‘Isaac.’
‘… so that Isaac could fulfil his family’s destiny.’
‘To restore the Ark to the Temple?’
‘Not quite, Andrea. According to a certain interpretation of the Torah, the one who is able to recover the Ark and rebuild the Temple – the latter being relatively easy given Kayn’s fortune – would be the Promised One: the Messiah.’
‘Oh, God!’
Andrea’s face was completely transformed as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. It explained everything. The hallucinations. The obsessive behaviour. The terrible trauma of having grown up locked away in that narrow space. Religion as absolute fact.
‘Exactly,’ said Fowler. ‘Additionally, he saw the death of his own son, Isaac, as the sacrifice required by God so that he himself could achieve that destiny.’
‘But Father… if Kayn knew who you were, why the hell did he allow you to come on the expedition?’
‘You know, it’s ironic. Kayn couldn’t carry out this mission without the blessing of Rome, a seal of approval that the Ark was real. That’s how they were able to get me involved in the expedition. But someone else infiltrated the expedition too. Someone with a lot of power who decided to work for Kayn after Isaac told him about his father’s obsession with the Ark. I’m only guessing, but at first he probably just took the job to gain access to confidential information. Later, when Kayn’s obsession changed into something more concrete, he made his own plans.’
‘Russell!’ Andrea gasped.
‘That’s right. The man who threw you into the sea and killed Stowe Erling in a clumsy attempt to hide his discovery. Maybe he planned to dig up the Ark himself later on. And either he or Kayn – or both – is responsible for the Ypsilon protocol.’
‘And he put the scorpions in my sleeping bag, the bastard.’
‘No, that was Torres. You have a very select fan club.’
‘Only since you and I have known each other, Father. But I still don’t understand why Russell wants the Ark.’
‘Perhaps to destroy it. If that’s the case, although I doubt it, I’m not going to stop him. I think he may want to get it out of here to use it in some crazy scheme to blackmail the government of Israel. I still haven’t figured out that part, but one thing is clear: nothing is going to stop me from carrying out my decision.’
Andrea tried to scrutinise the priest’s face. What she saw left her frozen.
‘You’re really going to blow up the Ark, Father? Such a sacred object?’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in God,’ said Fowler with an ironic smile.
‘My life has taken a lot of strange turns lately,’ Andrea replied sadly.
‘God’s law is engraved here and here,’ said the priest, touching his forehead and then his chest. ‘The Ark is only a wood and metal box that would cause the death of millions of people and a hundred years of war if it resurfaces. What we’ve seen in Afghanistan and Iraq is only a pale shadow of what might happen then. That’s the reason it’s not leaving that cave.’
Andrea didn’t reply. Suddenly there was silence. The wailing of the wind among the rocks in the canyon had finally ceased.
The simoon was over.
92
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Thursday, 20 July 2006. 2:16 p.m.
Cautiously they stepped out from their hiding place and entered the canyon. The landscape before them was a scene of devastation. The tents had been ripped from their platforms and what had been inside was now scattered throughout the surrounding area. The windscreens on the Hummers had been cracked by small rocks that had come loose from the canyon’s cliffs. Fowler and Andrea were walking towards the vehicles when suddenly they heard the motor of one of the Hummers roar into life.
Without warning, an H3 was heading for them at full speed.
Fowler shoved Andrea out of the way and jumped aside. For a fraction of a second he saw Marla Jackson behind the wheel, her teeth gritted in anger. The huge rear tyre of the Hummer passed inches in front of Andrea’s face, spraying her with sand.
Before the two of them could get up, the H3 had rounded the curve out of the canyon and disappeared.
‘I think there’s just us,’ the priest said as he helped Andrea to her feet. ‘That was Jackson and Dekker leaving like the devil himself was after them. I don’t think many of their companions are left.’
‘Father, I don’t think they’re the only things to have disappeared. It looks like your plan to get me out of here has gone up in smoke,’ said the reporter, pointing to the three remaining all-purpose vehicles.
All twelve tyres had been slashed.
They walked around the wreckage of the tents for a couple of minutes, looking for water. They found three half-full canteens and a surprise: Andrea’s backpack with her hard disk, almost buried in the sand.
‘Everything’s changed,’ Fowler said, looking around suspiciously. He seemed unsure of himself and was creeping about as if an assassin on the cliffs might mow them down at any moment.
Andrea followed him, crouched down in fear.
‘I can’t get you out of here, so stay close until we work something out.’
The BA-609 was turned on its left side like a bird with a broken wing. Fowler entered the cabin and reappeared thirty seconds later holding a few cables.
‘Russell won’t be able to use the plane to carry the Ark,’ he said, throwing the cables far away then jumping back down. He grimaced as his feet hit the sand.
He’s still in pain. This is crazy, Andrea thought.
‘Do you have any idea where he could be?’
Fowler was about to answer but instead he stopped and went around to the back of the plane. Next to the wheels sat a dull black object. The priest picked it up.
It was his briefcase.
The top cover looked as if it had been sliced open so you could see the space where the plastic explosives that Fowler had used to blow up the water tank had been. He touched the briefcase in two places and the secret compartment opened.
‘It’s a shame they ruined the leather. This briefcase has been with me for a long time,’ the priest said as he collected the four remaining packages of explosives and another object, which was about the size of a watch face with two metal clasps.
Fowler wrapped the explosives up in the nearest piece of clothing that had been blown out of the tents during the sandstorm.
‘Put this in your backpack, OK?’
‘No way,’ Andrea said, taking a step back. ‘Those things scare the hell out of me.’
‘Without the detonator connected, it’s harmless.’
Andrea conceded, reluctantly.
As they headed towards the platform, they saw the bodies of the terrorists who had surrounded Marla Jackson and Dekker before the simoon hit. Andrea’s first reaction was to panic, until she realised that they were dead. When they reached the corpses Andrea couldn’t help gasping. The bodies were laid out in strange positions. One of them seemed to be trying to get up – one of his arms was in the air, and his eyes were opened wide as if he was looking into Hell, Andrea thought, with an expression of disbelief.
Except that he didn’t have any eyes.
The eye sockets of the corpses were all empty, their open mouths were nothing but black holes, and their skin was grey like cardboard. Andrea pulled her camera out of the backpack and took some photos of the mummies.
I can’t believe it. It’s as if the life was yanked right out of them without any warning. Or as if it’s still happening. God, how horrible!