Jack Higgins – Sheba

‘How very unfortunate,’ Canaris said.

‘But the Fiihrer, Herr Admiral. What will he say?’

‘The Fiihrer, Hans, has a tendency to be very excited about something on Monday, which he has totally forgotten about by Friday.’ Canaris smiled. ‘And after all, he still has Poland.’

‘Can you be certain he’ll react in this way?’ Ritter said.

‘Of course. I’ve had considerable experience as regards the Fiihrer’s mental processes, Hans.’

Canaris went and got another glass. ‘Here, have a cognac. When you’ve been in this game as long as I have, you learn to take the rough with the smooth.’

‘If you say so, Herr Admiral.’

‘Oh, but I do.’ Canaris raised his glass. ‘To the Third Reich, Hans, and may it last a thousand years.’ He laughed. ‘And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything.’

THIRTEEN

THE CAVE WAS in complete darkness and Kane took out the small book of matches he had last used in the shaft. There were only three left and he struck one with fingers that trembled slightly.

The small tongue of flame flowered outwards, picking Cunningham’s sweating face from the darkness. The Englishman laughed shakily. ‘What happens now?’

‘Let’s have some light on the situation,’ Kane said. ‘Didn’t you leave the tools and a spot-lamp at this end of the passage when we finished work?’

The match burned down to his finger and he dropped it and lit another. He squatted, holding the match at arm’s length, and Cunningham said, ‘Got it!’

A moment later, a powerful beam of hard white light flooded across to the other side of the cave, slicing the darkness in two. The cave had decreased in size by at least a half, and a sloping bank of rubble anld stones lifted backwards, completely blocking the entrance.

It was unpleasantly warm and the air was heavy with settling dust and the acrid tang of explosives. ‘Well, what’s our next move?’ Cunningham said.

Kane started to take off his shirt. ‘I should have thought that was sufficiently obvious. We’ve got to dig and keep on digging. At least we’ve got the tools, which is something.’

‘And what about our friends outside?’

‘As far as they’re concerned, we’re dead meat,’ Kane said. ‘They probably think the damned mountain came in on us.’

‘They wouldn’t be far wrong either,’ Cunningham told him. He flashed the spot up to the roof and around the walls. ‘The whole place still looks damned shaky to me.’

Kane took the spot from him and set it down on the floor so that the beam rested upon the rock-filled entrance. ‘The only thing we’ve got to worry about is the battery in this spot-lamp. You’d better pray that it holds out long enough.’

But there was more to worry about – much more. They laboured feverishly in the weird, dust-filled light, stripped to their waists, sweat pouring freely from their naked bodies.

Jamal was a tower of strength, his great hands lifting, unaided, rocks which Kane and Cunningham could not have moved together. Time ceased to have any meaning as they worked on, fingers bruised and raw. Finally, Jamal, who was working a little in advance of Kane, gave a strange, animal moan and moved backwards.

‘What is it?’ Kane demanded in Arabic.

The Somali turned, the whites of his eyes shining in the light of the lamp. He pointed and Kane crawled forward into the narrow cutting they had cleared into the heart of the rockfall.

The beam from the spot picked out an immense slab of stone weighing at least three or four tons, which stretched across their path, firmly wedged into place with rocks of varying sizes.

Cunningham crouched at his shoulder and whistled softly. ‘My God, we haven’t a hope in hell of moving that thing.’

He had stated the obvious and there was no answer. They moved back slowly and slumped down against the wall beside the entrance to the passage.

Kane sat looking at the beam of the spot for a moment and then he leaned down and switched it off. ‘No sense in wasting the battery.’

Cunningham laughed lightly and Kane knew that he was near to breaking-point. ‘It’s damned warm in here. I wish I had a cigarette.’

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