should take the money offered, for our pay day. Now they will take the sarcophagus and the money and we’ll have nothing.”
George suddenly wished he had the power to negotiate, but he didn’t have the tongue for it.
Peter Dennis was also surprised.
’Five million dollars for something we know is only worth a few hundred. Whatever his reasons they must be good’
“Danilov!”
The huge Russian came forward.
“Put it back in the helicopter.”
Danilov closed the steel case and reset the combination locks. He carried it over to the Lynx and placed it behind the co-pilots seat. On his return he was carrying a Heckler and Koch G36. He reached into his black combat trouser thigh pocket and took out a suppressor and calmly fitted it to the gun. Dennis guessed this action was the start of general killing.