Then he thrust the temptation aside. He would not debase this treasure
by making it available to the common rabble. It had been assembled for
the funeral of a pharaoh.
Von Schiller saw himself as the modern equivalent of a pharaoh.
'No!' he told Nahoot violently. 'This is mine, all mine.
When I die it will go with me, all of it. I have made the arrangements
already, in my will. My sons know what to do. This will all be with me
in my own grave. My royal grave.
Nahoot stared at him aghast. He had not realized until that moment that
the old man was mad, that his obsessions had driven him over the edge of
sanity. But the Egyptian knew that there was no point in arguing with
him now later he would find a way to save this marvelous treasure from
the oblivion of another tomb. So he bowed his.head in mock acquiescence.
'You are right, Hell von Schiller. That is the only fitting manner to
dispose of it. You deserve that form of burial. However, our main
concern now must be to get all of it to safety. Helm has warned us about
the danger of the river, of the dam bursting. We must call him and Nogo.
Nogo's men must clear out the tomb. We can ferry the treasure in the
helicopter up to the Pegasus camp, where. I can pack it securely for the
journey to Germany.'
'Yes. Yes.' Von Schiller scrambled to his feet, suddenly terrified at
the prospect of being deprived of this wondrous hoard by the flooded
river. 'Send the monk, what is his name, Hansith, send him to call Helm.
He must come at once.'
Nahoot jumped up to his feet. 'Hansith!' he shouted.
'Where are you?'
The monk had been waiting at the entrance to the burial chamber,
kneeling in prayer before the empty sarcophagus which had contained the
body of the saint. He was torn now between religious conviction and
greed.
When he heard his name called he genuflected deeply, and then rose and
hurried back to join von Schiller and Nahoot.
'You must go back to the Pool where we left the others-' Nahoot started
to relay the orders, but suddenly a strange, distracted expression
crossed Hansith's darkly handsome features and he held up his hand for
silence.
'What is it?' Nahoot demanded angrily. 'What is it that you can hear?'
Hansith shook his head. 'Be quiet! Listen! Can't you hear it?'
'There is nothing-' Nahoot began, but then broke off suddenly, and wild
terror filled his dark eyes.
There was the softest sound, gentle as the sigh of a summer zephyr,
lulling and low.
'What do you hear?' von Schiller demanded. His hearing had long ago
deteriorated, and the sound was far beyond the range of his old ears.
'Water!' whispered Nahoot.'Running water!'
'The river!' shouted Hansith. 'The tunnel is floodingr He whirled round
and went bounding down the funeral arcade with long, lithe strides.
'We will be trapped in here!' screamed Nahoot, and raced after him.
'Wait for me,' von Schiller yelled, and tried to follow.
