Kayn dropped to the ground. His face was swollen, almost unrecognisable from the blows. Blood trickled out of his mouth and from his shattered cheekbones.
‘Look at me, old man,’ Russell went on, lifting Kayn by the front of his shirt so that they were eye to eye.
‘Look at the face of your own failure. In a few minutes my men will come down into this cave and remove your precious Ark. We’ll give the world the punishment it deserves. Things will be the way they should always have been.’
‘Sorry, Mr Russell. I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.’
The assistant turned sharply. At the other end of the tunnel Fowler had just lowered himself down on the rope and was aiming a Kalashnikov at him.
94
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Thursday, 20 July 2006. 2:27 p.m.
‘Father Fowler.’
‘Huqan.’
Russell had positioned Kayn’s limp body between himself and the priest, who was still aiming the rifle at Russell’s head.
‘It appears you have disposed of my men.’
‘It wasn’t me, Mr Russell. God took care of that. He turned them into dust.’
Russell looked at him in shock, trying to figure out if the priest was bluffing. The help of his acolytes was essential to the execution of his plan. He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t shown up yet and was trying to stall for time.
‘So you’ve managed to get the upper hand, Father,’ he said, going back to his usual ironic tone. ‘I know how good a shot you are. At this distance you can’t miss. Or are you afraid of hitting the unproclaimed Messiah?’
‘Mr Kayn is just a sick old man who believes he is doing God’s will. From my point of view the only difference between the two of you is your age. Drop the gun.’
Russell was clearly outraged at the insult but powerless to do anything in the situation. He was holding his own gun by the muzzle after he’d used it to beat Kayn, and the old man’s body did not offer him sufficient protection. Russell knew that one false move would produce a hole in his head.
He opened his right fist and let the pistol drop, then opened his left and released Kayn.
The old man collapsed in slow motion, crumpling as if his joints weren’t connected to each other.
‘Excellent, Mr Russell,’ Fowler said. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, please take ten steps back…’
Mechanically, Russell did as he was told, hatred burning in his eyes.
For every step that Russell took back, Fowler took one forward, until the former had his back to the wall and the priest was standing beside Kayn.
‘Very good. Now put your hands on top of your head and you’ll come out of this with your life.’
Fowler squatted down next to Kayn, feeling for his pulse. The old man was shaking, and one of his legs seemed to be in spasm. The priest frowned. Kayn’s condition worried him – he was showing all the signs of having had a stroke and his life-force seemed to be evaporating with every moment.
In the meantime Russell was looking around, trying to find something to use as a weapon against the priest. Suddenly, he felt something beneath him on the ground. He looked down and noticed that he was standing on some cables that ended a foot and a half to his right and were connected to the generator that was providing electricity in the cave.
He smiled.
Fowler took Kayn’s arm, ready to pull him further away from Russell if he needed to. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Russell jump. Without the least hesitation he fired.
Then the lights went out.
What was meant to be a warning shot ended up destroying the generator. The equipment started shooting off sparks every few seconds, illuminating the tunnel with a sporadic blue light that grew weaker, like a camera flash gradually losing power.
Fowler crouched down immediately, a position that he had taken hundreds of times when he had parachuted into enemy territory on moonless nights. When you didn’t know the position of your enemy, the best thing to do was sit still and wait.
Blue spark.
Fowler thought he saw a shadow running along the wall to his left and fired. It missed. Cursing his luck, he moved several feet in a zigzag to make sure that the other wouldn’t know his position after the shot.
Blue spark.
Once again a shadow, this time to his right, although longer and right up against the wall. He fired in the opposite direction. Again he missed and there was more movement.
Blue spark.
He was against the wall. He couldn’t see Russell anywhere. This could mean he-
With a scream, Russell threw himself at Fowler, hitting him repeatedly on the face and neck. The priest felt the other’s teeth biting down on his arm like an animal. Unable to do otherwise, he let go of the Kalashnikov. For a second he felt the other’s hands. They struggled and the rifle was lost in the darkness.
Blue spark.
Fowler was on the ground and Russell was trying his best to choke him. The priest, finally able to see his enemy, closed his fist and punched Russell in the solar plexus. Russell groaned and rolled to one side.
One last, weak blue flash.
Fowler managed to see Russell disappearing into the chamber. A sudden dull gleam told him that Russell had found his pistol.
A voice to his right called out.
‘Father.’
Fowler crept towards the dying Kayn. He didn’t want to offer Russell an easy target in case he decided to try his luck and aim randomly in the dark. The priest finally felt the old man’s body in front of him and put his mouth to his ear.
‘Mr Kayn, hold on,’ he whispered. ‘I can get you out of here.’
‘No, Father, you can’t,’ Kayn replied, and although his voice was weak he spoke with the firm tone of a small child. ‘It’s better like this. I’m going to see my parents, my son and my brother. My life began in a hole. It makes sense that it will end the same way.’
‘Then entrust yourself to God,’ the priest said.
‘I have. Would you give me your hand while I leave?’
Fowler said nothing but felt for the dying man’s hand, holding it between his own. Less than a minute later, in the middle of a whispered Hebrew prayer, there was a death rattle and Raymond Kayn was still.
By now the priest knew what he had to do.
In the middle of the darkness he brought his fingers to the buttons on his shirt and undid them, then pulled out the package containing the explosives. He felt for the detonator, stuck it into the bars of C4 and pressed the buttons. In his mind he counted the number of beeps.
After setting it, I have two minutes, he thought.
But he couldn’t leave the bomb outside the cavity where the Ark rested. Maybe it wouldn’t be powerful enough to seal the cave once more. He wasn’t sure how deep the hollow was, and if the Ark was behind an outcrop of rock it might survive without a scratch. If he was going to prevent this insanity happening again, he had to place the bomb next to the Ark. He couldn’t throw it in like a grenade because the detonator might come loose. And he had to have enough time to escape.
The only option was to overcome Russell, put the C4 in position and then run like hell.
He crawled around, hoping to avoid making too much noise, but it was impossible. The ground was covered in small rocks that shifted as he moved.