Микки Спиллейн: Primal Spillane: Early Stories 1941-1942

The crew looked at MacDonald. The wiry Scotchman seemed beaten. He nodded to his men, and they jumped into action, began lowering the lifeboats away. As the boats rode away, the skipper raised his fist. From the deck the Germans could not see his smile.

“You’ll regret this, Nazi scum.”

But no one on board heard him, so concerned were they with getting the cargo of the “Elsie K” on the submarine. Had anyone noticed them, it would have seemed peculiar, for the sailors in the boats, 2000 miles from land in a hopeless position, were pulling hard on the oars, rowing as fast as they could with no place to go-and the skipper glancing at his watch so often.

Then it came — an ear-bursting blast of fire and smoke! Debris rained down in fine powdered pieces, so terrific was the explosion. The sea was churned into a frenzy of foam! From a mile off the skipper and crew of the “Elsie K” watched and laughed.

They pulled back to where the steamer and sub were, but once more the ocean was calm, and except for a great oil slick and some scattered life preservers, there was no sign of the U-900.

About four hours later they were picked up by a convoy and when news got around that the undersea devil was no more, there were shouts of joy on all the Navy ships.

“How did you manage it?” someone asked MacDonald.

“Easy,” he smiled, “easy. We knew he’d come along side for the supply of fresh food, and we had the ‘Elsie K’ loaded with explosives and a time mechanism to blow her to bits when she did. Funny part of it was... our cargo was bricks, with only a few crates of grub to fool them with!”

“He who violates my tomb will die!”

So read the ancient tablet set in the brown stone above the sand-swept doorway of the age-old crypt. Pete Venner regarded it soberly then turned to the little old man at his side. “Well, Prof, this is it! We spent a lot of time searching for the old boy’s grave, but... now I don’t like the idea of going much further!”

Professor Hamilton grinned a little. “Don’t tell me that, young feller! You’re as anxious as I am to break through! Get the natives and we’ll start working. What lays before us is history, my boy, the history of Egypt long dead, and the written word of it is in the hand of the mummy of Tut Ken Amen! Let’s go!”

Pete ran up the loose incline to the level of the desert. His eyes swept the camp site, but not a living creature moved among the tents that were idly flapping in the hot breeze. For a moment his breath caught in his throat. True, there was a curse on the persons who opened the tomb, but it was pure nonsense, any educated person knew that!

Ever since the directions on the time-worn papyrus led the party to this desolate spot they worked under a continual strain. The natives were a superstitious bunch, ready to flee at the slightest thing. And this was it. The day before, the brown-skinned men dug through the sand until the flat sands of the desert held a wound twenty feet deep, and it was then that the shovel of one of them hit the stone door that had held behind it centuries of mysteries!

Like ants they had poured out of the excavation! One look at that inscription was all they needed. He and Hamilton went down at once, and decided to wait for a new day before going any further... And now, the instant they were out of sight, the workers took to the hills in the distance.

Pete leaned over the hole and called to the professor. “We’re out of luck, Professor, the boys are gone. From here on we’re on our own!”

“I should have expected that, but it’s too late now. Grab a pick ax and we’ll do the honors ourselves.”

Pete gathered up the tool and slid down the slope. Professor Hamilton took the pick and together they torn into the stone. Hours passed; the sun rose high in the heavens. Great beads of perspiration stood out on their foreheads as they battered without stop at the last barrier to their long quest.

Then, a mighty stroke of Pete’s ax tore through the stone and completely dislodged it! Quick as cats they leaped back from the tons of stone that rained down.

“Wow,” Pete said, “That was close! The curse almost came true!”

“And that wasn’t accidental, either.” Hamilton added. “That sealed doorway was constructed to come down on the person who tried to dig his way in! It’s not a curse we have to be afraid of, but the tricks a smart king dreamed up to kill anyone who dared to go after his secrets! From now on we’ll be on our toes!”

Ahead of them the black hole of the tomb loomed ominously, a dank foreboding place of death. The pair could smell the foul air that was seeping out of the cavity, and before entering strapped on odd-looking masks. To breathe this air might mean death, and the end was too near to take chances. With flashlights in hand Pete nodded to the professor, and together they stepped over the debris and into the inky blackness of the tomb.

At once they were in another world. Outside was desert and a blistering sun... here they walked amid the trappings of ancient kings, deep in the cool bowels of the earth! Their lamps threw light over things that had been in darkness for thousands of years. Eagerly, they explored the odd furnishings, then... Pete stopped dead in his tracks. There on the floor before him was a grotesque heap of human bones!

His light shook. Hamilton ran over to see what the matter was, and nodded at the grim sight.

“Slaves,” he muttered softly. “Killed to prevent them from divulging the burial ground.”

Pete shuddered. The professor tapped him on the arm. “I found a doorway, follow me.” They walked between the mouldy wooden chairs to a small opening in the wall. It had been hidden behind a portrait, but the professor had uncovered it.

Not a sound marred the deathly silence. They walked into another room of huge proportions. At one end was a throne, empty, and they walked toward it. In front was a table, set as if for a feast, but those that sat about the table were the crumpled shells of what once were men. Pete gasped. “More of them!” The professor went over to inspect them, poking at them with his flashlight.

“They were part of the funeral procession. The last noble act of their king was to give them poisoned food. In all probability there was but one man who left here alive... the king’s advisor! For a few moments they stared at the ghastly scene, then the professor spoke. “I can’t make this out.”

“What do you mean?”

“This room seems to be the last one. Some place around here is a hidden door, but I can’t see it. Let’s give it a try, anyway. You take the other side and I’ll take this. Tap those walls carefully!”

In the bright light of the flashes, Pete and the Professor circled the room, tapping every inch of the wall. They knew that the mummy was here somewhere, the job was finding it! But, their search was to no avail.

After an hour had passed each came to the blind end in front of the throne. Then it happened! With a squeak of dried wood and the rumbling of ancient mechanism the floor gave way beneath them, plunging them into Stygian darkness! They landed in a heap on the stone floor, many feet below the level above, their breaths wooshed out of them. Pete scrambled to his feet quickly, snapped on his light, and helped the professor up.

“Well, Pete, we’re done for! This was the trap I meant to look out for. I should have known better then to stand in front of the throne. By the time we get out of this, if we do get out... the sand will have filled in the entrance.

“We’ve been trapped very nicely... and by a dead man! ”