by Olly Jarvis
Lizzie and Jay shared an amused glance.
Badil was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve shirt, undone almost to the navel revealing a large medallion, and had a pair of sunglasses on his forehead, despite the sun having set. ‘Let’s rock and roll,’ he shouted excitedly at Broady with a strong Turkish accent. ‘You want to go Sanliurfa, right?’ He patted the bonnet. ‘Me and this baby will take you anywhere.’
Broady ignored him and loaded the bags into the boot then got into the passenger seat.
Ella took out some cash. ‘How much?’
He waved her away. ‘You pay me later. You decide how much. You happy, you pay me well…’
Ella was already getting into the back.
‘If you not happy…’ he wittered on to no one in particular. He got into the driver’s seat and said to Broady, ‘What’s your name, man?’
‘Broady,’ he replied without taking his eyes off the windscreen. ‘Let’s go.’
‘OK, man,’ he replied with a dumb grin. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here, yes.’ He started the car, the exhaust spluttering into action as they pulled away, leaving Olan and his father standing in the alley looking totally confused by the whole episode.
‘Slow down at these crossroads,’ said Broady on the way out of town. As they passed the junction, he threw the rest of the antibiotics out of the window.
‘I wonder if Harris and Grant know about Stone,’ said Ella who was squeezed in behind the driver’s seat. ‘Seems like everyone wants to know what we’re doing.’
Badil gave Broady a double-take. ‘You must be into some crazy shit, man?’
Broady gave him a withering stare.
‘Talking of shit,’ said Jay. ‘Hope you had one recently – there might be another tracker still inside you.’
Broady rolled his eyes. ‘I’m going to take the fifth on that but you don’t need to worry.’
‘Hey, take the fifth, man – you from the good old US of A?’
‘Sure am,’ Broady replied without matching his enthusiasm.
Badil took one hand off the wheel. ‘High five, man.’
In a limp, reluctant motion, Broady slapped his palm.
Seemingly getting the message, Badil drove on in silence. The traffic thinned out as the night wore on until they were alone on the highway.
‘Can’t you go any faster?’ said Ella, looking at her watch. ‘What time will we get to Sanliurfa?’
He put his foot down. ‘Before sunrise,’ Badil replied, checking her out in the rear-view. ‘You want see where Abraham born, yes?’
Her curiosity was peaked. ‘What’s that?’
‘Yeah, man. It’s a cave below the castle, right in the middle of the city.’ he replied. ‘He born there, man. Pilgrim come from all over to see.’
Broady made a careful rotation of his body. ‘He was a descendant of Noah, it’s in Genesis.’ He took the bible out of his pocket and went straight to the passage. ‘Yeah, Chapter Eleven. There’s a whole list of descendants of Shem, one of Noah’s sons. Then Verse Twenty-Six, Terah begot Abraham.’
Badil went in for another high five. ‘Hey, you know your shit, man.’
This time Broady left him hanging.
Ella leaned in to see for herself. ‘It’s not far back enough, but I suppose it’s something.’
‘I can take you ancient places all over my country,’ said Badil, sounding deflated from Broady’s rejection. ‘Many, many in Turkey.’
‘Abraham’s cave will do fine,’ said Ella.
Chapter Eighty-One
Badil hadn’t said anything for a while.
Ella watched him check the rear-view mirror again. ‘What’s up?’
‘Car behind,’ he replied. ‘Been there long time.’ His facial expression had changed from grinning fool to one of total seriousness. ‘Maybe police.’ He glanced over at Broady for a reaction. ‘Often they stop driver at this time.’
They all looked through the back window at the headlights in the distance. Ella glanced at her watch: 1 a.m. ‘Pull over, see if it goes by.’
Badil slowed, veering onto the side of the road, the tyres crunching on the stoney verge.
They concentrated on the lights, waiting for the beam to get bigger.
‘It’s stopping,’ said Broady. ‘Go.’
Badil immediately put the car in first and skidded off the stones, moving expertly up the gears.
The car behind appeared to speed up.
‘It’s getting closer,’ Lizzie shouted.
Badil put his foot down even further causing the steering wheel to shake.
The car was gaining all the time, until they were almost bumper to bumper. They could see the shape of the vehicle now, a large four by four.
Ella put a hand on Broady’s shoulder. ‘What do we do?’
The car pulled out suddenly and then eased alongside.
The windows were tinted, but they could make out the silhouettes of several people inside, maybe three. The vehicle edged in front at an angle, forcing them off to the side.
‘It’s pointless,’ said Broady. ‘Pull over before there’s a crash.’
Badil eased up on the accelerator and started gentle braking. The passengers exchanged nervous glances. They came to a stop with what they could now see was a Range Rover coming to a halt at an angle, blocking their path.
They held their breath.
Two meat heads in civvies got out of the back and stood on guard.
‘They look like Americans,’ said Badil. ‘Not Turkish.’
A third man in a suit climbed out of the passenger seat and walked around the front, his face illuminated in the Škoda’s offside headlight.
‘It’s Stone,’ said Broady. He opened the door and got out. ‘I’ll handle this.’ He walked around to where Stone was standing.
Ella opened her door. ‘Stay here,’ she said to Lizzie and Jay.
Jay made to get out but Lizzie put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back.
Ella stood a few feet behind Broady, checking out the sinister faces of Stone’s henchmen. The road was deserted. She couldn’t see lights from any buildings. Only the sound of cicadas clicking on the breeze.
‘Get in Broady,’ said Stone with a confidence that his order would not be questioned.
Broady hesitated, turned to look at Ella, then back at Stone. ‘I’m going to stick with these guys.’
Ella felt a lump in her throat.
Stone’s expression changed. ‘It’s not a request.’
Broady didn’t reply at first. Then, ‘Who are you anyway? You don’t talk like no Embassy guy.’
Stone’s posture stiffened. ‘All you need to know is I’m here on behalf of the President. Consider it a direct order.’
No one spoke.
Finally, Broady said, ‘I’m not coming.’ He moved slowly back towards the Škoda.
‘Stand down marine,’ Stone barked.
Broady kept walking backwards. ‘I ain’t a marine no more.’
One of the goons pulled a side arm from out of his jacket and pointed it at Broady.
Stone had a rueful expression. ‘You turned Indian on me?’
Broady stopped in his tracks.
Ella saw him wince at the racist insult but he didn’t rise to it. ‘We’re just trying to find our history, maybe even find Hart’s daughter.’
‘Don’t be so goddamn naïve,’ said Stone. ‘We know what you’re doing.’
Ella’s curiosity overrode her instinct to stay out of it. ‘Naïve?’
Stone kept his eyes on Broady. ‘People don’t want to hear Shepherd’s crazy theories.’ He sniffed, then took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead. ‘The birth of civilisation?’ He scoffed. ‘How do you think middle America would take that?’
‘Take what?’ said Broady, his irritation showing.
Stone gestured around him. ‘That it all started in this godforsaken country. By a bunch of Arabs.’
Broady moved forward, then stoppe
d on hearing one of the men cock his gun. ‘Jesus was from the Middle East.’
‘Israel,’ Stone yelled. ‘There’s a difference. Our people think of him as white. You want to tell folks that Noah is actually the guy – that he started the whole damn thing?’ Stone signalled to the other subordinate who took out his gun too. ‘That we all share the same goddamn religion?’
Ella was dumbfounded. ‘Seriously? Is that so bad?’ she said.
‘We need something to fight for,’ Stone replied. ‘That’s what makes us American, patriots.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ said Broady. ‘Things got twisted over time, ’tis all. Humanity lost its way.’
Stone let out a cynical laugh.
‘What about Sarah?’ asked Ella.
Stone gave her a cold shrug. ‘Better a dead martyr than a nuisance.’
‘You’re the leak,’ said Ella. ‘You’re working with Kline?’
Stone gave a nonchalant smile. ‘Let’s just say we have some shared goals.’ He waved at Broady. ‘Last chance, get in.’
‘And what about my friends?’
No response. Stone’s silence said enough.
Ella’s mouth went dry. Instinct made her look to her daughter, Lizzie’s childhood flashed before her eyes. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, we’re British.’
Stone was unmoved.
Broady backed into Ella, shielding her from the inevitable.
The other man pointed a gun through the window at Jay and Lizzie.
‘No,’ Ella screamed.
‘Don’t do this,’ begged Jay. He pushed Lizzie towards the nearside door. ‘Run.’
Frozen with fear, she didn’t move.
The first guard pointed his firearm at Broady’s head.
Stone nodded to his men.
This was it.
In one swift movement, Badil pulled something out from under his seat. Within seconds an AK47 was resting on the open window, pointing directly at Stone’s head. ‘If anyone move, you die.’
Stone’s arrogant expression disappeared in a flash, surprise and fear replacing it. He swallowed hard. Awaiting orders, his men remained still.
Broady pushed Ella into the back seat and ran around to the passenger side.
‘Take the wheel,’ Badil shouted at Broady as he got in.
Badil let his foot off the clutch. ‘Everybody down.’
Ella pushed Jay and Lizzie’s heads into their laps and did the same herself. Broady steered around the Range Rover as Badil fired at the tyres. A whooshing sound confirmed he’d hit his target.
‘Don’t be a fool, Broady,’ Stone yelled after them.
Badil speeded up then pushed the machine gun onto Broady’s lap so that he could take back the wheel. A few shots ricocheted off the boot as the Škoda pulled away.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Lizzie was visibly shaking. No one spoke at first – gripped by shock.
As the Range Rover disappeared from view, Broady checked on the others. ‘Everyone OK?’
Ella nodded, her face ashen. She reached across Jay to wrap her arms around Lizzie.
‘I’m ashamed,’ said Broady. ‘My own people. I don’t get it.’
‘It’s happening all over the world,’ said Lizzie. She stared out the window at the dark shapes of fields and mountains. ‘Greg said something to me about the trees in Thetford Forest being planted after the First World War. Terrible events bringing new life.’ She looked gravely at the others. ‘Is Kline trying to start a war?’
‘A new cycle,’ said Jay ominously. ‘He wouldn’t be the first crazy who did.’
Broady leaned back in his seat and let out a deep sigh. He looked over at Badil. ‘How come you had that firearm?’
‘I’m from Cizre,’ he replied, as if the answer was obvious.
‘You’re one bad-ass,’ Broady said with a faraway smile. He raised his arm and said in a sombre voice, ‘Gimme five.’
Badil slapped his palm and beamed.
Ella wound down the window to help her think. She lifted her head and let her face bathe in the cool night air. It took a while for things to become clear. ‘Badil, can I use your phone?’
‘Sure.’ He took it off the dash and handed it to her.
She took out the card Harris had given her back in Cambridge. It felt like a lifetime ago. She dialled the number.
Harris answered. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Ella, can you get to a city called Sanliurfa?’
‘I think so,’ Harris replied, ‘There’s nothing happening here. You all OK?’
‘Some Americans just tried to kill us on the road.’
‘I see,’ Harris replied, sounding unsurprised. ‘Do you know who they were?’
‘A guy from the US Embassy – Stone.’
Harris didn’t reply at first. ‘Go somewhere public and wait.’
‘Abraham’s cave. Can you be there before daybreak?’
‘I reckon.’ Harris paused. ‘Is that where it’s happening?’
‘We still don’t know where or what,’ Ella replied. ‘Just that it’s in Sanliurfa.’ She ended the call.
Nobody felt like talking, even Badil seemed to have plugged into the mood.
The Škoda pressed on through the night, heading West towards the ancient city of Sanliurfa.
As they reached the outskirts Ella began to see a few buildings dotted along the roadside.
‘We have to stop for gas,’ said Badil. ‘Think they hit the tank,’ he said, touching the gauge.
Ella looked out the back and saw a line of fluid illuminated by the rear lights leaving a trail on the road.
‘What was that?’ she said, turning away from her window towards Badil as they passed a tiny junction.
‘What?’ he replied.
‘That little sign? Gob something.’
‘Göbekli Tepe,’ said Badil. ‘Ancient stones, very old.’
‘What does it mean, Göbekli Tepe?’ she asked.
Badil smiled and patted his stomach. ‘How you say, pot-belly hill. Mean like pregnant woman.’
Ella looked back down the road towards the turning. ‘So, it’s on a hill?’
‘On a mountain,’ Badil replied. ‘Pot-belly is on the top. You can see very far, but tourist only start coming now because Syria war finish.’
‘Birth,’ Ella said to herself. ‘It’s odd how it starts with a G and an O,’
‘Yeah, but he said: “go Urfa,” not Gob,’ said Broady.
Lizzie wasn’t so quick to dismiss it. ‘What else do you know about the place, Badil?’
Badil sat up straighter in the seat. ‘German archaeologist discover in nineties. It so big they still find more all time. Many stone circle with great carving.’
‘Carvings of what?’
Badil glanced at Lizzie in the mirror. ‘Every kind of animal.’
Chapter Eighty-Three
Cizre, a few weeks before
Exhausted, Matthew Shepherd stumbled over the cobbles as he made his way along the alley, the shaded walls peppered with bullet holes from past conflict. The sound of Muslim prayer echoed above him from some distant tannoy.
He stopped and gulped in air. The illness had robbed him of his youth, of precious time. A memory of his Arizona childhood flitted through his mind – lifting his head out of a book to watch his brother shooting hoops in the sand covered yard.
He grimaced, then forced himself on. He tried to focus on the figure of an elder in a white salwar kameez and black waistcoat shuffling towards him down the alley.
The old man slowed and stared at him before continuing on down the hill. Matthew knew he stood out; his skin was dark enough, but anyone could see he had African blood flowing through his veins.
He reached the pension’s battered wooden doorway and made his way through the dingy, concrete hall to his room. Graffiti in Arabic was scrawled across the cracked plaster, and the decaying shutter on the glassless window thudded against the wall with each gust of wind that whirled down fr
om the mountain.
He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans and, with shaking fingers, unfolded it on the table. He picked up a protractor with a pencil attached and began to add some markings, half-heartedly swatting away the flies that buzzed around his head as he did so. He looked at the drawing, nodded, then collapsed onto the bed, making the rusty springs squeal.
‘Sir, Mister?’ Matthew turned his head to see the boy, Olan at the door, holding a clay pitcher in one hand and a glass in the other. He tiptoed into the room, poured out some water and put the jug on the table.
Mouth dry as dust, Matthew tried to sit up but couldn’t. ‘Help me pack,’ he said with a delirious wave at his rucksack. ‘I know where…’
Olan held out the glass. But instead of taking it, Matthew grabbed the kid’s shirt and mumbled, ‘Don’t you see, we’ve all been looking in the wrong place?’
The boy didn’t seem to understand. ‘You must go hospital.’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘No hospitals.’ His eyelids felt heavy. ‘I need to get there.’ The room became a blur. ‘Need to rest first.’
Olan hovered by the bedside.
Matthew opened his eyes again. ‘Oor-fa.’
Olan’s eyes gave the impression he understood.
Matthew raised his head and fixed his stare on the child. In a croaked whisper he urged, ‘G-go…’ His head fell back onto the bed.
Olan shuffled backwards out of the room.
Matthew opened his eyes. The room was pitch black but for a shaft of moonlight falling through the open shutter onto the table. The wind cooled his face, drying the beads of sweat on his forehead.
He felt a presence in the room. He turned his head to the side, straining to see. There was a shadow, moving. It was above him now, illuminated in the starlight – the figure of a hooded man, in traditional dress, a beard and moustache covering most of his face. The man crouched down beside the bed.
‘You?’ said Matthew.
Kline gave a fox-like smile. ‘We’ve been watching. You know where it is, don’t you?’