with Utte Kemper waiting a pace behind him. The pilot had radioed ahead
while the jet Ranger was in flight, so all was in readiness to receive
the precious cargo it was carrying.
The helicopter raised a cloud of pale dust from the landing circle as it
sank down to the earth. The long tapestry covered load it carried had
not been able to fit into the cabin, and was strapped across the landing
skids of the aircraft. The instant that the skids kissed the ground and
the pilot cut back the throttle, Jake Helm led out a team of a dozen men
to loosen the nylon retaining straps and lift the heavy bundle down.
Between them the gang of overallclad workers carried the stele to the
hut and eased it through the door. Helm hovered close at hand, issuing
terse orders.
A space had been cleared in the centre of the conference room, the long
table pushed back against the wall.
With extreme care the stele was laid there, and minutes later the coffin
of Tanus, the Great Lion of Egypt, was laid beside it.
Brusquely Helm dismissed the gang and closed and bolted the door behind
them as they left. Only the four of them remained in the room. Nahoot'
and Helm crouched beside the stele, ready to unwrap the woollen
tapestry. Von Schiller stood at the head of it, with Utte at his side.
'Shall we begin?' Helm asked softly, watching von Schiller's face the
way a faithful dog watches its master.
'Carefully,' von Schiller warned him in strangled tones.
'Do not damage anything.' He was sweating in a sheen across his
forehead, and his face was very pale. Utte edged rotectively closer to
him,, but he did not glance in her direction. He was staring fixedly at
the treasure that lay at his feet.
Helm opened his clasp-knife and cut away the tasselled cords that
secured the covering. As he watched, von Schiller's breathing became
louder. It rasped in his throat like a man in the terminal stages of
emphysema.
'Yes,' he whispered hoarsely, tthat's the way to do it.' Utte Kemper
watched his face. He was always like this when he made another
significant addition to his collection of antiquities. He seemed on the
verge of a seizure, of a massive heart attack, but she knew he had the
heart of an OX.
Helm came to the top end of the pillar and carefully opened a small slit
in the cloth. He eased the point of the blade into this opening, and
then ran it slowly down towards the base, like a zip fastener. The blade
was razor sharp and the cloth fell away to reveal the inscribed stone
beneath it.
The sweat burst out like a heavy dew on von Schiller's skin. It dripped
from his chin on to the front of his khaki bush jacket. He made a small
moaning sound as he saw the carved hieroglyphics. Utte watched him, her
own excitement mounting. She knew what to expect of him, when he was
caught up in this paroxysm of emotion.
'See here, Herr von Schiller.' Nahoot knelt beside the obelisk and
traced the outline of a broken'winged hawk with his finger. 'This is the
signature of the slave, Taita.'
'Is it genuine?' Von Schiller's voice was that of a very sick man,
