Andrea twisted her body and hit him hard in the mouth with her elbow. Blood spilled down on to the stones and Torres let out a grunt of rage. Pulling violently on Andrea's T-shirt, he ripped it at the sleeve, revealing her black bra. Seeing this excited the soldier even more. He grabbed both of Andrea's arms, intending to bite her breast, but at the last minute the reporter took a step back and Torres's teeth shut on nothing.

'Come on, you're going to like it. You know you want to.'

Andrea tried kneeing him between the legs or in the stomach, but antic.i.p.ating her moves, Torres turned aside and crossed his legs.

Don't let him throw you to the ground, Andrea said to herself. She remembered a story she had followed two years before on a group of rape victims. She had gone with some other young women to an anti-rape seminar led by an instructor who had almost been raped when she was a teen. The woman had lost an eye but not her virginity. The rapist lost everything. If he throws you to the ground, he has you. If he throws you to the ground, he has you.

Another violent grab from Torres ripped off the bra strap. Torres decided that this was enough and added more pressure to Andrea's wrists. She could barely move her fingers. He twisted her right arm violently, leaving the left one loose. Andrea now had her back to him, but was unable to move because of the Colombian's pressure on her arm. He forced her to bend over and kicked her ankles to open her legs.

The rapist is weakest at two points, the words of the instructor rang in her mind. The words were so strong, the woman had been so sure of herself, so in control that Andrea felt new strength. When he takes off your clothes and when he takes off his. If you're lucky and he takes his off first, take advantage of it When he takes off your clothes and when he takes off his. If you're lucky and he takes his off first, take advantage of it.

With one hand, Torres undid his belt and his camouflage trousers fell to his ankles. Andrea could see his erect member, hard and menacing.

Wait until he leans over you.

The mercenary leaned over Andrea, searching for the fastening on her trousers. His rough beard scratched the back of her neck, and that was the signal she needed. She lifted her left arm suddenly, shifting all her weight to her right side. Taken by surprise, Torres let go of Andrea's right arm and she tumbled to the right. The Colombian tripped on his trousers and fell forward, hitting the ground hard. He tried to get up, but Andrea was on her feet first. She gave him three swift kicks to the stomach, taking care that the soldier didn't grab her ankle and make her fall. The kicks found their mark and when Torres tried to roll into a ball to protect himself, he left a much more sensitive place open to attack.

Thank you, G.o.d. I never get tired of doing this, the youngest and only female of five siblings confessed silently as she pulled back her foot before blasting Torres's t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es. His scream bounced off the canyon walls.

'Let's keep this between us,' Andrea said. 'Now we're even.'

'I'm gonna get you, you b.i.t.c.h. I'm going to get you so bad you're going to choke on my d.i.c.k,' Torres whined, almost crying.

'On second thoughts . . .' Andrea began. She had reached the edge of the terrace and was about to climb down but she turned quickly and ran a few steps, aiming her foot once more between Torres's legs. It was useless for him to try to cover up with his hands. This time there was even more force behind the kick and Torres was left gasping for breath, his face red and two big tears running down his cheeks.

'Now we're really good and even.'

43.

THE EXCAVATION.

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN.

Friday, 14 July 2006. 9:43 p.m.

Andrea returned to the camp as fast as she could without running. She didn't look back nor did she worry about her ripped clothing until she approached the row of tents. She felt a strange kind of shame about what had happened, mixed with the fear that someone would find out about her interfering with the frequency scanner. She attempted to look as normal as possible, despite the fact her T-shirt was hanging off her, and headed over towards the infirmary. Luckily she didn't run into anyone. As she was about to enter the tent, she ran into Kyra La.r.s.en, who was carrying her belongings out.

'What's going on, Kyra?'

The archaeologist gave her a cold look.

'You didn't even have the decency to show up at the hesped hesped for Stowe. I guess it doesn't matter. You didn't know him. For you he was just a n.o.body, right? That's why you didn't even care that it's your fault he died.' for Stowe. I guess it doesn't matter. You didn't know him. For you he was just a n.o.body, right? That's why you didn't even care that it's your fault he died.'

Andrea was about to reply that other things had kept her away, but she doubted Kyra would understand so she said nothing.

'I don't know what you're up to,' Kyra went on, barging past her. 'You know very well that the doctor wasn't in her bed that night. She may have fooled everyone else, but not me. I'm going to sleep with the rest of the team. There's an empty cot, thanks to you.'

Andrea was happy to see her go - she wasn't in the mood for any more confrontations and in her heart she agreed with every one of Kyra's words. Guilt had played an important part in her Catholic education, and sins of omission were as persistent and painful as any other.

She went into the tent and saw Dr Harel, who turned away. It was obvious that she had had an argument with La.r.s.en.

'I'm glad you're all right. We were worried about you.'

'Turn around, Doc. I know you've been crying.'

Harel faced her, rubbing her reddened eyes.

'It's silly really. A simple secretion from tear glands and yet we all feel embarra.s.sed about it.'

'A lie is more embarra.s.sing.'

Then the doctor noticed Andrea's ripped clothing, something that La.r.s.en, in her anger, seemed to have overlooked, or hadn't bothered to comment on.

'What happened to you?'

'I fell down the stairs. Don't change the subject. I know who you are.'

Harel chose each of her words carefully.

'What do you know?'

'I know that combat medicine is highly regarded by Mossad, or so it seems. And that your emergency subst.i.tution was not as big a coincidence as you told me.'

The doctor frowned, then went over to Andrea, who was rummaging around in her rucksack for something clean to wear.

'I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Andrea. I'm only a low-ranking a.n.a.lyst, not a field agent. My government wants to have eyes and ears on every archaeological expedition that's after the Ark of the Covenant. This is the third one I've been on in seven years.'

'Are you really a doctor? Or is that a lie too?' Andrea said as she slipped into another T-shirt.

'I'm a doctor.'

'And how is it that you get along so well with Fowler? Because I've also found out that he's a CIA agent, in case you didn't know.'

'She already knew, and you owe me an explanation,' Fowler said.

He was standing near the door, frowning but relieved after having looked for Andrea all afternoon.

'Bulls.h.i.t,' Andrea said, pointing her finger at the priest, who stepped back surprised. 'I almost died from the heat under that platform, and on top of that, one of Dekker's dogs just tried to rape me. I'm in no mood to talk to the two of you. At least not yet.'

Fowler touched Andrea's arm, noticing the bruises on her wrists.

'Are you all right?'

'Better than ever,' she said, pushing the hand away. The last thing she wanted was male contact.

'Ms Otero, did you hear the soldiers' conversation while you were under the platform?'

'What the h.e.l.l were you doing there?' a shocked Harel interrupted.

'I sent her. She was helping me break up the frequency scanner so I could call my contact in Washington.'

'I would have liked to have been informed, Father,' Harel said.

Fowler lowered his voice until it was almost a whisper.

'We need information and we're not going to get it trapped inside this bubble. Or do you think that I don't know you slip away every night to send text messages to Tel Aviv?'

'Touche,' Harel said, pulling a face. Harel said, pulling a face.

Was that what you were up to, Doc? Andrea wondered, biting her lower lip and trying to work out what to do. Andrea wondered, biting her lower lip and trying to work out what to do. Maybe I was wrong and I should trust you after all. I hope so, because there's no other choice. Maybe I was wrong and I should trust you after all. I hope so, because there's no other choice.

'Fine, Father. I'll tell you both what I heard . . .'

44.

FOWLER AND HAREL.

'We have to get her out of here,' whispered the priest.

The shadows of the canyon surrounded them, and the only sounds came from the mess tent, where members of the expedition had begun eating their supper.

'I don't see how, Father. I thought of stealing one of the Hummers, but we'd have to get it over that dune. And I don't think we would get far. What if we told everyone in the group what's really going on here?'

'Suppose we could do that and they believed us . . . what good would it do?'

In the darkness, Harel fought back a moan of rage and impotence.

'The only thing I can think of is the same answer you gave me yesterday about the mole: wait and see.'

'There is one way,' Fowler said. 'But it'll be dangerous, and I'll need your help.'

'You can count on me, Father. But first explain to me what this Ypsilon protocol is.'

'It's a procedure by which a security detail a.s.sa.s.sinates all the members of a group they're supposed to protect, if the code word comes over the radio. They kill everybody except the person who hired them and anyone he says should be left alone.'

'I don't understand how something like that can exist.'

'Officially it doesn't. But a few soldiers in mercenary outfits who were in Special Forces, for example, imported the concept from Asian countries.'

Harel stood very still for a moment.

'Is there any way of knowing who's included?'

'No,' the priest said weakly. 'And the worst part is that the person who contracts the military detail is always different to the one who is supposed to be in charge.'

'Then Kayn . . .' Harel said, opening her eyes.

'Exactly, Doctor. Kayn isn't the one who wants us dead. It's someone else.'

45.

THE EXCAVATION.

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN.

Sat.u.r.day, 15 July 2006. 2:34 a.m.

At first, there was absolute stillness in the infirmary tent. With Kyra La.r.s.en sleeping with the other a.s.sistants, the breathing of the remaining two women was the only thing that could be heard.

After a while there was a light scratching. It was the Hawnveiler Hawnveiler zip, the most hermetic and secure in the world. Not even dust could penetrate, but nothing could prevent an intruder's access once it had been unzipped twenty inches or so. zip, the most hermetic and secure in the world. Not even dust could penetrate, but nothing could prevent an intruder's access once it had been unzipped twenty inches or so.

What followed was a series of faint sounds: stockinged feet on the wood; the pop of a small plastic box being opened; then an even fainter but more menacing sound: that of twenty-four nervous keratin legs scurrying around inside the little box.

Then there followed a discrete silence because the movements were almost inaudible to the human ear: the partly opened end of a sleeping bag being lifted up, the twenty-four little legs landing on the cloth inside, the end of the cloth being returned to its original position, covering the owners of those twenty-four small legs.