The Jerusalem Puzzle (36 page)

A sheet of paper slapped onto the desk by his right hand, missing it by an inch.

‘It’s a good thing I came back in,’ said Sergeant Finch.

Henry turned, looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘Your friend, Lord Bidoner,’ Sergeant Finch paused, leaned down towards him, ‘has just been identified as the financial backer of a TV station which has released a news video that’s going viral in twelve Muslim countries.’

Henry looked at the paper on his desk. It was a row of alarming YouTube statistics for a list of countries. He turned and looked up at Sergeant Finch. She had that irritating, superior look on her face. No doubt she would soon claim that keeping an eye on Bidoner had been her idea.

‘A YouTube news video?’ he said.

She leaned further down towards him. ‘Yes, Henry. A video, which further justifies our little leak this afternoon.’ She glanced to her left and right, then leaned closer. He could smell her lemony shampoo.

‘The video claims new evidence has been found to prove that Israel is using this crisis to suppress Islam’s claims on Jerusalem.’

‘What evidence?’

Sergeant Finch straightened up, took a step back.

‘They claim that Israel is behind the murders in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,’ she said. She looked at the screens on Henry’s desk.

‘Are we on top of the Susan Hunter operation? There are a lot of people trying to stir things up out there.’

‘We were,’ said Henry. ‘Until this bloody storm knocked out our live tracking system. I’ve been trying to get it back online. Let me have another look.’ He turned back to his screen.

‘Frigging hell,’ he said.

A splash of water on my face woke me with a start. A burning sensation in my throat made me gag. I tried to sit up. I couldn’t.

There was smoke all around me. My skin prickled hot. A taste of burnt wood filled my mouth. Something was cutting into my chest and my outstretched arms, as I tried to rise. I turned my head.

I knew what he’d done.

I was on the wooden cart, tied down. There was smoke rising all around the sides of the cart. He had pushed it over the fire. It would burn in the next few minutes and so would I.

The pain from the heat coming through the wood was making my body twist. Smoke was in my lungs, and swirling demonically above me.

I was on a bed of pain. I hadn’t long left to live. As soon as the wood caught fire I was cooked.

I heard a laugh.

I tried to rise again, pushing against my bindings. It was no good. He had tied me down with wire. All I could do was arch my back away from the hot wood, move my knees from it.

I heard a voice.

‘You will die slowly, Sean Ryan. And when you are roasted I will slice you open.’

‘Go to hell,’ I shouted. ‘That’s where you come from.’ I coughed. I wasn’t going to scream with pain and give him that victory.

‘I’m not from hell.’ The bastard laughed. ‘Your one true God burns those who displease him.’

Pain flowed through me.

Suddenly I needed to urinate. I let the water pass out. I didn’t want it boiling inside me. A cloud of acidic smoke rose up around me.

‘Your lungs will liquefy soon,’ said the voice. ‘You will cough them up before you die. You cannot be saved. You should not have interfered.’

My chest hurt, felt constricted, as if his prediction was beginning. The pain in my wrists was biting at me. I twisted them. They were bent at a weird angle now and hurt excruciatingly. But I had no choice. I had to test how far I could move them.

And still I didn’t scream.

I tried to shake, to move the cart under me, but all that did was dig the wires into my skin. And they were getting hot, transferring the heat from below the cart as if conducting electricity. And still I didn’t scream.

But in that moment I knew that hope was gone.

Time slowed.

Every sense was overwhelmed by crackling, the thick smoke, the carbon taste of it, the rising waves of heat on my skin, the terrifying knowledge that I would die soon.

I closed my eyes. I may be dead, but Isabel still had a chance. Maybe my death would help save her, give the Palestinians time to come and get this bastard.

It was a small hope as the heat rose around me. And at least his mocking voice was gone.

And then a great shuddering whoosh sounded all around me.

The smoke cleared for a wonderful second and a huge wind blew beautiful, wonderful cold air against my skin, as if the wings of an angel were beating down on me.

Was this a trick of my mind?

Was this the approach of death?

But it wasn’t. Shouts echoed. And I was coughing as the smoke swirled violently. And then I felt myself moving.

I was off the fire and something was at my wrists and ankles whilst someone was screaming something in Hebrew in my ear.

I recognised one word. ‘Medic!’

I was still coughing as they peeled me off the cart. I expected I would leave half my skin on it, could almost feel it happening, but aside from my clothes being charred all down my back and my hands being red and raw from burns I was lucky.

Every part of my body was brown from the smoke or pink from heat, puckered in places and sore, but I was lightly barbecued, not blackened.

The Israeli Air Force helicopter that had dropped onto the camp had scattered the fire and smoke from underneath me.

I had been at the burning gate of death and it had opened to take me, but I was still here.

Intense elation and relief ran through me like ice roaring through my veins.

‘Was there anyone else in your party?’ someone kept saying. She was a female Israeli commando, dressed all in black, and attractive, with curly black hair and shiny brown skin.

Where was Isabel?

‘Was there anyone else in your party?’

I didn’t understand what she was saying. I was alive. I had a future again. I’d cheated death.

Seconds later they had stood me up, my smouldering clothes were gone, and they’d put me in a navy blue jumpsuit made from some strange elasticated nylon. It felt as if it had thick greasy cream on the inside. I didn’t care. It was cooling my skin like water.

‘Lie down,’ someone shouted. I bent down, staggered, sat down by a stretcher, overcome with a series of shudders that passed through me, as my muscles reacted to the tension they’d been through.

‘Was there anyone else with you?’

Finally, I understood. ‘Isabel. She’s still out there.’

I pointed out at the rocky valley.

I tried to get up. Another shudder passed through me. I sat down. I would stand again once it had passed. The helicopter was near. Its blades were rotating slowly. They were sending the nearby bushes flailing.

‘Where?’ she said. She was on her knees beside me.

I felt a great surge of hope.

‘How did you find me?’

She looked up. There was another Israeli. He looked like an officer. He was wearing a cap with a red badge. His epaulettes had pale blue bars on them. His face was sun beaten.

He stared down at me.

‘Our reconnaissance team was looking for your group. They spotted a fire.’

Ariel must have warned his superiors where he was going. A real dread for most senior Israeli officers was that they would be responsible for one of their soldiers getting kidnapped.

‘Did you see anyone?’ I asked.

‘There was someone here when we started our descent, but they were long gone when we pulled you off that fire,’ he said.

He’d run away.

‘Do you know where your friend is?’ She was leaning towards me. She sounded exasperated, as if she’d been asking me over and over and I hadn’t replied.

I pushed myself up with my hand. I was halfway to my feet before she reacted.

‘Sit down. You’re going to the hospital.’ She sounded shocked.

‘I’m not. I’m good. I’m just covered in soot, that’s all.’ I rubbed some from my hands. It stuck stubbornly. My skin felt raw, but the searing pain had been replaced by a dull throbbing, so much better than when the fire had been near, it was almost welcome.

‘I know where she is, but I can’t explain it to you.’ I shook my head.

She shrugged. ‘Then show us. On a map.’

‘No, no. I’m coming with you.’ I shook my head again and again. ‘There can’t be any mistakes. I don’t care what happens to me. Do you understand?’ I pointed my finger at her.

The pain in my hands was considerable, but I could make a fist and bend my fingers fully, and the skin wasn’t broken.

I pointed at her again, my lips clamped together, my eyes blinking like an idiot. I wasn’t going to be whisked away. I was alive, but I had no idea what was happening to Isabel. That bastard could do anything.

She shook her head with exasperation. ‘We get people like you now and again. If you last an hour I’ll be surprised.’ She took a silver pot of some salve from a pouch on her belt and took a big dollop out and held it in front of her.

‘Rub this into your hands and your wrists,’ she said. ‘If you can do that you’ll get by for a while.’

The first sensation when I put the salve on was icy heat, then a horrible crinkly pain rushed up my arms as I rubbed the cream in. It took a lot to keep my expression still.

‘Did you find anyone else alive?’ A sliver of hope was still hiding inside me that Mark, or Ariel or Xena might have survived; that I’d been wrong about their injuries.

‘A Palestinian woman and an African woman are alive, but injured. My colleagues are tending to them. Five people are dead.’

I swallowed. There was a foul slime of soot in my mouth.

‘I’m ready.’ This wasn’t the time for sentimentality.

‘You’re going to show us where your friend is?’

‘Yes.’

She looked at the older officer who was standing near us. He nodded, looked at his watch, made some sign with his fingers. She pointed her finger into my chest.

‘Now you listen to me. We will do our best to find your friend. But if we meet local resistance we have to pull out. And you will come with us, okay?’

‘Why the hell will we pull out?’

‘We’re a snatch squad. We didn’t come here to search these hills. We’ll send a ground team in as soon as it gets light. They’ll coordinate a search with the local Palestinians. You have minutes to find your friend. That’s all we can give you. We have to get out of here soon.’

There was no point in arguing.

A stretcher was being placed in the helicopter as we walked out into the darkness. Its blades hadn’t stopped spinning. They were ready for a swift take-off. How long would they wait?

Beyond, the darkness was thick. There were four of us walking through the valley away from the helicopter and the remnants of the camp. Another soldier in black had joined us. I’d expected there to be more of them.

The older guy spoke into a mouthpiece as we walked back fast along the path we’d come along with the riders. I looked back towards the helicopter. Only the swish-swish noise of the slowly twirling blades gave it away. If you couldn’t hear where it was you wouldn’t be able to point it out.

The stars and the crescent moon lit the path in front of us. Was I mad to hope?

Soon we were halfway back to where we’d left the car. The rocks and bushes were shadows and ridges.

I was fearful about what might have happened to Mark and Ariel and Xena. Faces, snatches of conversations were playing through my mind, over and over. A surge of emotion gripped me. Anger mixed with sadness mixed with fear at what might have already happened to Isabel.

I had a sudden urge to go back in time. It seemed so close, that moment at the border when Mark had said goodbye, when none of this had happened, and almost reachable because of that.

I remembered what Xena had said about the symbol, how she’d drawn it in the earth. Would I be able to find it? Had it really been put there as a marker to show where someone was being kept? I walked faster, moving ahead of the others, uncaring that I was leaving them behind.

Suddenly, a shout echoed from a cluster of shadows ahead.

‘Waq
f
!’ was the shout. Then the gravelly voice shouted, ‘Stop!’

I stood still, my eyes probing the shadows. Then I glanced over my shoulder. The Israelis had taken cover behind some large rocks. I saw a glint from a machine pistol. ‘Walk back to us,’ hissed the Israeli officer. ‘We’ll cover you.’

Was he going to suggest going back to the helicopters, pulling out, that I wait for a ground team to come in? I couldn’t blame him. The Israeli army’s presence here would only inflame things with the local Palestinians.

Instead of going back though, I raised my hands and took a step forward.

Isabel was near. I knew it.

I wasn’t giving up. I didn’t care what happened to me. Not for one second.

I felt the air from the bullet pass my cheek. I heard the sound of it being fired too, which meant one important thing. I was still alive. Whoever had fired in my direction was either a very good shot, missing me deliberately, or just getting his aim right.

My foot shook as I lifted it.

I spoke loudly as I put it down firmly in front of me, I had to go on. My hands were in painful fists. I could smell a faint whiff of gunpowder. In the distance the whoosh of the helicopter blades turning could still be heard.

I heard a rustle up ahead. The taste of smoke was still in my mouth, like poison.

‘I am looking for my friend. Don’t stop me.’

The next bullet buried itself into the rough ground at my feet, throwing dust into the air. I could feel the dust splatter my cheek.

‘Go back,’ came a shout.

An insistent voice inside me said,
do what he says, don’t be stupid.

I took another step forward. As I did a cold sensation, as if death was near me, settled inside my chest.

‘Help me and I will help you find the man you are looking for!’ I shouted into the darkness.

My voice sounded hoarse, dry. I stood still. Clinking noises sounded from up ahead, to my right.

I shouted again.

‘You can kill me, go on, but it won’t help you or your people. I am the only witness as to who set the fire in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.’