Sword of Destruction (eBook)

A South African Hero's Struggle in the French Foreign Legion, Book 37

Meiring Fouche, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
137 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
978-0-00-077974-8 (ISBN)

Infos

Her kiss was a promise.

Her touch was a lie.

His blood is the price for a war that will burn the Sahara to ashes.

Sahara desert, 1940-1960. Teuns Stegmann is a legend in the French Foreign Legion, a man who has faced death in the desert and always walked away. But when a mysterious dancer's enchanting smile leads him from a cabaret in Algiers into a sophisticated trap, his holiday leave becomes a one-way ticket to the most brutal prison on Earth.

He is the prisoner of the merciless Brigitte Bonnet, the white queen of a lost city, who holds a personal vendetta against him. Worse, the legendary Sword of Doetra, a holy relic that can unite the desert tribes, has been stolen. Stegmann is to be the ritual sacrifice, his blood used daily to fuel a coming holy war that will drown the French empire in violence.

A blistering fusion of classic military adventure and high-stakes mystery thriller, this novel will leave you breathless. If you love the nail-biting suspense of Alistair MacLean and the historical action of James Rollins, you won't be able to put this down. It's an unforgettable story of betrayal, impossible odds, and one man's desperate fight for survival against an army hungry for his blood.

Step into this unforgettable thirty-seventh Sahara adventure now!

Textauszug

37. SWORD OF DESTRUCTION

Chapter 1

THE SWORD OF DOETRA

Colonel Pons enters the office so swiftly, his face ashen white, that General Zelle looks up from his desk. It is a large and opulent office within the French Ministry of War in Paris. General Zelle is currently occupied with the morning’s mail, as it is still early.

Colonel Pons salutes quickly and stiffly.

“Yes, Pons,” asks Zelle, for he is a renowned man, and moreover very brusque and stern. “Why do you look as if you’ve just escaped the guillotine?”

“Mon General,” says Pons, also speaking hastily in his high-pitched voice. “There is a matter of the utmost importance that I must discuss with you.”

General Zelle leans back and regards his subordinate somewhat venomously. “What is so urgent now, Pons? Are you trying to tell me there’s peace in Algeria, or has someone annihilated the French Foreign Legion?” There is a chilling sarcasm in General Zelle’s words.

“Mon General,” says Pons, “it is not that.”

“Well, what is it, Pons? What is it, man? Has someone attacked the French Republic?”

“It concerns the Sword of Doetra, mon General.”

Now Zelle is no longer jesting. His body stiffens, and he sits bolt upright instantly.

“The Sword of Doetra? What about the Sword of Doetra?”

“It has vanished, mon General.”

A lightning bolt might as well have struck the office. General Zelle is instantly on his feet. He slams his fist hard upon the desk.

“You are out of your mind, Pons! How could the Sword of Doetra have vanished?”

“It is indeed so, mon General. I have just made the alarming discovery.”

“When?” bellows Zelle.

“It must have been a short while ago, mon General. I inspected the fireproof vault where the Sword is kept only the day before yesterday. Now it is gone. The fireproof vault has been broken open.”

“Mon Dieu,” exclaims Zelle. Then he snatches up his cap and baton and storms out of the office with Colonel Pons trailing behind him. Zelle trots down the corridor and then turns into the section of the building where all the French war memorabilia are kept and also important documents, certain weapons, and especially the Sword of Doetra.

Pons is on his heels, and when Zelle stops, bewildered, before the sturdy fireproof vault where the Sword of Doetra was kept for so long, Pons is beside him. No explanation is necessary. Everything is crystal clear to the grizzled general. The vault door has been burned through, apparently with a blowtorch. The vault still contains everything, except the Sword of Doetra.

General Zelle sighs. “This is a disaster,” he says. “This is a tragedy. I wonder what the outcome of this will be…” Then he spins around again and storms out of the place. He trots back to his office, leaps to the telephone and barks an order into the receiver.

“Dubois,” he thunders. “Tell Dubois to come to my office immediately. I want him here within two minutes. This is Zelle here.”

Less than two minutes later, Dubois of the military secret service trots into the irate general’s office. Pons stands trembling and pale to one side.

“You may go, Pons,” says Zelle.

Pons’s presence is actually no longer required, for he is practically just the custodian of the war memorabilia in the French Ministry of War.

“Dubois,” says Zelle, “I have bad news for you. The Sword of Doetra has been stolen. The fireproof vault was cut open. You know what this means.”

Dubois turns ashen. “The Sword of Doetra stolen?” he asks, emphasizing every syllable.

“That is what I am saying, man,” snaps Zelle. Then he leans forward, looking almost resentfully at the head of the secret service.

“Dubois,” says Zelle. “I am giving you an order now. I don’t care if you turn the whole of France upside down, I don’t care if you invade North Africa with an army, I want the Sword of Doetra back. Is that clear? I don’t care what means you employ. Nor do I care who gets shot in the process. All I want is the Sword of Doetra. It must not be smuggled out of this country, Dubois. It doesn’t matter what you do to prevent it. That is an order. Do you want it in writing?”

“I understand your order completely, mon General,” says Dubois. “I shall commence work immediately.”

“You must enlist the help of the French detective service, the help of the police, the help of all of France. That is all, Dubois.”

Dubois runs out of the office, for he knows Zelle. When necessary, Zelle is a reckless and relentless man. Within fifteen minutes, half a dozen experts from the secret service, as well as a few select experts from the French detective service, are in the office where the fireproof vault was broken open.

They search for fingerprints. They search for tracks. They search for the slightest indication that might provide them with a clue in this baffling drama. And while they are thus occupied, General Zelle stands before a large map on his wall.

It is not a map of France. It is a map of North Africa. He is not searching for anything. He gazes at a small place marked in red on the map, encircled by a distinct blue ring. Within that blue circle stands a simple word. “Doetra.”

It is situated in the Atlas Mountains. Zelle looks at it, not knowing why himself. He himself was in Doetra on occasion, and he knows what it looks like there. It is one of the ancient cities of the Arab people. It is almost inaccessible from the outside world. It is situated in a basin within the Atlas Mountains, a basin surrounded by perpendicular cliffs, so high, so steep, so smooth that, as far as is known, no person has ever succeeded in scaling them. And Doetra is accessible only from the Sahara Desert through a tunnel in the mountain, a natural tunnel guarded day and night at both ends. Thus, whoever is in Doetra cannot leave without being seen. And those approaching from the desert outside cannot enter without being seen. It is utterly impossible.

He stands there before the map and thinks of the significance of Doetra, the ancient city of the Arabs, the city of glory for the Arabs. He once read its history so meticulously, and it had interested him greatly. It was the greatest period in the history of the Arab people when they were ruled from Doetra. And as an emblem of their power, their glory, and their culture, one of the ancient kings had the Sword of Doetra crafted. A magnificent piece of workmanship. One of the most beautiful on Earth. A long sabre of pure silver, inlaid with the most exquisite precious stones. It is not only beautiful, it is also worth a fortune. But that is not the sole significance of the Sword of Doetra. Its significance lies in the fact that during the time the Doelak people possessed the Sword, they were virtually unstoppable. There was a time when they nearly annihilated the French Foreign Legion in the Sahara, but when the Sword was taken from them, they were paralyzed. They regressed and became a second-rate tribe. The French Ministry of War realized this when they dispatched a special expedition to North Africa to retrieve the Sword of Doetra. It happened in a remarkable manner. In the French Foreign Legion, there is a South African. Zelle even remembers his name. His name is Teuns Stegmann. Here, standing before the map, Zelle can even visualize Stegmann’s eyes. They are light blue. A tall, robust fellow with the physique of an athlete. Long ago, he succeeded in escaping from Doetra with the famed and inspiring Sword. The Arabs ambushed him during his flight, and he flung the Sword into a small oasis. He made a meticulous record of its location, and later, the Ministry of War was informed.

They sent a special military expedition, unearthed the Sword, and brought it to Paris, where it was placed under strict guard in a fireproof vault.

And now, the Sword of Doetra is missing. Zelle shudders as he considers this. It is no longer just a Sword. It is a symbol. A symbol not only for the Doelak people but for the entire Arab populace of North Africa. If it becomes known that the Sword of Doetra is once again in the hands of the Doelak people, then preparations can be made for one of the greatest eruptions ever witnessed between the French and the Arabs of Africa.

Recently, there has indeed been ferment among the Arabs. Something is stirring among them. And as the general stands there before the map, he thinks not only of a South African with clear blue eyes, but also of a remarkable woman, Madame Brigitte Bonnet, the white ruler of the Doelak people. He knows the history so well. First, it was her sister El Karima, the woman who led the Doelaks through so many victories years ago and who then died at the hands of the French Foreign Legion in the desert.

The general wonders if Madame Bonnet still possesses her youthful beauty or if she has aged through the years of hatred, for she surely hates the Foreign Legion more than any other person on earth. He wonders what she is plotting. And he wonders who is responsible for the removal of the Sword of Doetra.

The Sword suddenly becomes like a flame drawn across the earth, igniting everything in its vicinity.

Finally, the general turns from the map and returns to his chair. He sits down and summons his orderly. When the young man enters, an order cracks from General Zelle.

“I wish to send a special messenger to North Africa. Get one for me immediately. It is urgent.”

And that very same day, a secret military messenger departs by plane from Paris to Algiers. He carries a personal message from General Zelle to a small, dark, intense man behind a large desk at...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 25.8.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-077974-1 / 0000779741
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-077974-8 / 9780000779748