Selected Detective

Selected Detective
GOA OLD SALT MINE II


Ben-Roi approaches him, touches his surface, banging his fist on that surface.


“It's concrete!” he hissed. “There's a door here. Someone closed it, trying to make it look like the other half of the hallway.”


“You think ...?” He didn't answer, just punched him again, and harder. Layla was not sure, but she felt herself catching the sound of a faint-hearted echo. An old axe head was lying on the floor nearby. He picked it up and smacked it against the wall.


Again, the sound of the reverberation grew louder.They stared at each other, then Ben-Roi grabbed the axe head, gave the flashlight to Layla and started banging on the wall.


One, two, three and small cracks opened. Ben-Roi adjusted his position, making space more free for himself to swing the axe and restart his punch on the surface of the wall. The crack widened and spread, additional cracks crept from it like the spokes of a wheel, the sound of reverberation was increasingly heard loudly on each blow until finally a piece of concrete slab came off and fell onto the floor, show the wall behind him. On its surface, in white paint, it is written the word MEIN EHRE...


“Heisst Treue,” whispered Layla, completing the legend, her last piece blocked under the concrete. He looked at Ben-Roi.


“Semboyance SS.”


“You are indeed Kparat, Hoth,” he muttered. “You are indeed a Nazi Kparat!” He banged the blocks to weigh how dense they were, then, using the ends of the axes, began to scratch one of them, removing the cement stuck in place. It was clearer now, seen easily, crumbling almost at the same time as when the end of the axe was struck at them. Within a minute Ben-Roi had freed the beam from another piece next to it. He dropped the axe and kicked the wall.


The beam shook, but it was still intact. He kicked again, exerting all his strength to hit. This time the beam slipped off, fell backwards and disappeared with a thud like a bottle-clogging cork being thrown from the bottle, leaving behind a dark cave. He took his flashlight again from Layla and, pushing his body forward, shone through the hole.


“Oy vey!”


“What do you see?”


“Oy vey!”


“What?”


Ben-Roi retreats, giving Layla a chance to stand in his place. Layla raised her flashlight and, while sticking her face into the cave, looked into the darkness, the steam from her breath hovering and spinning in the light of the lamp. Another passageway stretched out in front of him, narrower than the main hallway and there was his right side. Along the wall, glimpsed in the light of the lamp before it darkened again as it swung its lamp from one side to the other, were dozens of boxes and crates, some made of wood, some of it metal, some of it, there's a big, small. And most, as far as he could observe, were branded with swastikas and SS twin lightning badges.


“God of Power,” Layla whispers. He observed this scene for thirty seconds, fixated. Then, suddenly an uncomfortable feeling ambushed him for turning his back on Ben-Roi, he turned around. The Israelite was standing right behind him, hand-held a rusty iron chisel that he must have picked up while Layla was observing the contents of the cave. For a moment he felt tense, thinking this man would attack him. But he instead gave the chisel to Layla and, bowing, lifted the axe from the floor where he had thrown it.


“Let's tear down,” said. It took them less than five minutes to expand the cave doors until they were fully open. As soon as they make a big enough hole, they get rid of the equipment to the edge and, Ben-Roi the first one, crawls inside that passageway, the, a rough gust of their breath seemed to fill the entire tunnel as if they were standing within the huge stone lungs.


They aimed a flashlight beam here and there, trying to see how far the corridor was open, then stepped closer to the nearest box and crouched down in front of it. The box is square, made of metal, with a cover on which is shown a picture of the skull and crossbones that have been sprayed in black. Ben-Roi flicked the hook and opened it.


“Chara!” he's aghast. “Damn it!”


Inside the box, encased in wax paper like pieces of cheese, were two dozen plastic bomb boxes.they watched the contents of the box nervously, then turned to the next box, the next box, made of wood. There is a crowbar lying on top of the box and, using that crowbar, Ben-Roi opens the cover, putting aside the covering layer of straw. And there was a mauser pistol packed in a wooden box. The room at the end of the crate was filled with ammunition clips.


“This is an arsenal,” Layla said. “This is the armory!”


They picked up one of the pistols and checked it looked so neat, undamaged after sixty years of being tucked away in the mining darkness then put it back into place and started to go further into the hallway. they stopped every few meters to open the boxes and crates.


Most of them contained weapons and crushing equipment. There are other things too. One of the packed boxes contained hundreds of Iron Crosses, the other contained bundles of neatly wrapped banknotes, and the other contained bottles of wine that had been dusty. A small flat chest attached to the wall about twenty meters into the hallway has a marker attached to it that reads “1 Vermeer, 1 Breughel (Altere), 2 Rembrandt.”


“God of Power,” said Layla kept muttering to herself. “Great God.” With all that spectacular collection, they have yet to find any sign of Menorah. They continued to walk along the passage, deeper and deeper into the mountains until finally, after nearly fifty meters, they saw that in front of him the passage seemed to be widening.


The mouth of the passageway was so dark that it was even more impenetrable than they had found anywhere else.they shone lights in various directions to see what was happening, then continued walking, he said, twenty meters away before the walls of the hall suddenly disappeared and knew they were standing in a wide flat courtyard, staring at the void.


“This is a very large cave,” Layla whispered.


They're moving towards the front of the courtyard. There is something that seems to be a basic elevator system that gives access to the cave floor below only a platform or square wooden floor with hand rails at each end, walking on two vertical paths attached to the surface of the stone wall. they tried it with feet, with great care, making sure that the wood was not brittle, then stepped on it and shone the maglites lights of emptiness.


“How many of these things are there?” Ben-roi. They shined maglite around for almost a minute, tried to look at the picture of the surroundings, and then began to look for ways to get the elevator going. A control box attaches to one of the hand rails with a long electrical cable hanging from its lower side and a lever on its surface. Ben-Roi pulled the lever. Nothing happened.


“There is no power,” he said.


He put down the crowbar he was still holding and then held onto the rail, shone his flashlight into the darkness, trying to find the power source for this elevator. There were many cable coils on the cave floor, one of the thickest being along the rock face next to the elevator. He traced it with his light, followed it up to the edge of the courtyard, on a stone balcony and across the low door a few meters to the left of the hallway door. They approached it and entered into a small space where the wires entered into a large generator, a rusty crank mechanism hanging from its side like a withered arm.


“Do you think this still works?” ask Layla. “After such a long time?”


“There is only one way to find out,” said Ben-Roi, while giving Layla his light.


He grabbed the crank with both hands and pulled it, turning it half a circle. Unreacted. He tried again. Still not reacting. He spread his shoulders, squatting down to make himself more space and lifting. The generator let out a weak sound, his body somewhat horrified.


“Come,” hiss Layla.


Ben-Roi pulled the handle again, and again, and again, each movement produced a more violent, drawn-out barrage of sounds until finally, at the ninth attempt, the, the machine suddenly came alive. Shocking bright rays flooded the cave behind them. They rushed back to the courtyard.


“Damn,” says Layla. As soon as they succeeded, they were standing on a natural balcony at the end of a large cave like a hangar, thirty meters high, forty meters wide, seventy meters long, its walls and ceilings are criss-crossed with wavy lines of orange and gray stone. However, it was not the cave itself that kept them standing with their mouths open, but the contents, because in the passage over there were dozens of crates and boxes, he said, here with the sparkling rays of the eight giant lights there were hundreds, line by line, line by line, rack by shelf, rack by shelf, which is divided into neat blocks with narrow lanes between which are claustrophobic with other items statues, machine guns, paintings, oil drums, even a pair of old motorcycles. Hanging from its ceiling at the back of the cave, it covered almost the entire back wall, a large red, white and black flag with a sloping central swastika.


“Damn,” reset Layla. They stepped into the elevator again, generators roaring behind them, maglites in their grasp.


“We will never find it,” Layla murmured. “Cannot be. It will take days, weeks.” Ben-Roi did not say anything, only looking around the cave attentively. Ten seconds passed, then he raised his flashlight, pointing in one direction.


“No, it won't take that much time.” Beneath them, all along the cave ranging from the elevator to the back wall, there was a vast central alley, the only part of the floor that was clean of chaos. At the end of it there, standing alone directly under the Nazi flag as if it were deliberately made apart, there was one large, square-shaped chest, about as tall as a man.


“That's it,” said.


“Ya,” whispered Layla. “Ya.” They stare at the object, then, while picking up the crowbar again, Ben-Roi shifts the elevator's control limbs forward.


There was a loud clicking sound, and with the tremors of the wooden platform it slowly began to descend, rumbling with the sound of engine creaking before stopping a few centimeters above the cave floor. they jumped to the floor and walked, their footsteps inaudible on the flat surface of the rock. The coffin rack was towering like a wall on their side, the cave felt even bigger and impressive as now they saw it from the ground floor.


*****_____*****


Also Read Other Novels Guys "Love of the Old Virgin"


Theme Story about “Love the family is too spoiled and excessive to the big bar boy with a rebellious soul, who met the hard-hearted and wealthy noble lady. Until finally changing the mindset of living alone and do not want to be responsible about anything. Finally had to fall in love with her uncle. Follow the story must be fun...


*Coments and suggestions in the comments column are needed, and do not forget Vote yes…*


By the way, Enjoy it


Follow Instagram on: @itsme.okta


Thanks in Advanced


Best Regards


*****