Fighting panic, trying to keep his head clear, Lourds ran. He hated leaving the dying man behind, but the man was … dying. That had been evident from his injuries. Automatic fire thundered and filled the chamber, sending out echoes that rolled into the next cavern.
Once he cleared the cistern chamber, Lourds switched on his flashlight and ran for the hole in the wall. Before he reached it, the firing behind him died away. Then Davari’s voice filled the silence.
‘Lourds!’
Scurrying into the hole, Lourds crawled as fast as he was able. His elbows and knees bruised painfully. The Book and Scroll tied to his body made his efforts cumbersome. The sound of running feet followed him, but by then he’d already reached the turns, where a straight shot wouldn’t hit him.
Then he was at the hidden entrance by the steps. He slammed a hand into it and pushed it open. Legs under him again, he sprinted up the stairs, driving forward hard.
In the main room, the faithful slowed his pace and blocked his path, but he pushed through them, bumping and jostling and twice just running people down. When the bullets started flying, coming from behind him, the crowd hit the ground like they were practicing for an air raid.
Two men at the far end didn’t drop, though. They drew weapons and took up the chase.
Standing tall above the crowd, Lourds leaped over the last few people in his way. He saw bullets splinter the door ahead just before he ran through it. Heart pounding, ears burning, air whistling in his lungs, he took off down the streets.
Sprinting off the curb, he caused a pileup as a driver tried to brake to avoid hitting him and got rear-ended by the vehicle behind it. A taxi parked on the other side of the street. Lourds couldn’t change his stride or direction in time, so he leaped forward, sliding across the hood as bullets hammered its body and smashed through the windshield and windows.
As he rose to his feet, a body crashed into him from behind. The impact against the cobblestoned street drove the wind from his lungs and made his senses reel. The Guardsman who had tackled him tried to shove his pistol into Lourds’s face, but Lourds caught the man’s wrist in both hands. Only then did he realize that the impact had knocked the Book and the Scroll loose.
Horns blared around them, and shouts filled the street. Lourds struggled against his opponent, fueled by adrenaline and his desire to live. The Guardsman snarled curses, promising him God’s vengeance. Lourds twisted hard, forcing the man to drop the gun.
Someone else stepped in close to Lourds as he fought for his life. From the corner of his eye, he watched helplessly as Davari picked up the Book and Scroll. Then the colonel pointed his pistol at Lourds.
Panicked, not knowing what else to do, Lourds released his hold on the Guardsman and scrambled for safety. Before he could do more than turn over, the Guardsman hurled himself on top of Lourds again, taking them both back to the ground. Lourds’s chin struck the cobblestone, splitting open his skin. He felt warm blood flow as his head went sideways.
Pistol shots boomed and rolled. More blood cascaded down Lourds’s neck, and for a frenzied moment he thought it was from his. The Guardsman convulsed above him, though, and Lourds knew Davari had shot his own man in his zeal.
For a moment, Lourds remained still, knowing if he moved, he would be killed. Remaining unmoving, especially with panic racing through him, was almost impossible.
Davari ran, calling to the men that followed him.
Once they had gone, Lourds shoved the dead man off him. For an instant, he stood panting, watching helplessly as Davari got away with the prizes.
Are you going to stand here and let him get away? Lourds thought about Lev and how his friend had given his life to get the Book and the Scroll into safe hands. He thought of all the risks Alice had undertaken for something she didn’t even know about. He thought about how Davari had killed Professor Namati.
He thought about how Davari had tortured Miriam.
Davari can’t be allowed to take the Book back to Iran. Lourds took off in pursuit, driving his legs hard and feeling the steady drip of blood coming from his chin. His heart labored in his chest, but his stride lengthened and steadied.
Davari ran across the next street while holding a walkie-talkie to his mouth. Evidently he was trying to put together an alternate exit strategy.
The alley didn’t go through the neighborhood, though; Lourds knew that from all his visits with Lev. They’d walked all over Jerusalem, discussing the various historical and biblical events that had taken place there. Apparently Lourds knew the city much better than Davari did.
Angling away from the alley Davari had gone through, Lourds ran left, toward the next alley. The one Davari was in came around in a big U.
At the mouth of the next alley, Lourds dashed into a small tourist shop. The space was filled with T-shirts and souvenirs. A bin next to the doorway held umbrellas and walking sticks.
‘May I help you?’ A rotund little shopkeeper started from behind the counter.
‘Stay back or you’re going to get hurt.’ Lourds didn’t know if it was his bloody face or hearing the shots on the street that persuaded the man to back away, but he did retreat.
The man also snatched up a cell phone and called the police as he dropped behind the counter.
Tense and shaking, Lourds waited as the running footsteps grew louder. Angling his head, Lourds discovered he could see the alley reflected in the glass door that was propped open outside.
Davari was approaching fast, still talking on the walkie-talkie.
Desperate, Lourds reached into the bin and pulled out a curved walking stick. Turning back to the doorway, he stuck it out, caught Davari around the neck, and yanked the man into the shop as if he were he was hauling in a prize marlin.
Surprised and half-choked, Davari stumbled into the shop and slammed into a display rack of T-shirts, taking everything down with him.
Twisting the walking stick free, Lourds swung it into the face of the first Guardsman who tried to come through the door. The wood shattered upon impact, the Guardsman staggered backward, and Lourds’s hands went temporarily numb.
Confused and coughing, Davari desperately tried to fight free of the clothing rack. He lifted his pistol and pointed it at Lourds.
Moving on instinct, Lourds kicked the man’s gun hand and launched the pistol toward the opposite wall. The gun shattered the window and disappeared into the alley.
Bending down, he gathered up the Book and the Scroll, both of which had spilled across the floor. Lourds ran to the window, hurling himself onto the street as more Guardsmen poured into the room. Bullets chipped the window frame and slammed into the building across the alley. Then Lourds was outside and running for all he was worth.
He dashed down the first alley he came to and followed the twisting path between buildings, trying to figure out some goal, wondering if he had enough gas left in him to outrun his pursuers.
He risked a glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted it. Davari and three men had taken up the chase and were pacing him easily, like a pride of lions stalking an antelope.
Cutting around a corner, Lourds slipped on loose trash from a spilled container behind a restaurant. Spoiled vegetables turned into paste underfoot. He struggled to maintain his balance, couldn’t, and skidded across the rough paving stones, losing skin from his chin, his cheek, and his left hand.
He pushed himself up, grabbed the Scroll he’d dropped, managed to get to one knee, and watched helplessly as Davari and his men appeared out of the alley and pointed their weapons at him.
Then a slender figure in a burqa came out of nowhere and flung herself at the last Guardsman. She struck the man at the knees and he went down with a cry of alarm. As he dropped his weapon, Miriam scooped it up and came up on one knee with the pistol in both hands.