Beneath Gray Skies (30 page)

The beer and peanuts arrived, and Julie-Ann smiled at David. “Y’all doing anything on Saturday night?” he asked her, slightly emboldened by the presence of Lewis, and wanting to impress.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she replied, shrugging a flirtatious shoulder. “Got anything special in mind?”

“Well, I thought we could go to the theater together. See the new movie.”

“I’ll think about it. Speak to me later.” She tossed her curls. “Enjoy.”

“You’ve made a hit there,” grinned Lewis and winked.

“What makes you say that?” asked David.

“Girls like that, they say ‘maybe’, they mean ‘yes’. Take it from me.”

They clinked glasses together.

“Good to see you again, David. Keeping up with the chess?”

“Getting better, I reckon.”

“How about a game?” Lewis brought out a small chess set from the pocket of his coat and set it up on the diner table.

A few moves later, he started to speak. “I reckon you’ve got better, too. My mind’s not on it, anyway. Listen, David, I need your help.” He drew his face close to David’s. “What do you think of the Germans who you’re working with?”

“Some of them ain’t too bad, I suppose.” David was non-committal. “They’re pretty smart. But some of them, I wouldn’t trust an inch.” He told the story of how Lieutenant Spitz had mistreated the slave and how he’d made sure that Spitz’s actions were reported and how Spitz had got sent back to Germany.

“I’m proud of you, David, you know that? Not many people would have had the courage to stand up and do what you did.”

“Aw, it was nothing.” David took a gulp of beer to cover his embarrassment.

“No, I mean it. How would you like to help stop that sort of thing going on in the future?”

David looked at him suspiciously. “You’re asking me to go against the Germans? They’re our friends,” he pointed out. “Check.”

Lewis studied the board and thought hard. He moved a rook to cover against the threat from David’s queen. “No, not against all the Germans.”

“Well, you’re sure not going to get me to do anything against the Confederacy.” David was emphatic. Another pause. “Check.”

This time Lewis took longer to move. “No, it’s not all the Germans that I’m talking about.” He had ignored the comment about the Confederacy, David couldn’t help but notice. “Just the Nazis. Now it seems to me you’ve got yourself some good friends in the Germans you’re working with. They sound like mighty fine folks and you should be glad to know them.”

“Like I said, some of them ain’t too bad,” David repeated.

“That Major who sent the other officer home?”

“He’s one of them as ain’t too bad. Check.”

Lewis took a look at the board and rubbed his eyes. “This is going to take some time to get out of.” There was another long pause, and Lewis moved his king out of the way.

“Mate in three moves,” said David triumphantly.

“How do you figure that out? Oh, I see. You win. Another?” They set out the pieces again and played in silence for a few minutes. “I was just wondering to myself if this Major Weissman—”

“Weisstal,” corrected David.

“All right then, Major Weisstal. Whether he’s been saying anything about politics.”

“Well, if I think about it a little, I don’t figure he’s that keen on them Nazis. I’ve hardly ever seen him do that Nazi salute thing where they hold up their hand. Some of them do that all the time, but not the Major.” He moved his hand towards a pawn and then withdrew it. “And now I come to recall it, I have heard him say right out that he’s not friendly towards the Nazis, that time he sent the other one back to Germany.”

“But he’s in charge of the German side of things?”

“Kind of in charge, I reckon. He seems to know what he’s on about, anyway.” David swept a knight off the board with a flourish.

The game continued, with neither saying anything for a few minutes.

“Check,” said Lewis, and a moment later, “Damnation!” as David took his queen. “I never saw that.” He sat staring at the board, and took another sip of beer. “So when’s the airship comin’ along, then?” asked with a false casualness.

“Soon. There’s some kind of strange cargo coming along with all the important politicians. And don’t ask me what kind of thing it is, or who the politicians are, as I don’t know. Check.”

“Will you find out?” moving his rook into place.

“They way these things usually work out, I’ll find out the day before, if that. Check. Mate in two.”

“I can’t believe you’re winnin’ so easily, David. I resign.”

As they packed the pieces back into the box, David told Lewis, “I’ll help you against them Nazis. I don’t like them, neither. But I warn you, any funny stuff against the Confederacy, and I go straight to the Provost Marshal. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Lewis’s tone seemed mocking.

“I’m not joking.” David’s voice was serious.

“Neither am I,” Lewis reassured him. “Now, I’ll be round this place often enough if you want to talk to me. Else, just ask around the store for Lewis Levoisin, Miss Justin’s cousin. Now it’s time to make your date with Julie-Ann. She’s just waiting for you to ask her, you know. Y’all have a good time now.” And with that, he was off silently into the night, leaving on the table more than twice the amount of money needed to pay the bill. David reckoned the extra might even get him and Julie-Ann into the movie theater that Saturday.

“
The Führer has said it, and that is all the reason you need to hear.”

“
I
still say this shouldn’t be going out of Germany,” snorted Professor Karl Schwister irritably, watching the workmen scurrying around with packing materials. “It’s all very well for us to be helping the Confederates, but sending this?”

“There’s no money worth sending,” replied Hermann Goering, irritably. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Herr Professor, but even with the Führer’s best efforts and those of the whole German
Volk
, the German mark is still not terribly valuable overseas.”

“But this?” Schwister continued to protest. “Selling it is a crime against scholarship. This whole collection is one of our greatest archeological treasures.”

“Which is precisely why it’s leaving us. We are assured by our agents in California that some very rich men there have expressed an interest in paying a lot of money for all this. But consider this, my friend. By presenting it to the Confederates, we are not in the business of selling our German heritage. It’s a diplomatic gift to a valued ally. Of course, if the Confederates wish to convert it into good hard cash, that’s their affair. But chiefly, Herr Professor, this is leaving Germany for Richmond because the Führer has said it is leaving Germany, and that is all the reason you need to hear. Is that clear?” His voice sharpened.

“Yes, Herr Goering, perfectly clear.” He still didn’t sound happy.

“Herr Professor,” came the shout from one of the workmen. “Would you please come over here and have a look at this?”

“Oh, all right,” grumbled the Professor, and moved over to the packing case where the two workmen were standing. Goering followed.

“We found this in the crate,” passing a yellowing scrap of paper to the professor. “The cloth lining of the crate was torn in one corner, and this paper was sticking out.”

“These are really the original crates that Schliemann used to pack and transport his finds?” asked Goering curiously.

“Yes, they are. We keep everything.”

“Well that should certainly add to the value. You can’t get a much more authentic provenance than that, can you?” He looked at the letter-sized piece of paper that the Professor was carefully unfolding. “Is that Schliemann’s writing, do you know?”

“I can’t see with you standing in the light,” said Schwister irritably.

“Sorry,” replied Goering, none too politely, and moved.

“Thank you,” gruffly. “I’m not an expert, and I’d have to compare it with other samples, I suppose, but from what I know, I’d be tempted to say that the writing is probably authentic.”

“What does it say?”

“Let me see. Hmm… Most of it’s written in Greek. Schliemann usually wrote his diary in the language of the country where he was living, but for some reason he might not have wanted to put this in Turkish. Do you read Greek, Herr Goering?”

Goering shook his head.

“Then I’ll give you a rough summary. It seems to have been written at Hisarlik and it describes the objects in the case.”

“Just a list, then?”

“No, it goes on. Here’s a rough translation. ‘A strange thing happened this evening. As I was cleaning today’s finds, one of the stray dogs from the village came to my tent and sat outside the door, howling. Soon he was joined by another dog, who likewise sat howling. I picked up my boots and hurled them at the brutes, but failed to drive them away. My assistant Omar, together with two of the local villagers, eventually drove them outside the camp, using sticks and stones, but they, joined by three other village dogs, sat there all night, howling ceaselessly in the general direction of my tent.’”

Goering chuckled. “Persecution by dogs? That’s new to me.”

“It continues,” said Schwister. “Listen to this. ‘After driving away the dogs, Omar came into the tent and saw what I was doing. It was the first time he had seen the find, and he was astonished. When he realized what I was doing, he started to shiver uncontrollably. I asked him why, and he told me of some strange stories in his village about gold which brought bad luck to those who took it to strange lands. I asked him what he meant by this last, but he found it difficult to express it. In a phrase whose meaning I believe dates from Troy itself, he told me that the gods would smite those who took the treasure of Troy to an unknown land. Since Omar is a good Mussulman admitting the existence of no god but Allah, I found his reference to plural gods to be strange, but when I challenged him, he simply repeated himself.’”

“So all this,” Goering waved his arm to indicate the objects waiting to be packed, “is cursed?” He sounded amused. “Is there any more to all this fairytale?”

Schwister turned the paper over. “This is dated a few months later, and appears to be a list of Schliemann’s workmen at the site, together with the dates and causes of their deaths, if I’m not mistaken. Many of them seem to have died in a very short space of time after the first part of this note was written. Bitten by mad dogs, trapped in cave-ins at the excavations, falling from ladders. Obviously Schliemann believed there was enough to this curse story to justify writing this list.”

“But Schliemann himself lived to a good age, didn’t he?” enquired Goering. “No curse there, if I remember rightly.”

“He died in agony in Naples about fifteen years later at the age of sixty-eight.”

“Well, we all have to go some time, but that doesn’t sound much like a curse to me. Has anything strange happened here, since the treasure arrived in the Museum?”

“Apart from the usual round of aged professors dying of old age, I think not.” Schwister himself was a relatively youthful fifty-eight.

One of the workmen, who had been listening to the conversation, coughed. “If you’ll excuse me, sir. I remember my father who used to work here saying that one of the men who moved these crates into the museum slipped and was crushed to death underneath the crate at the time. And then there was that cleaner who was found dead in the Trojan Room one morning. Poor soul had obviously had a heart attack and couldn’t get any help, all alone at night.”

“And that tourist who fell dead of a stroke last year.”

“That was in the Assyrian Room,” objected the other.

“Ah, but she’d just come from the Trojan Room, hadn’t she?”

“Coincidence,” scoffed Goering. “I’m sure if you looked at the history of anything else in this museum, you’d find similar stories to tell.”

“Maybe, sir,” said the older workman, obviously unconvinced by this line of reasoning.