The Exodus Quest

III

There was no answer to Claire's summons. She pounded the door again. Still nothing. Augustin walked slowly over to her, as unthreateningly as he could. She backed against the wall even so, holding the tray up almost as a shield across her chest so that her medical supplies spilled to the floor all around her feet. 'Let me go,' she squirmed, refusing to meet his eyes.

'Just hear me out.'

'Please.'

'One minute. That's all I'm asking.'

She turned away, discomfited by his closeness, the gentle press of his body wherever it touched hers. 'Okay,' she said. 'One minute.'

'Thank you. I don't care what happened with Knox and Omar. At least, I do, I care tremendously. But that's tomorrow's issue. Right now I need your help because a very good friend of mine is in immediate grave danger, and without your help she may well die.'

Claire frowned in surprise. This wasn't what she'd been expecting at all. 'A friend? Who?'

'A young woman called Gaille Bonnard. She's an archaeologist down in-'

'The hostage?'

'You know about her?'

Claire pulled a face. 'She was all over the TV this morning.'

'You've seen the coverage then?' said Augustin eagerly. 'So you must have noticed her position.'

'What are you talking about?'

'The night before she was abducted, my friend Knox sent her his photographs of whatever it is you've found here.'

'We've found nothing.'

'She enhanced them and sent them back. Look at her posture in the footage! It's exactly the same as-'

'The mosaic!' blurted out Claire.

'You have seen it,' cried Augustin.

'No!' But her denial was absurd and she must have realized it. She pushed Augustin away from her, scrabbled on the floor for her medical supplies.

'Claire,' he pleaded. 'Listen. Gaille's sending us a message, something to do with that mosaic. We can't work out what it is because we've lost our photos. We need to find the originals. Her life may depend on it.'

'I can't help you.'

'Yes, you can. You're a doctor; you trained to be a doctor. Saving lives is your whole purpose. You've got to help her. She may die if you don't.'

'Stop it.'

'You hate what's going on here. I can tell that. You wouldn't have insisted on seeing me otherwise. I'm fine. Forget me. But Gaille isn't. Those other two hostages aren't. They need your help. How can you say no?'

'These people are my friends,' she said, pounding on the door.

'No, they're not, Claire. They're using you because you speak Arabic and have some medical knowledge and because they trust you to be loyal after what they did for your father. That's all. They call themselves Christian, but can you imagine Christ behaving like this? Can you imagine Christ running people down or locking them up? Can you imagine Christ withholding information that could save the lives of two young women and-'

'Let me go!' she begged, as Ramiz finally opened the door. 'Let me go.'

'Please, Claire. Please.'

But she tore herself away from him and out, the door banging closed behind her. He sat down gingerly on the footstool, head in his hands, aware he'd just blown his best chance; and maybe Gaille's too.