by Nick Carter
Driving back, I remembered the sounds I'd thought I'd heard when Reynaldo was dying. That must have been the caretaker. If not… I did not like to think about the possible alternatives. Well, tomorrow morning early I would pay a visit to the Valley of the Kings. With a little luck I would locate the microfilm, end this Arabian nightmare and ask Hawk for a raise and a two-week vacation.
It sounded so easy.
Eleven
The next morning was as cool, bright and clear as the Star of Africa. The eternal Nile ran placidly, an oiled metallic blue sheet. Beyond that twisting ribbon of life glowed the burnished copper of the desert and hills.
It was against this tranquil backdrop that the day began, as I drove along the dusty road into the Valley of the Kings. The car was a rented Alfa Romeo 1750, and Fayeh was sitting beside me, listening unprotestingly while I bawled her out.
'You damned near got us killed yesterday,' I reminded her, 'so just please let me call the shots this time.'
Actually, I wouldn't have brought Fayeh along at all, but she told me that the Merenptan tomb was temporarily closed to tourists and I would need her to get into it. So I had agreed to take her, but I didn't like it and she knew it. She sat as far from me in the car as she could get, and we did not say much on the drive there.
We drove past the Colossi of Memnon and the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, past bleached villages peach-colored in the early sun where people still lived the same way they had in biblical days. Camels harnessed to grinding wheels moved in an endless circle around the primitive mills, as if they had been doing the same job for millenia. Women in black, some carrying water jugs on their heads, stared over their veils at us as we passed. Fayeh made no comment about any of it. I didn't mind because my mind was on only one thing this bright morning: recovering the microfilm.
We arrived at the Valley of the Kings in less than an hour's drive. When we got out in the parking area and I looked around, I was disappointed. It didn't look grand at all. It was a wide ravine backed by towering rocky cliffs with sand all around. There were a few service buildings sitting hot in the sun, and you could see the scattered entrances to the tombs — unglamorous holes in the ground with ticket booths at them, an Arab at each booth.
'This is it? I said.
'It is all underground,' she said. 'You will see.'
She led me to an Arab at one of the shacks, a man who seemed to be in charge of the place. She showed her Interpol ID, gave him a story about heroin smuggling and asked that we be allowed to enter the tomb without a guide.
'Of course, madam,' he said in Arabic.
As we walked to the tomb, I looked at her. 'Are you sure the tomb is closed to the public?'
She smiled an inscrutable smile. 'Do you think I would he to you, lover?'
There was no guard at the gate to the tomb, so we just walked in. It was like the entrance to a mine shaft. Immediately we found ourselves walking downhill in a large stone tunnel. The walls on either side were covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions cut into the stone by hand. We walked downward and downward, and the hieroglyphics did not end.
'Inscriptions from the Egyptian Book of the Dead,' Fayeh told me as we descended. 'Very important to survival in the Other World.'
'I wonder if they have any power over survival in this world,' I said. I stopped at a bend in the passage and pulled a thick guidebook out of my jacket pocket. I thumbed through it and stopped at a turned-down page. 'This says there are several burial rooms.'
That's right. The first one is just off this passage to our right. The main one, with the sarcophagus of Merenptan, is further along this other passage and beyond the Burial Hall'
'All right. You go to the smaller chamber and I'll take the big one. If you find what we're looking for, give a yell.'
I watched her turn and move off down the dim-lit corridor, then I started down the main passage. I came to a stair and descended to a lower level. Here I found myself in another tunnel-corridor. There were more hieroglyphics and colored frescoes of Merenptan in the presence of the god Harmachis. The corridor led into a rather large room. This apparently was the Burial Hall. Another passage led out from the opposite side into a much smaller room: the burial chamber.
Merenptan's sarcophagus filled a substantial part of the room. The lid of his coffin was intricately worked and beautiful. The whole thing stood on a stone podium. I walked around it, taking a good look. Then I searched the room. There were shelves that had held burial urns. The microfilm might be stashed on one of those shelves but that would be too obvious. I looked again at the lid of the sarcophagus. It sat partly off the receptacle so I could see into the dark recesses of the empty coffin.
Surely, I thought, Reynaldo would not drop the film into that large box, I put my shoulder against the lid. I couldn't budge it so Reynaldo couldn't have moved it either. Then I got the idea — the same one it turned out, Reynaldo had gotten. I reached into the sarcophagus and felt along the underside of its lid as far as I could reach. Nothing. Next I felt along the inner side of the sarcophagus. Still nothing. I returned to the lid. I reached in further under it, stretching my arm as far as I possibly could. And then I felt it.
It was a small package, no bigger than my thumb, and it was taped to the underside of the lid.
I tore it free and drew my arm out of the sarcophagus. My heart almost stopped as I carefully unwrapped the tiny package. There it was. The microfilm. The plans for Novigrom I. And lying now in the palm of my hand, they belonged to the U.S. government.
I allowed myself a smile of satisfaction. If Drummond had had to die at least it wasn't for nothing.
A foot scraped stone. I jammed the film into my pocket and whirled, going for Wilhelmina. I was a little too late. There in the doorway of the burial chamber stood two grinning goons. I recognized the big one as the man with the Magnum at Thinman's place. The Magnum was staring at me again now. The other man, a short, wiry Arab with a rat's face, held a European make .32 revolver on me.
'Well, look who's on a tour,' the big man said.
The little man laughed a short, staccato laugh that blew his cheeks out slightly.
'Is there anything wrong with seeing the sights?' I asked.
My mind was racing backwards like a rewinding movie. The Hypostyle Hall last night. The noises I'd thought I'd heard. The caretaker hadn't made them after all. Somebody, probably one of these two, had followed Reynaldo and me to Karnak and moved in quietly in time to hear the final scene. But they had not heard enough, because they had let me find the microfilm for them.
'You're not here for the sights,' the big man told me.
'No?' I said. I let my hand drop away from my jacket.
'Reynaldo told you where the film was,' the big man continued.
'Bovet made a deal with me,' I said.
'Mr Bovet gave you your life for the information on Reynaldo,' the big man said. 'That's all. He says not to kill you now, if you cooperate.'
'Cooperate in what way?' I said, knowing the answer already.
There was that ugly grin again. 'Mr Bovet wants that film. He says he's entitled because Reynaldo held out on him. Of course, he'll sell it back to you for the right price, if you can come up with it. There might be other offers.'
I sighed, thinking: Here we go again. 'I didn't find the film,' I said.
The small man shook his head and called me a liar in Arabic.
The film's in your pocket,' the big man said. 'We saw you put it there. Just hand it over and there won't be any shooting.'
I wasn't about to give up that microfilm now, certainly not to an international gang of hoodlums.
'All right, it looks as if I have no choice,' I said.
That's right, Mister Carter,' the big man said.
I reached into my pocket for the microfilm at the same time taking two steps toward them. The big man held his free hand out, careful to keep the Magnum pointed at my chest with the other. I had to move across in front of the little Arab to get to him.
I wondered. At any rate, I did not intend to find out. I took my empty but closed fist out of the pocket. I was right in front of the short Arab now, and his revolver was following my every move. But I had to take the chance.
I opened the empty fist suddenly and grabbed at the gun hand of the little Arab, twisting away from the line of fire. The sound of the shot filled the stone room as the slug caromed off the sarcophagus behind me and hit the wall.
I had a firm grip on the gunman's hand now and jerked him off his feet, putting him between me and the big guy with the Magnum. The little Arab's gun went off again, the bullet hitting the floor. Just then the big guy fired, trying to put one into my chest. The little Arab yelled as the slug tore into his left arm instead. The big man swore as I now shoved the little Arab into him, knocking him temporarily off balance.
I dived for the end of the sarcophagus, hoping to use it for cover. The big man fired two more shots as I scrambled for momentary safety. The first chipped the sarcophagus, the second tore the heel off my right shoe.
'I'll get you, Carter!' The big man meant business. He had been very disappointed that day at Thinman's place when Bovet called him off. Now he was going to make up for it.
I heard his footsteps, coming around the sarcophagus. There was no time for the Luger. I moved my right forearm and Hugo slipped into my palm.
The big man rounded the corner of the sarcophagus, massive and mean-faced, the Magnum clutched in his ham hand. He spotted me and aimed, and I pressed up against the coffin. The gun exploded and I heard the bullet chew the floor beside me. He had fired wildly and my luck had held. I flung my right arm out straight in front of me, releasing Hugo. The stiletto snaked silently through the air and thudded low into the big man's chest.
Surprise flooded into his eyes. He grabbed in automatic response at the cold steel in him. The Magnum roared out three more times as he stumbled forward and fell heavily against the lid of the coffin.
Just in time I heard a sound behind me. I whirled to see the little Arab, his wounded arm hanging limply at his side, aim his revolver at me from the other end of the sarcophagus. I rolled away from the stone base as he fired, grabbing for Wilhelmina as I moved. I came up firing a thunderous response to the revolver.
I fired three times. The first shot struck the wall a foot above the Arab's head. The second tore a groove in his left cheek, and the third entered his chest. That slug picked him up and slammed him against the wall He dropped to the floor out of sight.
There was some soft muttering in Arabic. Then the small Arab was on his feet, moving toward the doorway to the burial chamber. He turned weakly and fired a shot back toward me, to cover his retreat. But as he reached the doorway, I fired the Luger again and caught him at the base of the spine. He jerked as if pulled by some invisible wire. I moved around the sarcophagus and took a look. The little Arab's body twitched once and was still.
I went back to the big man and pulled the stiletto from his chest. I cleaned it on his jacket and returned it to its sheath. 'You should have quit while you were ahead,' I told the corpse.
Then I heard Fayeh calling: 'Nick!'
I turned just as she entered the burial chamber. She moved past the first corpse, giving it a startled look, and came over to me and my second victim.
The New Brotherhood?' she asked.
That's right. Bovet got greedy when he got to thinking about the value of the film.'
'And you have it?'
I took the film from my pocket and held it out for her to see. 'That's wonderful, Nick!' she said, smiling.
'Did you see any other New Brotherhood men in the corridors?' I asked her.
'No, I didn't see anyone at all. And I suspect Bovet will give up on the film after this. He does not really want to get into a running fight with the U.S. government.'
'If that's true, this mission begins to look like a success,' I said, holstering the Luger. 'Come on, let's get out of here while our luck is still running good.'
* * *
When we reached the entrance of the tomb, squinting against a bright sun, everything was quiet. There were no guards nearby, and the depth of the burial chamber must have muffled the sound of the shooting. We went straight to the Alfa Romeo and climbed in.
As we drove away from the Valley of the Kings, I began to relax a little. It had been a nasty assignment, but it had ended well. I had the microfilm, and I had my health. I thought of the attaché case I had stashed in the luggage compartment earlier, just in case, and was glad to know I wouldn't need it now.
I was still in this triumphal state, feeling smug about myself and the way I had handled a tough case, explaining to Fayeh how important the film was to the free world, etc., etc., when it happened. We rounded a rocky turn in the dirt road and almost ran into a black Mercedes 350 SL parked across the road so that it was impossible to get around it.
Slamming on the brakes, I skidded to a dusty stop just a few feet from the Mercedes. When the dust cleared, I saw three men standing around the big black car. My jaw dropped slightly. It was Yuri Lyalin and the two Arab goons he had used to rough me up. Lyalin was holding his Mauser automatic and the Arabs each held a snub-nosed revolver. All the weapons were aimed at my head.
'Goddam!' I muttered. 'The goddam Russians.' Fayeh just stared at the trio. 'I am sorry, Nick.'
Lyalin was yelling at us as I sat there deciding what to do. 'Come on out of there, Carter. You must not disappoint me now. This is what I kept you alive for.'
'You had better do what he says, Nick,' Fayeh said softly.
If I gunned the engine and headed straight for them, I might get one, maybe two, but I could not get around that mammoth car. I was so angry suddenly, so frustrated, I couldn't think straight. Finally I switched the engine off.
'All right,' I said to the girl. 'Let's oblige the KGB.'
We got out of the car, and Lyalin waved us forward with his Mauser. I looked down its muzzle and it was like looking into the mouth of my own Luger. I knew its power and efficiency. The Arab goons held their revolvers tightly, eager to use them. I saw no escape.
'So it works out the way you planned,' I said to Lyalin.
'That is right, Mr AXEman,' he said, grinning tightly. 'You discovered where the film was and led us to it. We had merely to wait and let you do all the work for us.'
He was gloating, and I hate gloaters.
'Now, the film, please.'
I sighed heavily and glanced at Fayeh. She looked down at the ground. We had been through a lot, she and I, but it looked as if we had lost the game in a double overtime. I dug into my pocket for the film, took a last look at the package and handed it to Lyalin.
He took it carefully. Holstering the Mauser, he unwrapped the film and took a close look at it. I swallowed hard. There were only two guns on me now. And Lyalin would probably kill me anyway before he left this place. There was Fayeh to think about, but her safety did not come before the mission. Maybe she would be able to come up with the Beretta I'd recovered from Reynaldo in time to save both of us.
I made my move. While Lyalin was holding the film up to the light, I took one step forward, putting him between me and the far gunman and myself within reach of the closest one. Suddenly and savagely I kicked out at his gun hand. The gun went off over my head and the goon staggered back against the hood of the Mercedes. While that was happening, I threw myself at Lyalin. He had started to go for the Mauser but didn't make it. I grabbed him and pulled him to me, trying to keep him between me and the other Arab.
The first gunman was recovering and still held his gun. The other one was moving around to get a shot at me. Lyalin and I were in a death struggle, my hands at his throat and his fingers going for my eyes.
'The Beretta!' I yelled to Fayeh.
I held onto Lyalin and shoved him toward the gunman trying to get a bead on me. Struck by our combined weight, he momentarily lost his footing. But t
he other man, I knew, was now behind me. In about a second I'd have a ragged hole in my back.
Pulling hard on Lyalin's shoulders, I dragged him to the ground on top of me. Now it was going to be tougher for either gunman to hit me without hitting Lyalin.
'Give it up, damn you!' he gritted out, punching at my side with an elbow.
I was only fighting for time. If Fayeh could get the Beretta into play, she could turn the tables in our favor. If not, it was all over. I saw her out of the corner of my eye and thankfully she had the gun out!
'Shoot that damned thing!' I yelled.
Lyalin managed to speak despite my hold on his throat. 'Stop him,' he said, and he was looking toward Fayeh.
And Fayeh, that sensuous beauty with the seductive smile, moved forward and aimed the Beretta at my head. 'Let go of him, Nick.'
I stared into that lovely face. Slowly I released Lyalin. He moved off me, rubbing his throat I kept staring at that Beretta.
'I am sorry, Nick,' the girl said quietly.
Lyalin had recovered the microfilm and was sticking it into his pocket. 'Yes, Carter. Fayeh is KGB. Oh, she does some work for Interpol occasionally too. But her first loyalty is to the Soviet Union. Isn't that right, Fayeh, dear?'
Slowly, I rose to my feet. Fayeh stood there glumly, not answering Lyalin. Some things were coming back to me now. She had not been very eager to go after Reynaldo when I told her he was the one who had the microfilm. And she had not been bothered by Kam's death. Now I knew why, because I had eliminated part of the KGB's competition. And there were other things.
'You tried to kill Reynaldo last night,' I said to her. 'Because you knew that with him dead, nobody could ever find the microfilm.'
'Nick, I…'
The two hired guns moved close to me now. The one I'd roughed up glanced at Lyalin, who was brushing his suit off.