elm and his men worked late that night in the Pegasus workshop, making
the wooden crates to house both the stele and the coffin securely. At
dawn the next day they were loaded on to one of the heavy trucks,
cushioned with thick "rubber matting and strapped down on to specially
fitted cradles.
At his own suggestion Nahoot rode in the back of the truck, which would
take just over thirty hours to cover the long and arduous journey to
Addis Ababa. The Pegasus Falcon was standing on the airport tarmac when
the dusty truck trundled out through the security gates and parked
beside it.
Von Schiller and Utte Kemper had made the journey in the company
helicopter. General Obeid was with them. He had come to wish them all
revoir and Godspeed.
While the wooden crates were loaded into the jet, Obeid spoke to the
waiting Customs officer. He stamped the documents clearing the two cases
of "Geological Samples' for export, and then discreetly retired.
"Loaded and ready to start engines, Herr von Schiller," said the
uniformed Pegasus chief pilot, saluting.
Von Schiller shook hands with Obeid and clambered up the boarding
ladder. Utte an& Nahoot Guddabi followed him. The rings under Nahoot's
eyes were even darker and deeper than usual. The journey had come close
to exhausting him entirely, but he would not let the wooden cases out of
his sight.
The Falcon climbed up into a bright clear sky over the mountains and
headed northwards. A few moments after the pilot extinguished the Seat
Belt panel, Utte Kemper thrust her lovely blonde head through the
cockpit door and asked the chief pilot, "Herr von Schiller would like to
know our ETA."
"I expect to touch down at Frankfurt at 2100 hours.
Please inform Herr von Schiller that I have already radioed head office
to give instructions for transport to be awaiting our arrival at the
airport."
The Falcon landed a few minutes ahead of schedule and taxied to the
private hangar. The senior Customs and Immigration officials who were
waiting for them were old acquaintances who were always on hand when the
Falcon carried a special cargo. After they had completed the formalities
they drank a schnapps with Gotthold von Schiller at the Falcon's tiny
fitted bar, and discreetly pocketed the envelopes that lay on the bar
counter beside each crystal glass.
The drive up into the mountains took most of the rest of the night. Von
Schiller's chauffeur followed the covered Pegasus truck along the icy
winding mountain road, never letting it and its cargo out of sight. At
five in the morning they drove through the stone gate of the Schloss,
where the snow lay half a metre deep in the deer park. The castle
itself, with its dark stone battlements and arrow-slit windows, looked
like something from Bram Stoker's novel.
However, even at this hour the butler and all his staff were on hand to
welcome the master.
Herr Reeper, the custodian of von Schiller's collection, and his most
trusted assistants were also waiting, ready to move the two wooden cases
down into the vault. Reverently they loaded them on to the forklift and
rode down with them in the specially installed elevator.
While they unpacked the crates, von Schiller returned to his suite in
the north tower. He bathed and ate a light breakfast, prepared by the
Chinese chef. When he had eaten, he went to his wife's bedroom. She was
even frailer than she had been when last he had seen her. Her hair was
now completely white, her face pinched and waxy. He sent the nurse away,
and kissed his wife's forehead tenderly.
The cancer was eating her away slowly, but she was the mother of his two
sons, and in his own peculiar way he still loved her.
He spent an hour with her, and then went to his own bedroom and slept
for four hours. At his age he never needed more sleep than that, no
matter how tired he might be. He worked until midafternoon with Utte and
two other secretaries, and then the custodian called on the house
intercom to tell him that they were ready for him in the vault.
Von Schiller and Utte rode down together in the elevator, and when the
door slid open both Herr Reeper and Nahoot were waiting for them. One
look at their faces told von Schiller that they were beside themselves
with excitement, bubbling over with news for him.
"Are the -rays completed?" von Schiller demanded as they hurried after
him down the subterranean passageway to the vault.
"The technicians have completed their work," Reeper told him. "They have
done a fine job. The plates are wonderful. Ja, wunderbar!'
Von Schiller had endowed the clinic, so any request of his was treated
as a royal command. The director had sent down his most modern portable
-ray equipment and two technicians to photograph the mummy of Lord
Harrab, and a senior radiologist to interpret the plates.
Reeper inserted his plastic pass card into the lock of the steel vault
door, and with a soft pneumatic hiss it slid open. They all stood aside
for von Schiller to enter first.
He paused in the doorway, and looked around the great vault. The
pleasure never palled. On the contrary, it seemed to grow more intense
every time he entered this place.
The walls were enclosed in two metres of steel and concrete, and were
guarded by every electronic device that genius could devise. But this
was not apparent.when he viewed the softly lit and elegantly appointed
main display room. It had been planned and decorated by one of Europe's
foremost interior designers. The theme colour was blue. Each item of the
collection was housed in its own case, and each of these was cunningly
arranged to show it to its best advantage.
Everywhere was the soft glimmer of gold and precious gems nestling on
midnight-blue velvet cushions. Artfully concealed spotlights illuminated
the lustre of lovingly polished alabaster and stone, the glow of ivory
and obsidian. There were marvelous statues. The pantheon of the old gods
were here assembled: Thoth and Anubis, Hapi and Seth, and the glorious
trinity of Osiris and Isis and Horus, the son. They gazed out with those
inscrutable eyes which had looked upon the procession of the ages.
On its temporary plinth in the centre of the room, in pride of place,
stood the latest addition to this extraordinary hoard, the tall,
graceful stone testament of Taita. Von Schiller stopped beside it to
caress the polished stone before he passed on into the second room.
Here the coffin of Tanus, Lord Harrab, lay across a pair of trestles. A
white-coated radiologist hovered over her back-lit display board on
which the ,ray plates were clipped, Von Schiller went directly to the
display and peered at the shadowy pictures upon it. Within the outline
of the wooden coffin, the reclining human shape with hands crossed over
its chest was very clear. It reminded him of a carved effigy atop the
sarcophagus of an old knight in the precincts of a medieval cathedral.
"What can you tell me about this body?" he asked the radiologist without
looking at her.
"Male," she said crisply. "Late middle age. Over fifty and under
sixty-five at death. Short stature." All the listeners winced and
glanced at von Schiller. He seemed not to have noticed this solecism.
"Five teeth missing. One front upper, one eye too and three molars.
Wisdom teeth impacted. Extensive caries in most surviving teeth.
Evidence of chronic bilharzia infection. Possible poliomyelitis in
infancy, withering in left leg." She recited her findings for five
minutes, and then ended, "Probable cause of death was a puncture wound