There has been no statement as yet about military or civilian loss of life.
35
Negev Desert, Israel
After scribbling the information he needed in his notebook, Ben had joined his companions in the deafeningly quiet still of night by the coals of the fire and slept as if dead, feeling neither the frosty air nor the sharp stones that formed his bed.
He woke from a sleep untroubled by dreams as the horizon blushed tangerine at the approach of the sun. Gathering desiccated saltbush and tumbleweeds, he stoked the fire and boiled water for tea before waking his bleary-eyed companions.
‘Two sugars for me,’ Ilhan mumbled through lips cracked and puffy from sun exposure the day before.
‘Good idea. Me too,’ said Ari.
Ben handed them a mug each. ‘Well, in case you were worrying –’
‘Couldn’t sleep for worrying,’ quipped Ari, who’d snored without break through the night. If they’d needed any proof, it showed that he’d spent a lifetime surviving in conditions far worse than these.
‘As I was saying,’ Ben continued, ‘everything happened as expected. The three stars of Orion’s Belt aligned right over the mountain . . . if we follow that line, we’ll find Balinas’ cave. I hope.’ He took a sip of his own tea, the syrupy jolt shocking him awake.
The sun’s gleaming disc was just appearing on the horizon, shooting blinding beams across the desert sands. Suddenly, a humming so low that it was almost felt rather than heard made the air vibrate. Ben peered at the dawn sky. ‘You see anything?’ he asked Ilhan and Ari, who’d sensed the same thing and stood up, scanning the heavens.
‘Planes,’ Ari said, ‘bombers.’ He raised his binoculars to his eyes. ‘But nothing I can see.’
‘So those things come in handy for tasks other than watching birds?’ Ben asked, attempting to lighten the mood. The Israeli didn’t reply.
The vibrations increased in intensity then began to fade away to nothing. It seemed to Ben as if the world was holding its breath. When the sound of explosions came from beyond the horizon, his muscles clenched reflexively.
‘That was closer than last night,’ Ari said, all humour gone from his voice. He went back to the jeep and cranked up the radio.
‘You do know this isn’t your war, don’t you, Ben?’ asked Ilhan, as the two men looked towards the rising sun.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Ben keyed the coordinates he’d established the night before into the theodolite and identified geographical markers along the line that had been defined by the three stars of Orion’s Belt.
Scanning the projected search area, he spotted three vertical rock faces that might plausibly accommodate the entrance to a cave or cavern. Although there was a chance that over time erosion had caused the entrance to the cave to be covered by a cascade of rock so substantial that it had merged with one of the many gentle slopes that made up the plateau on Har Karkom’s summit, it seemed unlikely. And if life had taught Ben anything, it was that it was better to dismiss the easiest options first before facing the more complex alternatives.
The three men gathered their equipment and began the hike up the canyon to get to the plateau on Har Karkom’s western summit. Although it was still early and the sun was low in the sky, the transition from bitterly cold night to scalding day was well progressed, and as Ben approached the first of the rock faces he’d identified, he felt sweat beginning to form on his back.
‘Right,’ he said as Ilhan and Ari joined him. He indicated the vertical surface that rose above their heads, reaching a maximum height of about twenty feet. A low tumble of rubble had accumulated at its base, but there was no immediate sign of there being a cave, or anything like it.
‘We’re going to divide this cliff face into three. Ari, you take that end. Ilhan, take the other. I’ll start in the middle. What I need you to do is to examine the rock very, very carefully.’
‘What are we looking for?’ asked Ari.
‘To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,’ said Ben. ‘But it’ll be something that looks out of place.’ He grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground, walked over to the cliff and rapped it with the stone in his hand. It made a dull, thudding sound. ‘Hear that?’ he asked. The two men nodded. ‘That’s solid rock. If there’s a cavern behind any part of this, it’ll make a hollow sound – you’ll hear an echo.’
Ari and Ilhan picked up stones of their own and went to work.
The search of the first cliff face took less time than Ben had anticipated but yielded nothing. On the approach to the second location, he was struggling to contain his frustration when he noticed something on the otherwise featureless surface that caused his heartbeat to quicken. He picked up his pace.
‘Ben? What is it?’ asked Ilhan, who was following, with Ari in his wake.
Yes! Ben thought as he got closer to the cliff. That’s more like it!
A narrow cleft – not much broader than Ben’s shoulders at its maximum width, but twice his height – bisected the rock. A drift of rubble lay in front of it, but the gap in the stone was otherwise clear.
‘Here! Look at this!’ he shouted as he reached the crevasse. Flicking on the torch he carried clipped to his belt, Ben shone it into the pitch-black space beyond the entrance.
‘What can you see?’ asked Ari, peering over Ben’s shoulder.
The light shone a beam along a rough-edged stone corridor. Ben couldn’t be certain, but it looked like it opened out into a cavern beyond.
‘Something . . . not sure,’ he said. ‘I’m going in.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Ilhan.
‘No – you two stay out here. There’s a risk of rockfall, and if something goes wrong, I don’t want you stuck in there with me. You’re more use to me out here if I end up entombed in there.’
Ben sidled into the stone passage. After the heat of the desert sun, the air in the rock chasm was cool and close. He’d scarcely made it four metres in before there was a shout from outside.
‘Ben! Come!’ It was Ari.
Frustrated, Ben edged back out of the corridor. ‘What is it?’
Ari didn’t respond. He was standing on the edge of the escarpment, binoculars held up to his eyes.
‘Not another bloody bird, I hope!’
‘No.’ The Israeli raised his hand and pointed at the horizon. ‘Something else.’
In the far distance, a trail of dust spiralled into the air. ‘What is it?’ Ben asked. ‘Troops?’
‘Not ours,’ Ari replied. ‘Jeeps. Two of them. When I spoke with headquarters last night, they said we were still a long way clear of the battlefront here, and there was no intention to expand south into the Negev yet . . . their focus is on the Sinai Peninsula. The Egyptians will be defending their border – there’s no advantage to them coming down here. If they’re looking for the war, the people in those jeeps are going in the wrong direction. They’re here for us.’
‘Friend or foe?’ Ben asked, feeling a clinical detachment wash over him – a sensation he recalled all too well from his years fighting the Germans in Crete.
‘Russians.’
‘How do you know?’
‘They’ve a dancing bear in the passenger seat.’
‘Really?’ Ilhan interrupted.
Ari looked at him sideways. ‘No. Not really. It’s a GAZ-69. Russian jeep.’
‘Russians? That can’t be good,’ said Ben.
‘Exactly what I was thinking. Thought we’d managed to shake them in Jerusalem. I was wrong.’
‘You said you brought weapons?’
‘Yes. And it looks like they’ve taken off the windscreens. Better for desert travel.’
‘Good. But any advantages we might have will soon be gone. Let’s get down there and put out a welcome mat for Ivan.’
36
Negev Desert, Israel
As the silhouettes of the two vehicles approached in the distance, the three men retreated behind an outcrop at the base of the rough path that led up to
Har Karkom’s flat-topped summit. They’d made use of what little time they had to set snares on the tracks made in the sand by their own vehicle, on the assumption the Russians would follow the same route. But with little time to finesse the ambush, Ben was concerned the new arrivals would have no trouble seeing the traps they’d laid for them.
There was only one way he could see of improving their odds of success. ‘Ilhan?’
‘Yes, Benedict.’
‘This may be an unfair assumption to make. If so, I’m sorry. But I don’t think you’ve had much experience with hand-to-hand combat. Is that fair?’
‘If you don’t count fighting with the old women at Eminönü to get my hands on some hamsi in the fish markets, then yes. You’re right.’
‘We have a problem. And you can help. We don’t want them looking too closely at the road as they approach. So here’s what I need you to do. Get up to the escarpment and move about purposefully so they’re looking up at you rather than down at the ground. Use the binoculars to direct flashes of light from the sun in their direction . . . kick rocks around so you’re raising some dust into the air. Really get active once they’re close – that way they’ll be distracted. And take the radio – if you see we’re in trouble, call Israeli headquarters –’
‘They won’t help us,’ Ari interrupted.
‘Call them anyway,’ said Ben.
Ilhan retreated to the plateau as Ben and Ari scoped about to find a good vantage point from which to target the approaching vehicles.
They identified two of the higher tumuli flanking the track. ‘Best we attack from two sides,’ Ari said. ‘Split their defence.’
‘Absolutely,’ Ben agreed. ‘We’ll already be outnumbered – can’t give them a single focus to draw fire. So . . . we start shooting after they’ve passed through our traps. Never know – maybe we won’t need to fire. Perhaps we’ve done such a good job, we’ll knock them off in one fell swoop.’
‘Ha!’ Ari laughed. ‘We should be so lucky.’ He opened his khaki backpack and pulled out two submachine guns. ‘You know this? MAT-49. It’s got a double trigger – semi or fully automatic . . . whichever suits you best.’ He tossed Ben some extra magazines.
‘Yes. I know it,’ Ben replied. ‘So – French weapons, then. That is where you’ve been getting them.’
Ari shrugged. ‘We must defend ourselves. And we take weapons from whoever’ll sell them to us. Besides – they’re good guns.’
Ben checked the magazine and extended the retractable stock. ‘They are. This’ll do nicely.’
It’s disturbing how quickly we revert to our basest instincts, Ben thought as he marvelled at the speed and ease with which he’d assumed the clinical mindset that had allowed him to evolve into a feared killer on the island of Crete during the war.
There’d been a time when he’d doubted his capacity to do violence, and questioned the moral and ethical dimensions of war. But after Karina had been taken from him, he’d lost any qualms he might have had about killing.
As he kept his eye on the vehicles he knew contained men who intended to do him harm, he didn’t think twice about what he was about to do. His breathing was measured and calm as he lined his sights on the men in the second jeep; he assumed the Russians in the first vehicle would be neutralised – temporarily, at least – by the booby traps they’d set for them. That meant the men in the second jeep posed the greatest immediate threat.
The cars were approaching at speed towards two stunted acacia trees that stood on either side of the track. Each vehicle contained two men seated in the front, with another three on the bench seat behind. Ten, Ben thought. Ten of them, three of us . . . well, two-and-a-quarter, if I’m honest . . . sorry, Ilhan. This won’t be easy.
Whatever it was that Ilhan was doing up on the ridge was working – all the men in the jeep were peering up, shielding their eyes from the sun. Even the drivers were glancing up as they drove, confident there was nothing on the road that posed a hazard to their progress.
He steeled himself as the jeeps neared the trees. The first indication he had that the trap they’d set had worked was when the leading jeep’s wheels kicked a spray of gravel into the air and jerked suddenly when the driver’s foot dropped onto the brake. It was a reflexive reaction, and too late to stop what happened next. Both men in the front were propelled backwards, and geysers of lurid red spurted into the air from their necks as their heads were removed from their trunks by the razor-sharp wire Ben and Ari had strung across the road.
Whether or not the three men in the rear seats escaped with their heads was academic as the jeep rolled forward and hit the second of the traps they’d set for the Russians. A landmine exploded with a shattering boom that made the ground shake and quiver. The body of the car was thrown off its axle and its occupants tossed into the air like rag dolls. With a deafening whoosh that seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the air, the jeep’s fuel tank ignited, shooting a column of black smoke and hellish fire hundreds of feet into the air.
The driver of the second vehicle reacted quickly, slamming his foot onto the brake. Ben steadied himself and lined up the bead of his sight with the man’s head. As he pulled the trigger and the driver’s head jerked back violently, the jeep veered off its path and accelerated towards the hillock Ari had been perched behind. The Israeli had obviously seen the jeep careening towards the tumulus because he broke cover, raising his machine gun to take aim at the oncoming vehicle. A burst of gunfire took out the other Russian in the front seat as Ben put another round into one of the men in the back seat.
The two surviving men vaulted out of the back of the vehicle while it was still in motion and before its front wheels hit the slope of the hillock. The metal chassis became airborne as it was tipped off balance at speed, flipping over and landing with a tearing crunch on top of the three men who’d been shot and so remained in the vehicle. If they hadn’t been dead before, Ben thought to himself, they certainly were now.
The two Russians who’d escaped the bloodbath hadn’t seen Ben, but they locked their sights on Ari, who was now exposed on the summit of the stone mound. Ari dropped and rolled down the slope as the two men ran towards him, cocking their guns. There was nowhere to hide as he raised his own weapon to return fire.
Ben took a deep breath and steadied himself as he locked his sights on the man who was closest to Ari. He pulled the trigger. The man dropped like a stone. The second man disappeared from Ben’s sights behind the tumulus.
C’mon, Ari! Ben urged silently as he stumbled down the side of his own hiding place. Head down, he approached the other Russian from behind. Billowing black smoke from the burning jeep blocked his view. What the hell’s going on? Take him out!
As he rounded the other side of the hillock, he realised what had happened. He arrived just in time to see Ari smashing at a gun that must have misfired. The Russian was already too close as Ben raised his weapon and took aim, felling him, but not before the Russian had shot Ari in the throat.
‘Fuck! No!’ Ben howled as he ran to the Israeli’s side.
It was too late.
Ari lay in sand now sodden with his blood, feebly attempting to ebb the arterial flow from the gaping wound in his neck. Ben tore off his own shirt and rolled it into a pad that he pressed against the dying man’s throat. It was dripping red in moments. Ben knew it was futile; although it was possible to manually clamp the carotid artery, Ari would need immediate surgery once that was done, and they were too far from medical help for it to be any use. He’d seen enough men die during the war to know that prolonging Ari’s suffering would just be cruel.
The Israeli made no sound, opening and shutting his mouth like a landed fish, his eyes darting desperately about as he, too, realised the hopelessness of his situation. As his movements grew weaker, Ben took Ari’s bloodied hand and held it tightly.
‘Don’t worry, Ari. I’ll make sure they know what you did here. And I’ll tell Ethan where to find you. They’ll take you home to your fami
ly. You’ll be buried by the people who love you in friendly soil.’
Ari’s muscles spasmed, then his body relaxed as his last breath left his lungs. His head lolled back and his lids half dropped over his eyes as his face found repose in a strangely peaceful expression.
‘What happened?’ There was the sound of a scrabble of rock as Ilhan skidded up behind them. ‘Oh.’
Ben wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.
‘We have to bury him.’
The gaping crater the landmine had left in the sand became Ari’s grave. Ben and Ilhan had wrapped his body in a spare canvas sheet and used the shovels from the back of the jeep to backfill the hole. When they were done, they took the tyres off the overturned Russian vehicle and put them in a pile to mark the spot where they’d buried the Israeli so the army could come and retrieve his remains.
Cleaning himself up as best he could afterwards, Ben slipped on his one spare shirt and turned to Ilhan. ‘You know the thing I really hate about this?’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘It means the Americans were right. The Russians were listening in to everything I said in Cairo. The conversation I had on the phone with Raphael . . . my plans to go to Jerusalem.’ He sighed. ‘And I can’t stand Americans being right.’
‘But, Benedict. You’re –’
‘I’m American? Yeah . . . unfortunately. We’re a revoltingly smug race; it’s one of our least endearing characteristics. Anyway, what I don’t understand is how the hell the Russians worked out we were coming to Har Karkom. I didn’t say anything about that on any of my calls – Ari and Ethan are the only other people who knew. And considering how it’s worked out for Ari, I can’t believe it was either of them who put the Reds onto us.’
Ilhan said nothing as he gazed down at the body of the man who’d shot their friend. The Russian’s angelic golden curls ruffled in the hot wind blowing across the desert, an accumulation of sand and grit already gathering in the sockets of the man’s dead eyes and in his gaping mouth. The Turk’s features were contorted as he prodded the Russian with the tip of his boot. ‘This is wrong. Ari didn’t deserve this. What are we going to do with these bastards?’ he asked.
The Emerald Tablet Page 25
