by Julian Noyce
“Go fuck yourself!”
He heard Natalie sob once and holding his ribs he limped over to her and helped her up. The sound of someone clapping slowly made them turn. Von Werner was twenty paces away, his handgun levelled at them. Slowly he came on.
“What am I to do with you?”
He nodded as he passed the Russian’s corpse.
“Ah I see you have killed Danilov for me.”
“For you?” Dennis enquired.
“Why yes. You see Danilov has a rather large bounty on his head. I of course intended to collect it after my business here was done.”
Dennis was confused.
“I thought Danilov was your right hand man.”
“Oh he was. But you see my dear Mr Dennis he was becoming quite uncontrollable. He was what you English would call a, uh, yes, a loose cannon.”
He chuckled at his own humour.
“Yes I like that expression. You English are full of these sayings.”
“There’s another expression we’re fond of and you’re full of it.”
Von Werner pretended to be amused at this also.
“That’s very good Mr Dennis. Very good indeed. But as I was saying Danilov wasn’t working as a member of the team anymore. He acted against my instructions on more than one occasion and my men were unsettled.”
“Well in about five minutes time your men are going to be arrested by Tunisian special forces.”
“Oh really. Is that so? And exactly who do you think called the security services?”
Dennis thought for a moment. He had assumed that Ali on the ‘Volante’ had somehow got a signal out. Not for one second did he consider that Von Werner may have called them.
“You did it?”
Von Werner chuckled.
“I’m enjoying this,” he said, “That’s right Mr Dennis I called them.”
He threw his arms out in a gesture.
“After all why wouldn’t I. This is my ship, my crew, my personal army, my helicopter, my sarcophagus. So you can imagine my surprise at finding my head of security murdered by a journalist, a spy, a mercenary, call yourself what you will, and an archaeologist stowed aboard my ship trying to steal my property.”
“They’ll never believe it.”
“And then after you murdered my head of security Mr Danilov you were seeking out your next target. Me!”
“That’s ridiculous. I would never murder anyone.”
“But you did kill Mr Danilov.”
“That was in self defence.”
“Indeed it was.”
A strange look came over Von Werner’s face.
“But before he died, despite the knife in his chest, Mr Danilov managed to fire off some rounds which killed the renegade reporter and his very beautiful assistant the lovely Miss Feltham, before they could kill me. Such a waste,” he said sighing, trying to stroke her hair. She moved out of his reach.
“You’re mad.”
“On the contrary Mr Dennis. I am a genius.”
“Even geniuses can be mad you know.”
“I assure you I am not mad, just very clever. When you think about it I now have in my possession the most sacred artefact in archaeology and what have I had to do to get it? Hmm?” he asked them both individually, “Not much. You see you people did all the hard work for me. You explored all the wrecks, eliminating them one by one. You recovered the item. All I had to do was take it from you. Genius really, as I’ve already said. You know Miss Feltham it really is a shame that I have to kill you. I really would like to have you as part of my team. But I’m very sure you’d never agree to it somehow.”
“You’re dead right,” Dennis replied for her.
Von Werner pointed the gun in Dennis’ face.
“Dead being the appropriate word.”
“You’re missing one thing Herr Werner.”
The gun never wavered.
“And what is that?”
“It’s not the right sarcophagus.”
The eyebrows, sighting down the pistol, both went up.
“What?”
“It’s not Alexander’s sarcophagus,” Natalie cut in.
“Is this some sort of trick?”
“Look at it,” Natalie invited.
“It has to be the one,” Von Werner lowered the gun, “You took it from the ’Tangipito’. It has to be the one.”
“We did take it from the ’Tangipito’ but it’s the wrong sarcophagus. It was made for a Nectanebo. He was either a lesser pharaoh or just someone important but it’s not Alexander.”
Von Werner was shaking his head.
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie. You already have it. What would I gain for lying? You’re going to kill us for something that’s worthless.”
“Enough! Now you die!”
There was a sudden burst of machine gun fire and one of his men at the top of the steps from the middle deck went down, his chest riddled with bullets. A voice coming through a megaphone cut across the deck.
“This is the Tunisian navy. You are surrounded. Prepare to be boarded. Throw down your weapons.”
The Lynx helicopter hovered in low, carrying the last crate of shells from the ’Volante.’ It stopped directly above Von Werner. The 20mm cannons suddenly burst into life, strafing the top of the steps where Tunisian seals were preparing to ascend.
Von Werner was backing slowly away from Dennis and Natalie. He looked at the sarcophagus. He couldn’t believe his ears.
“Listen to her!” Dennis was shouting above the noise of the Lynx, “It’s not the right one!”
Von Werner was thinking of his grandfather.
“You poor man! You didn’t find it!”
The Lynx fired its machine guns again.
No one heard or saw the sidewinder missile that caught the Lynx in mid-air. The two jets screamed past again. The helicopter exploded and plummeted to the deck. Dennis grabbed Natalie and they dived for cover in the nick of time. The Lynx landed on the crate of shells and they exploded blasting Von Werner burning and screaming into the sea. The Tunisian seals rushed up the stairs and moved into formation.
“This is major Al-Assad. Throw down your weapons,” their officer said through his loudhailer.
Von Werner’s men did as they were told. They were quickly surrounded and the ’Wavecrest’ was made secure by more marines who stormed through the ship. A group of them rushed to tackle the burning Lynx. Jim Hutchinson suddenly appeared at the top of the steps. Dennis saw him first and he turned Natalie’s head. Her face broke into a large grin. They made their way to him and he met them halfway. He embraced them both.
“Are you both all right?”
Dennis kissed Natalie on the lips. Right there in front of everyone.
“I know I am,” he said.
They all laughed.
“It’s good to see you Jim.”
“What I don’t understand,” Dennis said, “Is that Von Werner called the authorities. How did you get here?”
“One of Ali’s men had a stomach upset and he was, well I don’t want to go into too much detail, coming out of the lavatory. He confronted one of Von Werner’s men. There were only a few left on board you see the others already having left. A fight ensued and our man was able to knock his opponent out and take his gun. He took another by surprise and gained another gun. With these the rest of the crew were able to overpower the rest. This done Captain Ali was able to sound the alarm using their equipment and divert Major Al-Assad’s task force to the ’Volante.’ Once we filled him in with the relevant details of what had happened he came to take the ‘Wavecrest’”
Another officer came on board. He was wearing military fatigues like his men. Unlike his men he was wearing a red beret and sunglasses. On his shoulders the rank of General. Major Al-Assad rushed up to him, saluted, and made his report. The General listened without interrupting then nodded when Al-Assad finished.
“Good work Major. Take these men into custody. Take this ship
back to Gabes. Make arrangements for the other ship to be towed in if it can’t be repaired at sea. The crew may stay on it if they wish. Arrange hotel accommodation for them if necessary. We’d better keep them until the interior minister has spoken to them. Dismissed.”
Al-Assad saluted and rushed off to carry out his orders. The General glanced around the deck, his arms folded behind his back. Then he lowered his head and looked out over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across his face. He headed towards the group of three.
“Jim,” he called.
Hutchinson turned.
“Ben! Ben I don’t believe it.”
He shook the General’s hand vigorously.
Hutchinson saw the looks from Dennis and Natalie.
“Oh I’m sorry. Natalie. Peter. This is my friend Ben Rashid Al-Din. We were at university together.”
Al-Din nodded at Dennis and flashed strong white teeth at Natalie. Von Werner’s body was brought up on deck and dumped at the General’s feet. The skin had been burnt to a crisp and was now soaked. Where the skin was broken it bled. The once elegant white suit was blackened. Natalie couldn’t bear to look at the corpse and she turned her face away. General Ben Rashid Al-Din gazed down at the corpse. He nodded at one of his men to search the body.
“Do we know who he is?”
“His name is Count Otto Brest Von Werner. This is his ship.”
The man frisking the body reached inside the jacket and pulled out the brown leather bound book and handed it to the General.
“What’s this?” Al-Din said turning it over and undoing the little popper that held it shut. He thumbed through the pages.
“It’s mine,” Dennis said, “He took it from me,” he lied.
Al-Din studied the writing and sketches briefly and then handed it to the journalist.
“Very well Mr?”
“Peter Dennis General.”
Al-Din looked over the top of his sunglasses again.
“I believe I have heard your name.”
“Really?” Dennis doubted it.
“Yes it was….” The General glanced up at the sky in thought, “….Now I remember. There was an article in the Tunisian national newspapers about a Peter Dennis who said the tomb of Alexander the Macedonian was buried in my country. It was two days ago. Tell me have you found it yet?”
Hutchinson laughed. He clapped a hand on the General’s shoulder.
“That my friend is another story.”
Dennis watched Hutchinson and the General leave. He walked over to the sarcophagus.
’So many people have fought and died over this,’ he said to himself, ’and it was all for nothing. The Romans, the Germans, the British, Wurtz, Koenig, young Johnny Larder, Von Brest, Von Werner, my grandfather Alfred Dennis.’
For a moment he could almost hear his grandfather’s laughter. Natalie appeared alongside him and took his hand.
“Peter are you coming?”
He turned and smiled at her.
“Yes.”
Arm in arm they walked across the deck and down the stairs to the boat waiting below.
EPILOGUE
THE WESTERN DESERT, TUNISIA
Peter Dennis removed his hat and wiped a sleeve across his forehead. His skin sore from the mixture of sand, dust, sweat and sunburn. Men all around him working, digging, scraping, carrying. They had relocated to a point on the map left as a clue by Doctor von Brest more than sixty years before. Dennis unscrewed a plastic bottle top and drained the last of his water. He crushed the bottle and replaced the top to minimise the waste and trudged over to a makeshift workstation.
Natalie sat at a table alone. She was working with a laptop protected by plastic sheeting. Despite this she still had to blow frequently to clear dust from its keys. Dennis put his hand on her shoulder and gently massaged her neck. She closed her eyes and pushed her shoulders up to her ears, stretching aching muscles. It felt good. She looked up at him and he bent down and kissed her briefly on the lips.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Well we’re no nearer to finding it. We just need one thing, the smallest clue, just one glimpse of anything other than sand,” he replied looking at the points on the laptop screen, “Are these the areas we’ve already searched?”
“Yes the green dot is our current location. The red are the failed ones. Now look if I superimpose the map of 1942 over it you can now see where the Germans dug slightly to the West.”
“Are we absolutely sure of this position?”
“Yes look,” she said picking up a photocopy of a sheet of paper “Von Brest was adamant that this would be the last location. This is translated from ancient hieroglyphs. It was recorded by Napoleon’s army over two hundred years ago. It describes the desert as having a crescent cut into its floor. Now I know that is nowhere to be seen but it also describes the mountains as having a bowl cut out of them,” she pointed ahead to where a semi-circular depression could clearly be seen on the skyline, “That has to be it.”
“But the crescent in the floor,” Dennis said.
“Has got to be here somewhere,” Hutchinson said. He had joined them and was standing to Peter’s left. Natalie clicked on documents and brought up an image from Google. The picture on the screen was a drawing from the time of Napoleon’s army. It clearly showed a crescent shape in the desert floor.
“Then that has to be directly ahead of us somewhere,” Dennis said to the screen.
“Agreed,” from Hutchinson. He leaned over Natalie’s shoulder and brought up another image. Another drawing, much older.
“That drawing is dated 1799. It was drawn by Napoleons historians. This one is by an Italian explorer, Savanarola Di Marco, dated 1650.”
“They look similar,” Dennis said “Obviously the older one looks more primitive. Probably due to the poor quality writing materials available at the time.”
“Without a doubt. Do you notice how the crescent is much deeper in the older illustration?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m convinced that we are looking at a gorge or possibly a small canyon.”
“Then where is it today?”
Hutchinson moved back away from the screen .
“Buried!”
Natalie and Dennis turned to look at him.
“It’s lost,” he said “Buried forever. Napoleon’s army reported a large sandstorm that almost destroyed them. Over half the battalion was lost, buried alive in swirling sand.”
“Could it do that?”
“Oh yes. There is a famous case of a two thousand camel caravan that disappeared never to be seen again.”
“Imagine that,” Dennis replied.
“Surely if the Romans had lost a legion of men custodian of Alexander’s sarcophagus out here in a desert storm they would have made a record of it.”
“They probably did Peter,” Natalie said.
“Then where would that be?”
“Probably destroyed along with thousands of other records when their great library at Alexandria burned to the ground.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Yes. Priceless records were lost forever. Amongst them undoubtedly what we’re looking for.”
“Why did it burn down?”
“It was destroyed by Julius Caesar who set fire to the Alexandrian fleet in the harbour. The fire spread and the library was engulfed. Four hundred thousand scrolls of recorded history went up in flames.”
“I thought Caesar was one of the good guys.”
“He never recorded its destruction in his ’The civil wars’. He probably felt that it would be damaging to his reputation. Even later writers didn’t record its demise.”
“There must be something left, in Alexandria I mean,” Dennis said.
“Unfortunately in the middle ages there were a series of earthquakes and floods and most of ancient Alexandria is now under thirty feet of sea.”
“I’m afraid it is lost forever,” Hutchinson said.
There was a sudden rush of excitement as the hired diggers found something and they rushed forward to encircle their find. A supervisor shouted across to Hutchinson. He, Natalie and Dennis raced over and pushed their way to the front.
“What have they found?” Dennis said.
Hutchinson stood looking down at the rusted metal. He got down onto his knees and brushed sand away with his hand. He stopped when he exposed the empty headlight socket. He got to his feet, disappointment on his face.
“Something your grandfather may have been interested in,” he said.
Dennis recognised the unmistakeable grill of the Willy’s Jeep.
“Do you want us to uncover it?” the supervisor asked.
Hutchinson swiped his thigh with his hat.
“No leave it. It’s unimportant. Continue the search.”
Slowly they made their way back to the tent.
“I thought we’d found something then,” the American said.
Natalie touched his arm.
“We’ll find it Jim. I’m sure of it.”
Dennis looked out at the workers. He held his hand up in front of his face to block out the sun. A lone figure was crouching on a nearby sand dune. Dennis watched him for a while. The man’s Dromedary standing nearby. Dennis could see the barrel of a rifle jutting up above the man’s right shoulder.
“It looks like we have a visitor.”
Hutchinson and Natalie swung around and followed his gaze. They saw the nomad.
“Just a desert wanderer I expect. This kind of work always attracts the locals,” Hutchinson turned to a security guard, “Keep an eye on that man.”
On the dune the camelteer stood slowly and stretched his shoulders. He had been watching the activity for an hour. He had seen the steel machine exposed and that they had left it. It obviously wasn’t what they were looking for. He looked on without emotion.
’More foreigners to steal what they could from the desert’
He turned his animal and began walking away from the site. He stopped and checked the sun for position then set off at a slow pace along a depression in the ground that his ancestors had told him used to be a gorge.