Exodus (17 page)

The escarpment became a gentler slope and as soon as they could safely run, Morgan and Khal jogged across the rocky ground to the opening of the caves. They could see two helicopters approaching now, flying low and heading directly for Mount Nebo. There were three larger cave entrances and a smaller one, so Morgan ducked into the first large cave entrance, her breathing fast from the exertion. She was still not completely recovered from her injuries but Khal had barely broken a sweat. He was certainly fit for an archaeologist, Morgan thought.
 

“Do you think they’re coming to these caves?” he said, his voice concerned.
 

“Perhaps they’ll just pass over, but we need to find somewhere to hide just in case, and we might as well search the caves while we look.”
 

Morgan pulled a torch from her backpack and walked deeper into the cave as Khal followed. The sound of helicopters grew closer and louder, and then the rotors whined to a halt close by. Morgan crept back to the entrance.
 

“They’ve landed just down the slope,” she whispered, checking the smartphone. There was no reception, so she couldn’t even signal to ARKANE for backup, even if they could make it in time. She and Khal carried no weapons, little money and they had no negotiating power, but then Morgan hadn’t been expecting company. She peered around the cave entrance and saw four figures emerging from the first helicopter, and three more from the second.
 

“Those are military utility helicopters,” she said, recognizing the Hughes MD500 series. “They didn’t bring the Cobra attack choppers so this is a civilian group escorted by military and I don’t expect they’d be looking for engagement.” Khal seemed to relax a little. Being taken into custody by any Middle Eastern military service was never going to be a pleasant experience. Morgan had the backing of the British government, but he had nothing. “But they are coming up the slope towards the caves.” As the figures strode closer, Morgan recognized one of them. “They’re definitely here because of the Ark.”
 

She flattened herself back against the wall, fully aware of what Natasha El-Behery was capable of should she find them. Morgan felt an overwhelming desire to fight but there were too many men to tackle, and Khal wasn’t up for the challenge. She looked around. No choice.
 

“We need to hide,” she said.
 

There were a few large boulders at the back of the cave, nothing substantial, but they were better than nothing. Khal shrugged.
 

“Maybe they won’t look very hard. There’s clearly no Ark of the Covenant in here.”
 

Morgan smiled, appreciating his humor in a difficult situation and they both ducked down behind the boulders. Morgan tensed, ready for action, as Khal awkwardly folded his body into the small space.
 

They heard voices at the cave entrance, shouts in Arabic and scuffling in the dust. Morgan didn’t hear Natasha’s voice so evidently her second-in-command must be doing the bellowing. He told the men to search the caves in pairs and a moment later, footsteps entered the cave where they were hiding.
 

Morgan regulated her breathing as two pairs of footsteps approached in opposite directions around the perimeter. Torchlight threw shadows against the walls. If she and Khal remained motionless, it was possible they would be missed, but if the men came too close, they would be seen. The men chatted as they casually looked around the cave, clearly not military from their lackadaisical approach. The men met in the middle of the cave in front of the boulders and then headed back towards the entrance. Morgan relaxed a little as they walked away. They were safe.
 

Khal shifted position unintentionally, sending some small stones skidding across the floor. The men shouted and rushed back with torches and guns held high. Khal looked devastated as he stood with arms up, stepping forward to draw attention to himself and attempting to shield Morgan’s position from view. But Morgan knew that Natasha would know they were together, so she stepped out too, hands up in surrender.
 

The men pushed them roughly forward out of the cave and back into the blinding sunlight. They were cuffed with plastic ties and shoved down the slope to the area in front of the cave complex. Natasha smiled when she saw them, her eyes raking up and down Khal’s body.
 

“Dr Sierra, how lovely to see you here, and once again, you have some gorgeous male company. I can only admire your choice of partners.”
 

Natasha stepped close to Khal and gently drew her long nails down his chest. Morgan remembered how she had hypnotized Jake in this way, her physical presence assured in her sexuality. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her top, buttons undone to reveal a hint of what was beneath, Natasha was sexy as hell and just as dangerous. Underestimating her was a death sentence. Natasha’s eyes fixed on Khal’s as she spoke.
 

“Perhaps an offering to the Gods on this holy mountain would be appropriate, perhaps it would help us find the Ark.”
 

A shout came from one of the caves, and Natasha turned immediately, then strode towards the sound. She looked back briefly, shouting, “Bring them.”
 

The men pushed Morgan and Khal in front of them back toward the cave Natasha had just entered. Morgan’s excitement rose, despite the danger they were in. Had they found something that would lead to the Ark? She walked ahead faster and entered the cave. Towards the back, a giant altar was highlighted by torches where Natasha was bending to examine it.
 

“I know you’re interested, Dr Sierra, so you may as well be useful.” She beckoned and Morgan approached the altar.
 

“It would help if I wasn’t cuffed.”
 

Natasha gave her a steely gaze. Morgan shrugged. Two could play at the cold bitch game. She bent to look at the carvings on the rock altar and realized that it wasn’t an altar after all.
 

“This is likely a sixth century tomb,” Morgan said. “Look at the carving here. The kai-ro cross symbol indicates that it is early Christian, certainly not something that would have come from the time of Jeremiah or the Ark.”

“But look at this,” Natasha’s voice had changed and Morgan noticed the awe in it, like a child finding something new and amazing for the first time. She knew Natasha’s past was enmeshed with archaeology and the love of ancient civilizations, so perhaps here they could find common ground. She went round to see what was so interesting.
 

On the back of the altar were earlier carvings, as if the stone had been reused for the tomb but had been something else previously. The carving was worn and faded but clearly showed a procession of priests carrying temple objects, the golden menorah and the Ark of the Covenant. It was the frieze of an ancient ceremony turned into the tomb of a wealthy Christian.
 

“When Jerusalem was besieged and the Temple sacked in 70AD, the menorah from the Temple was taken to Rome with the captive Jews,” Morgan said.
 

“Yes, that is shown on the Arch of Titus in Rome,” Natasha replied. “The slaves in shackles, the menorah carried high, except there was no Ark found then.” Natasha’s eyes were wide with excitement at the chase and for a moment, Morgan saw clarity there, a shared purpose and she had a flicker of hope that this could end well for them all. Then the shutters came down in Natasha’s eyes and the tendrils of darkness took back their possession. “And there is no Ark here now.”
 

Morgan stood her ground, unflinching, as Natasha came right up to her, her eyes searching for the truth. Morgan had nothing to hide, as she still didn’t know where the Ark was either. Natasha must have realized she would get nothing else from them as she stepped back. Morgan tensed, knowing how unpredictable Natasha was. Then she saw the movement coming, a shifting of the other woman’s weight as Natasha lashed out in frustration, whirling her torch.
 

Morgan saw the signs of the oncoming attack and she stepped forward into the wide angle of Natasha’s arm in order to stop the levered end smashing into her head. Morgan rushed Natasha, holding her cuffed hands out and knocking her to the ground even as the men moved to help. Khal shouted and leapt forward as they went down and was backhanded by one of the guards for his effort.
 

Morgan ended up behind the tomb, her face almost hitting the rock wall as she landed. She had started the fight with some element of surprise but now she was on the dusty ground, face down and cuffed while Natasha shouted at her men to leave them alone and get away. A sharp pain hit Morgan’s lower back and the blows came fast as Natasha screamed her frustration. As she twisted to avoid the next kick Morgan saw something, a series of tiny carvings near the floor. In spite of the beating, she needed to get closer.
 

Morgan curved her body inwards towards the wall, at once protecting her injury from more damage but also blocking the carvings from the view of the others. She compartmentalized the pain as blows rained down on her back and buttocks. Natasha wasn’t hitting her head yet and seemed to be venting her frustration, rather than trying to inflict serious harm. Morgan knew that she could do a lot worse, but she only needed a few more seconds.
 

Now Morgan could see the tiny symbols up close. They were filled with dust but were still visible, showing the Freemasons’ square and compass. They were rough carvings but still definitive. Next to them were the letters PEF and a date that looked like 1868. Disappointment flooded her, for it was likely just some graffiti by a nameless pilgrim.

The realization of her failure allowed the pain back in as her body registered the blows, and Morgan heard Khal moan from the other side of the tomb. This was turning serious and she knew what Natasha did with her enemies. She needed to think quickly.
 

“Hey there, stop that!” A shout came suddenly from the cave entrance. Morgan rolled towards the sound as Natasha turned, wheeling round and pulling her gun on the intruders. A priest stood there, surrounded by a large tourist group, all holding cameras and smartphones. They were videoing the inside of the cave, capturing Khal being beaten. Morgan heard Natasha swear in Arabic as she covered her face with her hand and hid her gun quickly.
 

“Get out of here,” she shouted. “This is none of your business, priest.”
 

The man drew himself up taller, empowered by his belief and the support of his group, as well as the power of media.
 

“This is holy ground, a holy mountain,” the man said with an American accent. “You will not pervert it with your violence.”
 

Morgan sensed Natasha’s conflict. She wanted to shoot him but there were too many witnesses here and she could not kill them all.
 

“Yalla,” she said brusquely to her men. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here anyway. Leave them.”
 

Natasha stalked from the cave and as she approached the crowd parted to let her through. When they saw the guns, the group moved further back but they continued to point their cameras. People were empowered by the way media could record and even stop violence now. Natasha spat at the priest as she passed, but he stood his ground. The choppers started up as they boarded and the crowd continued to film as the helicopters flew off southwards.
 

Morgan heard them go and finally relaxed. She made it to her knees and shuffled around to Khal as the priest came back into the cave, his concerned followers right behind. They were all talking at once, excited to have witnessed such drama on an otherwise uneventful day trip.
 

“Are you OK? Who were those people?”
 

“We don’t know, Father.” Morgan hung her head. “We just wanted to explore the caves and then they landed, found us here and started beating us.”

Khal looked dazed. One of the men in the group pushed forward with haste.
 

“Let me have a look at him. I have some first aid training and he might be concussed.”
 

Morgan sat back, not wanting to demonstrate her own field training. She knew Khal would be OK, but some care from the strangers would do him good.
 

“Does anyone have anything to cut these cuffs off?” she asked the group.
 

“I have a first aid pack with scissors,” one timid lady spoke up, staring at Morgan as if she was a crazy woman. Morgan could only imagine what she looked like right now, covered in dust, blood dripping down her temple. She had glanced her head on a rock when she went down but most of her injuries would be bruising from the beating. She was going to hurt like hell in the morning.
 

“That would be great,” Morgan smiled at her sincerely.
 

The woman clearly had never expected to use her little first aid pack this way but she puffed up with pride as she knelt to help. Morgan imagined how this story would play out when told back in the churches of the Mid West. She still had a soft spot for religious tourists, for they had such high hopes for their travels, and this piece of drama would be just the thing to spice up their photos of the Jordanian desert.
 

Cuffs off, Morgan rubbed her wrists and caught Khal’s eye as he sat up. He put on his best English accent for the group.