Pharaoh

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  The animals were watered and tended. Selim began talking and then arguing with the owner, and Blake realized that the man wanted the other half of the sum immediately, before they left.

  He approached Selim and said in English, ‘If he’ll take half of the remaining sum, tell him that we agree. Otherwise tell him we’re turning back. I don’t want him to think we can’t do without his help.’

  Selim referred Blake’s offer, and to be more convincing, took out twelve hundred-dollar bills and placed them in the man’s hand. He seemed to refuse at first, then, having thought about it, called over a boy who opened an unhinged wooden door, revealing an old Unimog, freshly painted with camouflage colours.

  ‘Finally,’ sighed Blake, and looked at his watch: eight o’clock.

  Husseini’s computer was starting up the fifth cycle. Just thirty-six hours to the conclusion of the program.

  The price they paid included a hunk of bread with lamb stew and a bottle of mineral water; the sheik had thought of everything. Sarah played her part as a Muslim woman to the hilt, eating separately from the men without removing the veil that covered her head and most of her face, but Blake tried to meet her eyes every so often to show he was thinking of her.

  They got into the Unimog at eight thirty. The boy who had opened the shed sat at the wheel, with Selim at his side and Sarah and Blake in back. The vehicle was roughly covered by a camouflaged canvas roof stretched over a frame made up of iron poles.

  About an hour into the trip, it was clear why the man at the caravanserai had wanted to be paid before they left: the explosions were frighteningly close.

  Selim, guessing at the state of mind of his travel companions, turned to reassure them. ‘The boy says not to worry. The front is towards Gaza, and we’ll be turning off to the south-east soon, where we’ll use the Udash wadi. After a few miles it narrows between the rocks. It’ll give us all the protection we need to get to our destination.’

  ‘How soon?’ asked Blake.

  Selim exchanged words with the driver, then said, ‘If all goes well – if we’re not hit by the machine-gun fire of some passing aeroplane and if this truck doesn’t break down – at about two o’clock in the morning . . . inshallah.’

  ‘Inshallah,’ repeated Blake mechanically.

  The boy drove calmly and very carefully, briefly switching on the headlights only when it became difficult to follow the track.

  They got to the border some time before midnight and stopped behind a rise in the terrain. About 200 metres away they could see a fence with barbed wire and an asphalt road on the other side, in Israeli territory.

  The driver and Selim got out and cautiously approached the border on foot, looking to the left and right. They snipped the wire with a pair of cutters, and crept back over to the Unimog.

  ‘We’ve been incredibly lucky,’ said Selim while the heavy vehicle climbed up the bank on the side of the road, clambering over to the other side in the direction of Wadi Udash, which glowed palely, completely dry, about a quarter of a mile ahead of them.

  ‘Selim, I have to ask you something,’ said Blake in Arabic.

  ‘What, Professor Blake?’

  ‘Do you know why the Americans and their European allies have not taken sides in this war?’

  ‘The radio and newspapers say it’s because they’re afraid, but not many believe that.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Well, I tuned into a station in Malta. They were reporting a news leak that America is being immobilized by an immense terrorist threat. That seems like a plausible explanation to me.’

  ‘Yeah, it seems plausible to me too,’ said Blake. ‘Selim, what do you think of Professor Husseini? I mean, did you ever notice anything strange about the way he acted?’

  Selim’s look was one of complete surprise, as if he’d never imagined Blake would ask him such a question. ‘Professor Husseini is a very good person,’ he said. ‘He really cares about you. He went out on a limb for you, Professor Blake, let me tell you.’

  ‘I believe it,’ answered Blake, and bowed his head in silence.

  Sarah seemed lost in her own thoughts.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Blake.

  ‘The hangar will presumably be locked, and only Gordon and Maddox have keys. How are we going to get the Falcon out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Blake. ‘But we have overcome so many obstacles this far that I don’t think any door, no matter how sturdy, will be able to stop us.’

  They had been travelling for some time over the clean gravel and coarse sand of the dry Wadi Udash river bed. The banks were never less than a couple of metres high, often shaded by thorny acacia trees that sheltered them in critical moments, if they saw a plane or a helicopter passing through the sky or heard the engines of a column of tanks on the move.

  At about one in the morning, Sarah, who had seemed to be dozing, pointed suddenly to the east. ‘Look over there,’ she said to Blake. ‘The Ras Udash pyramid. We have to leave the wadi. The runway and the hangar are about four miles over that way.’

  Selim, who had heard her, put his hand on the driver’s shoulder and gestured for him to stop and to turn off the engine.

  ‘Four miles over completely exposed terrain,’ he said in English. ‘Here’s where it gets tough. If any plane or tank, on any side, sees us, we’ll be incinerated immediately.’

  ‘Selim, listen,’ said Blake. ‘We’ve absolutely got to get to that hangar, we can’t give up now. And we need your help. We can use the Unimog to tow the plane, if we need to, or to force the doors if they’re locked. You see, we have reliable evidence that the terrorist threat we were talking about is already in motion and that it will come to a head in –’ he looked at his watch – ‘just about thirty hours or so.’

  ‘What kind of a head?’ asked Selim.

  ‘We don’t know. We may even be completely wrong about this, but we can’t run such a huge risk. What’s most probable is that a group of terrorists has managed to plant devastatingly powerful bombs of some sort in several cities of the United States, three we think, paralysing the American system of armed response.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘So listen. I’ll go ahead on foot and as I check the way, I’ll signal to you with the torch and you move forward with your lights off, until we’ve reached the runway. One flash is “OK, the coast is clear”; two flashes mean “Watch out, danger.” ’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ said Sarah.

  ‘OK,’ said Blake, getting out and taking his backpack and Olsen’s briefcase with him.

  Sarah ripped the veil off her head and stripped off the jellaba, shaking her head and freeing her blonde hair. ‘Finally!’ she exclaimed, jumping to the ground in her khaki clothing. ‘I couldn’t take that outfit for another minute. Now, let’s get going.’

  They waved goodbye to Selim, who answered with a thumbs-up sign, and they ran off.

  They reached a hill that rose seven or eight metres over the surrounding territory and closely scanned the vast desert plain. Blake shone the little torch on and off once.

  Selim turned to his companion. ‘Get out,’ he said, ‘and wait for me here. I’ll come back for you.’

  The boy protested.

  ‘I could be blown apart by a mine. You want to keep me company?’

  He took the rest of the sum they’d agreed upon and handed it to him, saying, ‘This is better, believe me.’

  The boy got out without breathing a word and crouched down on the bottom of the wadi. Selim took the driver’s seat, started up the engine and put it into gear. When he arrived at the hill, Blake and Sarah were already half a mile ahead.

  He waited with the engine running for another signal. When he saw one short flash in the dark, he stepped on the accelerator and crossed the second stretch of desert. By the time he stopped at the third point, the mileage counter read almost two miles. They were halfway there.

  Sarah and Blake proceeded, sometimes walking an
d sometimes running. To their left, the pyramid of Ras Udash rose higher and higher over the surrounding hills, and as their perspective changed it seemed progressively bigger and more imposing. Blake felt a chill run down his spine, although he was soaked with sweat, as he noticed other familiar elements in the landscape.

  The runway was not much more than a mile away now. He signalled again to Selim that the coast was clear and they proceeded towards a rise topped by a pile of crumbling rocks which had partially tumbled down the sides.

  ‘That’s the hill with the hangar,’ said Sarah. ‘We’ve made it. I don’t see anything around. Let’s not waste any more time. We can tell Selim to come all the way.’

  Blake flashed the light and the Unimog drew up next to them in the middle of the huge silent plain. They heard the distant echoes of cannon fire and saw flashes of explosions to the east and the north, as well as traces of aerial duels in the direction of Gaza and over the Dead Sea.

  They climbed onto the running board while Selim accelerated, crossing the desert that separated them from the runway in just a few minutes.

  Blake checked for damage to the runway and found only that the soil cover was uneven, probably as a result of the sandstorm. Sarah, followed by Selim, went straight to the door of the hangar, in front of which a considerable heap of sand and dust had accumulated. They took the two small shovels that were in the Unimog tool box and began to clear it away, with Blake giving them a hand as well.

  It took them about ten minutes to free the doorway and Sarah grabbed onto the big steel handles at the entry.

  ‘It’s locked!’ she said, swearing.

  ‘To be expected,’ said Blake. ‘There’s a twenty-million-dollar toy in there.’

  He turned to Selim. ‘Back it up and we’ll try to pull the door off its hinges with the tow line.’

  Sarah suddenly shushed him and gestured for Selim to turn off the engine.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Blake.

  ‘A noise. Hear it?’

  Blake listened. ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘Engines,’ said Selim. ‘A column approaching.’ He jumped out of the Unimog and ran to the top of the hangar hill. Just three miles away, he could see the lights of three tracked vehicles, at a distance of about a mile from each other, closing in.

  ‘A patrol of tanks on a reconnaissance mission!’ he shouted. ‘At least three. The first is headed straight this way.’

  He ran down the slope to the hangar door.

  ‘How far away are they?’ asked Blake.

  ‘No more than three miles. The closest one will be here at the runway in seven or eight minutes. As soon as they spot us, they’ll start shooting. We’ve got to attempt it right away. We have to pull the door off.’

  He hooked up the chain and sat down at the driver’s wheel, set the four-wheel drive and blocked both differentials.

  ‘Rev it up when the line is taut!’ shouted Blake.

  Selim nodded, put it into gear and pulled the chain taut, then accelerated. Sarah in the meantime had climbed to the top of the hill to keep her eye on the tanks. They were troop transport vehicles, probably Egyptian, and they were approaching at a slow but steady speed. She looked down. The Unimog was sinking into the ground, but the door was not budging.

  ‘Accelerate! Accelerate! It’s moving!’ shouted Blake, noticing that the door had started to buckle at the centre, where the pull was strongest.

  The vehicle’s tyres were smoking, overheated by the friction, and the odour of burnt rubber was very powerful. Selim took his foot off the accelerator. ‘I’m afraid the tyres will burst,’ he said. ‘I have to back up and make it a clean break.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Blake. ‘If the chain snaps, the whiplash will kill you.’

  ‘One mile!’ yelled Sarah from above.

  ‘We have no choice,’ shouted Selim, starting to reverse.

  But as he was about to accelerate, Blake stopped him. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Just a minute. Help me to take off the tailgate.’

  Selim got out and helped Blake to take the tailgate off its hinges, then he wedged it behind the front seat.

  ‘This will protect us,’ he said, getting in next to the driver’s seat.

  ‘No, Professor Blake! Get away from here!’

  ‘Accelerate, I said! Someone has to hold this in place, otherwise it will fall over at the first bump. Move this thing, damn it, accelerate. Now or never!’

  Selim stepped on the accelerator, the engine roared and the vehicle skidded on the hammada ground, leaping ahead. He switched into second and third gear in just a few metres, accelerating at full capacity while Blake held the gate steady with both hands. In a fraction of a second, the line pulled taut and three tons of inertia at forty miles an hour snapped the chain like a string. The stump flew through the air, cracking like a whip and hit the iron shield with enormous violence. Blake screamed in pain, letting go of the gate, and twisted in his seat in agony. The tailgate fell onto the back of the truck with a crash.

  Selim twisted around and waited a moment for the wind to clear away the dust and the smoke from the burning tyres, then said, ‘It’s open, Professor Blake.’

  Blake tried to pull himself up, overcoming the atrocious pain in his arms and hands, and saw that Sarah was running down the hill towards the hangar entrance, shouting, ‘Hurry! Hurry! They’re here! Run, Will, run for God’s sake!’

  Blake got out and dragged himself as quickly as he could to the hangar. Sarah was already sitting in the Falcon cockpit and was starting up the engines.

  ‘My wrists are fractured!’

  He yelled to be heard over the roar of the jet engines and showed her his bloodied arms. Sarah understood and, abandoning the controls, opened the door and dragged him up, as he clenched his teeth to stop from screaming. Blake managed to get into the seat and Sarah was already back in the pilot’s place. She grabbed the control column and opened the throttle, taking off down the runway.

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Blake. ‘Stop, Sarah! We can’t leave Selim behind! Olsen’s briefcase, the papyrus! I left them with Selim.’

  ‘You are crazy,’ shouted back Sarah. ‘There’s no more time!’

  But as the plane started to roll down the runway, he saw the Unimog approaching the plane at full speed. Selim had the briefcase in his hand! In the distance, a tank appeared from behind a dune, spraying the area with machine-gun fire.

  ‘Open up!’ shouted Blake. ‘Open the door or I’ll kill you!’

  Sarah obeyed, shocked by his threat, and the cockpit was invaded by a gust of wind. Sarah started in pain, but bit her lip and continued to grip the plane’s controls. Blake leaned forward until he nearly fell and Selim, leaving the driver’s seat and standing on the running board for a second, threw him the briefcase.

  Blake caught it more with his forearms than with his hands, and fell backwards onto the floor. He forced himself up again and held his arms out towards Selim. ‘Grab on to my forearms! Hurry!’

  The tank was now at the top of the dune and was aiming a machine gun in the direction of the runway.

  ‘There’s no time,’ shouted Selim as he turned towards the approaching tank. ‘Close the door now. Go!’

  ‘No, Selim,’ Blake shouted back. ‘No!’

  At that moment, the rattle of machine-gun fire sounded again, and Blake could see flames sparking off the tank’s armour. Selim was shooting back, with a machine gun perched on the hood of the Unimog. The tank, heedless of the attack, advanced towards the runway to block the Falcon’s take-off but Selim veered so sharply to the left that his vehicle nearly tipped over and raced at top speed towards the tank, which was forced to wheel round on its tracks to confront him.

  As the Falcon was lifting its wheels off the ground, Blake and Sarah heard a powerful explosion and saw a globe of flame and smoke rising from the spot where the Unimog had collided with the tank.

  Sarah pushed the jet engines to the max, flying as close as possible to the ground to avoid radar controls. She fle
w over an inferno of flames and smoke, of vehicles devoured by fire, of the carbonized remains of weaponry and human beings. She passed through a swarm of anti-aircraft shells and multicoloured tracers, without thinking of anything, without hearing anything, gritting her teeth and looking straight ahead until the vast peaceful blue expanse of the sea opened before her.

  It was only then that she released a long sigh and turned to look at her companion. And Blake looked back at her, with tears in his eyes.

  15

  AFTER CROSSING the entire city, which was in a state of blackout due to the strict curfew, Gad Avner finally reached the square in front of the Wailing Wall and headed towards the arch of the Antonian Fortress. The square was dark and deserted, but the sky was illuminated by flashes to the north, south and east: the front lines were getting closer and closer to the walls of Jerusalem.

  The army was beginning to run low on munitions and fuel, while the enemy enjoyed abundant supplies, with more pouring in from every direction. Yehudai had decided to activate the launch procedure for the Beersheba nuclear warheads before General Taksoun’s missiles could get within range of Israel’s nuclear defences. And this scenario was very likely to become a reality within the next twenty-four hours, unless the army’s present counteroffensive could turn the tide of battle.

  Avner spotted Ferrario, who had been waiting for him. They walked past the two guards together, advancing inside the tunnel up to the place where he had seen the half-buried steps in the southern wall of the cave the last time he was there. Allon suddenly appeared out of nowhere, as if he had materialized from the wall.

  ‘Are there any new developments?’ Avner asked.

  ‘We’ve excavated these stairs,’ said Allon. ‘They lead to an underground chamber that extends under the Al Aqsa Mosque all the way to the atrium of the Mosque of Omar. It may have been the crypt of the Temple or maybe an old cistern.’

  Avner felt a shiver run up his spine. ‘Have you spoken to anyone about this?’