The Forgotten Fortune

by Matt James

  “Regroup!” she shouted in German. “Back to the train, now!”

  17

  Ten minutes had passed since Jack had heard Emma’s shouts. Since then, the treasure room had been consumed by an eerie stillness. It gave Jack the willies. At this point, he’d rather have the room filled with screams and gunfire. At least he would know where the others were.

  “What are you up to?” Jack quietly asked, visualizing the German radicals. To him, the scampering trio would look like cockroaches diving underneath a refrigerator in response to the kitchen light turning on.

  And I’m their exterminator.

  Jack was making his way straight for the unexplored exit tunnel—the one the train was facing. He stopped just outside of the archway, ducking behind a beautifully carved statue of the seated Hindu deity, Shiva. On one knee, Jack readied his rifle, lying in wait for someone to appear. He planned to shoot and kill anyone he saw. There’d be no prisoners. He was past that. It was an unpleasant ultimatum, but in actuality, it was his only option.

  His idea was foolproof too. There was no way back to Auschwitz. The only way out of the treasure room was back through the passage to the Templar temple, but even it didn’t contain a serviceable exit.

  Except for door number three, maybe. It was the only path he’d yet to explore.

  There was a chance, with the proper climbing gear, that Jack could make it up the cliff face beneath where he had fallen through the tracks. It would be a problematic trek—one he’d attempt if it were his only option—though, he had a feeling there were secondary outlets somewhere between the chamber and wherever the tracks ended. The Nazis had been brutish in most of their ways, but they had also proven to be exceptional engineers. Everything beneath Auschwitz was evidence of that. It would’ve been a grade school mistake not to cut hidden access points along the way.

  He eyed the tunnel and, once more, just for a moment, thought about sneaking off. If there was a secondary exit nearby, he could, at the very least, get help and come back with reinforcements.

  “Come on, Jack,” he said, shaking his head, “you know you can’t do that.”

  He wasn’t about to let Emma, Gunter, and Karl slip away so easily. If he did, there was a chance Emma would ultimately get what she wanted. A new Reich, along with a modernized Schutzstaffel, would rise to power with a literal fortune to fund them. Moreover, Emma was smart. She wouldn’t try to overtake a government from the outside. She’d use her vast wealth to cleverly manipulate things from within. Policies and laws were the contemporary weapons of government. Amend them, in just the right way, and you could allow anyone to do anything—and it’d be legal.

  That terrified Jack.

  He was a retired soldier, not a politician. He fought because he believed in it, not because he expected something grand in return. Like now, the only thing Jack wanted was to keep one of the world’s greatest enemies from being resurrected.

  I’d like to live too.

  Movement behind the train engine caught his eye. It was challenging to identify the shadowy person, though after watching the individual for a few seconds, he could tell that it was Emma and not one of her male associates. Her silhouette was shaped differently.

  If Jack popped up and took the shot, he was sure he’d be able to hit her. But if he did, he’d be putting himself in a dangerous situation. He’d be out in the open with two other shooters on the loose.

  Emma paced back and forth, looking very frustrated. Eventually, she paused, facing the other direction. The woman was staring at something in the first row of riches. The whole scene felt odd. It felt forced. She was baiting Jack to reveal himself!

  “Well,” he said, “I’d hate to disappoint her.”

  But, he did.

  Jack but on the brakes and forced himself to stay put. Finally, after ninety excruciating seconds, Emma glanced over her shoulder and spoke to someone that was out of sight. Jack’s reservations had been warranted. There was another person close by. If he had leapt into action, instead of staying vigilant, he’d have been killed.

  Hmmm, he thought, deciding what to do next.

  He turned and leaned his back against the base of Shiva’s statue and looked up, seeing something he liked. The passage leading back to the Templar church was just barely in sight. If he could lead Emma and the others into the tunnels, he’d be able to play by his own rules. Jack had only been in them for a short time before, but he was confident that he knew them better than the others. At this juncture, it was a sound plan because heading into the exit without knowing what waited was worse.

  A second tunnel collapse, perhaps? Snakes and bears? It could be anything after eight decades of human inactivity.

  Ducking away, Jack crouch-ran back up the sloping incline, moving as fast as he could without making too much noise. He zigged left around seven ornately carved Roman chariots, and a column of two dozen Chinese terracotta soldiers. Then, he zagged right around a quartet of beautifully preserved stone statues.

  Jack made it up to the uppermost pathway before his foot slipped and kicked a handful pebbles down the trail. Bullets pinged all around him as he dove to the ground. Luckily, there was plenty of cover, and he quickly popped up to his hands and knees and scurried away. Both he and the gunfire halted when he entered the corridor. He could’ve kept going, but he needed his adversaries to follow him.

  “Missed me!” he called out, leaping to his feet. He waved at Emma, who could just be seen leaning out from behind the train engine. “Come and get me, assholes!”

  More bullets were sent flying his way, but Jack was already on the move. He flicked on his rifle’s light and took the passage as fast as he could. The spiraling waterfall staircase was next. The slickening spray forced Jack to slow down. He lost sight of his entry point as he passed beneath each of the waterfalls. Each time he re-exposed himself, he leveled his carbine up at the tunnel, expecting someone to be aiming one back at him.

  With one more waterfall to go, he slid to a stop. Emma, Gunter, and Karl all poured out of the corridor and went about clearing the immediate area. There was a twenty-foot expanse of nothing between Jack and the lower level’s tunnel. If he stayed put behind the dense wall of water, he’d be safe until they got nearer to his position.

  “This would’ve been a lot easier seven-hundred years ago.”

  At worst, he’d have faced a bow and arrow. Other than that, every attack would’ve been from up close, something Jack knew he could handle. Bullets, however, were much harder to dodge than sword blades.

  He checked his rifle’s ammo and found that he only had nine rounds left. Luckily, he still had his Glock and a considerable number of spare rounds. He’d yet to use the sidearm since he appropriated it from Jurgen.

  Edging out to his left, toward the exit, Jack spied Emma as she slipped behind the uppermost waterfall. Gunter and Karl were nowhere to be seen. He figured the two men were already on the way to him, moving off while the water still shielded Jack.

  “Right…”

  Shouldering his carbine, Jack sidestepped left and aimed for the opposite side of the cascading water. Carefully, he took each step, descending sideways. Halfway to his goal, he calmly squeezed the trigger three times when he saw movement.

  Emma. And he had just missed.

  Two figures popped out from the next waterfall further down the staircase. Gunter and Karl had moved past the first one without Jack knowing, and once more, had used Emma as bait. Jack unloaded the rest of his magazine, before tossing the spent rifle into the surging water.

  He drew his pistol, lifted his arms in front of him, and backed into the tight corridor just as two projectiles embedded themselves into his vest. The impact, along with the slick footing, caused Jack to stagger and fall. He tumbled down the narrow stairwell, feeling every bump and bruise from the last time he’d fallen down a flight of stairs. Gratefully, the steps here weren’t overly steep, and he stopped a few rolls later. Swiftly, Jack got to his feet, holding his side.

>   “Ow.”

  Activating his Glock’s tactical light, Jack pushed forward, breathing heavily. The lower ribs in his left side throbbed. He’d taken both rounds off-center of his gut. It felt like he’d gotten kicked in the stomach by a mule.

  He was so focused on his physical state that he didn’t notice that he had just entered the circular, three-story living space. The tunnel straight ahead led back into the church. The path to his right led to the broken suspension bridge—a route that was, presumably, still currently blocked by the massive rectangular-cut stone.

  The only other option was the tunnel to his left, door number three. He’d yet to explore it, though. Jack pointed his gun light into it and saw nothing but darkness at the end of the beam. If he had more time, he’d take a quick look and see where it led before committing to it. Time, however, was something he didn’t have.

  A soft breeze buffeted his face. Air flowed from the left-hand tunnel, swooped through, and funneled back toward the cylindrical chamber with the waterfalls.

  It gave him an idea.

  Jack holstered his sidearm and turned on his chest-mounted, right-angle light. He quickly scooped up as much of the hay as he could, dropping all of it just outside the mouth of the passageway. Then, he carefully lifted one of the chair’s charred legs and jammed it deep inside the mound of fresh bedding.

  He knelt and fueled the embers, blowing softly, happy it lit without trouble. As he had hoped, the smoke was directed forward into the corridor. He redrew his pistol and backed away, keeping its light extinguished. The growing firelight was plenty to see by. He tipped over a nearby table and got into place behind it. It wasn’t going to stop any bullets, but it would at least conceal his exact position.

  The only chink in his plan was time. Time always won. If Emma and the others took too much of it to get there, the fire and smoke would die down. Still, Jack needed to try and hold the line. He raised his Glock and set the barrel on the inverted table’s edge, using it as a tripod of sorts. His aim would be precise. Without it, he wasn’t sure if he could hit the broadside of a barn. He was too damn tired. Squinting against the firelight and the noxious miasma, Jack thought he saw movement on the other side of the flames. He slowly took in the slack of the trigger and paused. There, on its wall, he waited for confirmation. An ill-advised shot would give away his intentions.

  Wait for a clear target, he thought.

  At least his foes wouldn’t be able to shoot back at him while inside the tight confines of the tunnel unless they didn’t care about the health of their eardrums. That was a real-life danger and something that wasn’t brought up in movies very often, at all. Even now, Jack’s headache came from being underground while shooting a gun. That, and the multiple blows to his skull.

  And, just like that, his cover was decimated by semi-automatic gunfire. Wooden shrapnel was thrown into his face and body as he covered his head and rolled away from the barrage. Somehow, Jack wasn’t struck by a single round as he inched away, slinking across the stone floor like a worm. He retreated into the unexplored passage and shambled to his feet. Doing something stupid, he fired his pistol behind him, and as he expected, the sound was deafening—literally. A Mike Tyson-like haymaker to the brain followed each trigger pull. The pain was beyond excruciating.

  Death would be worse, Jack thought, gritting his teeth. Death would be so much worse.

  18

  Jack blinked hard, trying desperately to push aside the agony in his head and the ringing in his ears. It was like a flashbang had gone off nearby. For all intents and purposes, his plan was a complete and utter bust. His pursuers had blown away his expectations every step of the way. He honestly figured that they would let him re-enter the tunnels and leave him be since he was a secondary piece to the puzzle.

  “Nope, wrong!” he shouted in frustration, barely hearing his own words. It had sounded like he screamed underwater. Clicking on his pistol light, he checked his surroundings.

  Presently, Emma wanted him dead as much as she desired her fortune. Jack had made himself a part of her mission ever since he killed Jurgen and collapsed the tunnel leading back to Auschwitz, which was more than likely already crawling with cops—military too. It wasn’t just a local business that had gotten taken over by a local gang. One of the most famous places on planet Earth had been occupied by terrorists.

  Jack was amazed by how far he had traveled thus far. The passageway directly behind him—the one with the broken suspension bridge—ended abruptly. This one went on forever. It made things worse for him. He needed to keep Emma and the others close enough for them to want to pursue him, but not close enough to put two rounds in his back.

  Pausing, Jack placed his hands on his hips and sucked in a handful of deep breaths. He turned and looked behind him and was happy to see a bouncing spot of light further back. At least one of them was following him. Dividing and conquering his foe might still be in the cards, after all, unless they were moving in a single file line.

  The voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi echoed in his head. “Sand people always ride single file, to hide their numbers.”

  He moved off and kept his pace steady. Every few yards, he looked back to confirm that he was still being hunted.

  A familiar noise picked up somewhere ahead. It was one he had heard before—a sound that he dreaded. The white noise was met with a wet air that could only come from one source.

  “Friggin wonderful,” Jack said, slowing.

  Further ahead, the tunnel opened into a yawning expanse. It was similar to the cave with the busted suspended deck bridge, except it was twice the size. Happily, this gap still contained a bridge. It was an impressive display of architecture, and looked original in appearance, except for a couple of more recent additions.

  The Nazis had found this and repaired it.

  The bridge sagged toward the middle, like most bridges of its design and weight. Hip-high, feeble-looking railings ran along either side of it too. It looked incredibly similar to the one from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Hopefully, there weren’t any crocodiles below.

  Jack leaned out over the drop and aimed his weapon light down. He lost the bottom of it somewhere in the shadows and spray. The sound of rushing water was booming. Even with his ears ringing and muffled from the earlier gunfight, he could hear it. He swept his light left and right and saw that the void went on for quite some distance. This wasn’t an isolated chasm.

  “Now, that’s one big ass hole.”

  Focusing on the bridge itself, he stepped out onto the first plank and froze when it creaked beneath his weight.

  “Not a chance,” he said, finding another option.

  To the right of the mouth of the tunnel was a short ledge that traveled ten feet out onto the cliff face. It was a natural formation and one he’d use to spring a trap on whoever was following him. He prayed it was just one of either Emma, Gunter, or Karl and not all three of them.

  Jack had a feeling it would be Karl. He was the low man left on the totem pole and a man that Jack had, admittedly, rubbed up the wrong way on several occasions. After some time to reflect, stripping Karl naked was probably a bad idea and the last straw. Not only had Jack consistently annoyed the psychopath, but he had also embarrassed him.

  The ledge quickly went from a foot in depth down to less than four inches. The heels of Jack’s sneakers did their best to find purchase. He slipped on the slick stone twice. Once he was in position, he shut off his light, holstered his weapon, and waited. He didn’t want to risk losing his firearm if, and when, he was forced to defend himself.

  If felt like a lifetime had gone by before he heard anything. It was faint too, but it was there. The rushing water mostly drowned out everything except the blood pulsing through his skull. His headache had gotten bad.

  He held his breath as a soft aura of light appeared from the tunnel. It grew brighter and brighter as its owner continued forward, and just when Jack was about to pounce, the beam went out. The world around Jack was thrown
into total darkness once more.

  What are you—

  Suddenly, a light bloomed to life. It hit him directly in his dilated pupils, sucker-punching him in his already pounding mind. He winced but didn’t slink away from it.

  He did quite the contrary.

  Jack launched himself across the ledge and grabbed the person’s gun hand, driving it skyward. The shot went high and caused both Jack and his assailant to duck their heads in response. It was the only time Jack was thankful for being mostly deaf. In the wavering weapon light, Jack got a glimpse of the pistol’s owner.

  Karl’s reaction was more painful looking than his. It allowed Jack to backhand the German’s hand away. He followed that by driving his palm into Karl’s face, stumbling him back some. Jack advanced and snagged the pistol with his left hand, depressing the gun light’s power button. Everything went dark, and when it did, Jack did what he promised to do.

  He wouldn’t stop.

  Drawing his sidearm, Jack aimed at where he last saw Karl. He squeezed the trigger, and in the flash of the firing projectile, he saw that his adversary had moved back toward the tunnel.

  This time, Karl was the aggressor. He leapt inside Jack’s reach, and grabbed his wrist, pushing his pistol up. Jack followed suit and wrapped his left hand around Karl’s right wrist, the one holding the gun, and squeezed. Both men pushed hard, but it was a stalemate.

  For now.

  Jack’s body screamed, protesting and complaining. He was in far worse shape than Karl, and he needed to change the status quo before the German altered it himself.

  Taking a step backward, Jack allowed Karl to guide him toward the bridge. Three such steps later, Karl joined Jack on the creaking, ancient structure. As it bent and flexed beneath their moving feet, it also swayed slightly. Karl pulled the trigger of his pistol and grinned when Jack reflexively flinched. His face morphed into a full-fledged smile as he slowly turned the barrel toward Jack’s face.