by W E Johns
‘That’s okay with me.’
Biggles shook his head. ‘All right. Have it your way. I’ve had dealings with some mulish customers in my time, but for sheer cross-grained stubbornness you take the palm.’ He sighed. ‘If there’s going to be a rough house we might as well be ready for it. Ginger, fetch three pistols from the magazine in the machine, and a few spare clips of cartridges. Adrian doesn’t need one. He has his own.’
Ginger fetched the weapons and they were distributed.
Bertie spoke. ‘You know, chaps, I’ve been thinking.’
‘Good,’ encouraged Biggles. ‘I was hoping someone would do that. I’ve done enough.’
‘If Sekunder is on his way here from the desert, he’ll march straight to the leaning tower over the grave of King what’s-his-name. You said yourself it makes a conspicuous landmark. He’ll see it from miles away.’
‘What of it?’
‘He’ll be relying on it being there to give him his direction.’
‘Well?’
‘If the bally thing wasn’t there he’d be all at sea, so to speak. I mean to say, he might arrive at the hills in the wrong place and have to hunt up and down for the tomb.’
Biggles frowned. ‘What are you talking about — if it wasn’t there? It is there.’
‘It needn’t be.’
‘So you’re going to take it down and hide it somewhere.’ Biggles was frankly sarcastic.
‘I have a scheme for knocking it down — and before you give one of your low, coarse laughs you might hear what it is. I know my brainwaves don’t often click, but I see no reason why this one shouldn’t. That’s if you agree it might upset Sekunder’s apple-cart if the landmark wasn’t there.’
‘I’m listening,’ said Biggles seriously, winking at Ginger.
‘You won’t dispute that from the way the bally thing leans, it wouldn’t take much knocking over?’
‘I’m with you there. So you’re going to push it over?’
‘Not me, old boy. Not me. No fear. I’m not that crazy. I can do better than that. If you remember the ground behind the spire rises pretty steeply. Quite a slope, in fact.’
‘Full of holes, which Adrian says are full of snakes.’
‘Never mind the snakes. If you’re going to throw sand in my gears before I’ve finished, I’ll say no more about it.’
‘Sorry. Go on.’
‘Lying on that slope are some pretty hefty boulders. Right?’
‘Right.’
‘If we gave one a shove and sent it bowling down the hill it would knock over the steeple.’
‘If it hit the target. But it’s a big if.’
‘If we didn’t hit the mark with the first one we could go on trying. There are plenty of rocks. With the pick and the crowbar it shouldn’t be hard to send them down the bowling alley — in a manner of speaking.’
Biggles was looking interested. ‘You know, Bertie, silly though it seems, I believe you’ve got something.’
‘The great thing is, we’ve nothing to lose,’ went on Bertie, warming up to his subject now that he had made his point. ‘I mean to say, if we can’t hit the mark we shall be no worse off. If we could knock it over it might upset Sekunder’s calculations. We might as well be doing something as squat here all day on our haunches twiddling our thumbs. We may lose a little sweat, but we shall do that anyway when the sun gets cracking.’
Biggles looked at Adrian. ‘What do you think about it?’
‘If you think it’ll do any good I’m all for it. But I thought you said that if the rock fell across the tomb it might smash it flat.’
‘So it could, unless it broke to pieces. Something would have to give.’
‘That wouldn’t make it any easier for us to get inside the tomb.’
‘It wouldn’t make it any easier for Sekunder, either. He’d have to do some fresh thinking.’
‘Yes, I see that,’ agreed Adrian dubiously. ‘But all this sounds to me no more than a delaying tactic. Sekunder will find the place eventually.’
‘Yes, as you say, eventually. But how long can Sekunder afford to stay here? After such a journey as he has just made, he won’t have much water left by the time he gets here; certainly none to spare, bearing in mind that he’ll have to keep enough in hand to get home. That, of course, is assuming that he doesn’t know of a water-hole here.’
‘I’m pretty sure from the way he talked that he didn’t reckon on finding water here. But I don’t see how all this is going to help us.’
‘If he can’t find water he won’t be able to stay here more than a day or two. The camels will have to start for home tanked up, or they’d never get across the desert. Maybe Sekunder thinks a few hours here will be as much time as he needs for what he hopes to do.’
‘All right. So he comes and goes. That would leave us just as we are now,’ argued Adrian.
‘Oh no. We shall have gained time, and that, next to water, is the most vital commodity. If Sekunder had to pull out it would leave us free to do anything we liked. We can cover a hundred miles while he’s doing one.’
‘Fair enough,’ conceded Adrian. ‘Have it your way. I’ll not argue about it. I’m not normally vindictive, but I’m game for anything that might throw Sekunder’s scheme out of gear.’
Biggles got up. ‘Fine. And so say all of us, so let’s have a bash at the leaning tower to see if we can rock it off its pedestal. As Bertie has said, sitting here won’t get us anywhere. Get the tools out.’
Water-bottles were shouldered and the party set off.
Twice on the way to the tomb one of them climbed on a high rock to survey the desert for sight of the caravan; but the miles of rolling sand lay dead under heaven.
They found the tomb and its guardian spire as they had last seen them; not that there was any possibility of change unless the leaning rock fell of its own accord. For a minute they stood considering it in silence, each regarding it in his own way. It occurred to Ginger, for the first time, that what they were contemplating might be an act of vandalism: and he voiced his thought.
Adrian brushed it aside. ‘It’s all a matter of age, of time,’ he averred. ‘No decent person would desecrate a modern grave, but prehistoric things are somehow different. Don’t ask me why. But all over the world ancient monuments and tombs are being excavated in the search for knowledge of the people who occupied the world before history was written. It doesn’t mean disrespect and it can do them no harm. In Egypt they’re building a dam that will drown much of their ancient civilization.’
Said Biggles pensively: ‘As I got it from your father, Adrian, according to the story Sekunder got from the old Arab, and which he passed on to you, this is the tomb of a certain King Ras Tenazza who ruled over the Tuareg Empire — or the people who were here before them. It was put here so that when one day the pinnacle fell, the tomb would be buried for ever.’
‘That’s what Sekunder told me and I think he believed it.’
‘Coming back to it with a clear mind, there seems to be something wrong with that.’
‘In what way?’
‘Why should the people who built the tomb leave it to nature to do what they themselves could have done?’
‘You mean they could have knocked the spire over?’
‘Either that or they could have buried the whole thing under rocks. They obviously knew how to handle them and there’s unlimited material to work on. I’d say the legend, like most legends, in the course of time has become a mixture of fact and fiction. A feeling is growing on me that there’s more to this than meets the eye.’
‘Everything is plain enough to see. What else could there be?’
‘A trap, perhaps.’
‘A trap for what?
‘To catch possible grave robbers who tried to pillage the contents of the grave. That goes on even today and no doubt always did go on.’
‘I don’t quite see what you mean.’
‘There might be some mechanism, a balanced rock under the sand p
ossibly, which could cause the pinnacle to fall on anyone interfering with the tomb. The ancients were cunning at that sort of thing.’
‘They relied mostly on spells and incantations to protect their dead.’
‘Some of them seem to have worked, too. Queer things have happened to grave despoilers, notably in Egypt. Maybe the sorcerers knew their job.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re superstitious,’ sneered Adrian.
‘I try not to be, but in some things I don’t scoff at facts.’
‘Let’s be practical,’ said Adrian curtly. ‘I can’t see how we can check this thing for a trap.’
‘Neither can I. It isn’t necessary, anyway. We came to try to knock it down, so we might as well get on with it before the tools get too hot to hold.’
Picking up the tools which had been dropped, they made their way up the steeply rising ground behind the spire to where an almost unlimited supply of boulders, large and small, lay strewn around.
‘Take care if you touch a rock with your hands,’ warned Biggles. ‘Scorpions have a habit of sitting under them, and if one gets his sting into you, you won’t forget it in a hurry.’ Taking the crowbar, he advanced to a boulder, weighing perhaps a hundredweight, that appeared to be in line with the spire. Seeing he was unable to dislodge it, Bertie gave a hand, using the point of the pick as a lever. It was enough. Slowly the rock turned over, turned again, and then, gathering speed, went crashing and bouncing down the hill, taking with it a number of smaller ones in a minor landslide.
Everyone must have been surprised by the result, supposing that it would take some time to score a direct hit on the target. The one shot was enough. Actually, the big rock missed its mark although it passed close. Whether it was the vibration caused by this, or the impact of some of the smaller rocks that did bang against it, was immaterial. The effort was successful beyond expectations. They all watched, fascinated, as the pinnacle began to sway; then, as if going over the point of balance, it fell with a crash which, in the silence, would have been heard for miles had there been anyone to hear it. A cloud of dust rose in the air.
‘Well, blow me down!’ exclaimed Bertie delightedly. ‘It worked. We’ve done it.’
Biggles did not move. He spoke slowly, seriously. ‘I never like saying “I told you so”, but I’m pretty sure now I was right about the whole thing being a trap. The spire shouldn’t have fallen as easily as that. It only needed a touch. We could have pushed it over. I don’t like it. Maybe I’m over-cautious, but here we’re dealing with something we don’t understand.’
‘All I can say is I’m glad I wasn’t near it when it came down,’ declared Adrian. ‘Let’s go down to see what has happened.’
They walked quickly down the hill, keeping well clear of several snakes and scorpions that had been disturbed by the commotion. They had no trouble with them.
Arriving at the tomb, they stood to survey the effect of the fall. It was certainly not what had been expected. The spire had fallen across the dome of the tomb apparently without affecting it in any way, except for a slight dent in the dome, little more than a graze. It had obviously proved stronger than the mass that had fallen on it. This, the spire, had not shattered. It had simply snapped across the middle like a carrot and now lay in two pieces, one part resting against the near side of the tomb and the other part, the pointed end, lying in the sand on the far side. The sand and dust thrown up by the concussion was fast settling.
‘I can’t see that that’s helped us much,’ said Adrian without enthusiasm.
‘It has done away with the landmark,’ Biggles pointed out.
‘Never mind about that. I was hoping the tomb would crack. I want to see inside it. That was why I spent my money on a plane in the first place, to get here.’
‘Ah well, you can’t have it all ways,’ returned Biggles evenly. ‘At all events we’ve done what we came here to do, so let’s be satisfied with that.’
‘And if the idea was to throw Sekunder off his course, we were only just in time,’ said Ginger sharply. ‘Look!’ Raising an arm, he pointed a finger out across the desert.
Everyone looked. Appearing out of the very sand, as it seemed, were camels. One by one, in single file, until there were six.
‘Don’t move, anyone,’ snapped Biggles. ‘Keep absolutely still. They may not see us; but against this background the slightest movement would be spotted instantly. Watch.’
CHAPTER 10
ADRIAN GOES ALONE
No one moved.
The six camels now stopped, bunched together. They were perhaps two miles from the hills and well to one side of the tomb; that is, to the south, nearly three miles from the canyon in which the Merlin was parked by the water-hole.
‘Where the devil did they come from so suddenly?’ ejaculated Bertie.
‘They must have worked their way between the big dunes,’ reasoned Biggles. ‘You’d hardly expect them to come over the crests.’
‘Of course. What a clot I am.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. From this angle one doesn’t realize the height of the dunes.’
‘What do you suppose they’re doing? I mean, why have they stopped?’
‘If you’re asking me to guess, I’d say they came out of the dunes expecting to see the leaning rock. Failing to spot it, and having no reason to suppose someone has knocked it down, they’re having a conference about it. They may think they got off course in the sand and have arrived at the wrong place. I hope they do. That’ll suit me.’
This may have been the right answer, for the camels had now lined up again and were moving forward, not directly towards the site of the tomb, but at an angle that would take them farther away from it.
‘Good,’ said Biggles. ‘By keeping more or less parallel with the hills they’re hoping to spot their objective. That gives us time to think. Pity we didn’t bring the binoculars.’
‘Shall I run and fetch them?’ offered Ginger.
‘No. It isn’t worth while. In the direction they’re going they’ll be out of sight before you could get back. I wouldn’t try running in this heat, anyway.’ Biggles glanced at the sky.
‘From the pace they’re going those camels don’t look tired to me,’ observed Ginger.
‘They must be tired after what they’ve just done.’
‘Then what’s the hurry?’
‘It may be the drivers suspect what I suspect.’
‘What’s that?’
‘There’s going to be a change in the weather.’
Ginger looked round the sky. ‘I can’t see any sign of it.’
‘Nor I. But I can feel it in my bones. There’s a change of pressure. That of course may be the result of a storm miles away.’
Not until the caravan had reached a position where hills hid it from view did Biggles permit anyone to move. ‘So that’s it,’ he said, stepping into a patch of shade, the sun still being low. ‘They’ve arrived. From now on we shall have to move warily, with our eyes open.’
‘What do you think they’ll do?’ asked Adrian.
‘It would be reasonable to suppose they’ll give their beasts a rest. They must need one themselves. Having done that, they’ll lose no time looking for the rock that marks the tomb. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if we had a closer look at it, while we have the chance, to see if it has been damaged. Some of the stones may have been jolted out of place.’
At this juncture there was a moment of alarm when there came a sudden flurry of sound close at hand and fast approaching. It was the oryx: six of them. Evidently the herd that had already been seen. Coming from the direction where the camels would reach the hills, the graceful creatures raced by on the hard ground clear of the rocks. They may or may not have seen the men standing there; at all events they carried straight on, and the soft patter of their hooves faded into the distance.
‘So they’re still here,’ observed Biggles. ‘That tells us something. They haven’t been back to the water-hole we’re using, so there must be another
supply somewhere in these hills. They knew where to find it, and when you scared them out of the canyon, Adrian, they went along to it. Now, having been scared again, they’ve come back. The poor little brutes must wonder what’s going on. But never mind them. We’ve more urgent problems on our hands. There are two things we ought to do right away. The first is to confirm that Sekunder is in fact with the party that has just arrived, because if he isn’t we’ve nothing to worry about.’
‘I’m not worried,’ asserted Adrian, bluntly.
‘I know you’re not,’ retorted Biggles. ‘That’s because you’re young and irresponsible, and at the moment you’ve got a chip on your shoulder. Having a lot to lose and nothing to gain by staying in this sand-blasted wilderness, I take a different view. But let’s not go over that again. The second thing we should know is what these new people are doing, to give us a line on why they’ve come here.’
‘I see no difficulty about that,’ said Adrian. ‘I’ll go to find out. Both questions could be answered together.’
‘What do you mean — you’ll find out? Are you suggesting you’ll go alone?’
‘Why not?’
‘Why you?’
‘For the very good reason I’m the only one who knows Sekunder by sight. None of you would recognize him if you saw him. Moreover, having done a lot of walking in the time I’ve been here, I know my way about. You’ve never been beyond this point.’
Biggles looked doubtful, but had to admit these were sound arguments.
‘What’s wrong with my idea?’ inquired Adrian.
‘I’m wondering if I dare trust you to go alone. Knowing how you feel about Sekunder —’
‘You’re afraid I might blow my top and start something?’
‘Frankly, yes.’
‘You needn’t get in a flap about that. I can take care of myself.’
‘That’s what you think. I’m not so sure. Wouldn’t you like someone to go with you?’
‘No. He’d only be in the way. If I go alone I shall only have myself to worry about.’
Biggles hesitated. ‘Very well, if that’s how you want it. But let’s get this straight. If I let you go —’