Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition

79

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

Thursday, 20 July 2006. 6:49 a.m.

Fowler put his hand up to his forehead. It was bleeding. The explosion from the truck had thrown him to the ground and he had hit his head against something. He had tried to get up and head back towards the camp with the satellite phone still in his hand. In the middle of his hazy vision and the thick cloud of smoke, he saw two soldiers approaching with their guns aimed at him.

‘It was you, you son of a bitch!’

‘Look, he still has the phone in his hand.’

‘That’s what you used to set off the explosions, wasn’t it, you bastard?’

The butt of a rifle hit his head. He fell to the ground but didn’t feel the kicks or the other blows to his body. He had lost consciousness long before that.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Russell screamed, joining the group that had crowded around Father Fowler: Dekker, Torres, Jackson and Alryk Gottlieb on the soldiers’ side; Eichberg, Hanley and Pappas from what was left of the civilians.

With Harel’s help, Andrea was trying to stand up and go over to the group of threatening faces that were black with soot.

‘It’s not ridiculous, sir,’ said Dekker, throwing down Fowler’s satellite phone. ‘He was carrying this when we found him near the fuel truck. Thanks to the scanner, we know he made a brief phone call this morning, so we were already suspicious of him. Instead of going to breakfast, we took our positions and watched him. Luckily.’

‘It’s only-’ Andrea began, but Harel yanked her arm.

‘Quiet. That’s not going to help him,’ she whispered.

Exactly. What was I going to say, that it’s the secret phone he uses to communicate with the CIA? That’s not the best way of defending his innocence, idiot.

‘It’s a telephone. Certainly something that’s not allowed on this expedition, but it’s not enough to accuse this man of causing the explosions, ’ Russell said.

‘Maybe not just the phone, sir. But look what we found in his briefcase. ’

Jackson tossed the ruined briefcase in front of them. It had been emptied and the bottom cover ripped off. Glued to the base was a secret compartment containing small bars that looked like marzipan.

‘It’s C4, Mr Russell,’ Dekker went on.

The information made them all hold their breath. Then Alryk pulled out his pistol.

‘This pig killed my brother. Let me put a bullet through his fucking skull,’ he screamed, out of his mind with rage.

‘I’ve heard enough,’ said a soft but steady voice.

The circle opened and Raymond Kayn approached the unconscious body of the priest. He leaned over him, one figure in black and the other in white.

‘I can understand what made this man do what he did. But this mission has been delayed for too long, and it cannot be delayed any more. Pappas, please get back to work and knock down the wall.’

‘Mr Kayn, I can’t do that without knowing what’s going on here,’ Pappas answered.

Brian Hanley and Tommy Eichberg folded their arms and went and stood next to Pappas. Kayn didn’t even look at them twice.

‘Mr Dekker?’

‘Sir?’ said the large South African.

‘Please, exercise your authority. The time for niceties is over.’

‘Jackson,’ said Dekker, signalling.

The soldier lifted her M4 and aimed it at the three rebels.

‘You’ve got to be joking,’ complained Eichberg, whose large red nose was a couple of inches from the muzzle of Jackson’s automatic.

‘It’s no joke, honey. Start walking or I’ll shoot you a new asshole.’ Jackson cocked her weapon with an ominous metallic click.

Ignoring the others, Kayn walked over to Harel and Andrea.

‘As for you young ladies, it has been a pleasure to be able to rely on your services. Mr Dekker will guarantee your return to the Behemoth.’

‘What are you saying?’ howled Andrea, who despite her difficulty in hearing had caught some of what Kayn had said. ‘Damned son of a bitch! They’re going to extract the Ark in a few hours time. Let me stay until tomorrow. You owe me.’

‘Are you saying that the fisherman owes the worm? Take them away. Oh, and make sure they leave only with what they’re wearing. Have the reporter hand over the disk containing her photos.’

Dekker pulled Alryk aside and spoke to him quietly.

‘You take them.’

‘Bullshit. I want to stay here and deal with the priest. He killed my brother,’ said the German, his eyes bloodshot.

‘He’ll still be alive when you get back. Now do as you’re told. Torres will keep him nice and warm for you.’

‘Fuck, Colonel. It takes at least three hours to go from here to Aqaba and back, even if we’re driving at top speed in the Humvee. If Torres gets his hands on the priest, there’ll be nothing left of him by the time I get back.’

‘Believe me, Gottlieb. You’ll be back in an hour.’

‘What are you saying, sir?’

Dekker looked at him seriously, annoyed by his subordinate’s slowness. He hated having to spell things out.

‘Sarsaparilla, Gottlieb. And make it quick.’