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 him,' 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 a.s.sist 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.'

'And what was that? Blow us all up?'

'I don't know who set off the explosion this morning, but believe me, it wasn't Anthony Fowler.'

'But you didn't say anything.'

'I couldn't say anything without implicating myself,' Harel said looking away. 'I knew they would get us out of there . . . I . . . wanted to be with you. Away from the excavation. Away from my life, I suppose.'

'What about Forrester? He was your patient and you left him there.'

'He died this morning, Andrea. Just before the explosion, as a matter of fact. He's been ill for years, you know that.'

Andrea shook her head.

If I was American I'd win the Pulitzer, but at what price?

'I can't believe it. So many deaths, so much violence, and all for a ridiculous museum piece.'

'Fowler didn't explain it to you? There's much more at stake here . . .' Harel stopped talking as the Humvee slowed down.

'This isn't right,' she said, looking out through the cracks in the window. 'There's nothing here.'

The vehicle came to a rough stop.

'Hey, Alryk, what are you doing?' Andrea said. Why are we stopping?'

The big German didn't say anything. Very slowly, he took the keys out of the ignition, pulled up the handbrake, and got out of the Hummer, slamming the door.

's.h.i.t. They wouldn't dare,' Harel said.

Andrea saw the fear in the doctor's eyes. She could hear Alryk's footsteps in the sand. He was coming around to Harel's side.

'What's going on, Doc?'

The door opened.

'Get out,' Alryk said coldly, his face impa.s.sive.

'You can't do this,' Harel said, not moving an inch. 'Your commander doesn't want to make an enemy of Mossad. We're very bad enemies to have.'

'Orders are orders. Get out.'

'Not her. At least let her go, please.'

The German brought his hand to his belt and pulled his automatic pistol from the holster.

'For the last time. Get out of the vehicle.'

Harel looked at Andrea, resigned to her fate. She shrugged and with both hands grabbed hold of the pa.s.senger handle above the side window to exit the vehicle. But suddenly she tensed her arm muscles and, still gripping the handle, swung her feet out, hitting Alryk in the chest with her heavy boots. The German let go of the pistol, which fell to the ground. Harel lunged head first at the soldier, knocking him down. The doctor leapt up immediately and kicked the German in the face, splitting his eyebrow and damaging his eye. Doc lifted her foot over his face, ready to finish the job but the soldier came to, grabbed her foot with his huge hand and spun her violently to the left. There was a loud sound of breaking bone as Doc fell.

The mercenary stood up and turned around. Andrea was coming at him, ready to strike, but the soldier disposed of her by smacking her with the back of his hand, leaving an ugly red welt on her cheek. Andrea fell backwards. As she hit the sand she felt something hard beneath her.

Alryk now bent over Harel. He grabbed the big mane of curly black hair and pulled, lifting her up as if she were a rag doll until his face was next to hers. Harel was still reeling from the shock but managed to look the soldier in the eye and spat at him.

'f.u.c.k you, you piece of s.h.i.t.'

The German spat back at her, and then lifted his right hand, which was holding a combat knife. He sank it into Harel's stomach, enjoying the sight of his victim's eyes rolling back and her mouth opening as she fought to breathe. Alryk turned the knife in the wound and then pulled it out roughly. Blood gushed out, splashing the soldier's uniform and boots. He let go of the doctor, a look of disgust on his face.

'Nooo!'

The mercenary now turned to Andrea, who had landed on the pistol and was trying to find the safety catch. She screamed with all her might and pressed the trigger.

The automatic jumped in her hands, leaving her fingers numb. She had never fired a gun before and it showed. The bullet whistled past the German and slammed into the door of the Hummer. Alryk yelled something in German and charged at her. Almost without looking, Andrea fired three more times.

One bullet missed.

Another punctured a tyre on the Humvee.

The third went into the German's open mouth. Because of the momentum of his 200-pound body, he continued plunging towards Andrea, although his hands were no longer intent on taking her pistol and choking her. He fell, face up, trying to talk, blood gurgling from his mouth. Horrified, Andrea saw that the shot had ripped out some of the German's teeth. She stepped aside and waited, still aiming the pistol at him - although if she hadn't managed to wound him through sheer luck, this would have been pointless as her hand was shaking too much and her fingers had no strength left in them. Her arm ached from the pistol's kick.

It took the German almost a minute to die. The bullet had gone through his neck, destroying his spinal cord and leaving him paralysed. He choked on his own blood as it flooded his throat.

When she was sure that Alryk was no longer a threat, Andrea ran over to Harel, who lay bleeding on the sand. She sat down and cradled Doc's head, avoiding looking at the wound as Harel tried helplessly to hold her guts in with her hands.

'Hold on, Doc. Tell me what I have to do. I'll get you out of here, even if it's just so I can kick your b.u.t.t for lying to me.'

'Don't bother,' Harel answered in a weak voice. 'I've had it. Believe me. I'm a doctor.'

Andrea let out a sob and leaned her forehead against Harel's. Harel took a hand away from the wound and grabbed one of the reporter's.

'Don't say that. Please don't.'

'I've told you enough lies. I want you to do something for me.'

'Name it.'

'In a minute I want you to get into the Hummer and head west on this goat track. We're about ninety-five miles from Aqaba, but you should be able to reach the road in a couple of hours.' She paused and gritted her teeth in pain. 'The vehicle has a GPS direction finder. If you see anybody, get out of the Hummer and ask for help. What I want you to do is get away from here. Swear to me you'll do that?'

'I swear.'

Harel twisted in pain. Her grip on Andrea's hand was weakening by the second.

'You see, I never should have told you my real name. I want you to do something else for me. I want you to say it out loud. n.o.body has ever done that.'

'Chedva.'

'Scream it out.'

'CHEDVA!' Andrea yelled, her anguish and pain shattering the stillness of the desert.

A quarter of an hour later Chedva Harel's life was extinguished for ever.

Digging a grave in the sand with her bare hands was the most difficult thing Andrea had ever done. Not because of the effort it required, but because of what it meant. Because it was a senseless gesture, and because in part Chedva had died because of the events she had set in motion. She dug the shallow grave, and marked it with the aerial from the Hummer and a circle of rocks.

When she finished, Andrea searched the Hummer for water but with little success. The only water she could find was in the soldier's canteen hanging from his belt. It was three-quarters full. She also took his cap, even though to keep it on she had to adjust it with a safety pin she found in her pocket. She also pulled out one of the shirts stuffed into the broken windows and grabbed a steel tube from the trunk of the Hummer. She ripped out the windscreen wipers and stuck them into the pipe, draping them with the shirt to make an improvised umbrella.

She then went back to the track the Hummer had left. Unfortunately, when Harel had asked her to swear to return to Aqaba, she didn't know about the stray bullet that had destroyed the front tyre because she had had her back to the vehicle. Even if Andrea had wanted to keep her promise, which was not the case, it would have been impossible for her to change the tyre on her own. As much as she looked she couldn't find the jack. On that kind of rocky road the vehicle would not have been able to go a hundred feet without a functioning front wheel.

Andrea looked to the west, where she could see the faint line of the main road snaking in and out of the dunes.

Ninety-five miles to Aqaba in the noonday sun, almost sixty to the main road. That's at least several days' walking in 100-degree heat, hoping I'll find someone, and I don't even have enough water to last me six hours. And that's a.s.suming I don't get lost trying to find an almost invisible road, or that those sons of b.i.t.c.hes haven't already taken the Ark and come across me on their way out of here.

She looked to the east, where the Hummer's tracks were still fresh.

Eight miles in that direction were vehicles, water and the scoop of the century, she thought as she started to walk. Not to mention a whole crowd of people who want me dead. The upside? I still have a chance to get my disk back and help the priest. I have no clue how, but I'll give it a shot. Not to mention a whole crowd of people who want me dead. The upside? I still have a chance to get my disk back and help the priest. I have no clue how, but I'll give it a shot.

81.

RELICS CRYPT.

VATICAN CITY.

Thirteen days earlier

'Do you want some ice for that hand?' Cirin asked. Fowler took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to bandage his knuckles, which were bleeding from several cuts. Avoiding Brother Cesareo, who was still trying to repair the niche that he had destroyed with his fists, Fowler approached the Chief of the Holy Alliance.

'What is it you want from me, Camilo?'

'I want you to bring it back, Anthony. If it truly exists, the place for the Ark is here, in a reinforced room one hundred and fifty feet under the Vatican. Now isn't the time for it to go floating around the world in the wrong hands. Let alone for the world to know of its existence.'

Fowler gritted his teeth at the arrogance of Cirin and whoever it was above him, maybe even the Pope himself, who felt they could decide the fate of the Ark. What Cirin was asking of him was much more than a simple mission; it weighed like a tombstone over his whole life. The risks were incalculable.

'We will keep it,' Cirin insisted. 'We know how to wait.'

Fowler nodded.

He'd go to Jordan.

But he too was capable of making his own decisions.