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 sight 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.