77
As Perlmutter and Trehorne waited for the team below, a crisp voice from behind them nearly startled them over the shaft’s edge.
“Please raise your hands and step back to the wall,” Mansfield said in a firm but polite way.
The two historians turned to find Mansfield and Martina standing a few feet away, pistols leveled at their chests. The men backed away from the shaft and stood against the rock wall.
Mansfield clicked on a penlight, stepped to the edge, and peered down. The distant voices of Dirk, Summer, and Hawker echoed from below. He knelt, pulled up the rope, and tossed it to Martina. Without a word, she pulled out a folding knife and began cutting it into shorter lengths.
“A nice hiding spot,” Mansfield said, turning from the shaft to the men. “Did you meet with success?”
When neither spoke, Mansfield pointed his weapon at Perlmutter. “You, come to the ledge. Please ask your friends what they have found.”
“Listen here—”
Mansfield jammed the pistol into the side of Perlmutter’s neck. “Save it for your friends,” he whispered.
Perlmutter did as he was told, obtaining Summer’s report. Then Mansfield forced him onto his knees beside Trehorne while Martina tied their wrists and elbows behind their backs with sections of the climbing rope.
“Tie the big one’s feet, then take the other one away,” Mansfield said.
Martina bound Perlmutter’s ankles, retrieved her gun, and pulled Trehorne to his feet. Taking his flashlight, she marched him into the tunnel and around the first bend.
As Summer shouted from below, Mansfield stepped over to Perlmutter, stuck a foot on his shoulder, and shoved him onto his back. “You’re a historian, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell me about the Romanov shipment?”
Perlmutter shook his head. “I don’t succumb to criminal extortion.”
Mansfield nodded, then picked up a length of rope and tied it around Perlmutter’s head and over his mouth.
The Russian rose to his feet, clutching another piece of rope. “I’m going to visit your friend. Don’t go anywhere.”
He walked a short distance around the bend to where Martina waited with Trehorne. She held a guidebook and a folded sheet of paper in one hand and her pistol in the other.
“I searched him and found these.” She passed the items to Mansfield.
He scanned the book’s title. “A Pocket Guide to the Caves and Tunnels of Gibraltar. Very handy.” He tossed it to the ground.
He unfolded the paper and studied it under his penlight. It was a copy of the letter from the Sentinel’s captain requesting security for its cargo. “A bit more interesting. So, the Sentinel did in fact obtain the Pelikan’s cargo and brought it to Gibraltar. But it was never shipped on to England, was it?” He waved his gun under Trehorne’s chin.
“No evidence that we could find,” Trehorne said.
“And this tunnel. This is AEB Nelson?”
Trehorne nodded.
“Who’s your Army friend?”
“Major Cecil Hawker of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment. An expert on Gibraltar’s tunnels.”
“But not on Gibraltar’s gold,” Mansfield said. “So if not here, then where?”
Trehorne shook his head.
From the frustrated look in Trehorne’s eyes, Mansfield believed he was telling the truth. The Russian passed a length of rope to Martina. “Tie his feet, please.”
He then raised his pistol and pointed it toward Trehorne’s left eye. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
The gunshot echoed through the tunnel like a cannon blast. Perlmutter flinched at the sound and opened his eyes a few seconds later to see Mansfield standing before him.