the ravine below his dam.
How soon can you find this out?"
"By the day after tomorrow at the latest," Helm promised him.
Von Schiller turned to Colonel Nogo at the far end Of the conference
table. So far he had not spoken, but had watched and listened quietly to
the others.
"How many men have you deployed in this area?" von Schiller asked.
"Three full companies, over three hundred men. All well trained. Many
are battle-hardened veterans."
"Where are they? Show me on the map."
The colonel came to stand beside him. "One company here, another
billeted at the village of Debra Maryam, and the third company at the
foot of the escarpment, ready to move forward and attack Harper's camp."
"I think you should attack them now. Wipe them out, before they can
uncover the tomb-' Nahoot came in again.
"Shut your mouth," von Schiller snapped' without looking up at Nahoot.
"I will ask for your opinion when I need it."
He considered the map for a while longer, then asked Nogo, "How many men
has this guerrilla commander, what is his name, the one who has allied
himself to Harper?"
"Mek Nimmur is no a guerrilla. He is a bandit, and notorious shufta
terrorist," Nogo corrected him hotly.
"One man's freedom fighter is the next man's terrorist," von Schiller
remarked drily. "How many men has he under his command?"
"Not many. Fewer than a hundred, perhaps no more than fifty. He has them
all guarding Harper's camp, and the dam."
Von Schiller nodded to himself, plucking at the lobe of his ear. "How
did Harper and his gang return to Ethiopia?" he mused. "I know he flew
from Malta, but it is not possible that the aircraft could have landed
down there in the gorge."
He hopped down off his block and strutted to the window of the hut
through which he had a panoramic view spread below him. He stared down
into the depths of the gorge, a vista of cliffs and broken hilltops and
wild tablelands, smoked blue with distance.
"How did they get in without being discovered by the authorities? Did he
parachute in, the same way as he dropped his supplies?"
"No, said Nogo. "My informer tells us that he marched in with Mek
Nimmut, some days before the supplies were dropped to him."
"So from where did he march?" von Schiller pondered.
"Where is the nearest airfield where a heavy aircraft could land?"
"If he came in with Mek Nimmur, then they almost certainly came in from
the Sudan. That is where Nimmur operates from. There are many old
abandoned airfields near the border. The war," Nogo shrugged
expressively, "the armies are always on the move, that war has been
going on for twenty years."
"From the Sudan?" Von Schiller picked out the border on the map. "So
they must have trekked in along the river."
"Almost certainly,'Nogo agreed.
"Then just as certainly Harper plans to escape the same way. I want you
to move the company of men that you have at Debra Maryam and deploy them
here and here. On both banks of the river, below the monastery. They
must be in a position to prevent Harper reaching the Sudanese border,
if he should try to make a run for it."
"Yes. Good! I understand. That is good tactics," Nogo nodded gloatingly,
his eyes bright behind the tenses of his spectacles.
"Then I want your remaining men moved down to the foot of the
escarpment. Tell them to avoid contact with Mek Nimmur's men, but to be
in a position to move forward very quickly and seize the dam area, and
to block off the ravine below the dam as soon as I give you the word."
When will that be?"Nogo asked.
"We will continue to watch him carefully. If he makes a discovery, he
will start moving the artefacts out. Many of them will be too large to
conceal. Your informer will know about it. That is when we will move in
on him."
"You should move in now, Herr von Schiller," Nahoot advised him, "before
he gets a chance to open the tomb."
"Don't be an idiot," von Schiller snarled at him. "If we strike too
soon, we might never discover what he obviously has learned about the
whereabouts of the tomb."
"We could force him-'
"If I have learned anything in my life, it is that you. cannot force a
man like Harper. There is a certain type of Englishman - I remember
during the last war with them' He broke off and frowned. "No. They are
very' difficult people. We must not rush it now. When Harper makes a
discovery in the ravine, that will be the time to pounce."
The frown faded and he smiled a small, cold smile. "The waiting game. In
the meantime, we play the waiting game."
The debris that filled the shaft was not so tightly packed that it
completely blocked the flow of water through it. If it had done so,
Nicholas would never have been sucked in by the current, as he had been
on his first dive into the pool. There were still gaps in the blockage
where the larger boulders had lodged or where a treetrunk en sucked in.
and jammed sideways across the width of the tunnel. Through these
sections the water had found the weak spots and kept them open.
Nevertheless, the debris had taken centuries to wedge itself in, and it
required back-breaking effort to prise it apart. The clearing operation
was further hampered by the lack of working space in the shaft. Only
three or four of the big men from the Buffaloes were able to work in the
shaft at -any one time. The rest of the team were employed in passing
back the rubble as it was levered out.
Nicholas changed the shifts every hour. They had more labour than they
needed, and changing them often meant that the men at the face were
always rested and strong, and eager to earn the bonus of silver dollars
that Nicholas promised them for their progress along the shaft.
At each change of shift, Nicholas disappeared into the mouth of the
tunnel with Sapper's steel tape and measured the advance.
"One hundred and twenty feet! Well done, the Buffaloes," he told Hansith
Sherif, the foreman monk, and then watched the water tric ing past is
feet. The floor of the tunnel was still sloping downwards at a constant
angle. He looked back along it towards the pool, and now in the
floodlights the rectangular shape of the walls was very clear to see. It
was obvious that the tunnel had been designed and surveyed by an
engineer.
He transferred his attention back to the floor of the tunnel and watched
the run of water, trying to judge how deep they were below the original
river level.
"Eighty or ninety feet," he estimated. "No wonder the pressure in the
mouth of the tunnel almost crushed me-' he broke off as an unusually
shaped fragment in the muck at his feet caught his eye. He stooped and
picked it up.
Then took it to one of the floodlamps and by its light examined it
closely. As he rubbed it clean between finger and thumb, he began to
grin.
Sloshing back along the tunnel, he yelled, "Royan!" Triumphantly
brandishing the fragment, he demanded, "What do you make of that, then?"
She was sitting on the wall.of the coffer, and reached down and snatched
the object out of his grasp.
I "Oh, sweet Mary! Where did you find this, Nicky?"
"Lying in the mud. Right there in the adit, where it's been for the last
four thousand years. Where one of Taita's workmen dropped and broke it,
probably while he was sneaking a sup of wine behind the slave driver's
back."
Eagerly Royan held the broken shard of pottery up to the lamplight. "You
are right, Nicky," she exclaimed. "It's part of a wine vessel. Look at