‘I need your help. What do we look for?’
A minute later, after keying in all the passwords he could think of, Orville gave up.
‘It’s useless. There’s nothing. And if there was, he’s already erased it.’
‘That gives me an idea. Wait,’ said Albert, taking from his pocket a USB flash drive no bigger than a stick of chewing gum, and connecting it to the CPU of the computer so that it would interface with the hard drive. ‘The little program in this baby will let you retrieve information from erased sections on the hard drive. We can go from there.’
‘Terrific. Look for Netcatch.’
‘Right!’
With a little buzz, a list of fourteen files appeared in the program’s search window. Albert opened all of them at once.
‘They’re html files. Saved websites.’
‘Do you recognise anything?’
‘Yes, I saved them myself. They’re what I call server conversations. Terrorists never send each other e-mails when they’re planning an attack. Any idiot knows that e-mail can go through twenty or thirty servers before reaching its destination, so you never know who’s watching your communication. What they do is give everyone in the cell the same password to a free account and they write whatever they need to pass on as a draft e-mail message. It’s like you’re writing to yourself except that it’s a whole cell of terrorists communicating with each other. The e-mail is never sent. It never goes anywhere because each one of the terrorists is using the same account and-’
Orville stood paralysed in front of the screen, so stunned that for a moment he forgot to breathe. The unthinkable, what he had never imagined, suddenly became obvious before his very eyes.
‘This isn’t right,’ he said.
‘What is it, Orville?’
‘I… hack through thousands and thousands of accounts every week. When we copy files from a web server, we only keep the text. If we didn’t, the images would quickly fill up our hard drives. The result is ugly, but you can still read it.’
Orville pointed a bandaged finger at the computer screen, where a conversation between terrorists on the e-mail account Maktoob.com could be seen with coloured buttons and images that would not have been the case had this been one of the files he had hacked into and saved.
‘Somebody went into Maktoob.com from the browser in this computer, Albert. Even though they erased it after they finished, the images remained in the memory cache. And to get into Maktoob…’
Albert understood even before Orville could finish.
‘Whoever was here had to know the password.’
Orville agreed.
‘It’s Russell, Albert. Russell is Huqan.’
At that moment shots rang out, shattering the large window.
77
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Thursday, 20 July 2006. 6:49 a.m.
Fowler looked carefully at his watch. Nine seconds ahead of the agreed time, the unexpected happened.
Albert was calling.
The priest had gone to the canyon entrance to make his call. There was a blind spot there that the soldier watching from the southern end of the cliff couldn’t see. The moment he turned on the phone, the call came. Fowler knew straight away that something was wrong.
‘Albert, what’s happened?’
On the other end of the line he heard a number of voices yelling. Fowler tried to understand what was going on.
‘Throw down the phone!’
‘Officer, I have to make this call!’ Albert’s voice sounded far away, as if he didn’t have the phone next to his ear. ‘It’s really important. It’s a question of national security.’
‘I told you to drop the fucking phone.’
‘I’m going to lower my arm slowly and talk. If you see me do something suspicious, then shoot me.’
‘This is my last warning. Drop it!’
‘Anthony,’ Albert’s voice was steady and clear. He’d finally put the earpiece in. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, Albert.’
‘Russell is Huqan. Confirmed. Be careful-’
The connection was cut off. Fowler felt a wave of shock wash over his body. He turned around to run towards the camp, then everything went black.
78
INSIDE THE DINING TENT, FIFTY-THREE SECONDS BEFORE
Andrea and Harel stopped at the entrance to the mess tent when they saw David Pappas running towards them. Pappas was carrying a bloody T-shirt and he seemed to be disoriented.
‘Doctor, Doctor!’
‘What the hell’s going on, David?’ answered Harel. She had been in the same bad mood ever since the water incident had made proper coffee a thing of the past.
‘It’s the professor. He’s in bad shape.’
David had volunteered to stay with Forrester while Andrea and Doc went to breakfast. The only thing that had delayed the demolition of the wall to get to the Ark was Forrester’s condition, although Russell had wanted to go ahead with the job the previous night. David had refused to open the cavity until the professor had had a chance to recover and could join them. Andrea, whose opinion of Pappas had gone from bad to worse over the past few hours, suspected that he was simply waiting for Forrester to be completely out of the way.
‘OK.’ Doc sighed. ‘You go ahead, Andrea. It doesn’t make sense for both of us to miss breakfast.’ She began jogging back towards the infirmary.
The reporter took a quick peek inside the mess tent. Zayit and Peterke waved back at her. Andrea liked the mute cook and his assistant but the only people sitting at the tables at that moment were two of the soldiers, Alois Gottlieb and Louis Maloney, who were eating from their trays. Andrea was surprised there were only two of them, because the soldiers normally had breakfast together, leaving only one lookout posted on the southern ridge for half an hour. In fact, breakfast was the only time she ever saw the soldiers together in one place.
Since she didn’t care for their company, Andrea had decided she would go back and see if she could help Harel.
Even though my medical knowledge is so limited I’d probably put a hospital gown on backwards.
Then Doc turned around and yelled: ‘Do me a favour, and bring me a large coffee, OK?’
Andrea put one foot inside the mess tent, trying to work out the best route to avoid the sweaty soldiers, who were leaning over their food like apes, when she almost banged into Nuri Zayit. The cook must have seen the doctor running back to the infirmary because he handed Andrea a tray with two cups of instant coffee and a plate of toast.
‘Instant coffee dissolved in milk, is that right, Nuri?’
The mute smiled and shrugged his shoulders to say it wasn’t his fault.
‘I know. Perhaps tonight we’ll see water springing from a rock and all that biblical stuff. Anyway, thank you.’
Slowly, making sure she didn’t spill the coffee because she knew she wasn’t the most coordinated person in the world, even though she would never admit it out loud, she headed for the infirmary. Nuri waved to her from the entrance to the mess tent, still smiling.
And then it happened.
Andrea felt as if a giant hand were lifting her up from the ground and throwing her six and a half feet into the air before flinging her back down. She felt a sharp pain in her left arm and a terrible burning on her chest and her back. She turned just in time to see thousands of small pieces of burning cloth falling from the sky. A column of black smoke was all that was left of what, two seconds ago, had been the mess tent. Up high the smoke seemed to mix with another much blacker smoke. Andrea couldn’t work out where it was coming from. Carefully, she touched her chest and realised that her shirt was covered in a hot sticky liquid.
Doc came running over.
‘Are you all right? Oh God, are you OK, darling?’
Andrea was aware that Harel was shouting even though she sounded far away due to the whistling in Andrea’s ears. She felt the doctor checking her neck and arms.
> ‘My chest.’
‘You’re OK. It’s only coffee.’
Andrea stood up carefully and saw that she had spilled the coffee over herself. Her right hand was still clutching the tray, while her left arm had banged against a rock. She moved her fingers, afraid that she had suffered more injuries. Luckily nothing was broken but her whole left side felt as if it were paralyzed.
While a few members of the expedition tried to put out the fire using buckets of sand, Harel concentrated on taking care of Andrea’s wounds. The reporter had cuts and scratches to the left side of her body. Her hair and the skin on her back had been slightly burned and there was a constant buzzing in her ears.
‘The buzzing will disappear in three to four hours,’ Harel said as she put her stethoscope back into her trouser pocket.
‘I’m sorry…’ Andrea said, almost shouting without realising it. She was crying.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’
‘He… Nuri… brought the coffee out to me. If I had gone inside to get it, I’d be dead right now. I could’ve asked him to come out and smoke a cigarette with me. I could’ve saved his life in return.’
Harel pointed to the surroundings. Both the mess tent and a fuel truck had been blown up – two separate explosions at the same time. Four people had been turned to nothing but ash.
‘The only one who should feel anything is the son of a bitch who did this.’
‘Don’t worry about it, lady, we have him,’ Torres said.
He and Jackson were dragging a person in handcuffs by the feet. They deposited him in the middle of the area by the tents while the other expedition members looked on in shock, unable to believe what they were seeing.
79
THE EXCAVATION
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.’
80
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Thursday, 20 July 2006. 7:14 a.m.
Sitting in the back of the H3, Andrea half closed her eyes in a vain attempt to deal with the dust that was pouring in through the windows. The explosion of the fuel tanker had blown out the vehicle’s windows and cracked the windscreen, and even though Alryk had repaired some of the holes with duct tape and a few shirts, he had worked so quickly that there were still places where the sand blew in. Harel complained, but the soldier didn’t reply. He was holding the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white and his mouth tense. He had raced over the large dune at the entrance to the canyon in only three minutes and was now stepping on the accelerator as if his life depended on it.
‘It won’t be the most comfortable trip in the world, but at least we’re going home,’ Doc said, putting her hand on Andrea’s thigh. Andrea grasped her hand firmly.
‘Why did he do it, Doc? Why did he have explosives in his briefcase? Tell me they planted them on hi
m,’ said the young reporter, almost pleading.
The doctor leaned closer, so that Alryk couldn’t hear her, although she doubted he could hear anything with the noise of the engine and the wind flapping the temporary covers on the windows.
‘I don’t know, Andrea, but the explosives were his.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Andrea, her eyes suddenly serious.
‘Because he told me. After you heard the soldiers talking when you were under their tent, he came to me for help with a crazy plan to blow up the water supply.’
‘Doc, what are you saying? You knew about that?’
‘He came here because of you. He saved your life once before, and according to the code of honour his kind live by, he believes he must assist you any time you need help. In any case, for reasons I don’t quite understand, it was his boss who got you involved in the first place. He wanted to make sure Fowler was on the expedition.’
‘Is that why Kayn mentioned the thing about the worm?’
‘Yes. For Kayn and his people you were just a way of controlling Fowler. Everything’s been a lie from the very start.’
‘And what will happen to him now?’
‘Forget about him. They’ll interrogate him and then… he’ll disappear. And before you say anything, don’t even think about going back there.’
The reality of the situation left the reporter stunned.
‘Why, Doc?’ Andrea pulled away from her in disgust. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, after all we’ve been through? You swore you’d never lie to me again. You swore while we were making love. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid…’
‘I say a lot of things.’ A tear slid down Harel’s cheek, but when she continued her voice was steely. ‘His mission is different from mine. For me, this was just another of the silly expeditions that take place from time to time. But Fowler knew it could be the real thing. And if it was, he knew he had to do something about it.’
Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition Page 28