Glenn Meade (41 page)

'Interesting,' remarked Haider,
seeing an aerial protruding outside, hidden by the reeds, the wire leading back
to a wooden cabinet at the bottom of the stairs. 'That's where you keep your
radio?'

Deacon nodded, opened the cabinet,
revealing the transmitter, his Luger pistol beside it, then closed it again.
'The cellar was originally built as a cave. You know how fastidious the French
are about storing their wine. But being a practical man, the general decided
he'd be better served knocking out the end wall and using it as an escape route
for his girlfriends, in case their husbands showed up, which apparently was
often.'

Deacon smiled, went to shut the
metal door, which creaked on its hinges. 'An ace in the hole, should we need
it. But let's hope not. I'll leave it to you to show the others. One other
precaution I should mention. There's a solid metal bar I suggest you always
leave in place on the villa's main entrance door upstairs. If there's danger
brewing and anyone tried to force their way in, it should give you enough time
to get down here and make your escape.'

'You're a cautious man, Deacon.'

'It's why I've lived so long.'

'Schellenberg also mentioned you'd
have an overall escape route lined up, in case things went badly wrong at the
airfield.'

Deacon nodded. 'An Egyptian friend
of mine is a serving captain with the Royal Egyptian Air Force. It was he who
supplied much of the information about the Shabramant airfield.

If we need him, he's arranged to
"borrow" an aircraft from his unit and pick us up from a landing
strip in the desert, a few miles from
Sakkara
.
It'll be outside any air exclusion zone, and therefore less likely to get shot
down.'

'I know the strip you're talking
about. It was used to ferry in supplies for archaeological digs.'

'I believe so. My friend the
captain can be in the air, on stand-by, ready to pick us up if necessary, once
he sees a prearranged signal on the ground. As soon as you decide when the
attack will commence and we know Skorzeny's men are on their way, I'll contact
him. But then I'm assuming everything will still go ahead as planned. If not,
and we have to abort, the captain will attempt to fly you out anyway, to the
nearest German airbase on
Crete
. But we can go
over everything in more detail later.'

'This captain friend of yours
doesn't know what we're up to, of course?'

'Naturally. But he's a fervent
sympathiser, willing to help the German cause in any way he can.'

They came back up the steps to the
hallway and Deacon blew out the lamp.

'Two things,' said Haider. 'First,
you don't reveal our intentions in front of the lady. She knows nothing about
our plans, or our purpose here.'

'I understand.
Berlin
explained everything.'

'Second, I'll give you a list of
things I'll need by this afternoon - mostly some heavy tools and digging
equipment, as well as a pair of powerful binoculars, and a couple of the
American uniforms you got from Salter.'

Deacon saw the tension on Haider's
face; the man was like a coiled spring. 'You mind telling me what for?'

'My original intention was to try
and bluff my way into the compound posing as an American officer, or somehow
steal a pass, so I could carry out the necessary reconnaissance work. But
that's just the kind of strategy the Allies would expect now that they're aware
of our intentions. And one that's especially useless seeing as they know my
identity. It looks to me like we now have only one option. Near Cheop's
pyramid, there's a tunnel, part of a natural rock cavern that runs for almost
two hundred meters from a Second Dynasty burial vault. It leads from the
direction of the hotel grounds.'

Deacon frowned. 'How do you know?'

'It was discovered some years ago
by Fraulein Stern's father, a respected archaeologist. Schellenberg seems to
think the passageway may lead inside the compound.'

'Amazing.' Deacon looked
astonished, scratched his jaw. 'So that's why
Berlin
had me confirm there was still digging going on at
Giza
. I wondered about that.'

'What's important is that we may
have a way of getting into the compound, unseen. But the tunnel entrance will
have to be reopened and the direction verified. Did you find out who's working
on the site?'

'Mostly student groups from
Cairo
's universities.'

'There's no time to waste, so
we'll have to carry out the necessary exploration late this afternoon. Just
you, me and Kleist.

The students will have finished
their work by the time it's getting dark. Is the site guarded?'

Deacon nodded. 'There's usually
either a few men on watch duty from one of the nearby police stations, or
civilian guards from the Ministry of Antiquities.'

Haider produced his wallet, and
showed Deacon the documents stating that he was Paul Mallory, along with
credentials from the
American
University
. 'Do you know
of an expert forger? Someone trustworthy who can work fast?’

Deacon nodded. '
Cairo
's got no shortage of forgers who'll do
anything for a price. Why?'

'Sanson checked my papers in Alex,
as well as Fraulein Stern's. No doubt he'll alert the police and military to
keep a lookout for our identities. But a clever forger should easily be able to
alter the names without too much difficulty. Can you arrange it promptly, if I
give you a couple of alternative names?'

Deacon shrugged. 'It's a minor
enough job, so I don't see why not. Care to tell me what you have in mind?'

'To all intents, I'll be a
professor, conducting a legitimate inspection of my students' work at Giza, so
it should be easy enough to bluff our way past the police, but even if it comes
to the worst, and if my past experience is anything to go by, such guards are
unreliable at the best of times, and totally corruptible.

The poor devils are usually paid
such a pittance they could probably be bribed not to bother us.'

Deacon studied the documents
carefully. 'They certainly look impressive enough. Don't you need to bring the
woman along?'

Haider shook his head. 'It's
pointless putting her in any further unnecessary danger. She can tell me what I
need to know. But you still need to arrange to have her papers altered, just in
case we have to leave the villa at any stage. I'll fetch them for you before
you go.'

Deacon raised his eyes. 'Do I detect
something between the two of you, Major?'

Haider avoided the question. 'Just
the three of us should be enough. Besides, a little distraction might help me
mull over Salter's ultimatum. As it is, the problem has me completely stumped.'

'And what if we manage to find
this tunnel and it leads where you think it does?'

'Kleist and I will assess the
security inside the hotel grounds, and try to find out exactly where Roosevelt
and Churchill are quartered. Which is why we'll need the uniforms.'

Deacon looked troubled. 'But you
won't have passes. And there are bound to be security checks inside the
compound.

Weaver and his comrades will be
determined to catch you. All of which makes everything infinitely more
hazardous.'

'My problems to worry about. And
there's really no other option besides the tunnel. Unless you can think of
one.'

'You've got me there, Major.'

'We'll need transport. And
preferably a way of getting to
Giza
that helps us avoid any checkpoints, if that's possible.'

Deacon scratched his head. 'There's
a rough desert track near by that leads directly to the
village
of
Nazlat
as-Saman, near the pyramids. But the Packard's heavily built and the suspension
would take a hammering, so we'd be asking for trouble.' He thought for a
moment. 'I have a better suggestion. All of us travelling together would
certainly be unwise. No doubt your friend Weaver has issued your description to
every police station and military barracks from here to
Luxor
. Hassan has a motorcycle.

Kleist and I could take the car,
using the normal route, by road. You could take the motorcycle, and we can meet
up on the far side of the village, near the Sphinx.'

Haider crushed out his cigarette,
smiled tightly. 'Perfect. It's settled, then. And don't fret about Harry
Weaver. He's not going to find me.'

   'What kind of an
idiot are you?' Clayton banged his fist on the sk. 'How the hell could you let
them escape?'

Weaver sat in the general's
office, his eyes raw, his body hang from exhaustion. He hadn't slept for more
than a couple minutes throughout the entire night. After eight hours of ring to
free himself from the ropes, all he had managed to do is loosen the gag. A
little after seven, two local fishermen heard › shouts, wandered into the boathouse,
and found him. Sooner he had made the telephone call to military HQ from ashid
police station, Sanson arrived, furious that he'd allowed alder and Rachel to
escape. Two hours later, Sanson had him a plane to
Cairo
, and driven straight to Clayton's
office.

'I didn't have much choice, sir,'
Weaver answered.

Sanson sat next to him. He and the
general were still mad. 'It's damned ridiculous,' Clayton said in astonishment.
We had half the army out, every road blocked off, and still they evaded capture.
As for you, Weaver, allowing two enemy agents dupe you into helping them escape
is downright
incompence
.

What have you got to say for
yourself?'

'I made a mistake going after them
alone,' Weaver said
Tiely
.

Clayton flared. 'Damned right you
did. It seems to me you let personal sentiment get in the way of duty. In this
instance, that's not only unforgivable, it's almost treasonable.' The general
rose angrily from behind his desk. 'You'd better tell me everything you know
about this couple.'

The general stood there until
Weaver had finished, then said to Sanson, 'What about the boat they used?'

Sanson explained that every vessel
on the waterway as far as
Cairo
had been stopped and boarded. 'But the river patrols turned up nothing. We were
obviously too late. By early morning, the boat could easily have reached any
number of places along the
Nile
.'

Clayton turned back to Weaver.
'Didn't you see the registration on the Arab's car?'

He had already gone over every
detail with Sanson. 'I couldn't see the licence plate in the dark. The only
thing I'm reasonably certain of is the car was an American model.' Weaver knew
the information was pretty useless without an exact model description or
licence number.
Cairo
was full of American vehicles, military and civilian.

'That's not much help, is it?'
Clayton grimaced, picked up Sanson's report from his desk, and slapped it back
down again.

'But there are a couple of things
we can be pretty certain of. First, it's obvious we're dealing with more than
just two enemy infiltrators. And second, they're most likely somewhere in the
city by now.'

Weaver knew from the report Sanson
had delivered that two Egyptian policemen had gone missing late the previous
afternoon, not far from a village called Birqash, over twenty miles north of
Cairo. Their bodies had been discovered early that morning, buried in a shallow
grave, their throats cut. At ten the previous evening, their car had been found
abandoned near a railway station on the city outskirts. A Bedouin family living
several miles from Birqash had been questioned by the police, and claimed to
have seen two men driving a military truck late the previous afternoon, heading
in the general direction of the village. The truck had been found a couple of
miles outside - a Fiat with an Italian Army registration.

'The men were too far away for the
Bedouin to provide descriptions,' Sanson had told Clayton. 'But we know Haider
and the woman were in Alex, so it couldn't have been them. It now looks like
we're dealing with at least four German agents.'

The general crossed to the French
windows, still enraged.

'What about the Fiat? Someone must
have owned the damned thing.'

'So far as we can tell, it wasn't
on the register of confiscated enemy vehicles,' Sanson answered. 'I've
requested a list of all military vehicles missing in the last twenty-four
hours. But the Fiat still had its original Italian Army plates on, so unless
it's reported stolen, it's unlikely we'll trace the owner.'

'You mind telling me why not?'

'General, there's enough surplus military
hardware floating around this country to start another war. It's more than
possible the truck was somebody's loot before it was stolen or borrowed by the
Germans, so it's unlikely the owner would report it missing.'

The general came back and slumped
into his chair. 'The whole thing's a goddamned mess. The President arrived this
morning, Prime Minister Churchill yesterday afternoon. The fact that we've got
at least four ruthless German agents at large in the same city doesn't bear
thinking about.'

'If I might make a suggestion,'
Sanson offered. 'We ask the President and Prime Minister to cancel or delay
their meeting until we locate these people.'

The general shook his head firmly,
slapped his fist on the desk. 'That's not even an option. Have either of you
any idea of the amount of planning that's gone into this thing? Thousands of
man-hours spent at meetings, communications, organization.

VIPs and senior officers to be
transported from all over the world - not an easy thing in wartime. It could
take months to reorganize everything, and that's time we just don't have.'

'With respect, sir, these are
exceptional circumstances.'

'The ambassador already put that
point to the President and Prime Minister. They both refused point blank to
change their schedule. You must know the kind of men they are. They're not
going to be intimidated by a handful of Nazi agents. As far as the President
goes, he's got a favorite saying. There's nothing to fear but fear itself. With
a philosophy like that it's impossible to frighten the man. And I think I'd be
right in saying Mr Churchill is made of the same kind of iron - he doesn't
scare easily. Their personal security details have been briefed about the
situation, and they've assured me they'll be taking extra precautions. But it's
still your job to find these people.'

There was a knock on the door and
the general's aide appeared. 'Your car is ready to take you to the Mena House,
sir.'

Till be right there.' The door
closed and Clayton said sternly, 'I want no more excuses -just results. What we
need is a little bit of luck - and we won't have that unless we police every
damned hotel, bar, restaurant, and bawdy-house in the city and outskirts, check
everyone's identity papers, and haul in anyone we see who's acting suspiciously.
I don't give a frig who they are or how authentic their credentials. If you
suspect them, round up the sons of bitches and haul 'em in. The same applies to
the home of every Nazi sympathiser on our lists. Somebody's got to be helping
the Arab and Germans to hide out. And they're out there somewhere.'

The general stood, picked up his
cap, looked sternly at Weaver. 'Muster as many men as you need, but you find
every one of those fucking Krauts, damned fast. I want them dead.'

As they drove back through the
city, Weaver felt exhausted, oblivious to the traffic rushing past. He had
tried to think everything through, but still it didn't make any sense. Rachel
was dead, and now she's alive. And there didn't seem to be any way he could
save her, or Jack Haider.

Sanson said, 'I'll have a list
made of all American vehicles registered in Cairo, military or civilian,
including any that may have been stolen, and we'll see what it turns up. I've
already put out a general alert for anyone with the identities of Mallory and
Tauber to be immediately arrested, ¦warning that they're armed and dangerous.
Though my guess is they'll have the sense not to use the same identity papers
again. Meanwhile, you'd better grab a few hours' sleep. If anything develops,
I'll call you.’

'I'll be OK.'

Sanson said gruffly, 'I'm not
being kind to you, Weaver.

We've got a busy time ahead, so
take the rest while you can.

Something else you ought to know.
I had one of my men check back through the maritime reports at
Port Said
. It seems the
Izmir
went to the bottom
all right, and the ship had a history of engine trouble, but there was
something the newspapers neglected to mention at the time.'

'What?'

'They reported that a Maltese
fishing trawler rescued a life raft with four Turkish sailors from the
Izmir
the day after it
sank.

But what they didn't say was that
the trawler's skipper spotted a German naval frigate in the same area.'

'What are you saying?'

'The German frigate's too much of
a coincidence. The Sterns were the only passengers on board the
Izmir
, according to the
ship's manifest. The vessel was Turkish, and the Turks are notoriously
pro-German. For all we know the frigate could have been planning a rendezvous
somewhere at sea to pick them up, before things went wrong and the boat blew up.'

'Pick them up for what reason?'

'The Sterns had never intended to
travel on to
Istanbul
, but back to
Germany
. They
were spies, one or all of them, working for the Nazis.'

'Oh, come on, Sanson,' Weaver said
angrily. 'The Germans have always used the Med. Their frigate could have been
there by pure chance. Rachel or her parents were never spies. It's crazy.'

They had reached Garden City, and
Sanson pulled up outside GHQ. 'I'll have Lieutenant Kane drop you at your villa
- I've got work to do. You'd better meet me back here at six. There's someone I
want you to meet who should help clear all this up.'

'Who?'

'You'll find out later. But I'll
tell you this much - I reckon you've got a bloody big surprise in store,
Weaver. And I hope you're ready for it.’

When they reached Zamalek, Helen
Kane took the door key from Weaver and let them into the villa. 'You look
terrible. I'll run you a bath. Then I'll let you get some rest.'

They went up to Weaver's room and
she ran the bath and found some fresh towels. When he'd undressed, he went to
lie in the steaming water. She came in with two glasses of Scotch and handed
him one. 'I figured you might need this. Mind if a girl keeps you company?'

He'd been away less than
forty-eight hours, but it felt like as many days, and there was a tension
between them he could sense. 'I guess not.'

She smiled uncertainly, leaned
against the door frame, and sipped her drink. 'You seem distracted. Want to
tell me about it?'

Weaver's mind was in turmoil. 'Do
I have to?'

'No, but I think from the look on
your face you need to tell someone.'

He lay back in the hot water,
exhausted, ran a flannel over his eyes and face, and told her everything. When
he had finished, she barely reacted. 'You don't seem surprised.'

'I have a confession to make. Sanson
phoned me from Alex and had me report what happened to General Clayton.'

'I see.'

She put her glass down. 'Except I
don't understand any of it.

I could accept your friend Haider
being involved, but not Rachel Stern, at least not from "what you told me
about her.

None of it makes any sense. She
"was dead, and now she's alive.

And according to Sanson, he
suspects she's a Nazi agent.'

'She couldn't be, Helen. Not with
her background. Even Haider made a point of telling me she was innocent in all
this.

Sure, the German frigate probably
picked her up. After that, I would have thought prison was likely, or one of
those camps we've all been hearing about.'

He finished bathing, and she
handed him a towel and left as he dried himself. When he had dressed and came
out of the bathroom, she was sitting on the couch. She looked preoccupied, and
said quietly, 'Can I ask you something, Harry?'

'What?’

'Are you still in love with her?'

'Now how did I know you'd ask me
that?'

'You didn't answer the question.'

He hesitated. 'I don't know.'

She looked hurt. 'That means
you're still in love with her.'

His heart sank as he said, 'Maybe
the truth is I never stopped loving her.'

She bit her lip, put down her
glass. 'I understand.' She stood, clearly upset. 'I'll let you get some rest.'

He put a hand to her face. 'I'm
sorry, Helen. But you asked for the truth.'

She took his hand away, gently.
'Don't feel bad. I'm just feeling sorry for myself, that's all.' She gave a
nervous smile, then made to go, but turned back, brushed a strand of hair from
her face. 'Life's never that simple, is it, Harry?' There was a hint of tears
at the edges of her eyes. 'I'll see you around.'

Weaver heard her footsteps go down
the stairs, was almost overcome by a terrible wave of guilt, but he didn't try
to stop her.