Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition

43

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

Friday, 14 July 2006. 9:43 p.m.

Andrea returned to the camp as fast as she could without running. She didn’t look back nor did she worry about her ripped clothing until she approached the row of tents. She felt a strange kind of shame about what had happened, mixed with the fear that someone would find out about her interfering with the frequency scanner. She attempted to look as normal as possible, despite the fact her T-shirt was hanging off her, and headed over towards the infirmary. Luckily she didn’t run into anyone. As she was about to enter the tent, she ran into Kyra Larsen, who was carrying her belongings out.

‘What’s going on, Kyra?’

The archaeologist gave her a cold look.

‘You didn’t even have the decency to show up at the hesped for Stowe. I guess it doesn’t matter. You didn’t know him. For you he was just a nobody, right? That’s why you didn’t even care that it’s your fault he died.’

Andrea was about to reply that other things had kept her away, but she doubted Kyra would understand so she said nothing.

‘I don’t know what you’re up to,’ Kyra went on, barging past her. ‘You know very well that the doctor wasn’t in her bed that night. She may have fooled everyone else, but not me. I’m going to sleep with the rest of the team. There’s an empty cot, thanks to you.’

Andrea was happy to see her go – she wasn’t in the mood for any more confrontations and in her heart she agreed with every one of Kyra’s words. Guilt had played an important part in her Catholic education, and sins of omission were as persistent and painful as any other.

She went into the tent and saw Dr Harel, who turned away. It was obvious that she had had an argument with Larsen.

‘I’m glad you’re all right. We were worried about you.’

‘Turn around, Doc. I know you’ve been crying.’

Harel faced her, rubbing her reddened eyes.

‘It’s silly really. A simple secretion from tear glands and yet we all feel embarrassed about it.’

‘A lie is more embarrassing.’

Then the doctor noticed Andrea’s ripped clothing, something that Larsen, in her anger, seemed to have overlooked, or hadn’t bothered to comment on.

‘What happened to you?’

‘I fell down the stairs. Don’t change the subject. I know who you are.’

Harel chose each of her words carefully.

‘What do you know?’

‘I know that combat medicine is highly regarded by Mossad, or so it seems. And that your emergency substitution was not as big a coincidence as you told me.’

The doctor frowned, then went over to Andrea, who was rummaging around in her rucksack for something clean to wear.

‘I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Andrea. I’m only a low-ranking analyst, not a field agent. My government wants to have eyes and ears on every archaeological expedition that’s after the Ark of the Covenant. This is the third one I’ve been on in seven years.’

‘Are you really a doctor? Or is that a lie too?’ Andrea said as she slipped into another T-shirt.

‘I’m a doctor.’

‘And how is it that you get along so well with Fowler? Because I’ve also found out that he’s a CIA agent, in case you didn’t know.’

‘She already knew, and you owe me an explanation,’ Fowler said.

He was standing near the door, frowning but relieved after having looked for Andrea all afternoon.

‘Bullshit,’ Andrea said, pointing her finger at the priest, who stepped back surprised. ‘I almost died from the heat under that platform, and on top of that, one of Dekker’s dogs just tried to rape me. I’m in no mood to talk to the two of you. At least not yet.’

Fowler touched Andrea’s arm, noticing the bruises on her wrists.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Better than ever,’ she said, pushing the hand away. The last thing she wanted was male contact.

‘Ms Otero, did you hear the soldiers’ conversation while you were under the platform?’

‘What the hell were you doing there?’ a shocked Harel interrupted.

‘I sent her. She was helping me break up the frequency scanner so I could call my contact in Washington.’

‘I would have liked to have been informed, Father,’ Harel said.

Fowler lowered his voice until it was almost a whisper.

‘We need information and we’re not going to get it trapped inside this bubble. Or do you think that I don’t know you slip away every night to send text messages to Tel Aviv?’

‘Touché,’ Harel said, pulling a face.

Was that what you were up to, Doc? Andrea wondered, biting her lower lip and trying to work out what to do. Maybe I was wrong and I should trust you after all. I hope so, because there’s no other choice.

‘Fine, Father. I’ll tell you both what I heard…’