Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition

81

VATICAN CITY

Thirteen days earlier

‘Do you want some ice for that hand?’ Cirin asked. Fowler took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to bandage his knuckles, which were bleeding from several cuts. Avoiding Brother Cesáreo, who was still trying to repair the niche that he had destroyed with his fists, Fowler approached the Chief of the Holy Alliance.

‘What is it you want from me, Camilo?’

‘I want you to bring it back, Anthony. If it truly exists, the place for the Ark is here, in a reinforced room one hundred and fifty feet under the Vatican. Now isn’t the time for it to go floating around the world in the wrong hands. Let alone for the world to know of its existence.’

Fowler gritted his teeth at the arrogance of Cirin and whoever it was above him, maybe even the Pope himself, who felt they could decide the fate of the Ark. What Cirin was asking of him was much more than a simple mission; it weighed like a tombstone over his whole life. The risks were incalculable.

‘We will keep it,’ Cirin insisted. ‘We know how to wait.’

Fowler nodded.

He’d go to Jordan.

But he too was capable of making his own decisions.