‘Good, Tahir. You’ve done a good job.’
At that point someone switched back the electricity and the lights came on in the living room. Tahir looked up from the floor and what he saw made his blood run cold.
His daughter Myesha and his wife Zayna were tied up and gagged on the sofa. But that wasn’t what shocked Tahir. His family had been in the same condition when he’d left five hours before to carry out the hooded men’s demands.
What filled him with terror is that the men no longer wore hoods.
‘Please, sir,’ Tahir said.
The bureaucrat had returned in the hope that everything would be all right. That the bribe from his American friends wouldn’t be revealed, and that the hooded men would leave him and his family in peace. That hope had now evaporated like a drop of water on a red-hot frying pan.
Tahir avoided the gaze of the man sitting between his wife and his daughter, their eyes red from crying.
‘Please, sir,’ he repeated.
The man had something in his hand. A gun. At the end of it was an empty plastic Coca-Cola bottle. Tahir knew exactly what it was: a primitive but effective silencer.
The bureaucrat couldn’t control his shaking.
‘You have nothing to worry about, Tahir,’ said the man, leaning down to whisper in his ear. ‘Hasn’t Allah prepared a place in Paradise for honest men?’
There was a light report, like a whiplash. The other two shots followed a few minutes apart. Putting on a new bottle and securing it with duct tape takes a little time.
21
GULF OF AQABA, RED SEA
Wednesday, 12 July 2006. 9:47 p.m.
Andrea woke up in the ship’s infirmary, a large room containing a pair of beds, a few glass cabinets and a desk. A worried Dr Harel had made Andrea spend the night there. She probably hadn’t slept much, because when Andrea opened her eyes she was already seated at the desk, reading a book as she sipped some coffee. Andrea yawned loudly.
‘Good morning, Andrea. You’re missing my beautiful country.’
Andrea got out of bed rubbing her eyes. The only thing she could distinguish clearly was the coffee maker on the table. The doctor watched her, amused as the caffeine began working its magic on the reporter.
‘Your beautiful country?’ Andrea said when she was able to speak. ‘Are we in Israel?’
‘Technically we’re in Jordanian waters. Let’s go out on deck and I’ll show you.’
When they came out of the infirmary, Andrea lifted her face to the morning sun. It was going to be a hot day. She breathed deeply and stretched in her pyjamas. The doctor leaned on the ship’s rail.
‘Be careful you don’t fall overboard again,’ she teased.
Andrea shuddered, aware of how lucky she was to be alive. The night before, with all the excitement of the rescue and her shame at having to lie and say she’d fallen overboard, she hadn’t really had the chance to feel afraid. But now, in the light of day, the noise of the propellers and the memory of cold dark water passed through her mind like a waking nightmare. She tried to concentrate on how beautiful everything looked from the ship.
The Behemoth was heading slowly towards some piers, pulled by a tugboat from the Port of Aqaba. Harel pointed to the front of the ship.
‘That’s Aqaba, Jordan. And that’s Eilat, Israel. Look at how the two cities face each other, like mirror images.
‘It is beautiful. But it’s not the only thing… ’
Harel blushed slightly and looked away.
‘You can’t really appreciate it from the water,’ she went on, ‘but if we had come by plane you could see how the Gulf squares off the coastline. Aqaba occupies the eastern corner and Eilat the western one.
‘Now that you mention it, why didn’t we come by plane?’
‘Because officially, this is not an archaeological dig. Mr Kayn wants to recover the Ark and take it back to the United States. Jordan would never go along with that under any circumstances. Our cover is that we’re looking for phosphates, so we’ve come by sea as the other companies do. Hundreds of tons of phosphates are shipped out of Aqaba each day, bound for places all over the world. We’re a humble prospecting team. And we’re carrying our own vehicles in the hold of the ship.’
Andrea nodded thoughtfully. She was enjoying the peacefulness of the coast. She looked towards Eilat. Pleasure boats floated on the water near the city like white doves around a green nest.
‘I’ve never been to Israel.’
‘You should go sometime,’ Harel said, smiling sadly. ‘It’s a beautiful land. Like a garden of fruit and flowers torn out of the blood and sand of the desert.’
The reporter observed the doctor at length. Her curly hair and tanned complexion were even more beautiful in this light, as though any little defects her face might have had been diffused by the sight of her homeland.
‘I think I know what you mean, Doc.’
Andrea took out a wrinkled pack of Camels from her pyjama pocket and lit up a cigarette.
‘You shouldn’t have fallen asleep with them in your pocket.’
‘And I shouldn’t smoke, drink or sign up for expeditions that have been threatened by terrorists.’
‘Evidently we have more things in common than you’d think.’
Andrea stared at Harel, trying to work out what she meant. The doctor reached over and took a cigarette from the pack.
‘Wow, Doc. You don’t know how happy that makes me.’
‘Why?’
‘I love seeing doctors who smoke. It’s like a chink in their smug armour.’
Harel laughed.
‘I like you. That’s why it bothers me to see you in this damn situation.’
‘What situation?’ said Andrea, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’m talking about the attempt on your life yesterday.’
The reporter’s cigarette stopped midway to her mouth.
‘Who told you?’
‘Fowler.’
‘Does anyone else know?’
‘No, but I’m glad he told me.’
‘I’m going to kill him,’ Andrea said, crushing her cigarette against the railing. ‘You don’t know how ashamed I felt with everybody looking at me…’
‘I know he told you not to tell anybody. But believe me, my case is a little different.’
‘Look at that idiot. She can’t even keep her balance!’
‘Well, that’s not entirely untrue. Remember?’
Andrea was embarrassed at the reminder of the previous day when Harel had to grab her by her T-shirt just before the BA-160 showed up.
‘Don’t worry,’ Harel went on. ‘Fowler told me for a reason.’
‘That only he knows. I don’t trust him, Doc. We’ve run into each other before…’
‘And he saved your life then, too.’
‘I see you’ve been informed about that as well. While we’re at it, how the hell did he manage to get me out of the water?’
‘Father Fowler was an officer with the US Air Force. Part of an elite Special Ops unit that specialised in pararescue.’
‘I’ve heard of them: they go looking for pilots who’ve been shot down, isn’t that right?’
Harel nodded.
‘I think he’s taken a liking to you, Andrea. Maybe you remind him of someone.’
Andrea stared thoughtfully at Harel. There was some connection she wasn’t getting and she was determined to find out what it was. More than ever, Andrea was convinced that her reporting on a lost relic, or getting an interview with one of the weirdest and hardest to reach multimillionaires, was only part of the equation. On top of that, she had been dumped into the sea from a moving ship.