Contract With God (42 page)

‘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.’

Getting rid of Dekker had been easier than he’d dared imagine. The South African had been taken aback by the fact he’d shot the pilot and had been so anxious to talk to him that he hadn’t taken the least precaution as he came into the tunnel. What he found was a bullet that sent him rolling off the platform.

Contracting the Ypsilon protocol behind the old man’s back had been a brilliant stroke
, thought Russell, congratulating himself.

It had cost almost ten million dollars. Dekker had been suspicious at first, until Russell had agreed to pay him seven figures up front and another seven if he was forced to use the protocol.

Kayn’s assistant smiled with satisfaction. Next week the accountants at Kayn Industries would notice that the money was missing from the pension fund and questions would be raised. By then he’d be far away and the Ark would be in a safe place in Egypt. It would be very simple to lose himself there. And then accursed Israel, which he hated, would have to pay the price for the humiliation they had caused the house of Islam.

Russell walked the length of the tunnel and looked into the cave. Kayn was there, watching with interest as Eichberg and Pappas removed the last rocks that blocked the access to the chamber, alternating between use of the electric drill and their hands. They hadn’t heard the shot when he’d fired at Dekker. The moment he knew that the path to the Ark was clear and he no longer needed them, they’d be dispatched.

As for Kayn . . .

No words could describe the torrent of hatred that Russell felt for the old man. It seethed in the depths of his soul, fuelled by the humiliations that Kayn had made him suffer. Being at the old man’s side for the past six years had been excruciating, torture.

Hiding in the bathroom to pray, spitting out the alcohol that he was forced to pretend he was drinking so that people wouldn’t suspect him. Taking care of the old man’s sick and fearful mind at all hours of the day and night. Feigning concern and affection.

It was all lies.

Your best weapon will be
taqiyya
, the deception of the warrior. The jihadist can lie about his faith, he can make believe, pretend, hide and twist the truth. He can do this with an infidel without sinning
, the imam had said fifteen years before.
And don’t believe it will be easy. You will cry each night because of the pain in your heart, to the point that you will not recognise who you are.

Now he was himself again.

 

With all the agility of his young and well-trained body, Russell climbed down the rope without the aid of a harness the same way he had come up it a couple of hours before. His white robe fluttered as he descended, attracting Kayn’s attention as he looked at his assistant in shock.

‘What’s the meaning of the disguise, Jacob?’

Russell didn’t answer. He went towards the cavity. The space they had opened up was about five feet high and six and a half feet wide.

‘It’s in there, Mr Russell. We’ve all seen it,’ Eichberg said, so excited that at first he did not notice the way Russell was dressed. ‘Hey, what’s with the outfit?’ he said finally.

‘Be quiet and call Pappas.’

‘Mr Russell, you should be a little more—’

‘Don’t make me say it again,’ the assistant said, pulling the pistol out of his clothes.

‘David!’ Eichberg screeched like a child.

‘Jacob!’ yelled Kayn.

‘Shut up, you old bastard.’

The blood drained out of Kayn’s face at the insult. No one ever talked to him like that, much less the person who up to now had been his right hand. He didn’t have time to reply, because David Pappas came out of the cave, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

‘What the hell . . .?’

When he saw the pistol in Russell’s hand, he understood immediately. He was the first of the three to understand, although not the one who was most disappointed and shocked. That role belonged to Kayn.

‘You!’ exclaimed Pappas. ‘Now I understand. You had access to the magnetometer’s program. You ’re the one who changed the data. You killed Stowe.’

‘A small error that almost cost me dearly. I thought I had better control of the expedition than I really had,’ Russell admitted with a shrug. ‘And now a quick question. Are you ready to bring out the Ark?’

‘Go fuck yourself, Russell.’

Without a thought, Russell aimed at Pappas’s leg and fired. Pappas’s right knee turned into a bloody mess and he fell to the ground. His screams echoed off the walls of the tunnel.

‘The next bullet is for your head. Now answer me, Pappas.’

‘Yes, it’s ready to come out, sir. The path is clear,’ Eichberg said, his hands up in the air.

‘That’s all I wanted to know,’ Russell replied.

There were two shots in quick succession. His arm moved down and there were two more shots. Eichberg fell on Pappas, both of them shot in the head, their blood now mingling on the stony ground.

‘You’ve killed them, Jacob. You have killed both of them.’

Kayn was cowering in a corner, his face a mask of fear and incomprehension.

‘Well, well, old man. For such a mad old bastard you’re fairly good at stating the obvious,’ Russell said. He peered into the cave, still aiming the gun at Kayn. When he turned back there was a look of satisfaction on his face. ‘So we’ve finally found it then, Ray? The work of a lifetime. It’s a shame yours will be cut short.’

The assistant walked towards his boss, taking slow measured steps. Kayn shrank back into his corner even more, totally trapped. His face was covered in sweat.

‘Why, Jacob?’ cried the old man. ‘I loved you like my own son.’

‘You call that love?’ yelled Russell, drawing near to Kayn and striking him several times with the gun, first on the face, then on his arms and across his head. ‘I’ve been your slave, old man. Every time you cried like a girl in the middle of the night, I ran to you, having to remind myself why I was doing it. I had to think of the moment when I’d finally defeat you and you would be at my mercy.’

Kayn dropped to the ground. His face was swollen, almost unrecognisable from the blows. Blood trickled out of his mouth and from his shattered cheekbones.

‘Look at me, old man,’ Russell went on, lifting Kayn by the front of his shirt so that they were eye to eye.

‘Look at the face of your own failure. In a few minutes my men will come down into this cave and remove your precious Ark. We’ll give the world the punishment it deserves. Things will be the way they should always have been.’

‘Sorry, Mr Russell. I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.’

The assistant turned sharply. At the other end of the tunnel Fowler had just lowered himself down on the rope and was aiming a Kalashnikov at him.

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

 

 

‘Father Fowler.’

‘Huqan.’

Russell had positioned Kayn’s limp body between himself and the priest, who was still aiming the rifle at Russell’s head.

‘It appears you have disposed of my men.’

‘It wasn’t me, Mr Russell. God took care of that. He turned them into dust.’

Russell looked at him in shock, trying to figure out if the priest was bluffing. The help of his acolytes was essential to the execution of his plan. He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t shown up yet and was trying to stall for time.

‘So you’ve managed to get the upper hand, Father,’ he said, going back to his usual ironic tone. ‘I know how good a shot you are. At this distance you can’t miss. Or are you afraid of hitting the unproclaimed Messiah?’

‘Mr Kayn is just a sick old man who believes he is doing God’s will. From my point of view the only difference between the two of you is your age. Drop the gun.’

Russell was clearly outraged at the insult but powerless to do anything in the situation. He was holding his own gun by the muzzle after he’d used it to beat Kayn, and the old man’s body did not offer him sufficient protection. Russell knew that one false move would produce a hole in his head.

He opened his right fist and let the pistol drop, then opened his left and released Kayn.

The old man collapsed in slow motion, crumpling as if his joints weren’t connected to each other.

‘Excellent, Mr Russell,’ Fowler said. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, please take ten steps back . . .’

Mechanically, Russell did as he was told, hatred burning in his eyes.

For every step that Russell took back, Fowler took one forward, until the former had his back to the wall and the priest was standing beside Kayn.

‘Very good. Now put your hands on top of your head and you’ll come out of this with your life.’

Fowler squatted down next to Kayn, feeling for his pulse. The old man was shaking, and one of his legs seemed to be in spasm. The priest frowned. Kayn’s condition worried him - he was showing all the signs of having had a stroke and his life-force seemed to be evaporating with every moment.

In the meantime Russell was looking around, trying to find something to use as a weapon against the priest. Suddenly, he felt something beneath him on the ground. He looked down and noticed that he was standing on some cables that ended a foot and a half to his right and were connected to the generator that was providing electricity in the cave.

He smiled.

Fowler took Kayn’s arm, ready to pull him further away from Russell if he needed to. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Russell jump. Without the least hesitation he fired.

Then the lights went out.

What was meant to be a warning shot ended up destroying the generator. The equipment started shooting off sparks every few seconds, illuminating the tunnel with a sporadic blue light that grew weaker, like a camera flash gradually losing power.

Fowler crouched down immediately, a position that he had taken hundreds of times when he had parachuted into enemy territory on moonless nights. When you didn’t know the position of your enemy, the best thing to do was sit still and wait.

Blue spark.

Fowler thought he saw a shadow running along the wall to his left and fired. It missed. Cursing his luck, he moved several feet in a zigzag to make sure that the other wouldn’t know his position after the shot.

Blue spark.

Once again a shadow, this time to his right, although longer and right up against the wall. He fired in the opposite direction. Again he missed and there was more movement.

Blue spark.

He was against the wall. He couldn’t see Russell anywhere. This could mean he—

With a scream, Russell threw himself at Fowler, hitting him repeatedly on the face and neck. The priest felt the other’s teeth biting down on his arm like an animal. Unable to do otherwise, he let go of the Kalashnikov. For a second he felt the other’s hands. They struggled and the rifle was lost in the darkness.

Blue spark.

Fowler was on the ground and Russell was trying his best to choke him. The priest, finally able to see his enemy, closed his fist and punched Russell in the solar plexus. Russell groaned and rolled to one side.

One last, weak blue flash.

Fowler managed to see Russell disappearing into the chamber. A sudden dull gleam told him that Russell had found his pistol.

A voice to his right called out.

‘Father.’

Fowler crept towards the dying Kayn. He didn’t want to offer Russell an easy target in case he decided to try his luck and aim randomly in the dark. The priest finally felt the old man’s body in front of him and put his mouth to his ear.

‘Mr Kayn, hold on,’ he whispered. ‘I can get you out of here.’

‘No, Father, you can’t,’ Kayn replied, and although his voice was weak he spoke with the firm tone of a small child. ‘It’s better like this. I’m going to see my parents, my son and my brother. My life began in a hole. It makes sense that it will end the same way.’

‘Then entrust yourself to God,’ the priest said.

‘I have. Would you give me your hand while I leave?’

Fowler said nothing but felt for the dying man’s hand, holding it between his own. Less than a minute later, in the middle of a whispered Hebrew prayer, there was a death rattle and Raymond Kayn was still.

By now the priest knew what he had to do.

In the middle of the darkness he brought his fingers to the buttons on his shirt and undid them, then pulled out the package containing the explosives. He felt for the detonator, stuck it into the bars of C4 and pressed the buttons. In his mind he counted the number of beeps.

After setting it, I have two minutes
, he thought.

But he couldn’t leave the bomb outside the cavity where the Ark rested. Maybe it wouldn’t be powerful enough to seal the cave once more. He wasn’t sure how deep the hollow was, and if the Ark was behind an outcrop of rock it might survive without a scratch. If he was going to prevent this insanity happening again, he had to place the bomb next to the Ark. He couldn’t throw it in like a grenade because the detonator might come loose. And he had to have enough time to escape.

The only option was to overcome Russell, put the C4 in position and then run like hell.

He crawled around, hoping to avoid making too much noise, but it was impossible. The ground was covered in small rocks that shifted as he moved.