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The Doomsday Testament(120)

By:James Douglas






LVIII


SHE STARED AT him. ‘If the Sun Stone has been in the bunker all along surely the authorities would have found it by now? They will treat what’s left in the complex like an archaeological dig, cataloguing everything and removing anything of even the slightest value.’

‘Not necessarily. Remember what I said about the maps?’

‘About Brohm offering the Harz map to Matthew as a decoy?’

‘That’s right. Well, I was wrong. There was no other silk map. But Brohm was pleading for his life. He knew he was going to die, so he would have offered everything, even the Sun Stone to save himself.’

‘But you said the Sun Stone wasn’t there?’

‘No, but what if there is another map. Only it’s not a silk map. It’s the real thing. The original . . .’

‘. . . like the Black Sun at Wewelsburg.’

They arrived back at the car. Jamie used the electronic switch to open the boot and they put their rucksacks inside. He reached for the door handle.

‘Wait!’

His fingers froze a centimetre from the black plastic. ‘You can’t get in the car.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because your jeans are covered in mud.’ She pointed to his backside where he’d slid down the gully. ‘You’ll get the seat filthy. Here.’ She handed him his jacket. ‘Sit on that until we get back to the hotel.’

He glared at her. ‘You scared the bloody life out of me.’

‘Good. I think you have every reason to be scared. We both have. The closer we get to the Sun Stone the more dangerous this is going to get.’


The next day, he pushed the Volkswagen to its limit on the autobahn. A hundred miles into the journey the temperature gauge began to rise ominously and Jamie thought he felt a vibration in the engine that hadn’t been there earlier.

Sarah noticed the car slowing.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think we have a problem. There’s a rattle somewhere there shouldn’t be.’ He pointed to the temperature gauge, which still hadn’t fallen back towards normal since he’d eased off the accelerator.

‘Maybe it’s something to do with your driving?’

He bit his tongue and kept his eyes on the road.

‘Do you think you can fix it?’

‘I can take a look under the bonnet and give a few bits and pieces a good shake, but that won’t mean I have any idea what I’m doing. What about you?’

She waved her manicured fingers in front of his eyes. ‘Does this look like the hand of an auto mechanic?’

‘Do you think it would be able to press a few buttons and call Europcar?’

He felt her staring at him. ‘I wish . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

Two hours later – after a short stop in town – they drew up next to the police station on the western outskirts of Braunlage. Jamie knew there was no point in going directly to the bunker. It would be sealed off to keep out the kind of treasure hunters and ghouls who were always drawn to such sites. He went into the building while Sarah called the car hire company and asked them to send a mechanic.

‘May I talk to Kommissar Muller?’ The officer at the desk gave him the look cops reserve for ordinary mortals who disturb them while they’re doing something much too important to be interrupted, like drinking coffee and reading the sports pages.

‘The guy who found the bunker, right?’

‘Right.’

‘You are fortunate, she’s just going off duty.’ He picked up the phone and spoke quietly into it. ‘She’ll see you now.’

‘Herr Saintclair, this is a surprise.’ Lotte Muller greeted him with a handshake. ‘Is Miss Grant with you?’

He explained about the car and she shook her head gravely. ‘Yes, hire cars. But what can you do? You are here for a pleasure visit to see our lovely town again?’

Jamie had considered his approach on the drive north. There was no way he was going to tell anyone about what he believed was hidden in the bunker. He also realized it was unlikely that even the people who had discovered it would be allowed back inside just because they asked. That left one option. To lie. ‘I’m afraid not. We’ve been touring. Now we’re on our way to the airport at Paderborn and decided that we would like to pay our respects to the people who died in the bunker.’

‘Respects?’

‘A tribute. It is a British tradition. Just some flowers and the opportunity to say a few words. I’m sure you’ll understand that we were unable to give them the respect they deserved at the time.’

‘You are aware that the bodies have been removed? There is nothing to see.’