collar. The man cringed.
‘These are S.S. men. All of them.’
He turned and went back to the staff car. The officer was lying on his back, half in and half out of the front door, his empty eyes looking up at the sky, terrible in death. Coertze looked at him, then leaned over and pulled a leather briefcase from the front seat. It was locked.
‘There’s something funny here,’ he said. ‘Why would they come by this road?’
Harrison said, ‘They might have got through, you know. If we hadn’t been here they would have got through – and we were only here by chance.’
‘I know,’ said Coertze. ‘They had a good idea and they nearly got away with it – that’s what I’m worrying about. The Jerries aren’t an imaginative lot, usually; they follow a routine. So why would they do something different? Unless this wasn’t a routine unit.’
He looked at the trucks. ‘It might be a good idea to see what’s in those trucks.’
He sent Donato up the road to the north to keep watch and the rest went to investigate the trucks, excepting Alberto who was guarding the prisoners.
Harrison looked over the tailboard of the first truck. ‘Not much in here,’ he said.
Walker looked in and saw that the bottom of the truck was filled with boxes – small wooden boxes about eighteen inches long, a foot wide and six inches deep. He said, ‘That’s a hell of a small load.’
Coertze frowned and said, ‘Boxes like that ring a bell with me, but I just can’t place it. Let’s have one of them out.’
Walker and Harrison climbed into the truck and moved aside the body of a dead German which was in the way. Harrison grasped the corner of the nearest box and lifted. ‘My God!’ he said. ‘The damn’ thing’s nailed to the floor.’
Walker helped him and the box shifted. ‘No, it isn’t, but it must be full of lead.’
Coertze let down the tailboard. ‘I think we’d better have it out and opened,’ he said. His voice was suddenly croaking with excitement.
Walker and Harrison manhandled a box to the edge and tipped it over. It fell with a loud thump to the dusty road. Coertze said, ‘Give me that bayonet.’
Walker took the bayonet from the scabbard of the dead German and handed it to Coertze, who began to prise the box open. Nails squealed as the top of the box came up. Coertze ripped it off and said, ‘I thought so.’
‘What is it?’ asked Harrison, mopping his brow.
‘Gold,’ said Coertze softly.
Everyone stood still.
Walker was very drunk when he got to this point of his story. He was unsteady on his feet and caught the edge of the bar counter to support himself as he repeated solemnly, ‘Gold.’
‘For the love of Mike, what did you do with it?’ I said. ‘And how much of it was there?’
Walker hiccoughed genthy. ‘What about another drink?’ he said.
I beckoned to the bar steward, then said, ‘Come on; you can’t leave me in suspense.’
He looked at me sideways. ‘I really shouldn’t tell,’ he said. ‘But what the hell! There’s no harm in it now. It was like this …’
They had stood looking at each other for a long moment, then Coertze said, ‘I knew I recognized those boxes. They use boxes like that on the Reef for packing the ingots for shipment.’
As soon as they had checked that all the boxes in that truck were just as heavy, there was a mad rush to the other trucks. These were disappointing at first – the second truck was full of packing cases containing documents and files.
Coertze delved into a case, tossing papers out, and said, ‘What the hell’s all this bumph?’ He sounded disappointed.
Walker picked up a sheaf and scanned through it. ‘Seems to be Italian Government documents of some sort. Maybe this is all top-secret stuff.’
The muffled voice of Harrison came from the bowels of the truck. ‘Hey, you guys, look what I’ve found.’
He emerged with both hands full of bundles of lire notes – fine, newly printed lire notes. ‘There’s at least one case full of this stuff,’ he said. ‘Maybe more.’
The third truck had more boxes of gold, though not as much as the first, and there were several stoutly built wooden cases which were locked. They soon succumbed to a determined assault with a bayonet.
‘Christ!’ said Walker as he opened the first. In awe he pulled out a shimmering sparkle of jewels, a necklace of diamonds and emeralds.
‘What’s that worth?’ Coertze asked Harrison.
Harrison shook his head dumbly. ‘Gee, I wouldn’t know.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Not my kind of stone.’
They were ransacking the boxes when Coertze pulled out a gold cigarette case. ‘This one’s got an inscription,’ he said and read it aloud. ‘“Caro Benito da parte di Adolfe – Brennero – 1940.”’
Harrison said slowly, ‘Hitler had a meeting with Mussolini at the Brenner Pass in 1940. That’s when Musso decided to kick in on the German side.’
‘So now we know who this belongs to,’ said Walker, waving his hand.
‘Or used to belong to,’ repeated Coertze slowly. ‘But who does it belong to now?’
They looked at each other.
Coertze broke the silence. ‘Come on, let’s see what’s in the last truck.’
The fourth truck was full of packing cases containing more papers. But there was one box holding a crown.
Harrison struggled to lift it. ‘Who’s the giant who wears this around the palace?’ he asked nobody in particular. The crown was thickly encrusted with jewels – rubies and emeralds, but no diamonds. It was ornate and very heavy. ‘No wonder they say “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,”’ cracked Harrison.
He lowered the crown into the box. ‘Well, what do we do now?’
Coertze scratched his head. ‘It’s quite a problem,’ he admitted.
‘I say we keep it,’ said Harrison bluntly. ‘It’s ours by right of conquest.’
Now it was in the open – the secret thought that no one would admit except the extrovert Harrison. It cleared the air and made things much easier.
Coertze said, ‘I suppose we must bring in the rest of the boys and vote on it.’
‘That’ll be no good unless it’s a unanimous vote,’ said Harrison almost casually.
They saw his point. If one of them
