The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 100
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the lungs and the heart that are my separate parts. He moves them like
the stones of the bao board, my limbs serve him as counters, my head is
the great bull of the long board'!--'
"Enough!" von Schiller commanded. There will be time for more later. Go
now. Leave me alone. Do not return until I send for you."
Nahoot looked startled and scrambled to his feet uncertainly. He had not
expected to be dismissed so abruptly in the moment of his triumph. Helm
beckoned him, and the two of them went quickly to the door of the hut.
"Helm," von Schiller called thickly after him, "make certain that nobody
disturbs me."
"Of course, Herr von Schiller." He glanced enquiringly at Utte Kemper.
"No," said von Schiller. "She stay The two men left the room, and Helm
shut the door carefully behind them, Utte crossed the room and turned
the key. Then she faced von Schiller with her hands behind her and her
back pressed to the door.
Her breasts were thrust forward firm and pointed The nipples showed
clearly through the thin cotton blouse, hard as marbles.
"The costume?" she asked. "Do you want the costume Her own voice was
tight and strained. She enjoyed this game almost as much as he did.
"Yes, the costume," he whispered.
She crossed the room and disappeared through the door into his private
quarters. As soon as she was gone von Schiller began to undress. When he
stood mother-naked in the centre of the room, he threw his clothing in a
heap into one corner and turned to face the door through which she would
return.
Suddenly she stood in the doorway, and he gasped at the transformation.
She wore the wig of tight Egyptian braids and over it the uraeus, the
golden circlet with the hooded cobra standing erect above her forehead.
The crown was genuine, as old as the ages - von Schiller had paid five
million Deutschmarks for it.
"I am the reincarnation of the ancient Egyptian Queen Lostris," she
puffed. "My soul is immortal. My flesh is incorruptible." She wore
golden sandals from the tomb of a princess, and bracelets and finger
rings and earrings from the same tomb. All were authentic royal relics.
"Yes." His voice was choking, his face as pale as death.
"Nothing can destroy me. I will live for ever," she said.
Her skirt was diaphanous yellow silk, belted with gold and precious
stones.
"For ever," he repeated She was naked above the waist. Her breasts were
big and white as milk. She cupped them in her own hands.
"These have been young and smooth for four thousand years," she purred.
"I offer them to you."
She stepped out of the open golden sandals and her feet were slim and
neat. She parted the frontal split in the yellow skirts and held it so
that her lower body was exposed.
All her movements were slow and calculated. She was a clever actress.
"This- is the promise of eternal life." She placed her right hand on her
dense honey-coloured pubic bush. "I offer it to you.
He groaned softly and blinked the streaming sweat out of his eyes,
watching her avidly.
She undulated her hips, slowly and lewdly as an uncoiling cobra. She
moved her feet apart and opened her thighs. With her fingers she spread
the lips of her vulva.
"This is the gateway to eternity. I open it for you., Von Schiller
groaned aloud. No matter how often repeated, the ritual never failed.
Like a man in a trance he moved towards her. His body was thin, dried
out like a thousand-year-old mummy. His chest hair was a silver fuzz,
the skin of his sunken belly was folded and wrinkled, but his pubic hair
was dark and thick as the hair on his head.
His penis was huge, out of all proportion to the skinny old frame from
which it dangled. As she moved slowly to meet him it filled out and hung
at a different angle, and of its own accord the wizened foreskin peeled
back to reveal the massive purple head beneath it.
"On the stele," he grunted. "Quickly! On the stone."
She turned her back to him and knelt upon the stone, watching him over
her shoulder as he came up behind her.
Her buttocks were round and white as a pair of ostrich eggs.
elm and his men worked late that night in the Pegasus workshop, making
the wooden crates to house both the stele and the coffin securely. At
dawn the next day they were loaded on to one of the heavy trucks,
cushioned with thick "rubber matting and strapped down on to specially
fitted cradles.
At his own suggestion Nahoot rode in the back of the truck, which would
take just over thirty hours to cover the long and arduous journey to
Addis Ababa. The Pegasus Falcon was standing on the airport tarmac when
the dusty truck trundled out through the security gates and parked
beside it.
Von Schiller and Utte Kemper had made the journey in the company
helicopter. General Obeid was with them. He had come to wish them all
revoir and Godspeed.
While the wooden crates were loaded into the jet, Obeid spoke to the
waiting Customs officer. He stamped the documents clearing the two cases
of "Geological Samples' for export, and then discreetly retired.
"Loaded and ready to start engines, Herr von Schiller," said the
uniformed Pegasus chief pilot, saluting.
Von Schiller shook hands with Obeid and clambered up the boarding
ladder. Utte an& Nahoot Guddabi followed him. The rings under Nahoot's
eyes were even darker and deeper than usual. The journey had come close
to exhausting him entirely, but he would not let the wooden cases out of
his sight.
The Falcon climbed up into a bright clear sky over the mountains and
headed northwards. A few moments after the pilot extinguished the Seat
Belt panel, Utte Kemper thrust her lovely blonde head through the
cockpit door and asked the chief pilot, "Herr von Schiller would like to
know our ETA."
"I expect to touch down at Frankfurt at 2100 hours.
Please inform Herr von Schiller that I have already radioed head office
to give instructions for transport to be awaiting our arrival at the
airport."
The Falcon landed a few minutes ahead of schedule and taxied to the
private hangar. The senior Customs and Immigration officials who were
waiting for them were old acquaintances who were always on hand when the
Falcon carried a special cargo. After they had completed the formalities
they drank a schnapps with Gotthold von Schiller at the Falcon's tiny
fitted bar, and discreetly pocketed the envelopes that lay on the bar
counter beside each crystal glass.
The drive up into the mountains took most of the rest of the night. Von
Schiller's chauffeur followed the covered Pegasus truck along the icy
winding mountain road, never letting it and its cargo out of sight. At
five in the morning they drove through the stone gate of the Schloss,
where the snow lay half a metre deep in the deer park. The castle
itself, with its dark stone battlements and arrow-slit windows, looked
like something from Bram Stoker's novel.
However, even at this hour the butler and all his staff were on hand to
welcome the master.
Herr Reeper, the custodian of von Schiller's collection, and his most
trusted assistants were also waiting, ready to move the two wooden cases
down into the vault. Reverently they loaded them on to the forklift and
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