The horizontal arms were shorter than the main shaft, and the entire surface was covered with swirling filigrees of gold. The beams from the flashlights reflected off the finely-cut facets of dozens of emeralds inlaid into the gold. At the top of the cross was an emerald as large as an egg.
Kurtz slowly raised the scepter high above his head like a medieval warrior clutching a broadsword. The militiamen stared at the object as if hypnotized by its unearthly glow.
Clearly visible where the arms crossed, inlaid in smaller diamonds, was the letter J.
Sutherland had been brought up in a religious family, but her army experiences had left her cynical and her world had become one of technology rather than superstition. But even she could feel the magical power that radiated from the scepter and seemed to flow down through Kurtz’s upraised arms and into his body. The light from the precious stones reflected in the general’s eyes, which burned with a supernatural glitter.
The subterranean surroundings with the shadowed walls, the vacant stares of the armed militiamen, and most of all, the cross in the hands of a fanatical madman, all seemed part of an unholy ceremony that mocked good and celebrated evil.
Sutherland’s literal mind could not comprehend the totality of what was going on. But she knew from the shivers dancing along her spine that she had every reason to be very afraid.
Hawkins swooped down and emerged below the wooly layer of clouds. He was going too fast so he brought the glider’s nose up, precipitating a string of beeps from the variometer warning him of a stall. He pushed the control bar forward and stabilized his flight. He was still having trouble keeping the wing level when Calvin dropped out of the clouds seconds later.
Hawkins pressed the finger switch on his radio. “How do I look?”
“Like a drunken condor. But you’re headed in the right direction. Down.”
Hawkins glanced at the forest below, then at the GPS screen. “Our LZ is directly ahead. Check out the lights at eleven o’clock.”
“I count two vehicles moving up the mountain,” Calvin said. “What do you want to do?”
Hawkins had to make a quick choice. They had targeted a clearing near the camp as a landing zone. But if Sutherland were with the vehicles advancing up the side of the mountain, it could take hours to climb to her.
“Scrub the original plan. We’ll land on the mountain.”
Hawkins scanned the slope for an opening in the trees.
“Off to the left,” Calvin said.
Hawkins saw a knob of gray rock that protruded from the forest in the shape of a human shoulder. The promontory was shrouded by misty threads and looked about the size of a dime. Hawkins hoped that it just seemed small from a distance.
“Good for a sparrow perch, maybe, but I’ll give it a try.”
“Just wheel around in a gradual curve, approach the target, ease out of the hammock, keep it slow, and push your bar up at the last second as you get your feet under you. Pieceofcake.”
Hawkins shifted his body weight to put the glider into a turn that pointed the front of the wing directly at the rock. He started moving too fast again, brought the nose up, and then down, making sure the wings were steady. It was a smooth save, and Hawkins began to feel more confident. His cockiness ended as he made the approach and saw the deep fissures in the promontory. Rather than being smooth and flat on top, the rock was lumpy and uneven.
It was too late to veer away.
He had already slipped his legs out of the cocoon, and had them under him, knees bent slightly. A few feet from the ledge he brought the wing up and slowed almost to a stop. His feet hit the hard ground. The shock on his bad leg was greater than he expected, and the impact, and the weight of the gear he was carrying, threw his center of gravity off.
He wobbled dangerously, but by using every ounce of strength in his arms and shoulders, he managed to keep his footing on the uneven surface and immobilize the wing.
He unsnapped the harness and lifted the wing over the side. The glider landed in the trees about a hundred feet below the knob. Then Calvin came in and landed lightly beside him, took a few steps in, and brought the wing down. Hawkins helped him out of the harness and they pushed the wing over the side to join the other hang-glider.
Hawkins and Calvin turned toward the mountain and pushed their way through the brush into the woods. They headed in the direction of the last headlight sighting. After trekking through a murky forest, they stepped out onto a road. Fresh tread marks could be seen in the dirt in the light from the rising sun.
They started hiking up the steep-angled road, but after ten minutes of walking, Hawkins put his hand up to signal a halt. As if on cue, a series of angry shouts shattered the morning stillness.
Then a gunshot echoed throughout the forest.
Hawkins and Calvin began to run.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Kurtz had ordered the militia men to tear down the rest of the wall and within minutes the Indian hex sign was a pile of splintered wood. Behind the barrier was a space about five feet deep. Black ebony chests of ancient design, each inlaid with gold swirls, were stacked in rows of four against the wall at the back of the space.
Kurtz went over to a chest that sat on top of the pile. It was longer in shape than the others and the lid was up, revealing faded purple and gold brocade.
“That’s where I found her,” he said. “Waiting for me.”
He moved the container off the pile and ordered Krause to open the next one. Krause undid a simple snap latch and lifted the cover.
“Nothing in here but a couple of old books, general.”
He reached in and handed Kurtz a volume bound in dark red leather, around eight by eight inches in size. Kurtz opened the book to the flyleaf. Written in black ink, the letters connecting in an elegant script, were the words:
Magisterus Phillipus.
Kurtz knew the name from his reading. Magister Philip was the physician the Pope sent to find Prester John. He opened the book, eager to examine its contents, but furrowed his brow in disappointment when he saw the tightly written and densely packed Latin script. He put the book back in the chest and lifted out the second volume. It was twice the size of the first, and seemed of more modern production. Kurtz read the gold words embossed on the cover:
The Afghan Expedition
1920-22
By Hiram Kurtz
He flipped the cover back and found a sheet of yellowed paper tucked into the book. Typed on the paper was a simple message:
“To the person who has found this cache. Use it only for good and good will always come your way. Evil begets evil.”
It was signed: Hiram Kurtz.
The general held the paper up for his men to see. “This is a note to me from my granddaddy. He owned this mine. As his rightful heir, I claim everything in it. He has given this to me.”
Kurtz went over to the stack and with the scepter touched a chest lightly as if he were confirming knighthood.
Two militia men moved forward to carry out his unspoken command. The box was only around sixteen inches long and twelve inches wide and deep, but the militia men grunted with exertion as they lifted it from the stack and set it on the floor.
“Open it!”
A militia man undid the scrolled metal latch and pushed the cover back.
There was a collective intake of breath at the shimmering contents. The chest was filled to the rim with gold coins each the diameter of an old American silver dollar and twice as thick.
Kurtz leaned over, plucked a coin from the chest and held it close to his face to read the inscription Presbyter Johannes under the profile of the bearded man. He tossed the coin back into the pile and touched another box with the scepter.
The chest was set on the floor and opened. And once more there was a sharp intake of breath. The chest was full of uncut and cut diamonds. The s
ight launched Kurtz into a crazed frenzy. He touched box after box, and each was opened to reveal its singular contents.
Rubies. Lapis lazuli. Sapphires. Jade. Opal. Amber. Garnets. Pearls. And Emeralds.
The radiance burst from the opened chests, reflecting off the hard faces of the militia men who stared at the fabulous treasure as if in a trance. Sutherland was equally transfixed, but at the same time, she was wondering if she might be able to steal away while her captors were distracted. That hope was cut short when Kurtz shouted a command.
“This stuff won’t do any good lying here,” he said. “Move it.”
The sharp order broke the men out of their trances. They hefted the heavy chests out to the entrance of the side tunnel and placed them in an abandoned ore cart. The contents of an oil can that lay next to the cart were used to lubricate its wheels. With the militia men pushing and pulling, the treasure boxes were moved to the mine’s main entrance.
Kurtz came over to Sutherland, who was being watched by Krause.
“Well corporal, it looks like I won’t need that money you stole from our bank account. We’ll be able to buy all the guns and ammo we want. We can recruit trainers to turn my volunteers into a formidable force. We can buy bombs and explosives. Rockets that’ll bring down aircraft. We’ll be able to hit the government before they can hit us. We’ll have the biggest private army in the U.S. We’ll be able to take our country back. Thanks to you.”
Sutherland blinked away the spittle blasting her face.
“That’s nice. If you don’t need me, I’d like my motorcycle.”
“Not so fast, corporal. You’re the one who likes rules and regulations. In my book that means a court martial.”
Sutherland had had enough. “You can’t court martial me,” she shouted. “This is a fake army and you’re a fake general.”
He seemed to recoil at the comment and a flicker of sanity entered the mad eyes, but it passed quickly. He scowled and with his free hand he patted one of the pearl-handled revolvers. “The bullets in this gun aren’t fake, corporal.”
He drew the revolver from the holster and fired it into the air.
“Gather around gentlemen, we’re going to have us a court martial. Corporal Sutherland here is charged with serious offenses under the uniform code of military justice. We’ve got, insubordinate conduct, mutiny and sedition, theft, failure to obey, fraudulent enlistment.”
Sutherland had had enough. “You’re the fraud here.”
“Whoops, hear that boys? She just added disrespect toward a superior commissioned officer to the list.”
Sutherland ignored the laughter coming from the militiamen. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.
“You’re an idiot as well. Do you think I’m on my own? If you don’t let me go my friends will wipe you and your country club off the map.”
“No way, corporal. But you just convicted yourself. The added charges are treason and espionage.”
Sutherland saw where Kurtz was going. “Under the code, I’m entitled to legal representation.”
“No problem.” He turned to Krause. “You’re appointed to represent the corporal.”
The militiaman smiled. “She pleads guilty to all charges.”
“In that case, this court martial has no choice. Guilty as charged. Sentence is death by firing squad to be carried out at dawn.”
Krause squinted at the rising sun. “Close enough. Let’s do it.”
Kurtz seemed to snap out of a daze. “Hold on here, Sergeant. We’re not killing any of our own soldiers.”
“You said it yourself, general. Treason and espionage. Punishable by death under military code.”
“Yeah, but I just wanted to scare her.”
“She’s scared. Now we do our duty.”
Krause tugged on the handcuffs around Sutherland’s wrists.
The general grabbed his subordinate’s shoulder.
“I’m not letting you do this.”
“Try and stop me, you crazy old man.” Krause turned to the other men. “General Kurtz here seems to have turned yellow. And he wants to keep all these goodies for himself. I say we divvy them up. What do you say we vote me in as four-star general?”
There was a roar of approval.
“You can’t—” Kurtz began. He stopped in mid-sentence and clutched at his chest. His face slowly turned blue, then he dropped the scepter and crumpled to the ground. He convulsed once and became still. Krause bent over the general and felt for a pulse in Kurtz’s neck. When he stood up again he was holding the scepter and he had a grin on his face.
“Looks like I’ve just been promoted.”
There was another roar of approval. With his free hand, he dragged Sutherland to the mine and slammed her against a slab of boulder next to the opening. The back of her head hit the rock and her knees buckled, but she stubbornly remained on her feet.
She heard Krause yell, “Ready!”
Through blurred eyes she saw the militiamen assemble into a ragged line, facing her.
“Aim!”
She couldn’t believe this was happening to her.
“Fire!”
As Hawkins loped up the mountain road he cursed the war injury that had shattered his left leg. He and Calvin came to a sharp bend, then ran up another stretch of road to yet another hairpin turn. Which is when they heard the loud crack of several rifles being fired at the same time.
Hawkins felt a nameless dread pulling him back, but he kept on pushing ahead even though he feared it was too late.
An instant before Krause gave the order to fire, Sutherland saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
It was Sergeant Paine. She threw herself in front of Sutherland, her rifle aimed toward the line of militiamen, and yelled, “Stop!”
The firing squad’s blood was up, but at the sight of their comrade they raised their rifles into the air and let off a harmless volley.
Krause strode over to Paine. He towered over her, his face contorted in fury.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
The sergeant’s rifle was still aimed toward the squad.
“You can’t do this, sir. It’s murder. The general would never approve.”
Krause snatched the rifle from her hands and tossed it aside.
“I’m the general now. You have interfered with a court martial sentence against a traitor.”
“This isn’t a court martial. It’s a farce.”
“You tell him, girl,” Sutherland yelled.
Krause was practically foaming at the mouth. “If you do not remove yourself from the line of fire immediately you will be guilty of aiding and abetting treason and subject to capital punishment.”
“I’m not moving until you stop this,” Paine said with a stubborn set to her jaw.
Krause stepped behind Paine, brought the scepter under her chin and used it to choke her as he dragged her back to stand next to Sutherland.
As soon as he had her in place, Krause stood back and said, “We will proceed with the execution. Shoot anyone who does not obey my order.”
Krause raised his arm with the scepter.
“Ready!” Not pausing, he followed with a quick. “Aim!”
The next command never left his lips. There was a small thut sound and a round hole appeared in Krause’s forehead below the visor of his cap. His mouth stayed open in an expression of abject surprise, then his legs collapsed and he pitched face forward onto the ground.
Holding his sound-suppressed rifle to his shoulder, Hawkins stepped out of the woods and Calvin emerged from the other side with his CAR-15 at waist level.
Calvin snapped an order. “You know the drill, grunts. Toss your weapons in a pile and get down on your tummies. Hands behind you.”
While Calvin corralled the militia men, Hawkins went over to Sutherla
nd. She planted a wet kiss on his cheek.
“I knew you’d find me.”
“You didn’t make it easy for us.”
“Sorry, Matt. I got angry because I hadn’t heard from you.”
“We were out of contact. Didn’t get your message until we got back to Kabul. What happened to that man lying on the ground?”
“That’s Kurtz. He had a heart attack trying to save me. This is my new friend Sergeant Paine. Sergeant, this is my old friend Matt. The general wasn’t all bad. Just a little crazy.” She glanced over at Krause. “Can you get the key to the cuffs? It’s in the front pocket of the guy you shot.”
Hawkins retrieved the key and unlocked the handcuffs. Then he picked up the emerald scepter, his fingers wrapped under the cross-bars.
“So this is what all the fuss is about.”
“Careful with that thing. It might get you killed,” Sutherland said.
“It wouldn’t be hard to find someone who’d kill to get his hands on a treasure like this,” Hawkins said.
“You don’t know the half of it, Matt.”
She led him to the ore carrier and lifted the lid on the box full of diamonds.
He shielded his eyes against the sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the gems. He was even more stunned when he looked into the boxes with the coins and emeralds. He handed Sutherland his rifle and told her to keep an eye on the militiamen. Calvin came over and stared at the treasure and deep laughter roared from his throat.
“Yeah, I know,” Hawkins said. “Joke’s on us.”
Calvin wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’ve got to admit that it’s pretty funny, chasing our asses around Afghan-land while the treasure’s sitting here.” He pursed his lips. “Now what do we do with it?”
“Not doing any good sitting up here on the mountain. Let’s see how strong these cub scouts are.”
Hawkins put the scepter back in its chest, retrieved his rifle, and then ordered the militia men onto their feet. He told them to move the boxes from the ore hauler into the back of the truck. When they were done, he and Calvin piled the seized weapons into the truck with the boxes.
The Emerald Scepter Page 36
