“Thank you so much. We don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”
The priest looked pleased with himself. “God led us to you. He would not allow violence on this sacred mountain.”
Morgan thought it was more likely that the sound of the helicopters landing had led the nosy tourists to find them, but sometimes it was better to count your blessings. She doubted that it was the last time she would see Natasha.
“We’ll help you back to the parking lot,” the priest announced, taking charge of his newfound charity cases.
Morgan struggled to her feet, wheezing a little and wincing as the pain in her ribs shot through her body. Taking a mental inventory, it felt like nothing was broken, just more bruises on top of the wounds she already carried. It could have been worse, and clearly Natasha had just been warming up when the beating was interrupted. Having seen evidence of what the other woman could do with a knife, Morgan was grateful that the group had arrived when they did.
Two men helped Khal up, getting ready to go. Thanking the woman who had helped her, Morgan went to retrieve the packs. As the others walked towards the exit, she took her smartphone and bent quickly to ground level. She snapped a few pictures of the carvings at the base of the tomb and then followed the group back out into the sun.
***
The priest and his group were finally persuaded to continue their tour and leave Morgan and Khal alone to recover. Morgan hid her pain and Khal stood up taller as they thanked them all, assuring them that they would report the attack to the police. Finally they were left by the car on their own, and inside the Toyota, they relaxed away from prying eyes.
“Are you OK?” Morgan whispered, aware that Khal’s head would be pounding from the beating he had endured and that his eyes were closed against the desert sun. Her own body was starting to feel the effects of the injuries but she was more used to this than the academic.
“Could be better.” Khal managed a weak smile. “I presume you had a plan for getting us out of there.”
Morgan laughed, but it was cut off as she coughed and the pain lanced through her ribs and back. When she could speak again, she croaked.
“Of course. Who do you think called the priest?”
Khal opened his eyes. “You had no phone reception.”
“Details, details.” She started the engine. “We need to get you somewhere to recover. Madaba is only 30 minutes away. It’s a tourist-friendly town so we can lay low and blend in with the crowds.”
Khal put his head back on the car seat. “Did you get any evidence of the attack?”
Morgan held up a memory card she had taken from the camera of one of the good Samaritans. “I’ll get this back to ARKANE and have Martin analyze Natasha’s team.”
Khal nodded and closed his eyes again. Morgan concentrated on the road, thinking of the carvings in the rock. Natasha might return after the tourists had left for the day, so she couldn’t rule out the symbols staying secret for long and she had to notify Martin of the developments as soon as she could, because they might be significant. She checked her phone again but the reception was still patchy. It would have to wait until Madaba.
Madaba, Jordan. 5.16pm
Grateful for the GPS in the hire car, Morgan weaved in and out the crazy traffic. Madaba was known as the ‘City of Mosaics’ because of the vast number of Byzantine remains. Morgan had seen pictures of the most famous, a detailed mosaic map of the Holy Land and in particular, Jerusalem. The cities weren’t physically far from each other, but with the current political situation, they could have been on opposite sides of the world.
They finally pulled up to the Mariam Hotel. It was cheap and cheerful with wifi, all they needed right now. Morgan reached for her backpack and pulled out a ring from a small compartment, slipping it onto the third finger of her left hand as Khal stirred.
“We’re here. Come on, time to rest, and by the way, we’re married for now.” Khal managed to raise an eyebrow even in his debilitated state. Morgan grinned and turned away. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t want to leave you alone in case you’re concussed.”
She always carried a plain gold ring when traveling in the Middle East because it made things much easier when asked those prying questions. Her ‘husband’ was usually away on business, but tonight, he would be with her.
They checked in and finally made it to a room where they could recover in peace. There was only a double bed so Khal lay down on one side of it, his face set in a grimace of pain. Morgan opened up the pack and found the first aid field kit with some hardcore painkillers.
“Here, take these.” She handed the pills to Khal with a glass of water and he swallowed them. He would be unconscious soon enough, and Morgan watched as his breathing slowed and became more natural, no longer inhibited by his pain. She felt her guilt subside as he relaxed into sleep, but she felt responsible for his injuries, and it could have been so much worse. However, now he was sleeping, she could check in with ARKANE.
First Morgan sent a text to Martin Klein, telling him to expect incoming media. She connected the smartphone to the hotel wifi and emailed the photos of the carvings to Martin. Then she slipped the tourist’s memory card into her own camera and scrolled to the video of the attack. She captured a series of still photographs and emailed them as well. One of them clearly showed Natasha and the face of her senior bodyguard.
She didn’t send the photos that showed Khal on the ground being beaten, or her own body cowering in the corner as an enraged Natasha booted her in the ribs. As Morgan thought about it, the pain began to throb again and she felt gingerly around her still healing stab wound. She could keep it away from her consciousness for some time but then it began to seep back in. Morgan had done a lot of research and training around the psychological management of pain for the Israeli military. She knew that soldiers could function even under extreme circumstances, but sometimes you just had to give into it.
She turned the phone to silent. She would call Martin later, but she needed to sleep right now. Taking two of the super painkillers, she drank a glass of water to wash them down. She put a chair under the door handle and pulled a chest of drawers across it for extra protection but she couldn’t stay awake any longer. Her body needed recovery. Morgan checked Khal’s breathing again. It was regular and even, so she slipped into the other side of the bed and within seconds, she was asleep.
DAY 6
Madaba, Jordan. 4.32am
Morgan woke with a start as the muezzin’s call rang out across the city. The clock next to the bed said it was just after 4am, so it was Fajr, the pre-dawn prayers. She and Khal had slept for more than ten hours, so clearly they had needed the rest. She reached for her phone to see five text messages and seven missed calls.
“Morning.” Khal’s voice was rough with sleep and the aftermath of recovery. Morgan turned to see his silhouette in the half light from the street lamps outside.
He lay on his side facing her, the sheet pulled down to his waist. Sometime in the night he must have shed his clothes for his chest was bare, and shadows highlighted the clearly defined muscles. Morgan relaxed back onto the pillow and looked at him. She was still at the opposite side of the bed and if she remained there, it would be fine. But if she touched him … she tried to slow her breathing. The aftermath of violence and near death always felt this way. The invigorating knowledge that you were alive, that your body still functioned, that there was air in your lungs.
Khal reached out and gently traced along her arm with a fingertip. The sensation was delicious, even though her body still ached with pain. His eyes met hers. She could see the invitation there, and she knew that it was her decision to make. For a moment she thought of Jake, and then she pushed him from her mind. This was Jordan, this was now. She moved across the bed into Khal’s arms.
***
The smartphone continued to vibrate. They had ignored it earlier but now the street was bustling outside and it was officially daytime.
“I have to get it this time,” Morgan said, giving Khal’s shoulder a little bite. His skin was just delicious.
“Of course, I’ll shower.” Khal sat up slowly, his body still protesting from the pain and the more active morning he had experienced. Morgan watched as he walked naked to the bathroom, his taut buttocks and long legs an attractive sight. Tearing her eyes away, she picked up the phone as the sound of running water started from the bathroom.
“Where have you been, Morgan? I’ve been calling all night.” Martin’s voice was concerned but also excited. He rattled off the times he had called.
“Sorry Martin, we had a bit of a run-in with Natasha and her boys. You saw the photos.”
“Are you okay? And Doctor
El-Souid?”
Morgan couldn’t help but smile at Khal’s more official title.
“
We’re recovered - almost - some breakfast wouldn’t hurt. But what did you think of the pictures I sent?”
Martin’s excitement was off the charts as he embarked on a monologue that Morgan struggled to keep up with.
“You found two interesting carvings,” he said. “One clearly shows the Freemasons’ symbol of square and compasses and the other, the letters PEF. We think that stands for Palestine Exploration Fund, a British Society that had tenuous links with ARKANE at the time, so we have all their records. We didn’t know to look there before, but you may have found the key, Morgan. The purpose of the PEF was to investigate the archaeology, culture and natural history of the Holy Land back in the 19
th
century when it hadn’t yet been completely explored. It wasn’t a religious society but it investigated religious sites.”
Morgan interrupted. “OK, but what has the PEF got to do with the Ark or the Freemasons?”
“Assume for a moment that the Ark
was
hidden there by Jeremiah,” Martin said, “and clues were left in the Temple at Jerusalem. Well, between 1867 and 1870 excavations were carried out at the Temple Mount by Sir Charles Warren. He was an officer in the British Royal Engineers and also a Freemason. On his return to London, he moved up the ranks of the Freemasons and became London Metropolitan Police Commissioner during the time of the Jack the Ripper murders.”
Morgan was confused.
“I still don’t know what this has to do with the Ark, Martin?”
“We have the official records of the expedition to Jerusalem but I also managed to get hold of the private records that were never publicized. It seems that Warren took a side trip to Jordan and notes an item of significance found near Mount Nebo. He doesn’t go into detail about the object, but he does inscribe a Bible verse on the page. 2 Samuel 6:14”
Morgan interrupted, her recall of the verse clear. “‘David danced before the Lord with all his might.’ It’s when the Ark of the Covenant entered Jerusalem.”
“Exactly,” Martin’s voice sounded triumphant. “But it seems that the PEF was kept in the dark about the side trip and Warren may have used what he found to advance his own career. We know for sure that he got the top job in London after his return, but the whereabouts of what he found is unknown.”
“You have an idea?” Morgan asked.
“Of course, but you’re going to have to come back to London to investigate it further. You need to hurry as well, because we’ve had reports that Natasha and her team returned to the caves after you left. She may have the same information.” Morgan heard tapping on the keyboard. “I can get you on a private flight from Amman at 10.15am.”
Khal came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his slim waist. His hair was wet and droplets of water glistened on his muscled chest. He smiled at Morgan, his eyes bright with suggestion.
“I’m going to need a little longer than that,” she whispered.
Jordanian air space. 11.38am
The private charter flight back to London gave Morgan some time to reflect on the past few days, and how quickly her relationship with Khal had developed under the pressure of the hunt for the Ark. He was making his own way back to Egypt now, and she knew that they may not see each other again, even though her body still sang with the memory of his touch. It had been too long since she had felt so alive in a man’s arms.
But Morgan understood the reality of her own life now, her need for independence and her fear of loving again after what had happened to Elian. Her thoughts flickered back to the events of Pentecost and how the people she loved suffered as a result of her chosen path. How close she had gotten to Jake, and then his hideous injuries at Sedlec. She shook her head. She couldn’t let Khal in any further, and he was better off without her anyway.
Pushing aside her thoughts, Morgan opened the laptop available for use by passengers and logged onto the secure ARKANE connection, accessing Martin’s files about the PEF and the possible excavation of the Ark. If it had been discovered in the 19
th
century, it had been an amazing feat to keep it secret for so long, she thought. It was time to widen the resource net. She called up Skype and dialed Father Ben Costanza, her friend and mentor at Blackfriars in Oxford.