AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Thursday, 20 July 2006. 2:16 p.m.
Cautiously they stepped out from their hiding place and entered the canyon. The landscape before them was a scene of devastation. The tents had been ripped from their platforms and what had been inside was now scattered throughout the surrounding area. The windscreens on the Hummers had been cracked by small rocks that had come loose from the canyon’s cliffs. Fowler and Andrea were walking towards the vehicles when suddenly they heard the motor of one of the Hummers roar into life.
Without warning, an H3 was heading for them at full speed.
Fowler shoved Andrea out of the way and jumped aside. For a fraction of a second he saw Marla Jackson behind the wheel, her teeth gritted in anger. The huge rear tyre of the Hummer passed inches in front of Andrea’s face, spraying her with sand.
Before the two of them could get up, the H3 had rounded the curve out of the canyon and disappeared.
‘I think there’s just us,’ the priest said as he helped Andrea to her feet. ‘That was Jackson and Dekker leaving like the devil himself was after them. I don’t think many of their companions are left.’
‘Father, I don’t think they’re the only things to have disappeared. It looks like your plan to get me out of here has gone up in smoke,’ said the reporter, pointing to the three remaining all-purpose vehicles.
All twelve tyres had been slashed.
They walked around the wreckage of the tents for a couple of minutes, looking for water. They found three half-full canteens and a surprise: Andrea’s backpack with her hard disk, almost buried in the sand.
‘Everything’s changed,’ Fowler said, looking around suspiciously. He seemed unsure of himself and was creeping about as if an assassin on the cliffs might mow them down at any moment.
Andrea followed him, crouched down in fear.
‘I can’t get you out of here, so stay close until we work something out.’
The BA-609 was turned on its left side like a bird with a broken wing. Fowler entered the cabin and reappeared thirty seconds later holding a few cables.
‘Russell won’t be able to use the plane to carry the Ark,’ he said, throwing the cables far away then jumping back down. He grimaced as his feet hit the sand.
He’s still in pain. This is crazy, Andrea thought.
‘Do you have any idea where he could be?’
Fowler was about to answer but instead he stopped and went around to the back of the plane. Next to the wheels sat a dull black object. The priest picked it up.
It was his briefcase.
The top cover looked as if it had been sliced open so you could see the space where the plastic explosives that Fowler had used to blow up the water tank had been. He touched the briefcase in two places and the secret compartment opened.
‘It’s a shame they ruined the leather. This briefcase has been with me for a long time,’ the priest said as he collected the four remaining packages of explosives and another object, which was about the size of a watch face with two metal clasps.
Fowler wrapped the explosives up in the nearest piece of clothing that had been blown out of the tents during the sandstorm.
‘Put this in your backpack, OK?’
‘No way,’ Andrea said, taking a step back. ‘Those things scare the hell out of me.’
‘Without the detonator connected, it’s harmless.’
Andrea conceded, reluctantly.
As they headed towards the platform, they saw the bodies of the terrorists who had surrounded Marla Jackson and Dekker before the simoon hit. Andrea’s first reaction was to panic, until she realised that they were dead. When they reached the corpses Andrea couldn’t help gasping. The bodies were laid out in strange positions. One of them seemed to be trying to get up – one of his arms was in the air, and his eyes were opened wide as if he was looking into Hell, Andrea thought, with an expression of disbelief.
Except that he didn’t have any eyes.
The eye sockets of the corpses were all empty, their open mouths were nothing but black holes, and their skin was grey like cardboard. Andrea pulled her camera out of the backpack and took some photos of the mummies.
I can’t believe it. It’s as if the life was yanked right out of them without any warning. Or as if it’s still happening. God, how horrible!
Andrea turned around and her backpack grazed the head of one of the men. Before her very eyes the man’s body suddenly disintegrated, leaving only a mixture of grey dust, clothes and bones.
Feeling nauseous, Andrea turned to the priest. She saw that he didn’t suffer from the same scruples when it came to the dead. Fowler had noticed that at least one of the bodies served a more utilitarian purpose, and had pulled out from under it a clean Kalashnikov. He checked the weapon and saw that it was still in good working order. He took some extra clips from the terrorist’s clothes and put them in his pockets.
With the muzzle of the rifle he pointed at the platform leading to the cave entrance.
‘Russell’s up there.’
‘How do you know?’
‘When he decided to reveal himself, he clearly called his friends,’ Fowler said, inclining his head towards the bodies. ‘These are the people you spotted when we first arrived. I don’t know if there are others or how many there could be, but it’s fairly clear that Russell is still around because there are no tracks in the sand leading away from the platform. The simoon has covered everything. If they had come out, we’d be able to see tracks. He’s in there and so is the Ark.’
‘What are we going to do?’
Fowler thought for a few seconds, his head bowed.
‘If I were smart I’d blow up the entrance to the cave and let them starve to death. But I’m afraid there might be others in there. Eichberg, Kayn, David Pappas…’
‘Then you’re going in?’
Fowler nodded. ‘Give me the explosives, please.’
‘Let me go with you,’ Andrea said, handing him the package.
‘Ms Otero, you stay out here and wait until I come out. If you see them coming out instead, don’t say anything. Just hide. Take some photos if you’re able to, and then get out of here and tell the whole world the story.’