The Lost Ark (17 page)

“Yes,” I said with certainty. “Yes, I can understand why you had to climb the mountain. But one thing still intrigues me.”

“What’s that, Sam?”

“
Why
?” I asked. “Why do you search for the ark with all your heart, mind, body and soul?”

* * *

“I am a man of faith, Sam. I am a professor at a very small Bible college in Southern California. I teach Biblical archaeology to prove the validity of the Bible. I believe in the creator and I believe in the afterlife. I believe spirituality is a very personal and individual experience that varies from one person to the next. There’s not many like me around, Sam. The growing trend is to scoff at the Bible, but I find it a valuable wealth of information and a treasure trove of future archaeological finds.”

I shook my head. “You must be a true man of faith, professor. The story of the ark is too wild for me to accept without some reservation.”

He shrugged. “The fact that there are bipedal primates who can build super computers in a universe devoid of other life, could be considered a miracle as well.”

“You’ve got a point,” I said.

“Science picks and chooses its miracles,” said Caesar. He spoke with enthusiasm, and it was hard not to be drawn to the man. He was probably an excellent lecturer, although I saw him as the type who probably assigned too much homework.

I lay back in the soft sand, and put my hands behind my head. “Your enthusiasm is wearing me out, professor.”

He smiled infectiously. “I do have that effect on people.”

* * *

The professor was snoring pleasantly. Almost a caricature of the perfect snore. A low nasally rumble, followed by a slight wheeze.

I was wide awake, but it wasn’t the snoring that kept me up. I was worried about Faye. I wondered again what Omar had done with her. I had known him to be driven by a somewhat skewered set of ethics. The sort that said:
I won’t rape you now, but I will later when you are officially part of my harem.
Rather loose moral system, but it might just keep her out of some immediate trouble.

I needed to get out of here. I was restless. I was finally beginning to feel like a true prisoner: trapped, without friend or hope. I was crawling out of my skin, itching to do
something
. I moved over to the fire, stretched out my cold fingers for warmth. I glanced around the small cave. To the north was the massive cave-in, which looked impregnable; to the south was the narrow, dark tunnel which led to the guards. I looked up at the ceiling. I couldn’t see the ceiling. The smoldering fire was unable to penetrate the darkness, and so it remained hidden behind a black veil. I was trapped.

I chewed on my lower lip, watching the dying embers in the small fire. Caesar and Wally slept noisily, breathing alternately, although Wally seemed to catch up to the old man, and they sometimes snored in unison. My ears wanted to throw up.

I stood up suddenly and moved off toward the dark tunnel, standing just inside the entrance. Beyond I could hear the murmur of the guard’s voices; and, although the tunnel was eternally dark, my straining eyes seemed to detect a soft glow coming from beyond a slight bend. Then again, if you strain your eyes hard enough, you can detect almost anything. Even Elvis.

I thought again of Faye. Maybe she had been killed, discarded like a rag doll. I inhaled, feeling the pain of anguish and helplessness and uncertainty. This was all so goddamned
insane
.

I started off down the tunnel, walking carefully, my right hand trailing along the smooth wall for guidance and direction. My fingertips quickly gathered dust and cobwebs. The sand beneath my feet was soft and muffled my footfalls. I breathed easily through my nose. If there was a way out of the tunnel, I was going to find it. And if there was a way of freeing Faye, I was going to find it. If there was a way of getting caught, I would probably find that too.

The voices grew louder and more distinct, although the guards still spoke softly. It was quite late; they had probably drunk themselves into a stupor. One could only hope—

The wind picked up, sprinkling sand over my face. The wind whistled softly over the protrusions in the wall, followed by a gentle moan. Much too peaceful. The voices were mumbling in Arabic, although I could not make out the individual words. Probably talking about the Lakers chances next year. I slowed my pace. The tunnel grew brighter. The brightness steadily increased, and from just around a bend I could hear the crackle of the fire.

He was waiting for me in the shadows of the tunnel. I would learn later from Farid that he had been watching me with Night Vision goggles. First I heard a whisper of moving fabric. Instinctively, I swung wildly into the darkness with a punch that seemed to connect with a shoulder or jaw, either way it was bony. But the guard was already swinging the butt of his rifle around. An explosion of light, as if someone had struck a match inside my skull, flashed behind my eyes. The light flared briefly, and then winked out of existence.

Chapter Thirty-six

Throughout that morning, Faye Roberts had been secured to a wooden post within a small workroom, surrounded by what appeared to be explosives. Before noon, she was led to a massive snow-covered rock to relieve herself. The boulder reeked of urine. She covered her nose with the arm of her sleeve and tried to go. But she couldn’t, especially with the young soldier casting sidelong glances at her. She gave up.

“Did you get an eyeful, asshole?” she asked, passing him.

She was led to Omar’s tent. The emir sat behind his massive oak desk studying what appeared to be aerial photographs of a city. Upon closer inspection she saw that it was Istanbul. The light from his small electric lamp cast deep shadows in the hollows of his sunken cheeks. As usual, the big bodyguard stood silently off to the side, ignoring her completely and staring straight ahead, although Faye knew that that was just an illusion. She sensed the bodyguard was aware of her every movement. Omar looked up from the photographs and forced a smile. “Perhaps you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you to my tent, Professor Roberts?”

“To apologize and release us.”

He grinned. “Your spirit is admirable. However, Professor Al Sayid has requested your assistance.”

She shook her head. “And why should I help him?”

“If you are uncooperative, he has been given orders to have you killed. Or, perhaps, given to my brother.”

“You’re an animal.”

The Arab leaned back a little and studied Faye. He crossed his arms in an apparent attempt to keep himself warm. “To aid Al Sayid, we had employed another archaeologist from Riyadh.” Omar paused. “That archaeologist is dead. Or, more accurately, I had him killed.”

“Why?”

“I suspected he was less than trustworthy. However, his work is now incomplete. And that’s where you come in, professor Roberts. You will complete his project. I will expect to see results shortly, as the report shall coincide with the destruction of Istanbul, which shall be in a matter of days.”

“And then what?”

“You will return to Riyadh with me, to join my harem. There, you will be forgotten. Or at least as good as dead.”

“I would rather die.”

“That can be arranged, too, although that would be such a waste.”

The emir motioned and Farid opened the tent flap and a guard stepped in. The guard reached for Faye. She shrugged him off. “What about my father and Sam?” she demanded.

The emir sighed. “Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own welfare,” he said simply.

“
What will happen to them?”

Omar’s eyes were expressionless, like slivers of coal, the eyes of a predator. “They will be killed, of course.”

* * *

She was led from the emir’s tent to a much smaller tent in the center of camp, designed to sleep one on either wing. Instead of bunks there were two metal fold-out tables piled with folders, notebooks, and printouts. Even a laptop computer. In short, it looked like her small office at USC. Minus the clean, private bathroom.

Al Sayid was there. The little Arabic professor was comparing two latex samples through a jeweler’s eyepiece. The professor stood and reached for her hand. Despite herself, she let him take it. He led her around the fold-out table and to a wooden stool. He eased her down and spread the samples before her.

“I hope you are being treated well.”

“I’m in no mood for formalities,” she said, then added, “other than formally kicking Omar’s royal ass.”

“He’s a bit insane, admittedly. Rather single-minded in his obsession. I keep my distance from him, and he allows me to search for the ark.” He changed the subject, pointing to the latex samples before her. “I’m well aware of your work in the field of paleo-linguistics, professor. Your father himself was highly regarded. Unfortunately, these glyphs are beyond even his expertise.” He paused. “I’m no expert. I need your help. I have a fair idea what’s being discussed here, but not the specifics.”

“What is it that you want?”

The little professor’s eyes narrowed. His pupils shrank to tiny black pinholes. “You will interpret these glyphs, Miss Roberts. And quickly. We are rapidly losing time.” He checked his watch. “As much as I would like to nose around and watch you work, I have other tasks to oversee. I am surrounded by fools.”

“What about food?”

“I will have some delivered.” He paused and stared at her coldly. “I have been given full liberty to do with you as I wish. Do not test me.” With that he went outside, leaving her alone.

* * *

A Kurdish soldier named Razu returned with food. Bread, cheese and even wine. She drank the wine in one shot. Faye decided that Razu was entirely too serious. And he gripped his weapon too tightly for her comfort. Difficult working conditions at best.

Throughout the day, she thought often of Sam and her father. Were they okay? Was Wally frightened out of his skin yet?

She worked far into the night. As the hours passed, the wind slapped against the tent with more regularity. Faye didn’t notice the wind, or the cold, or even that she was starving. As always, she was absorbed completely in her work—even when it wasn’t
her
work. Ultimately, an exhausted Razu left Faye alone with another guard sitting just inside the tent’s entrance.

On the laptop, she worked on her report. The sound of her typing could be heard throughout camp until the early hours of morning.

Chapter Thirty-seven

I had been sleeping fitfully when I detected another presence in the cave: the whisper of boots, the sound of easy breathing, the swish of clothing. I opened my eyes and turned my head, but I could see little. The fire, however, had dwindled to little more than a tired smoldering.

I could smell the intruder: a mixture of sweat and alcohol, both in moderate portions. I had just begun to sit up when a hand fell heavily across my shoulder. If I wasn’t so tough, I might have yelped like a puppy.

“Come,” said the voice of Farid Bastian.

Dusting sand from my face, I followed the big man across the cave and into the black tunnel. The Arab wore a dark robe and a matching headcloth, held tight by a black cord. He swept the powerful flashlight methodically from side to side as we moved through the tunnel. When Farid finally stopped and faced me I saw that he was weaponless. However, Farid himself was weapon enough.

He held out a cigarette, which I quickly accepted. He lit a match and I leaned into it, puffing my cigarette to life. He lit his own, and we could have been two high school seniors sneaking a smoke in the boy’s room.

“How’s the girl?” I asked in Arabic.

“She is fine,” he answered calmly. “The emir will not touch her. That part of him has died. And his brother keeps his distance, for now.”

“Does the emir know you are here?”

“He knows only that I’m checking on the prisoners.” He grinned and caught my eyes. “That would be you.”

“Thanks, I almost forgot.”

We smoked contentedly. After a short while, Farid said, “The girl has proven herself invaluable to the professor, at least for the time being.”

“Why are you here, Farid?” I asked pointedly.

“Because I am going to kill you in the morning.”

I sucked in air around the cigarette. “How? A gunshot to the head? A shove over a cliff?”

“Come daylight, I will methodically shoot the three of you, claiming that you attempted to kill the emir. The soldiers will not question it. Your bodies will be dumped into the Ahora Gorge.”

“And we’ll be gone forever. Problem solved, and his secret is preserved.” I inhaled deeply, and looked at the big man.

We were silent. The light of Farid’s flashlight splashed on the far wall. I finished my cigarette and dropped it into the sand and watched it smolder until it died.

“And what of Faye?” I asked.

Farid shrugged. “She will return with us to Riyadh, to join the rest of his harem. There are ways of making women, especially American women, disappear. She will never escape, and she will be as good as dead.”

“And a play thing for the Saudi royal princes,” I said.

Farid shrugged.

“And why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“I do not wish to kill you,” he said.

“But you will if you have to?”

“Yes.”

“Do you enjoy killing?” I asked.

I knew Farid Bastian was an ex-Saudi soldier, trained in their special forces. Killing was no stranger to the big man. He said, “I receive little pleasure in killing another man.”

I sighed and scratched the stubble at my jaw. “Thanks for the hot tip, big guy, but what am I to do about it?”

“I come to give you fair warning,” he said, “And I come to give you this.”

He removed an automatic pistol from within the folds of his robe. Then he handed me a fistful of bullets. I stuck the pistol and the bullets into the pockets of my jacket.

“Outside are three of the emir’s most trusted guards,” said Farid.

“One for each of us?” I said.

“No. Three for you.” Farid inhaled and his chest expanded out like a great sail catching the wind. “I trust, my friend, that you will be gone when I come to kill you in the morning.”