“I am Captain Eli Mufasa. These are my officers,” Mufasa spoke very good English with a very heavy accent. He extended his hand. Von Brest shook it firmly, so did Koenig who was not at all surprised at the strength of the grip. Wurtz ignored the offered hand.
“May I ask which country you’re from captain.”
“Of course. I am from the Ivory Coast.”
“Which is where Captain?”
Mufasa got down and crudely drew a map of Africa in the dust. In the poor light the others strained to see. Then he drew his country roughly.
“Ah then your country is a French province. That’s what I can trace in your accent, French.”
“Yes Sir the Cote D’Ivoire.”
“Excellent,” Wurtz was pleased. He extended his hand and shook Mufasa’s vigorously.
’What are you about? Wurtz?’ Koenig asked inside his head ’What treachery is going through your mind?’
He couldn’t have been further from the truth. Wurtz loved the French, their food, their drink, their women.
“You like my country?”
“I like the French,” Wurtz cleverly twisted it, “Especially their wine.”
“In that case Major. I have a very fine bottle of cognac in my cabin. I’ll go and fetch it.”
“Lead the way man.”
They soon returned with the bottle and an array of drinking vessels. The one, clean glass they filled and offered to the Doctor. He accepted it but didn’t sip. Once they each had a drink Wurtz raised his cup high.
“To the Fuhrer.”
They drank the toast. Wurtz refilled his cup. Behind his back Mufasa jammed the cork back into the bottle.
’This damned German will drink it all.’
“You have not touched your drink Herr Doctor.”
“No Major, it’s not to my liking,” inwardly Von Brest was irritated at how easily Wurtz had been distracted by the alcohol.
“May I?” Wurtz held out his hand for the glass.
“Of course,” Von Brest handed him the glass accompanied by a sickly smile, “Now if you’ll excuse me we have work to do.”
Von Brest went over to the heavily guarded truck that carried the sarcophagus. The guards at the tailgate moved out of his way. He handed his walking cane to one of them and spoke to the soldiers inside.
“Help me up.”
Hands took his outstretched fingers and a guard pushed from below and together they hauled the Doctor into the back of the lorry. Once inside he smacked his hands together to dust them off.
The sarcophagus was huge. Nearly a ton in weight and almost as wide as it was long. He squeezed around it patting it with pride. When they had first discovered it a week ago he had been ecstatic at the discovery. This was archaeology’s greatest ever find. The resting place of Alexander the Great. The most important single find in the history of his profession. Howard Carter and Tutankhamun were nothing compared to this. Alexander the great, the greatest conqueror the world had ever seen and Von Brest now owned him. If only for a brief time. Von Brest once again thought about opening it. The overwhelming urge to gaze at the remains of the young King. But once again he resisted the temptation.
‘No. The first man to look at him in over two thousand years will be the Fuhrer. Alexander the great, once the most powerful man on earth will be looked upon by the current most powerful man on earth, Adolf Hitler.’
Von Brest studied the intricate carvings on the surface of the lid in the light from the spotlights the Germans had erected in the town when they had first arrived two years ago. Von Brest almost felt the power emanating from within. He had done it! He had his man!
“Soon you will sit in Berlin my friend alongside the man who admires you the most.”
As Alf and Johnny watched Wurtz, Koenig, Mufasa and his men all turned and stared westward. Then suddenly the bottle of cognac was heading for the ground where it smashed. Wurtz and Koenig sprinting towards the truck that they’d seen Von Brest climb into. Mufasa and his men raced for their ship.
“Now what the devil has got them so spooked?” Alf said.
Then they too heard the gunfire.
Wurtz made it to the truck first, Koenig a whisper behind. Von Brest was standing with his hands resting lovingly on the sarcophagus.
“Herr Doctor,” Wurtz began “Something is happening. There is machine gun fire coming from the west side of town.”
“Dear God! Is it the British?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so Sir. Probably just some fool getting spooked in the dark. My best advice is that Colonel Koenig and his men go to investigate and I and my men stay here to protect you. Agreed?”
“Yes. Yes Major. I’m not a military man so I agree with whatever the two of you decide.”
Wurtz turned to Koenig.
“Agreed?”
Koenig knew he was beaten. Wurtz had got there first.
“Very well. Gentlemen,” he said saluting “It has been an honour to serve with you.”
Wurtz returned the salute.
“Just get back here as quickly as you can Sir.”
Koenig took a whistle out of his jacket pocket and blew it.
“Come on men. Follow me at the double.”
He set off up the street, his Luger drawn and out in front of him. His men jogging directly behind as they fell into place.
“Bloody hell Alf our cover’s blown.”
“Well whoever is doing the shooting has just done us a favour lad.”
“How so?”
“Because they’ve just drawn off half our problem.”
Johnny swallowed hard.
“You’re not surely still going to try for those boats.”
“While those SS bastards are distracted that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
The freighter’s engine coughed into life.
“That’s it lad. Stay close to me.”
Alf set off back the way he and Johnny had come, the handful of Rushton’s men assigned to them following. Watching the scene before them Alf had decided their best way forward was to skirt around and approach the boats from the East side. The side Alf now hoped was furthest away from the gunfire. They moved silently, helped by the lack of street lighting on this side of the town. Unlike the cities in Europe there wasn’t much left out here to bomb, therefore no need for blackouts. Alf’s shoulder had ached so much now it was very much a part of him. Suddenly Johnny tripped and fell. He gave out a grunt as he hit the road face first. His Sten gun clattered on noisily for a couple of yards. Alf helped him to his feet. Johnny’s hands were grazed. Someone else picked his gun up and handed it to him.
“Are you all right lad?”
“Yes. It’s just my head is thumping again. I’m never going to get rid of these headaches am I?”
“Do you want to stay here son?”
Johnny was shaking his head.
“I don’t want you jeopardising this mission. If you’re not up to it say so now Johnny.”
“I’m all right Alf. It’s just sometimes my eyesight is blurred and in this darkness….I just lost my footing that’s all.”
“It’s up to you. You can stay here but you’ll be on your own. I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe.”
“I’m fine.”
“Might be better if we leave him here,” Doyle said.
Johnny got to his feet.
“I told you I’m all right to continue,” he said snatching his gun out of Doyle’s hand.
“Suit yourself mate. But if you fall behind you’re on your own. That goes for both of you,” he said pointing with his gun barrel at both the engineers. Doyle ran off, the rest of the S.A.S right behind him.
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
Johnny nodded.
“If we don’t,” he said looking after the running men “We’d never hear the end of it.”