He moved again, picking his way from one small rock to another leafless patch of desert scrub. There was very little vegetation, but he made use of any cover he could find. As the minutes passed he saw that he had put a hundred meters between himself and the train. Then he spied a low rise in the ground that ran parallel to the rail line. Once he got behind it, he could move faster, hastening forward to the relative safety of the hills.
By the time he had cleared the front of the train he was already breathless with his effort. The anxiety drove him on, however, and he forced his tired limbs to stagger forward. He reached the hills, and skirted the lower edge of the southernmost hump. He was very weary, his arms and legs moving with leaden sluggishness now. What’s wrong with me, he thought? I can’t be this much out of shape. He was very near the culvert where Lawrence had most likely placed his gelatine mine. For a brief moment, he realized that he might be walking forward in the last few moments of his life. The train whistle blew, its raucous call cutting the cold morning air. It was followed by the telltale chug of the engine as it strained to gather momentum. They were coming.
Sweat streamed from his brow and clouded his eyes as he forced himself to struggle forward. He realized he was losing any hope of stealth, for the effort to walk was draining enough. God, give me strength, he whispered, show me the way. Show me what to do…
“Who is that?” Khazen, the servant of Ali ibn el Hussein spoke in a low whisper. He was peering from the lip of a ridge on the southern hump of Minifir, pointing at a lone figure far below them near the rail line. “Is that your son again, Hamud? I told you to send him back with the animals!”
“I did as much. He is tending the camels on the other side of the hill.”
“Then who is that? The idiot! He will draw the attention of the Turks and give our position away. What is he doing there?”
“I do not know him.” Hamud was squinting into the pale light, grateful that the rain squall blowing in from the north was thinning out a bit and a spot of sunlight was breaking through the clouds.
“Where is his headdress?” Khazen’s voice gathered more urgency. He was reaching for his rifle. “Strange… He has no beard. Could it be one of the horse tenders?”
“You cannot fire,” said Hamud with a wide-eyed glance. “That will warn the Turks for certain!”
“Curse the man, look how he stumbles about like a drunken fool!”
“Yes, something is wrong with him—See? He has fallen behind that rock.”
“Let us hope he has the good sense to stay there. When Aurens fires the charge I will go to see about this fool. If he is one of the Serahin, I will strike his face for what he has done here. Was it not one of the Serahin who slipped and fell near the Yarmuk bridge?”
“He claimed his rifle strap broke. It was the will of Allah.”
“Perhaps, but this is the work of a fool. Has the man no sense?”
“Quiet now,” Hamud whispered. “The train comes.”
The two men hunched behind their ridge, waiting out the interval of time marked by the slow chugging progress of the train. It crept along, gathering a little speed as it came. The smoke from the squat engine was thick and black, freshly fueled by new coal that had been brought forward from the tender. Khazen looked and saw that it was very near the low arch support where Aurens had laid his mine. Even now his hand would be on the plunger of the exploder, ready to strike a blow against this infernal machine and set loose the wrath of the raiders. He rubbed his palms together in restless anticipation. God is great, he prayed. Let him strike down those who dare to trample the Pilgrim Road to Mecca. He waited, knowing that Allah would certainly hear him and answer with the explosive din of righteous anger when the charge went off.
It was written.
26
Kelly breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, we’ve got one back. Indicators are showing a successful retraction. Can you get down there and see about it, Maeve?”
Maeve hesitated, afraid to leave the room, her thoughts beset with the same inner fear that had been nagging at her for the last hour. “Aren’t you coming?” She seemed unwilling to leave Kelly’s side.
“I’ve got to set this last particle infusion. Lord, look at the time! We’ve one more fish on the line. If I don’t get this particle density right, we may lose him.” He was already sliding to the Particle Chamber controls, his features furrowed with the intensity of his effort. Maeve lingered near the main console, biting at her fingernail. Kelly gave her a sidelong glance with a gentle verbal nudge. “Come on, lady. Who knows what’s happened to them? You’ve got to clear the Arch corridor before I can ramp back up to full power. I’ll hold it at 85% until 4:05. Can you get down there quick and see what’s up?”
“Right…” Maeve forced herself to move. Kelly was correct. What could she do for him here but get in the way? She found herself eyeing the clock on the wall and then the desk drawer where Nordhausen’s copy of the Seven Pillars had been secreted away. It was 4:00 AM! The success or failure of the mission would be detailed in the passage where Lawrence described the raid at Kilometer 172. It was written. If they were successful the second train should have passed unhindered. If they failed then Kelly would have one last shot at adjusting the retraction scheme to give them a little more time, but that already seemed well underway. She started towards the heavy doors that would lead to the lower chambers but her curiosity was just too strong, pulling her back, and dragging her over to the desk.
As she reached for the drawer handle, she saw that her hand was shaking. What was wrong with her? Someone was down there in the Arch and she was dallying about like a frightened doe. A moment’s weakness or a moment’s resolve, she knew not which, found her lunging at the drawer and pulling it open. She closed her eyes as she did so, afraid that the book might not even be there when she looked. When she opened them she saw the same worn volume that Nordhausen had been reading from earlier. Greatly relieved, she snatched up the book and started for the door. Kelly was so intent on his adjustments that he never even noticed her. She fought the urge to open the book right then and there, while she was still here in the room with Kelly, and this time she mastered her impulse and tucked the volume safely under her arm. She was head of Outcomes and Consequences, and she had the result of this mission clearly penned in the lines of Lawrence’s narrative—at least that was her hope.
Clinging to that possibility, she turned her mind to the Arch and the help that might be needed there. Someone was already in the tunnel and, with any luck, Kelly would bring home the last of the travelers in just a few minutes. She leapt through the door, making sure she closed and sealed every portal as she went. The brief ride in the elevator seemed an eternity. Her arm tightened on the book, tensely holding it in place so she would not be tempted to look at it. Then the elevator whisked open and she started through towards the last heavy lock, intent on what she would find on the other side.