A Hundred Thousand Dragons

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  ‘Perhaps it’s both,’ suggested Arthur. ‘After all, the Romans adopted local customs and gods and so on, didn’t they? I suppose the locals could have learnt from them, too.’ He played the torch over the sarcophagi. ‘These are all men, Jack. We’re looking for a maiden.’

  ‘Maybe her tomb is round the corner.’ They stepped into the adjoining room. Jack shone the torchlight in front of him, then leapt back with a startled yell. Arthur, nerves on edge, jumped and swore.

  There was only one sarcophagus in the chamber. On its lid sat a skull, glowing whitish-yellow in the light of the torch.

  ‘My God,’ said Jack, breathing rapidly. ‘I’m sorry, Arthur, but it’s enough to give anyone the creeps. I’m sorry I shouted. I wasn’t expecting anything like that.’

  ‘What’s making it shine?’ asked Arthur when he had recovered himself. ‘Phosphorus?’

  ‘At a guess, yes.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘By jingo, it’s a ghastly-looking thing. I think this is the tomb we’re looking for, though.’

  Arthur shone his torch along the side of the sarcophagus. The painting on the side showed a girl of about twenty, with long, dark hair, a blue and red dress gathered softly round her and her eyes shut as though in sleep. The plasterwork on top of the coffin, though, had shattered. Someone had evidently wrenched the coffin open, breaking the delicate work.

  ‘The maiden,’ said Jack. ‘It’s the maiden. With a body once so fair, a princess guards the dragons’ lair,’ he quoted softly. ‘We’ve done it, Arthur. We’ve found the princess.’

  ‘Have we found the treasure, though?’ Arthur stepped towards the sarcophagus and put his foot on something that cracked. He drew back sharply. ‘What the devil’s that?’ He shone the torchlight on to the floor and blenched.

  Parts of a skeleton lay scattered over the floor. A length of cloth, in faded blue and red, was twisted round a rib-case.

  ‘It must be the princess,’ said Jack, stooping to pick up a fragment of bone. ‘Poor little devil. With a body once so fair . . .’ He looked at the picture of the girl. ‘She was beautiful,’ he said. ‘It seems wrong to throw her remains on the floor. I suppose the treasure’s in the sarcophagus.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ said a voice from the doorway. ‘Let me congratulate you, gentlemen.’

  Jack and Arthur whirled. A fierce, blinding light shone into Jack’s eyes, but, with his flesh crawling, he recognized the voice. It was Lothar Von Erlangen.

  SIXTEEN

  The light stabbed the darkness in a wavering line as Von Erlangen walked into the chamber. Jack blinked and squinted away as the beam shone full in his face.

  ‘Now this,’ said Von Erlangen, ‘is familiar. I was holding a torch the first time we met, Mr Haldean.’

  Jack felt his stomach churn, but he forced himself to look impassively towards that hated voice. He wouldn’t – he mustn’t – give any sign of fear. Their very lives might depend on it. He’s only human. Remember. Only human. And he killed Freya. Anger licked like flame along the edges of his fear. Hold on to that. He killed Freya.

  There was an ominous click behind the light.

  ‘Please don’t move. I do have a gun and that sound was the hammer being drawn back. I remember our first encounter with very great pleasure, Mr Haldean. You provided considerable entertainment on that occasion. Maybe you will again. My Turkish confederates are, alas, no more, but I believe my Arab associates share their tastes in these matters. Leave your rifles on the floor. That includes you, Captain Stanton,’ he added sharply, as Arthur made a slight move. Arthur stopped and they could hear the satisfaction in Von Erlangen’s voice. ‘Very wise.’

  ‘Where’s Isabelle?’ demanded Arthur, his voice sharp with worry.

  ‘She’s being taken care of by my men.’ They could hear the satisfaction in Von Erlangen’s voice. ‘I trust they’ll resist their natural inclinations.’

  Arthur started forward but Von Erlangen’s voice brought him up sharp. ‘Don’t move, Captain! I cannot credit you left a mere girl on guard. We found your aeroplane in the cave and your tracks were plain to see. We left the lorry at the entrance to the gorge and came on foot. The girl never heard a thing. Shall we go upstairs?’

  Even in his misery and anxiety for Isabelle, Jack’s mind was working. Von Erlangen said they had left their lorry at the entrance to the gorge. The lorry! Isabelle must have heard the chug of the lorry’s engine last night. Mentally he kicked himself. He should have realized.

  ‘Do keep your hands raised,’ said Von Erlangen silkily. ‘To be forced to shoot in an enclosed space would be a pity. It brings on temporary deafness, you know. I would find it inconvenient.’

  Utterly wretched, Jack and Arthur walked along the passage, up the stairs, into the ante-room and through the open doorway into the bone-white sunlight of the arena.

  Across the pavement, in the shade of the cliff, stood Isabelle. She had been gagged with a chequered cloth and her hands were tied but she was, thank God, unharmed.

  There were three men with her. Vaughan, looking very impatient, stood with his arms folded, his rifle propped up beside him. The other two men were Arabs. They both wore keffiyehs and ordinary, if dirty, shirts and trousers. They lounged against the rocks with machine guns slung negligently in front of them and belts of ammunition across their chests.

  As they emerged from the tomb, Vaughan looked at them in bewilderment. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’

  His words were caught by the cliffs and chopped up into whispering echoes. The two Arabs shifted uneasily and Von Erlangen’s eyes flicked towards them.

  It was enough. Hurling himself forward, Jack jabbed one fist into Von Erlangen’s stomach and smashed the other on the point of his jaw. The revolver skittered out of Von Erlangen’s hand and, as Jack grasped for it, the ground exploded around him in a spray of machine-gun bullets. The cliffs thundered the echoes in an ear-splitting, earthquake of noise.

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Vaughan. ‘You’ll damage the site! Stop!’

  Jack, flat on his face, waited for the echoes to die away.

  The two Arabs stopped shooting and grinned nervously at each other. ‘Jeez,’ said one in pure Brooklyn, against the dying rumbles of sound. ‘That’s really something, boss.’

  Von Erlangen rose to his knees in the dust. ‘Pick him up,’ he bit out, pointing to Jack. The two Arabs hauled Jack to his feet.

  Von Erlangen dusted off his knees, picked up the revolver, drew back his hand and, with a crack that reverberated round the arena, struck Jack across the face. He stood back, breathing quickly. ‘Mr Haldean, don’t do that again.’ He indicated the two Arabs. ‘Amir and Kazim will be happy to teach you a lesson.’

  ‘Can someone tell me what’s going on?’ demanded Vaughan. ‘Preferably without all this melodramatic posturing.’

  Arthur looked at Jack, then at Isabelle. His glance flicked back to Vaughan. ‘Release my wife,’ he said icily. ‘Vaughan, how can you ill-treat a woman? I thought you were a gentleman.’

  Vaughan’s shoulders went back, but he stepped forward and pulled the cloth away from Isabelle’s mouth.

  She fell against Arthur with a little cry. ‘I’m sorry. I tried to fight, but it was no use.’

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ said Von Erlangen in satisfaction. ‘I trust Amir and Kazim have looked after you?’

  The two Arabs sullenly looked up. ‘We wanted to, boss,’ said one. ‘But this dude –’ he indicated Vaughan with the barrel of his machine gun – ‘sez nothing doing.’

  ‘Bad luck,’ said Von Erlangen smoothly. ‘Maybe you’ll have your chance later.’

  ‘No, they damn well won’t,’ said Vaughan. He looked at Arthur. ‘Captain Stanton, you have my apologies, sir. I will not permit any of you to come to harm.’

  Von Erlangen’s eyebrows rose sardonically, but he said nothing.

  ‘Why are you here?’ asked Vaughan. He glared at Von Erlangen. ‘I could ask you the same question, Madison. You said this was an archaeologi
cal expedition but insisted on bringing these slum-sweepings with us . . .’

  ‘Watch it,’ said Amir dangerously, hefting his tommy gun. ‘We ain’t from no slum. We’ve been to America. Show respect, right?’

  ‘I’d have a bit more respect if you didn’t behave like a couple of gangsters,’ said Vaughan tightly. ‘Have you any idea of the damage you could cause with those guns of yours?’

  Amir and Kazim laughed. ‘Is this guy for real, boss?’ asked Kazim.

  ‘I,’ said Vaughan stiffly, ‘am paying for this expedition. That includes your wages. It’s about time you remembered that.’

  The two Arabs swapped glances and laughed again. ‘We work for the boss,’ said Amir. ‘We worked for the boss in New York.’ He patted his machine gun. ‘The boss wanted us special.’

  Vaughan gave them a withering look and turned away. ‘Well, Madison?’ he demanded.

  Jack wiped the blood from his mouth. ‘Why don’t you tell him, Von Erlangen?’ He cocked an eyebrow at Vaughan. ‘I don’t know why you’re calling him Madison, by the way. His name’s Von Erlangen. Mind you, I can see why anyone would be confused. He’s had a few names. Ozymandias, for instance, as I imagine Durant Craig would’ve mentioned. He’s Simes, too. You know that, don’t you?’

  Vaughan looked confused. ‘Simes? I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’ve been used, Mr Vaughan,’ said Jack. ‘Used from beginning to end. Incidentally, you should reconsider returning to England. The police know about the murder of Durant Craig.’

  ‘I never . . .’ began Vaughan hotly.

  Jack glanced at Von Erlangen. ‘So it was your German friend who actually did the deed, was it? Never mind. You disposed of the body. You’re an accessory.’ He held up his hand to cut short Vaughan’s angry protests. ‘They know all about it.’

  Vaughan fell silent, struggling for words. ‘You don’t understand about Craig,’ he said eventually. ‘I really believe he was insane. I tried to reason with him but he was past hearing. It wasn’t murder, it was self-defence.’ He looked at Jack, hungry for understanding. ‘I’m not a murderer. Don’t you see? It was the chance of a lifetime but Craig would’ve ruined everything. He struck the first blow. He attacked Madison.’ His mouth compressed to a straight line. ‘It really was self-defence. I wouldn’t have gone along with murder. You mustn’t think that. But Craig was past help. Madison and I worked out the plan between us. It was better that way. I didn’t do anything wrong, not really wrong. It was necessary.’

  ‘Necessary?’ repeated Jack. ‘How? If it was self-defence, why couldn’t you report it?’

  ‘That was my first idea, but to explain everything would mean publicizing this site. While we were held up in endless delays, someone else would have got here first. I wasn’t going to let some casual tripper grab the glory and ruin the site, not when I could investigate it properly. Madison said as much and I agreed.’ Vaughan glanced at Von Erlangen. ‘He’s an American. He didn’t want to get involved with the police. There was some minor technical difficulty about his passport. He’d have been held up indefinitely.’

  ‘Minor technical difficulty?’ repeated Jack with an incredulous laugh. ‘The minor technical difficulty is that Madison, as you call him, is wanted for murder in New York.’ He swung round on Von Erlangen. ‘Deny it.’

  Von Erlangen smiled urbanely. ‘So you say, Mr Haldean.’

  Vaughan looked at Von Erlangen doubtfully. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

  ‘You’re unhappy about Madison, aren’t you, Mr Vaughan?’ continued Jack. ‘I bet you’ve become more and more suspicious as the journey’s continued.’ Vaughan’s face told him he had hit home. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?

  Vaughan didn’t answer for a few moments, then he squared his shoulders and drew himself up with sudden decision. ‘Yes, damn it, it is,’ He turned on Von Erlangen. ‘You’ve always managed to persuade me that we were doing the right thing. I wanted to hire proper native workmen but you insisted on bringing these toughs.’ He looked at Amir and Kazim with distaste. ‘When I wanted to inform the authorities of our intentions, you dissuaded me. We can’t just rip up the site, Madison, or whatever your name is. It has to be properly organized. We’re not looters or grave-robbers.’

  Jack laughed once more. ‘All of which would be very reassuring if Von Erlangen had archaeology in mind. This isn’t, and was never intended to be, an archaeological expedition.’

  ‘What other reason is there for coming here?’ asked Vaughan. ‘If you mean I intend to strip the site for my own gain, you’re wrong, Major Haldean, and I won’t permit anyone else to do it, either. Madison, you promised me this site was untouched. I hope you were telling the truth about that, at least.’

  Von Erlangen’s lips thinned. ‘You think I am guilty of mere treasure hunting, Mr Vaughan?’ He took a thin black cigar from the case in his pocket and lit it. There was a little white line round his nostrils. ‘A grave robber, eh? Can I suggest you actually go and look at the tomb that was occupying Mr Haldean and his friend? You will find my actions have been tout au contraire as the French say.’

  Jack made to speak again but Von Erlangen whirled on him in sudden fury. ‘Enough! You have said enough, Mr Haldean. Kazim, if he talks again, kill the girl.’

  Kazim brought his gun up, ready to fire.

  Vaughan looked at the machine-gun levelled at Isabelle and swallowed. ‘I’ll have something to say about this later, Madison,’ he said curtly and strode off.

  Von Erlangen flicked the ash from his cigar and waited. ‘Now, Mr Haldean,’ he said, once Vaughan had gone. ‘I want a few answers. Let’s start with the obvious one. How did you find this place?’

  Jack glanced at Kazim. At a nod from Von Erlangen, Kazim relaxed his grip on the gun. ‘We read the code, the code you left in the book.’

  Von Erlangen’s eyebrows rose. ‘I congratulate you,’ he said softly. ‘Did Freya tell you how to interpret it?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘We worked it out all by ourselves. Incidentally, you did paint the book for her, didn’t you?’

  Von Erlangen inclined his head. ‘As you say, Mr Haldean.’

  ‘And yet you killed her. Why?’

  Von Erlangen’s eyes glowed dangerously, then he suddenly gave a wolfish smile. ‘Haven’t you guessed? It was because of you. You told her what happened in New York. You made her doubt me. Freya was my wife, Mr Haldean. She obeyed me absolutely, but you wanted to change that, didn’t you? You offered her help and she very nearly accepted it. I wanted to kill you. She stopped me. Nobody – nobody at all – stops me.’

  ‘You arrogant bastard,’ breathed Jack.

  Von Erlangen laughed. ‘I know what I want and I get it. If I had let her live, she would have come to you. I could not allow that.’

  ‘One of these days,’ said Jack soberly, ‘you’ll get what you deserve. You might have fooled Vaughan, but you can’t fool me. I know why you’re here. You’re after the gold.’

  Amir and Kazim looked up alertly. ‘Gold, boss? Did he say gold?’

  Von Erlangen bit his lip. ‘You’ll get your share. Mr Haldean, you know far too much.’

  ‘Yes, I do, don’t I?’ said Jack with a smile. He’d seen the reaction of the two Arabs. A bit of dissension in the camp wouldn’t hurt. ‘Gold,’ he said, making his voice carry. ‘The gold you stole from the convoy. There’s about a hundred thousand pounds in that tomb, yes?’

  Amir and Kazim started forward. ‘That’s a lot of dough.’

  ‘You’ll get your share,’ said Von Erlangen thinly.

  Jack made his stance and his voice as casual as possible. He had an idea in mind, a desperate idea, but the one hope he could think of. ‘The thing is, Von Erlangen, old bean, this isn’t a lost city anymore. Quite a few people know about it, such as the London police, the Transjordan police and the RAF. I had to call at Kantara to refuel and Masterson, the Commanding Officer, promised to send a flight over to see how I was getting on.’r />
  ‘You’re lying.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘No, I’m not.’ He studied his fingernails. ‘You’ve left quite a trail of corpses behind you, Von Erlangen. It’s been noticed.’

  Von Erlangen’s face twisted in sudden fury. Raising his hand, he was about to strike when the two Arabs gave a yell of terror.

  ‘Look, boss!’ shouted Kazim. ‘Look!’

  Vaughan came out of the ante-room. He was swaying and his feet made a shuffling, dragging echo on the stones. Clasped to his chest was the skull. Even in the harsh sunlight, the skull glowed a faint yellow. Vaughan’s face was deathly white as he stumbled to the altar. He collapsed, the skull rolling away from him. His hand grasped feebly at the air, then he shuddered and lay still, his eyes wide open to the glare of the sun.

  Isabelle gave a little cry of dismay and buried her face in Arthur’s chest.

  Jack looked at Vaughan’s open hands. They were burnt and chapped as if rubbed by something corrosive. The skull, which had been so impressive in the darkened tomb, looked like a cheap stage prop. ‘You set it up, didn’t you? You put that skull on the coffin. What was on it? Phosphorus?’

  ‘Exactly, Mr Haldean. I thought a phosphorescent skull would deter any wandering Arab.’

  Jack knelt beside Vaughan. The sight of the dead man stretched out beside the sickly yellow skull filled him with unexpected anger. There was no dignity in Vaughan’s death. He had died by an underhand trick. ‘He’s been poisoned,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Von Erlangen, drawing on his cigar in satisfaction, ‘appearances, however dramatic, are not enough. A little nicotine – a very useful substance and quite deadly in its effect when properly prepared – mixed with the phosphorus gets the poison into the blood with gratifying results.’