Renata released the brake and allowed the ATV to roll back down the slope to the flatter ground of the tunnel floor.
Joe hopped out. “I’ll see what’s beyond the rock pile.”
With the ATV parked and pointed back down the hall, Kurt climbed down and walked around to the front. “You did a fantastic job. Where’d you learn to drive like that?”
“My father taught me,” she said. “You should have seen some of the mountain roads I took before I even had a permit.”
He smiled. “Maybe you can show me once we get done with all of this.”
By now, Joe had reached the top of the rock pile. He was lying flat on his stomach, shining his flashlight into the chamber beyond. “Well, this is interesting,” he said.
“Have we found the way out or not?” Kurt asked.
“I think we’ve found the motor pool,” Joe replied.
Kurt’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Come look,” he said. “You’re going to want to see this for yourself.”
Kurt and Renata made their way up onto the pile and crouched down beside Joe. Adding their lights to his, they saw a large open room filled with odd-looking automobiles. The machines had long, low hoods, no roofs, and they sat on huge wheels and tires that were almost as high as the hoods and trunks. Jerry cans and tools were strapped to the sides and heavy machine guns were mounted between the front and back seats.
r /> “What are they,” Renata asked, “Humvees?”
There was a slight resemblance. “More like, Humvee ancestors,” Joe said. “These things look like they’re left over from World War Two.”
Kurt was the first to move. Ducking under the gap and climbing down the rock pile into the next section of the cave. “Let’s take a look.”
The open space was the size of a small aircraft hangar. Seven of the oddly shaped vehicles were parked inside. In places, the walls had been shored up with concrete. And steel poles, with flat panels on top and bottom, were arranged sporadically throughout the room to hold up the ceiling.
There was an aggressive look to the design of the vehicles. The sloped hoods and huge tires made it clear that these were machines designed for off-road conditions and traveling across soft sand. They looked fast standing still. The armor plating over the back end of the vehicle was louvered and vented to allow air to cool the rear-mounted engine.
Kurt crouched beside one of the vehicles and rubbed the dust from its side. It was painted a tawny color, a standard desert brown. More rubbing revealed numbers and then a small flag. Green, white and red, with a silver eagle at the center. It was the tricolor of Italy. The silver eagle marked it as the war flag.
“They’re Italian,” Kurt said.
“They are?” Renata replied in surprise.
A second flag caught Kurt’s eye. It was a field of black with an odd design at the center—a bundle of sticks with an ax attached to it. At the top of the ax was the head of a lion.
Renata crouched beside him and added her light to his. “Flag of the Fascists,” she said, recognizing it. “These belonged to Mussolini.”
“Personally?” Kurt asked.
“No,” Renata said. “What I mean is, they’re part of an Italian military unit and, as Joe suggested, from World War Two.”
“Saharianas,” Joe shouted from the other side of the car.
“Gesundheit,” Kurt said.
“That wasn’t a sneeze,” Joe said. “It’s what they called these cars. They’re for long-range reconnaissance. They were used all over North Africa. From Tobruk to El Alamein and everywhere in between.”
“What are they doing this far to the east? The Italian Army never got close to Cairo.”
“Maybe these cars were part of an advance team,” Joe said. “That’s what they were designed for: scouting and reconnaissance.”
They looked through the room for other clues, finding spare parts, empty jerry cans, weapons and tools.
“Over here,” Renata said.