by Julian Noyce
“But her name is Von Wurz. You spell yours with a ’T’ “
“She called herself that because she thought it sounded posh for her father, for his clients.”
Koenig knew he was dead now. Wurtz a maniac.
“You never loved her. You were never any good for her.”
Wurtz advanced on him angrily.
“Shut up!”
“You were never there for her. Always away with your so called friends. Leaving her alone for weeks at a time.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Wurtz had his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the Colonel’s words. What Koenig was saying was true. He had neglected her.
“Her alone, vulnerable. That’s why she turned to me for….”
Wurtz was banging his head with the Luger, his eyes tightly closed but at these words he flipped. He smashed his hand against Koenig’s face forcing the man’s head around.
“I told you to shut it!” Wurtz said through clenched teeth.
Koenig brought his face back round. He licked the corner of his mouth, tasted blood, and spat. Never once taking his eyes off Wurtz.
Johnny looked on impassively.
“Which of us will he kill first?”
Koenig was studying the mad man.
“How could something so fragile, so beautiful, be married to this, this….” he couldn’t think of the appropriate word.
There were tears in Wurtz’ eyes now.
“It’s your fault she’s dead,” he suddenly blurted out.
“Dead?….Elsa’s dead?”
Wurtz felt the tears rolling down his face now. The burns were agony. He felt no shame for them.
“You killed her?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Wurtz replied shaking his head, sobbing now. His words difficult to say, “She tried to attack me with a pair of scissors. I merely defended myself. She fell and hit her head.”
Koenig tried to block his voice out. He didn’t want to hear another word. He couldn’t bear the thought of her death. His Elsa. Koenig had known for a long time that he’d loved her.
“She tried to kill you?” Koenig’s voice was accusing, “She tried to kill you? How could she? Look at her! Look at you! She didn’t stand a chance….”
“Enough!”
“You murdering bastard!”
Wurtz was shaking his head. His hand holding the gun shaking also.
“She was my wife. I loved her.”
“You never loved her Wurtz. She told me, she told me what you were like….”
“What when you were screwing her?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.
Now Koenig exploded.
“Yes, all right! If that’s what you want to hear!”
“WHEN YOU WERE SCREWING HER?” Wurtz screamed.
“YES WHEN I WAS SCREWING HER! SHE WAS THE BEST DAMN SCREW I’VE EVER HAD!”
Wurtz rushed at him. Koenig realised that he’d pushed the man.
‘Good! At least it will be over quickly now.’
Wurtz hit him across the temple with the Luger. It broke the skin. A thin trickle of blood ran down his face.
“How could she possibly have married an oaf like you?”
“Enough! Now you die. I was going to kill you first,” Wurtz said to Johnny, “But now I’ll give you the satisfaction of watching this pig die first.”
Wurtz pointed the Luger at Koenig’s forehead and closed one eye for better sighting. Koenig began to laugh.
Wurtz stopped.
“What’s so funny?”
“This situation. Me, you, Elsa. It’s pathetic Wurtz.”
Wurtz took aim.
There followed a heavy thud. It had a metallic ring to it. Wurtz opened his eye, a groan escaped his lips. His face took on a blank expression. The Luger fired harmlessly into the air making both Larder and Koenig jump. Wurtz tottered forward a couple of steps, his legs unsteady. Then he pitched forward onto his face. He twitched a few times, then was still. As Koenig and Johnny watched his inert form a pool of blood began spreading. The back of Wurtz’ head was caved in.
They both looked up.
Alf was standing there. In his hands a long handled shovel. A red patch on its blade.
“Are you ok boy?”
Johnny didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or do nothing. A small whimper of relief escaped his lips. Alf threw the shovel down and helped him up.
“That’s the second time that bastard’s tried to kill me.”
Alf put his boot on Wurtz’ body and turned it over. The eyes stared up in death.
“He won’t be trying again lad.”
Johnny smiled.
“Good! I’m glad the bastard’s dead. He was going to kill him too.”
Alf studied the other man. Johnny held out his hand and Koenig took it. Johnny pulled him up. Koenig gritted his teeth from the pain of his knife wound.
“And who is this?” Alf asked.
Koenig’s uniform was filthy. Incredibly, despite what he’d been through, his badges of rank were still on his epaulettes. Alf saluted him.
“Colonel Sir.”
Painfully Koenig returned the salute.
“Colonel Hans Koenig 11th Panzer army, sergeant.”
“I’m acting Lieutenant Sir.”
“Your pardon Lieutenant. We have seen each other before.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. At Matmata. Months ago.”
The sound of running boots echoed around the square. It was Rushton at the head of his men.
“What’s happening Lieutenant?”
He took in Alf, Johnny, Koenig and Wurtz.
Alf saluted.
“Sir the boats are charged. The freighter and the submarine have left.”
Rushton studied the port. The submarine had disappeared. The freighter was still in sight.
“Sergeant Larder completed his mission. The fuel depots are destroyed.”
“Well done. Yes well done,” Rushton turned to a man carrying a field telephone, “Get General Tuker’s HQ on the phone.”
The operator instantly set his equipment down and began rapidly turning the handle to charge it.
Rushton looked at Koenig. Despite his injuries the German saluted smartly. Rushton returned it.
“Major I am Colonel Hans Koenig, 11th Panzer army. On behalf of General Hans Jurgen Von Arnim I surrender the town of Gabes to you Sir.”
Koenig extended his hand. Rushton shook it.
“Colonel on behalf of General Francis Tuker I formally accept your surrender.
“Sir General Tuker’s HQ is on the other end,” the operator was holding the receiver towards Rushton.
“Send this message. Long Range Desert Group successfully secured town and port of Gabes for allied advance. Loss of life acceptable. Medical supplies required. Will hold position until General’s arrival tomorrow. Out.”
The operator began relaying the message.
“Well done men,” Rushton said again “Thank you Colonel. You are placed into custody until General Tuker arrives tomorrow. Lieutenant Dennis, sergeant Larder, would you be good enough to assist the Colonel.”
Alf looked into Koenig’s eyes.
“Yes sir.”
“Colonel do you need the services of a doctor?”
“Yes please Major.”
“Very well. Get yourselves along to the doctor for treatment. Don’t let the Colonel out of your sight. Tomorrow we’ll begin the clean up operation,” Rushton turned to his men, “Get those fires out.”
“Sir,” Alf called “What about that freighter?”
Rushton looked up at the sky. It would be sunrise soon. He thought about pursuing it with the torpedo boats. That submarine was out there somewhere also.
“Who escaped on it?”
“Doctor Werner Von Brest, party member and head of archaeological group, German forces, North Africa, and her crew of civilians.”
“Anyone else?”
Koenig shrugged.
“Possibly some of my men,” he nodded at Wu
rtz “Possibly some of his.”
Captain Mufasa looked back at the port for the umpteenth time. They were two miles out of Gabes now. Relatively safe. The U-boat had dived as soon as they’d cleared the port but he was sure it was still there covering them. It was daylight now, no other shipping in view. He looked back again. No pursuing boats. Good. They would be the last to leave Gabes. German flags fluttered from the mast and stern. He hoped this would keep them safe until they reached Malta. A crewman was next to him on the bridge.
“Where’s the mate?”
“Down below.”
“Take over for a while.”
“Aye Captain. Which course?”
Mufasa showed him on the chart.
“Steady as she goes.”
“Aye Captain.”
Mufasa took the new pistol from his waistband, checked it and put it back. The crewman was watching him and Mufasa slapped him, not hard, across the back of the head.
“Just you worry about our heading.”
“Yes Captain.”
Mufasa left and descended the steps to the upper deck, he then descended more steps to the crews quarters. He met the first mate as he was coming up the stairs. The mate ’Domingo’ was surprised to see him.
“Captain?”
“Down. Down,” Mufasa instructed.
They descended to the next deck.
Mufasa took the mate by the arm, quickly checking that no one was in earshot.
“Are all of our crew on board?”
“Yes Captain.”
“How many Germans?”
“The one in the white suit, two in grey, one in black.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes Captain. The one they call the doctor insisted we leave. I tried to explain that hardly any of them were on board but he didn’t care.”
“I know! He ordered me. Ordered me! Captain of my own ship to do as he instructed. Only one person around here gives the orders and that’s me. However I’m not concerned with that for now. Did you see that thing they bought on board?”
“Yes. They wouldn’t say what it was. But I know it’s a thing for burying the dead, important dead. I don’t need to be a doctor for that.”
“Yes but what’s inside it.”
“I told you it’s for burying the dead.”
Mufasa shook his head.
“No way. What would these German devils want with it? They’re not interested in someone dead. Why, you can buy mummies on the market.”
“What do you think it is then?”
“Treasure! Has to be.”
Domingo’s eyes lit up.
“Why else for all the secrecy if it’s not treasure. You saw how the crane struggled with it, how it took all of them to move it. And why was the doctor so desperate to get away once the shooting started. It has to be treasure. Why I bet that thing is filled with gold.”
“Gold?”
“Yes,” Mufasa pulled out his pistol “And I want my share.”
Down in the hold Von Brest was taking measurements which he was entering into his log. Length, width, breadth. Approximate height he estimated. The sarcophagus was hollow inside, containing the, as yet, unopened remains of Alexander the great. The lid was six inches thick.
Finished with the measurements he began to sketch the various hieroglyphs and the royal cartouche. The lighting down here was poor and he had to try to hold a lamp one handed while he sketched. Finally finding it too difficult to do both he called to one of the three Germans on guard outside to assist him. The Wehrmacht man saluted him.
“Herr Doctor?”
“Hold this lamp for me. Shine it where I direct you. That’s it, keep it there for a moment.”
Mufasa and Domingo came down the steps to the hold, four of the crew with them. Each of them had concealed weapons.
“Halt!” the SS man ordered.
Mufasa stopped, Domingo behind, the others poised on the stairs.
“State your business,” the SS man kept his MP40 low but all could see that it could be used in an instant.
“This is my ship,” Mufasa said, his hands extended in a friendly gesture, “I merely wish to speak to the Doctor.”
“The Doctor has said that no one is to disturb him. No one is allowed down here below decks.”
“I am the Captain. This is my ship,” Mufasa said, matter of fact, sounding calm.
“I am sorry Captain. My orders are to let no one down here.”
Quick as lightning Mufasa pulled out his pistol and shoved it in the SS man’s face. The guard was caught unawares and instinctively levelled his MP40 at Mufasa as the rest of the crew drew their guns. Koenig’s man hadn’t had a chance to react and he raised his hands in surrender.
Now it was six on one.
Mufasa smiled.
“My men won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“We are acting under the direct orders of the Fuhrer Adolf Hitler….”
Mufasa cut him short.
“Do you think that means anything here, now? We only want what is rightfully ours.”
His men behind him, all agreed.
“Now what’s it to be?” he asked, moving the pistol closer to the man’s face. The SS man lowered his machine gun. He could have killed Mufasa and possibly one or two of the others, or possibly wound them, but not all six. They would have killed him in retaliation. Mufasa took the MP40 from him. Domingo took weapons from the other German.
“Now,” Mufasa said putting his hand on the SS man’s shoulder and turning him to face the door, “Let’s move. Open it.”
The heavy door creaked as the SS man opened it. The soldier holding the lamp turned and moved the light around to better see. It was just one of his colleagues.
“Keep the light here please,” Von Brest said grabbing the soldiers arm and pulling the lamp closer. The man raised his hand in front of the light to see the SS man better. Then he watched in confusion as his colleagues were shoved forward and Mufasa’s men spread out. Then he saw the guns and the lamp was falling to the floor as he ran for his rifle propped against a crate. A shot from Mufasa’s pistol caught him in the leg, slowing him. A second spun him around and threw him backwards into coils of rope. Mufasa calmly walked over and fired three more into his chest to finish him off. Domingo picked up the fallen lamp. Von Brest was cowering with his hands over his head in the dark. The noise from the handgun in the confined space had been deafening. He turned slowly as the lamp came near, its light reflecting off his round spectacles.
“Herr Doctor,” Mufasa called in a soft voice.
Von Brest looked up at him incredulously.
“Mufasa! What in God’s name are you doing? Have you gone mad man?”
“No not mad Doctor. Not mad!”
“Then what is the meaning of all this?”
“Me and my men want a bigger percentage.”
“Impossible! You are being paid quite enough.”
“Doctor may I remind you of who is holding all the guns.”
“You mutinous scum. You’ll not get away with this.”
Mufasa laughed.
“You should not have insisted we sail when you did. With none of your Germans on board,” Mufasa turned to Domingo, “Tie them all up.”
“What do you want?” Von Brest asked as a crew member bound his hands behind his back.
“I told you we want a cut. Our share of the bounty.”
“What bounty? What are you talking about?”
“Doctor we may seem like simple people to you but we are not stupid. We know you’ve got something in this stone crate….”
“This is the tomb of Alex….”
“You expect us to believe some cock and bull story about Mr Hitler wanting this as a gift. Look at it. What could he possibly want with it? No….” Mufasa held Von Brest’s face with both hands and stared into his eyes, “He wants what’s inside.”
“You’ve got it all wrong Mufasa. There is nothing inside to interest you or your men. I swear it.”
> “We’ll see when I open it.”
Von Brest was horrified.
“No Mufasa you mustn’t open it. I beg you! I’ll triple your salary.”
“Not enough. Take them topside,” he ordered one of his men.
“When we get to Malta they’ll hang you,” Von Brest shouted as he was bundled up the stairs, “You’ll not get away with this.”
“I’m afraid my dear Doctor that I already have.”
Domingo waited until they were gone.
“What he says is true Captain. They’ll hang us for sure.”
Mufasa thought for a moment. Then made a decision.
“Get up to the bridge. We sail for Algiers. Plot the course for the helmsman then get back here and help me to open this.”
Once on deck Domingo saw the three captives were sitting in a group huddled against the biting, cold, wind. The Doctor appeared to still be complaining about their situation. Domingo watched as the dead body was brought up and tossed over the side.
“Any trouble from them?” he asked a crewman watching over the captives with an old rifle.
“The Doctor is complaining endlessly.”
“Herr Doctor just remember that the Captain spared your lives. Or if you would prefer you can feed the fishes,” Domingo said, his voice accompanied by the laughter of his crewmen.
Von Brest shut his mouth and sulked.
“That’s better,” Domingo waved his gun and put it in his pocket, “You’ll get no more trouble from him. Now I must report to the bridge.”
The man at the helm turned as Domingo opened the door and stepped onto the bridge. The helmsman had the chart out in front of him. Domingo followed a line with his finger until it came to a stop on the island of Malta.
“Malta Domingo! Malta! And for us money, real cash. This will be the most we’ve ever earned. I’m going to spend mine on the best whore money can buy.”
“We’re not going to Malta.”
“Eh?”
“The captain has taken the German’s prisoner. There is gold in that box of theirs. The Captain is convinced. A ton of gold.”
The helmsman’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Then a dark thought.
“The Germans will kill us,” he said instinctively feeling for the pistol in his waistband.
“Not where we’re going my boy.”
Domingo pointed on the chart. The helmsman pushed Domingo’s finger out of the way so he could read the place name.