Pharaoh

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘From now on, we can’t even risk holding consultations like this one, which could be considered a sort of assistance and could result in reprisals.’

  He lowered his head and was silent.

  ‘Thank you, General Hooker,’ Prime Minister Schochot said. ‘We understand your situation and we are sensitive to the terrible danger you are facing because of the friendship you have always shown us.’

  He turned to his chief of staff. ‘General Yehudai, can you tell us what is happening now?’

  ‘Three army corps, two of them Iraqi and one Syrian, are advancing through the storm, apparently without suffering any negative effects from the terrible weather. Mr Avner will explain later how they are doing it.

  ‘A fourth corps, which is Iranian, is crossing Kuwait, headed towards the Saudi Arabian oil fields. It seems obvious that they intend to take control of them.

  ‘Our informers think that a coup d’e´tat by fundamentalists with Libyan and Sudanese support is imminent in Egypt, so we are keeping a close eye on that area. The danger is that, if such a coup were successful, the Egyptian government would cancel its peace treaty with us and go to war alongside the other countries.

  ‘There are already ultra-nationalist demonstrations and activities taking place. There could also be an attack at any time on the Sinai front. Our air forces have informed me that our fighters are having great difficulty taking off because of the terrible weather conditions, but at least the enemy is in the same situation.

  ‘The problem will come when we have to face the massed air forces of our enemies. In addition, the Iranians have returned the Iraqi planes taken during the Gulf War to their old enemy. Now Mr Avner will show you how the armoured divisions are managing to advance towards our border in spite of the sandstorm.’

  Avner went to the door and let Ferrario in. The youth opened the case and showed the gathered group what was inside it.

  ‘Beacons,’ he said. ‘Run on batteries or recharged wherever they can find electricity. They emit a steady signal that guides armoured cars along set routes.’

  ‘Has there been a declaration of war?’ asked General Hooker.

  ‘No, obviously not,’ replied the Prime Minister. ‘Taksoun has let it be known that there are joint exercises with Syria. That shows you just how brazen he has become. He obviously knows he has nothing to fear.’

  There was a knock at the door and Ferrario went to see who it was. Shortly afterwards he returned, pale and tense.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘we have just been told that swarms of Hezbollah have moved into Galilee with rockets and, even worse, three bombs went off in Tel Aviv, Haifa and West Jerusalem ten minutes ago. Over seventy people are dead and hundreds are wounded, many of them seriously.

  ‘It is feared that there will be more Hamas suicide commando units acting in the next few hours.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Hooker.

  ‘Fight. What else? We have defeated the united Arab forces before,’ said Yehudai. ‘I’ll drop my parachutists all over south Lebanon to fight Hezbollah. We’ll send up all the bombers that can fly and we’ll drop all the bombs we have on them. The armoured forces and the artillery are ready to engage on the Jordanian front. It’s very likely that Jordan will join the others or be dragged into the conflict, and then Egypt won’t have much choice but to go along too. Even if we can’t stop them, we still have one card to play. We won’t be pushed into the sea. We will not go back to being a landless people!’

  General Hooker got to his feet and looked him in the eye. ‘General Yehudai,’ he said, ‘are you saying that you’re considering the use of nuclear arms?’

  ‘Without the slightest hesitation,’ replied Yehudai after exchanging glances with his Prime Minister. ‘If that becomes necessary.’

  ‘You do realize that our enemies may well have been able to get atomic weapons from the Islamic former Soviet republics? That’s certainly where the bombs they’ve positioned on our territory come from. A nuclear response would bring about a similar reprisal. Their missiles have limited range, but it would be enough.’

  Yehudai looked at the Prime Minister again and then at the American general. ‘Armageddon,’ he said. ‘If that’s what they want, so be it. And now, if you will excuse me, General Hooker, I must join my men on the front line.’

  He bowed his head, took his leave of the Prime Minister and Avner, and then walked away, his combat boots echoing ominously in the silence-filled room.

  THE THREE Americans prepared to go as well, standing up and moving towards the door. As Ferrario was opening the door to let them pass, Avner nodded to him and the Italian turned to General Hooker, the last one to leave.

  ‘General,’ he said, ‘Mr Avner would like a word in private. He will be waiting for you in an hour’s time at the King David Hotel. May I tell him that you’ll be there?’

  Hooker hesitated for a moment and then replied, ‘I’ll be there.’

  The American arrived at around four o’clock and was shown to a private room.

  ‘This place is quieter than the chief of staff’s headquarters and I think it’s more private too. Do you mind if I smoke?’ Avner asked, lighting a cigarette.

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Hooker. ‘You may as well. Things are shot to hell anyway.’

  ‘General, I need your help.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Avner, I can’t do anything. What I just said at the meeting still stands.’

  ‘I know. It’s not about that. It’s another problem.’

  ‘Another problem? You mean there’s another problem besides the one we already have?’

  Yes, not as important, I hope . . . You are aware of the Warren Mining operation at Mitzpe Ramon, aren’t you?’

  Yes, I am. But that’s all over now, I think. Our forces have almost completely withdrawn.’

  ‘I’m not talking about that, General. Unfortunately, there have been some complications. Last night, the Warren Mining camp suffered a massive attack. It may have been a preparatory incursion by enemy forces, clearing the way in a highly strategic area, or it may have been a reprisal. There are still many officers in the Iraqi high command who are faithful to the dead president. They may have learned about the force you had there to kill al Bashar.’

  ‘But we didn’t do it.’

  ‘If I know them, it won’t make any difference. In any case, we did a bit of reconnaissance down there and we didn’t find any survivors. Those bastards hit with surgical precision. However, my informants tell me that someone may have escaped the massacre, someone who would be a valuable witness to that attack in which so many of your compatriots were killed. I tend to think that if someone got out, it was because he was allowed to do so. I don’t know if I am making myself clear.’

  ‘Loud and clear,’ said Hooker. ‘Whoever escaped was the one who talked in the first place.’

  ‘There’s no other explanation that makes sense to me. The camp was completely surrounded, every square foot sprayed with machine-gun fire and torn apart by huge explosions. But an ATV left the scene just minutes before all hell broke loose. A bit odd, wouldn’t you say? It was found abandoned near the Egyptian border at a place called Ras Udash. So, it’s plain that if whoever was in it came from the Warren Mining camp, they were headed for Egypt, where someone was waiting for them.

  ‘We were also able to intercept radio messages from the Warren Mining camp and we know that someone there was in contact with a group of Islamic fundamentalists. We don’t know why.

  ‘We found profiles of the camp staff on the company’s remote computer system. Two of them concerned people whose bodies we haven’t been able to find. They could be the people we are looking for. What I’m asking you is to let us know if you should find out where they are or if they should come directly to you, even if they are American citizens.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can, Mr Avner. If we locate anyone, you’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘Thank you. I knew you would help us.’

  Hook
er left and Avner sat and finished his cigarette, while he thought about the secret that was once again buried in the middle of the Paran desert, a secret that, should it ever get out, would destroy the soul of his nation, but would also put an end to wars like the one that was about to break out once and for all.

  He thought for a long time, watching the embers slowly die and turn to ashes. Deep inside, he knew all too well that the one thing he could never let happen was the destruction of the people of Israel, the destruction of their history and their soul. No price was too high for him to pay to prevent that from happening.

  A step behind him brought him out of his reverie.

  ‘Ferrario! Any news?’

  ‘Yehudai has sent out the air force and the army helicopters despite the storm, but they’re meeting stiff resistance from the enemy forces. There have already been losses and it looks like it’s going to get worse in the next few hours. The United Nations have given the Iranians a final ultimatum to withdraw immediately from Saudi territory but it might as well have been the Pope for all the good it’ll do.

  ‘The Saudi troops are retreating anyway. Without American help they can’t even blow their noses.’

  ‘And the northern front?’

  ‘Incursions by the Syrian air force. Rockets on Galilee. On the Golan, Hezbollah are attacking like mad all the way along the front line. We’re dropping paras behind them to take the pressure off, but it’s heavy going. The government is evacuating all civilians in a ten-mile range.’

  ‘Egypt?’ said Avner. ‘I don’t want anything to move down there without my knowing about it.’

  ‘Yes. Our network is working at full capacity, so nothing should get past us.’

  Avner looked at him. ‘Don’t say stupid things, Ferrario. Nobody on God’s earth can expect to know everything there is to know. It’s the unexpected that has always changed the course of history over the millennia. Always the unexpected. Remember that.’

  ‘Shall I take you back to headquarters, Mr Avner?’

  ‘No, Ferrario, I’ll get there on my own . . . In the meantime, I want you to do a little job for me.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He held out a folder. ‘Someone should tell the Egyptians about the people in this file. At least two of them may already be on their territory. They represent a mortal danger for us, but we can’t move about in Egypt freely enough to take care of the matter ourselves. We have to get the Egyptians to eliminate them. Have I made myself clear?’

  ‘Very clear, sir,’ said Ferrario, leafing through the files in the folder. ‘I’ll see to it immediately.’

  ‘Oh, and by the way, I want to know what’s happening in the Allon tunnel. Keep me informed.’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  Out on the street, Avner stopped to look up at the sky, which was still clear over Jerusalem, while the wail of sirens from ambulances carrying bomb-blast victims reached his ears from every direction. Then he set off along a path he hadn’t followed for many years.

  He walked alone with his hands pushed deep into his pockets and his scarf pulled up for almost half an hour, until he came to the Damascus Gate. He followed El Walid Street, crossed over Hashalshelet and found himself in the open space by the Western Wall of the Temple.

  Soldiers in combat fatigues were guarding all the entrances to the square and checked everyone coming in or out, fingers ready on the triggers of their Uzis. Avner crossed the square, swept by a cold wind, and approached the Western Wall. A few orthodox faithful with their hair shaved at the top and with long black locks falling from their temples rocked rhythmically as they chanted their centuries-old lament for the lost sanctuary.

  Avner stared at the great blocks of stone smoothed by the piety of millions of sons of Israel, forced into exile by the Diaspora. Exiles in their own countries. For the first time since the death of his son, he felt like praying and, by a strange twist of fate, was unable to do so because his mind was filled with a secret that left no room for anything else.

  His anger and disappointment turned to profound grief and Gad Avner, who had buried his son without shedding a tear, now felt his eyes fill. He touched his tears with his fingertips and wet the stone of the Temple, adding his tears to those of all the Jews who, for centuries before him, had done the same.

  There was nothing left for him to do, so he turned to go. But when he had reached the other side of the square, he saw an old man sitting on the pavement, begging. Avner looked at him and saw a strange light in his eyes, almost like divine inspiration.

  ‘Give me some money so I can eat,’ said the beggar. ‘And I’ll give you something in return.’

  Taken aback by the unexpected words, Avner took out a five-shekel note and handed it to the old man, then said, ‘What can you give me in exchange?’

  The old man put the money into his satchel, raised his eyes to Avner’s face and said, ‘Perhaps . . . hope.’

  Avner shivered suddenly, as if the wind blowing down from Mount Carmel had got under his clothes.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.

  But the old man did not reply and his empty eyes stared into space, as if just for an instant he had been the unwitting messenger for a mysterious force which had now disappeared.

  Avner looked at him for a while without saying anything, then continued on his way, absorbed in his thoughts.

  The last glow of the sunset faded from the immense desert and the first stars began to shine in the darkening sky. Blake continued onward, even though his feet were bleeding inside his boots. Sarah was wearing running shoes and moved more easily with lighter steps, but both of them were at the limits of their endurance.

  Suddenly the wind knifed across the enormous empty space and the two looked at each other anxiously, reading in the expression of the other the knowledge of what was about to happen.

  ‘It’s coming,’ said Blake. ‘We have to prepare ourselves.’

  ‘But where do you think we are?’

  ‘By now, we should be almost at the Beer Menuha road. We should be able to see it when we’ve gone over that little hill up ahead. But that doesn’t mean much. Just that on the road we may find someone who’ll pick us up.’

  ‘What’ll we do if we get caught by the storm?’

  ‘What I’ve already told you. If we find some shelter, we’ll use it. Otherwise we’ll lie on the ground and try to protect each other by covering our heads, our mouths and noses. And then we’ll wait until it passes.’

  ‘But it could last for days.’

  ‘Yes, but there’s nothing else we can do. The alternative is to die of suffocation. The dust is as fine as talc and it stops you breathing in minutes. Come on now. We’ll make it.’

  Blake turned to the east and saw that the line of the horizon was disappearing in a white mist. He hurried as fast as he could to the little hill, which was now only a short distance away. When he got to the top, the Beer Menuha road was visible, deserted for as far as the eye could see. However, at the foot of the hill there was a boulder as tall as a man, a large outcrop of flint surrounded by smaller stones that had broken off it over the years because of the drastic swings in temperature.

  Blake turned to call Sarah and heard her saying, ‘Oh, God, the moon! It’s red . . .’

  Blake looked up at the surreal sight. The disc of the rising moon was veiled by a bloody shadow which expanded and reflected over the endless plain.

  ‘The eclipse,’ said Blake. ‘The bloodied face of Isis . . . Hurry now, before the storm catches us. It’s getting near. I can feel it.’

  Sarah joined him and saw that he had put down his pack and was frantically piling stones on the north-west side of the big boulder to form a windbreak. She set to, helping him as the wind gathered strength and the air grew thicker and denser with every minute that passed.

  ‘We should try to eat and drink something,’ said Blake. ‘Who knows when we’ll get another chance?’

  Sarah dug into her pack and passed him a packet of biscuits and a
few dried figs and dates. Blake took his water bottle out of his own pack and handed it to her. After she had finished, he drank a few long draughts himself.

  He was beginning to taste the dust in his mouth. He glanced towards the moon, which was gradually being covered by that bloody veil, and then said, ‘We have to find some way of protecting ourselves, otherwise we’ll die. It’s nearly here.’

  He looked around desperately and then again at the horizon.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ asked Sarah before she tied a handkerchief over her mouth.

  ‘This shelter isn’t going to be enough and neither will that handkerchief . . . Oh, God . . . there’s no time left, no time . . .’

  Suddenly his eyes fixed on Sarah’s pack.

  ‘What are these things made of ?’ he asked.

  ‘Gore-Tex, I think,’ answered the girl.

  ‘Then maybe there’s some hope for us. If I remember rightly, the pores in Gore-Tex only release water vapour, so they should keep the dust out and let us breathe at the same time.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘You aren’t thinking of—’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking,’ said Blake, and emptied the contents of the packs into a plastic bag that he jammed between some rocks. He held out the upside-down pack towards Sarah. ‘Put this over your head,’ he said, looking her in the eyes. ‘We don’t have any choice.’

  The girl obeyed and Blake pulled the cord, tightening it around her neck. Then he wrapped her scarf several times round her neck and the pack opening. ‘How’s that?’ he asked.

  A muffled reply that could have meant anything was the answer, but Blake took it to mean that everything was all right. He squeezed her hand hard, then carried out the same operation on himself and closed the opening of his pack as best he could with two handkerchiefs knotted together.

  When he had finished, he felt for Sarah’s hand and pulled her down. They curled up on the ground with their heads against the wall, held each other tight and awaited the arrival of the storm.