The Secret of the King's Tomb

by Garrett Drake

  “Might as well get your rejection over with,” Richard said as he marched over toward the French doors and flung them open. He gestured for Hank to go outside. Hank nodded approvingly as he sauntered into the cool morning air. Richard joined him before settling into one of the two chairs outside.

  Richard pulled the doors shut before igniting a cigarette. He blew a couple large plumes of smoke skyward, standing firm in silence.

  “What are you doing here, Hank?” Richard finally asked.

  “I came to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  Hank took another long drag before answering. “I should’ve been more straightforward with you about my intentions.”

  “That’s quite an understatement.”

  “Look, you’re not the typical recruit, and I can’t expect you to respond in the same way as the others I pursue.”

  “Most of the men you coerce into doing your bidding are easily manipulated?” Richard asked.

  Hank shrugged. “I guess that’s a fair criticism, though I’ve never really perceived that what I do is cajoling others into doing my bidding. There’s always a greater purpose to what I do.”

  “Any purpose that involves me putting my life on the line needs to come with a greater reward than what you offered me, though I’m not sure there’s any compensation worth that.”

  Hank blew another plume of smoke into the air before leaning on the railing. He settled into one of the chairs outside and then flicked some ashes onto the concrete floor.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore,” he said. “I need you, Richard. And I don’t care what it takes to get you. Maybe my compensation offer wasn’t on level terms with what I asked you to do, but I’ll do whatever you ask to make things fair.”

  Richard sighed and looked down. The sun was peeking over the horizon in the east and the city street below was beginning to come to life.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to help, especially since this concerns my country,” Richard said. “It’s just that I find it difficult to justify doing anything that could result in my death that doesn’t include me slinging a rifle over my shoulder and going to war.”

  “You wanted to do that, didn’t you?” Hank asked.

  Richard nodded. “While I was at Princeton, I certainly imagined myself going off to war and fighting for my country. But that time has come and gone.”

  “War isn’t limited to trenches and foxholes. Sometimes the fight can look vastly different.”

  “I appreciate your persistence, but I think you need to find someone else. Besides, you’ve been blunt about your ability to recruit. Why not find another person for the job? I’m sure there are plenty of willing young Americans who would love to serve their country on a mission such as this.”

  “There’s no time for that,” Hank said. “Assigning an untrained agent to a task of this magnitude would likely result in death.”

  Richard cocked his head to one side and watched Hank send another puff of smoke billowing upward.

  “Do I need to remind you that I’m not trained either?” Richard asked.

  “I haven’t forgotten that fact, not that it’s relevant in your case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Richard, you’re a natural. And I’m not just flattering you with that statement. I’ve never seen anyone as gifted as you when it comes to turning a dire situation into a favorable one. I’ve observed you, in essence, making apple pie out of mud.”

  “Earlier, you made it sound as if any lackey could handle this job. You even said there were special troops who could come in and do the dirty work.”

  “Both exaggerated statements as well,” Hank said. “Despite the adventure, I didn’t want you to feel as if your life was in danger on both accounts.”

  Richard eyed Hank cautiously. “I quickly figured out my life was in danger, but you mean to tell me that there are no troops waiting to attack the Germans?”

  Hank shook his head. “Not in Egypt, at least. The British are rumored to be pulling out of the country soon, and the Egyptians are clamoring for their independence again. The last thing they want to do is allow American troops into their country while trying to expel the Brits.”

  “So if I were to agree to do this for you, I’d be doing it on my own?” Richard asked.

  “I’d provide support where possible, but that’s the only promise I can make, though I understand it’s a tenuous one.”

  Richard drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Just for a moment, let’s say that I’m interested in helping you. What exactly could you do for me to make the compensation fair?”

  “I know that traveling to Egypt with your expenses all paid was an attractive proposition for you, but I have a feeling that you’d like to do more than simply visit these places and write a few magazine articles here and there. So, I’m prepared to not only compensate you handsomely for your efforts but also can arrange a meeting for you with the director of a prominent speaker’s bureau, William Feakins.”

  “The William Feakins?” Richard asked, his eyes widening.

  Hank nodded. “I’m sure with an introduction like that, you’ll be more than capable of sealing any kind of deal you desire.”

  Richard gazed onto the street below, which had slowly been coming to life with each passing minute. This was the kind of deal he knew he’d only get once in life. And it was just one mission—spy on the special Reichswehr unit and prevent it from stealing back to Germany with the mystery treasure. Richard didn’t need to take long to weigh the proposal.

  “When do I start?” Richard said as he offered his hand to Hank.

  “There’s a seven o’clock train to Marseille,” Hank said as he slapped three hundred dollars into Richard’s palm along with an envelope containing contact protocol. “If you hurry, you can make it.”

  Chapter 5

  RICHARD LEFT A NOTE for Pauline on the bed stand before scrambling back to his room and cramming his personal effects into his bag. He hustled to the train station, purchasing a ticket just as the conductor shouted, “En voiture!” The engine chugged forward, and Richard raced for the rear passenger car, grabbing the railing and pulling himself up.

  With his head down, he shuffled his way through the narrow aisle in search of an empty seat. He identified one near the front next to a window and sat down.

  Behind him, two men held a short conversation in French. From what Richard understood, it sounded like a rather benign discussion about the weather. However, there was a tinge of German in the voice of one of the men—and the tone sounded vaguely familiar.

  As Richard settled in for the three-hour ride, he read over Foster’s detailed notes about how to contact him at the Army Intelligence outpost in Langres, France. It didn’t promise to be a quick process, but at least there was a way to reach out and issue a report. Richard dug out a novel he’d been reading periodically during his trip. E.M. Hull’s desert romance The Sheik wasn’t exactly his favorite genre, but it did give him a glimpse into the life of those in the region of North Africa. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by squealing brakes and a hissing engine as the train came to a stop at the Marseille/St. Charles station.

  Richard rubbed his eyes and tried to regain his bearings. He turned around and noticed the two men who’d been carrying on about the weather were gone along with about half of the car. After easing outside, Richard scanned the platform area for a group of men who might resemble the German soldiers he’d seen the night before. When he didn’t see any group forming, he concluded that the men were likely going to meet elsewhere to avoid standing out. He hustled inside and checked his luggage with a porter before walking outside to the front of the station. Without any sign of the man he suspected to be a German soldier, Richard decided to identify the Reichswehr members in another manner—his hunches.

  Being around plenty of soldiers for the past few years, Richard noticed that the German variety, in particular, had a stilte
d gait. They never glided casually across the floor, instead moving in a jerky action that would’ve earned them compliments from commanding officers. When two men distinguished themselves in this manner, Richard followed them discreetly. He maintained a healthy distance, giving them plenty of space to go toward their ultimate destination without the slightest hint that they were being followed.

  As the two men stood on a street corner, another man joined them and then another. Before Richard could prove his hunch based on his deductive skills, the group swelled to ten, dismissing the need to make any further assessment. The men trudged inside a nearby pub and surrounded a long table. Richard quickly followed, settling onto a seat at the bar near their table and opening up the abandoned newspaper he’d snatched off a bus stop bench.

  While Richard was competent enough in German, it didn’t matter since most of the men spoke French. Their accents impressed Richard, but he knew better. The conversation drifted from the mundane to their impending voyage to Alexandria, Egypt, later tonight. However, Richard’s attention was arrested when two of the men announced they needed to take care of some business.

  Richard promptly paid his bill in an effort to beat the men to the door. He slid onto the bench outside and watched as the two men eased down the street. Moments later, the bus arrived. Richard stood and followed them, navigating through the steady stream of customers jostling for position to board. Less than a block ahead, the two men maintained a swift pace, keeping their heads down aside from an occasional polite nod at a passerby.

  The brisk stroll lasted a half hour before the men approached a home overlooking the water. Richard saw the name “Miller” emblazoned on a sign above the front steps and decided to take up a less conspicuous position. A hundred meters past the house was a small park that included a bench looking back down the street. Deciding that was the best place to wait out the Germans, Richard walked to the location and sat down.

  While Richard could hardly wait to experience the sands of Egypt and all her ancient treasures, he wondered if the free trip would be worth the monotony of sitting in silence and staring blankly at a French newspaper. A few feet away, he watched a mother dote over her two boys, who were engaged in a lively game of chase. It reminded Richard of what things were like with Wesley Jr. when they were youngsters. And he found himself pining for the simplicity of such times, though Richard dismissed the thought—and the pain that accompanied it—when he considered how close he was to reaching Egypt.

  Wesley would be so proud of me right now.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, the two men emerged from the house and began walking back toward the city center.

  Richard folded up his newspaper and tucked it beneath his arm as he strode up toward Dr. Miller’s house. When he knocked on the door, a woman answered. Her voice quivered as she spoke, trails of dried tears stretching down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” Richard said. “I only found out the new about Dr. Miller’s death this morning.”

  The woman sniffled and then nodded.

  “Before he died, Dr. Miller had asked me to pick up some documents from his private collection for an expedition we were planning on taking soon to Egypt together.”

  She eyed him carefully. “And what’s your name, sir?”

  “Thomas Baker,” Richard said.

  “But you’re American,” she said, the uncertainty in her voice making Richard wonder if she was stating a fact or asking a question.

  “Guilty as charged,” he said.

  “Dr. Miller hated working with Americans,” she said. “He always said their techniques were antiquated and not very adept at preserving the integrity of artifacts.”

  “Perhaps that’s why he said I was his favorite American during our last dig,” Richard said in an attempt to dispel any notions that he was a fraud.

  She didn’t budge. “What exactly did he send you here to retrieve? I handle his house cleaning duties as well as his scheduling when he’s wintering here—and I don’t recall him ever mentioning your name. I especially don’t remember him saying that anyone would be stopping by to collect some of his papers.”

  “I saw him last night in Monte-Carlo before his untimely demise,” Richard said.

  “And you came here this morning? All the way from Monte-Carlo?”

  “I was staying in Nice,” Richard said. “But when I heard about his death last night while gambling late into the night at a casino, I wanted to rush here to ensure that any ne’er-do-wells wouldn’t try to take advantage of a grieving house staff. Dr. Miller was a man with plenty of secrets.”

  “Thank you for concern,” she said. “However, the only people who have stopped by so far have been a pair of detectives. In fact, you must’ve just missed them.”

  “What did they want?” Richard asked.

  “They don’t seem convinced that Dr. Miller would shoot himself in the head on his own volition.”

  “And what do you think since you know what kind of man he really is?”

  “He was a good man, and I know he wouldn’t ever shoot himself in the head.”

  “It doesn’t seem right, does it?” Richard said, drifting into a sincere sympathetic state. “He was such a good man with so much left to give.”

  She nodded. “He was a real gentleman, an increasingly rare breed in this day and age.”

  “Did the detectives find anything that might give them a clue about why this may have happened?” he asked.

  “They took a few things from his study,” she said. “Most of it was just a bunch of papers. But I did notice a map that he had supposedly created about a treasure he believed to be in Egypt. But he wrote it in some type of code.”

  “What type of code?”

  She shrugged. “I only saw it once, and it looked like a bunch of gibberish to me, though that’s not entirely unusual. I don’t understand much of the relics that passed through this house over the years.”

  Richard stroked his chin as he studied the woman. “I have one last question before I leave you alone.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The detectives you mentioned—they weren’t the two men who just left a few minutes ago, were they?”

  She nodded. “That was them.”

  Richard sighed. “Those men weren’t detectives. They were German soldiers.”

  “That can’t be,” she said. “They showed me their credentials.”

  He shook his head. “I saw them in Monte-Carlo yesterday speaking German. In fact, I saw them with Dr. Miller before he died.”

  “But I—” she said before pausing as her face went pale. “I should’ve known. It all makes sense now.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I heard one of them say something in German, which I thought was odd at the time, but maybe they were discussing an object Dr. Miller discovered and it was only known by that name. It was so brief, I hardly gave it a second thought until now.”

  “But you still don’t know all the documents they took?”

  She shook her head. “I know he kept his most precious papers behind a secret bookshelf in his study. But I didn’t open it for them.”

  “Where is his study?” Richard asked.

  “Follow me,” she said, spinning on her heels and racing up the stairs. Richard stayed close behind her, afraid of what they might find.

  “It’s right here,” she said before hanging her head.

  Richard peered inside and noticed what stopped the woman in her tracks. The bookshelf was slightly ajar. He rushed over to inspect it, pushing it until it latched.

  “They found it,” she said. “I rarely went in there except to dust on occasion when Dr. Miller asked me to. And the shelf was never left unlatched. I feel like such a fool.”

  She sobbed softly, burying her head in her hands.

  “Don’t worry,” Richard said. “They won’t get away with this.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, Richard ventured out for a meal. He contem
plated the best way to stay out of sight while keeping his eyes focused on the activities of the Reichswehr unit. With a ticket in hand for a midnight departure to Alexandria, Egypt, he felt a little spring in his step. Egypt was about to become demystified for him through a personal visit. No longer would it be a historic land populated with ancient civilizations; rather, it would be a thriving experience, one waiting to be shared with those unfortunate souls who would never have the privilege to sink their toes in Egyptian sand.

  He meandered along a vacant alleyway in an attempt to explore more of Marseille. The main street façade only told the tale that the city wanted you to know. Richard preferred to see everything for himself for a story that was grounded in reality. However, he never imagined what he would find.

  A few meters away from emerging back onto the lighted street, a handful of men jumped out of the shadows and attacked Richard. He dished out several vicious punches, but he was quickly overwhelmed. There were just too many men for him to escape or ward away. With Richard teetering from exhaustion and pain, the ringleader nodded at two men. They seized Richard’s arms in an effort to hold him still, and then the man delivered a flurry of punches to Richard’s mid-section. Before releasing their hold, the two gang members tightened their grip on him as the other man searched through Richard’s pockets. They confiscated his ticket as well as all his money, save the fifty dollars he’d stuffed into a compartment in the bottom of his bag still safely in his hotel room. Once they were finished looting Richard’s trousers and jacket, they darted down the alley, disappearing into the darkness.

  Richard crawled on his hands and knees to the main street before collapsing against a storefront window. He moaned as he felt his side. Picking up his shirt, he inspected the wounds, which were bruised but not bloody.

  He looked up in time to see the two Germans he’d followed earlier in the day stroll past. One of the men flipped a coin at Richard that landed on his chest.

  Richard staggered to his feet and stumbled back to the hotel before rushing toward the port. When he arrived, he attempted to purchase a ticket. The man at the window informed Richard that only first class tickets remained for the voyage.