Pharaoh

  Avner sat down, certain they were about to announce that Operation Nebuchadnezzar had been launched. He was primed to be furiously angry, telling them that for at least two months he’d been warning of serious danger and that no one had ever deigned to listen to him.

  The American ambassador started to speak. ‘Gentlemen, several hours ago someone phoned the news bureau of the Chicago Tribune announcing the imminent delivery of a video cassette and asking that it be watched immediately because the lives of many thousands of people were at stake. The package arrived shortly after, delivered by a FedEx van.

  ‘The managing editor of the Tribune watched the video along with the editor-in-chief, then proceeded to call the FBI. A few minutes later the video was transmitted to the Oval Office in Washington. The video shows three different groups of terrorists assembling three nuclear devices in three different locations in the United States.’

  ‘How can you be so certain that they are really in the United States?’

  ‘They offered proof, adding insult to injury. In another anonymous call, they gave clues to the places where they assembled the bombs, which proved to be identical to the video. With the only difference that the bombs were missing, but all the packing was there.’

  ‘They could have been computer-generated images.’

  ‘We’re ruling that out,’ said Holloway. ‘Our experts say that the video’s an original that shows no traces of having been tampered with. In any case, a copy is on its way here for our examination.’

  ‘Might the bombs not be perfect mock-ups, like the ones you see in the movies but full of sawdust?’

  ‘Unlikely. The video shows close-ups with a detail of a Geiger counter working.’

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘Nothing. There’s a statement that says that other messages are to follow. The FBI, CIA and every special police unit in every state have orders to sift through the country from top to bottom and find those bastards, but this is most dramatic situation that has hit the United States since Pearl Harbor.’

  ‘No clues?’

  ‘Not for the time being. The President and his staff think that it’s a commando squad of Islamic fundamentalists. But the men in the video have their faces hooded and aren’t identifiable.

  ‘Pentagon experts are trying to identify the bombs, but the shots are only partial and never give a full view. The hypothesis is that they are the famous “portable” bombs that have been so widely talked about, jewels of ex-Soviet technology, mechanisms that can fit in a suitcase and be transported easily.’

  ‘How powerful?’

  ‘According to some, they are tactical bombs of five hundred kilotons, easy to assemble, transport and conceal. But if they were to explode in a densely populated urban area, it would cause a massacre. We could estimate between five hundred and seven hundred dead on impact, half a million wounded and another three hundred thousand people exposed to possibly fatal doses of radiation who might die within three or four years of the explosion. Enough to bring a country to its knees. And it appears that these bombs can be triggered directly by the same person who’s carrying them, without requiring that famous black briefcase always accompanying the presidents of Russia and the United States.’

  Avner looked Yehudai in the face. ‘General, this is the beginning of Operation Nebuchadnezzar. They’ll attack tomorrow when the storm is at its worst. They’ll use land vehicles, while we won’t be able to use our air supremacy to advantage. No one will come to our rescue. The United States has its own death threat to worry about. They won’t move and they’ll compel their European allies to stay put as well.’

  ‘My God,’ said the Prime Minister.

  ‘I should have expected as much,’ grumbled Avner. ‘Here I was, watching the mountains over the Judaean desert . . . I never thought the attack would be launched from the other side of the Atlantic . . . God damn him, that fucking bastard.’

  Yehudai stood. ‘Gentlemen, if this is the status of things, I ask permission to launch a preventive attack using our air force and missile systems to destroy the Arab air forces on the ground, as far as possible. I will meet immediately with my general staff, launch the red alert and organize the defence plan for our territory. We can have all the reserves operative within six hours and the combat units on duty in one hour.’

  ‘I think General Yehudai’s proposal is the only viable one, gentlemen,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘Given the current state of affairs, there’s not a minute to lose.’

  ‘One moment, Mr Prime Minister,’ said Ambassador Hollo-way, ‘I don’t think it’s wise to make such a decision. We’ve had no declaration of war from any Arab country, none of our satellites have detected massive troop movements, and we’ve received no demands from the terrorist commandos who have allegedly assembled nuclear bombs on our national soil.

  ‘To all intents and purposes, your attack would be an act of war and would destroy – once and for all – any chance of achieving peace in this area. Something very important to my government.’

  They all stared at each other without uttering a word. Avner was the first to speak.

  ‘Mr Prime Minister, I am absolutely positive that the two events are related. The terrorists brought those bombs onto American territory to immobilize the US while the decisive attack was being launched here. The man behind this is Abu Ahmid, and the assassination of al Bashar was part of his strategy.

  ‘I don’t trust your friend, Taksoun,’ he said, turning to Holloway. ‘I’m sure that at this very moment he is preparing his battle plan in some accursed bunker in al Bashar’s palace. I’m for attacking even without the endorsement of the Americans. It’s our skin,’ he said, and lit a cigarette, ignoring the no-smoking signs threatening severe penalties hanging everywhere.

  Holloway became livid.

  ‘Mr Avner, your conduct is unacceptable.’

  ‘Because of the cigarette? Come on, Holloway, millions of people are risking their lives and you’re worrying that your fucking lungs are going to get a little ration of tar. My father and mother ended up in smoke in an oven in Auschwitz. Damn you, go to hell!’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ intervened the Prime Minister, ‘gentlemen, we must arrive at the best decision together. This is certainly no time to argue. You, Avner, do me the favour of putting out that cigarette and, when everything’s over, I promise I’ll send you a whole case of the best Havana cigars money can buy. And at the expense of the taxpayers. Now, Mr Holloway—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Prime Minister, I have precise instructions from my government. No rash acts until we’ve found out what they want.’

  ‘And if we ignored your advice?’

  ‘You would be left on your own. Not a dollar, not a spare part, no information. This time my government is seriously determined not to get involved in another war. The public just wouldn’t stand for it.’

  ‘Nevertheless, the decision is ours,’ said Prime Minister Schochot, turning to Yehudai. ‘General, take all measures for a state of readiness, but do not launch any attack until you receive my order.’

  Yehudai got up, put on his beret and left the room, crossing a soldier who was delivering a parcel to the guard at the door. The guard took it, then knocked.

  ‘Come in,’ said the Prime Minister.

  The guard entered and handed him the package. ‘Just arrived, Mr Prime Minister.’

  Schochot opened it. It contained a video cassette. ‘Do you want to see it?’ he asked Holloway.

  The ambassador nodded.

  ‘I already know everything there is to know,’ said Avner with a shrug. ‘Goodnight, gentlemen. God willing it won’t be our last.’

  He nodded goodnight to everyone and left.

  Fabrizio Ferrario was waiting for him in the car. As soon as he saw the expression on his face, he offered Avner a cigarette and lit it for him. ‘It’s as bad as it looks?’ he asked.

  ‘Worse. Take me home. I’m afraid I’ll be doing without sleep tonight.’

  Ferra
rio asked no questions, started up the car and headed towards the old part of the city, to his boss’s residence. Avner was silent the whole time, brooding on his thoughts. When the car stopped in front of his house, he got out and then turned back to the agent. ‘Ferrario, anything could happen in the next twenty-four hours, even another Holocaust. You’re pretty new here, after all. If you want to go back to Italy, I won’t blame you.’

  Ferrario didn’t acknowledge his words. ‘Do you have any orders for me tonight, sir?’

  ‘Yes. Stay in the neighbourhood, because I might need you. And if you feel like taking a walk, go by the Antonian Fortress, to Allon’s tunnel. You know where it is?’

  ‘Of course I know where it is. It’s where you were today.’

  ‘Exactly. Keep an eye on the situation. Make sure that the soldiers maintain strict surveillance. If even the slightest thing seems suspicious, call me.’

  Ferrario left and Avner took the elevator to the eighth floor. He opened the door of the terrace and stood in silence as the night slowly enveloped the mountains of the Judaean desert.

  ‘That’s where you’ll have to come from to kill me, you son of a bitch,’ he mumbled between his teeth. ‘And I’ll be here waiting for you.’

  He closed the window and went back into the living room. He sat in front of the computer to access the copy of the Tribune video that Mossad had already forwarded to him. He ran through all the information in the database of every known, or presumed, nuclear device to see if he could identify a precise object based on the details in the video.

  Suddenly out of a corner of his eye he saw the flashing signal on his private line. The clock read a few minutes after midnight.

  ‘It’s the night porter, sir,’ said the voice.

  ‘What’s new, night porter?’

  ‘The sarcophagus was opened and the mummy has been identified.’

  ‘Is it certain?’

  ‘Yes. The man buried under the sands of Ras Udash is the Moses who led Israel out of Egypt.’

  A stony silence from Avner.

  Then he spoke. ‘Impossible. Absolutely impossible.’

  ‘There is incontestable proof. The inscription found on the sarcophagus identified him, without the shadow of a doubt.’

  ‘What you are telling me is very serious, night porter. You are telling me that the leader of Israel was, in reality, a pagan who wished to die among gods with the head of a jackal or a bird. You are telling me that our faith has no foundation and that God’s covenant with Abraham was not kept.’

  ‘I am telling you that the man inside that tomb is Moses, sir.’

  ‘And there is no chance of a mistake?’

  ‘Minimal, I believe. On the chest of the mummy there was a scarab inscribed with his name.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Avner, completely dumbfounded. Since the day they had brought him the news of the death of his son in combat he hadn’t thought that anything could shake him.

  ‘There is more, sir.’

  ‘What more could there possibly be, night porter?’

  ‘Tomorrow at sunset, the entire contents of the tomb will be removed and sold to a group of Orthodox extremists. Jonathan Friedkin’s people. There may be items that have not been examined yet, evidence that may provide further proof of the identification. And Friedkin is completely untrustworthy. He may even have instructed his men to attack rather than pay.’

  ‘Do you know where the pick-up site is?’

  ‘Not exactly. But I assume that they’ll come in on the road from Mitzpe. They’ll need trucks and that is the only viable route. But they might also come from Shakarhut. There are some small settlements there.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Is there anything more you want to know?’

  Avner thought for a few moments, then said, ‘Yes. As far as you know, is the Delta Force command still in the vicinity of Ras Udash?’

  ‘No more than half a dozen men are left, I think, but I assume they’ll be leaving soon.’

  ‘Very good. That is all. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, sir.’

  Avner hung up, then took another phone and dialled a number.

  ‘Yehudai,’ answered a hoarse voice on the other end.

  ‘It’s Avner, Commander. Where are you?’

  ‘At IDF general headquarters.’

  ‘Listen, I have some very serious news. A group of Hamas fundamentalists has caused a stir in the Warren Mining camp near Mitzpe Ramon. They are using the camp as a base to launch a series of terrorist attacks in the southern part of the country. And Beersheba is out that way. Do you realize what this means?’

  ‘I do. They could try to disarm our nuclear retaliation system.’

  ‘Destroy them, Commander. This very night. We can’t risk a threat coming from that area with everything else that is going on. Do not spare a single one of them. Do you understand? Not one.’

  ‘Understood, Avner,’ replied General Yehudai. ‘Not one. You have my word.’

  Avner hung up and went to the terrace window to ponder the full moon rising over the Judaean mountains. Out of a corner of his eye he saw the private telephone line on his desk, mute.

  ‘Goodbye, night porter,’ he murmured. ‘Shalom.’

  11

  WILLIAM BLAKE went back to his trailer and sat on the front doorstep to smoke a cigarette and think about what he was going to do during the next twenty-four hours. He knew he had been right not to tell Maddox the identity of the person buried in the tomb of Ras Udash, because he couldn’t have predicted the effect the news might have had on him and what the consequences might have been.

  The more he dwelled on the plunder and scattering of the objects in the tomb, the more his heart ached with the realization of what an irremediable loss that would be. He had to prevent it from happening, whatever the cost. His mind had, almost automatically, started to turn over a rescue plan, one which, at this point, seemed to be the only possible course of action. Now he was annoyed at how unassertive he had been in his talk with Maddox. He knew that he was going to have to take care of things himself, as quickly as possible. But he wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

  He went and knocked on Sarah’s door.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked as she let him in. Her hair was wet from the shower and she was wearing only a T-shirt, as if she had been going to bed.

  ‘I tried everything to persuade him, but it was no use.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. There’s no way you could have! All that intellectual posturing of his is just a front. The only thing he’s interested in is money. Speaking of which, did he offer you a reward?’

  ‘Yes. A fat little sum in a Swiss account.’

  ‘And you accepted, I hope?’

  Blake said nothing, embarrassed.

  ‘You haven’t done anything stupid?’ Sarah went on, alarmed.

  ‘No, no. I accepted . . . or at least I led him to believe that I was ready to accept.’

  ‘Well, the main thing is that he believed you. Otherwise you’re a dead man.’ She pulled his head towards her and gave him a kiss. ‘I’ve got used to you being around. It would be a real pain to have to think of you as being extinct.’

  ‘Me too, believe me.’

  ‘So let’s not do anything stupid. Tomorrow evening, Maddox will hand over everything to those fanatics. We’ll take our money, get out of this hole and it’ll be as though we were never here. I’ve done my part. So have you. If we could have done it better, we would have. But right now it’s time to split, take my word for it. You have no idea what kind of hell could break loose here at any moment. Instead, the day after tomorrow, we’re going to be on a flight for the good old United States and that’ll be that. Just as soon as I finish off a little bit of business I have to see to, we’ll go away together for a weekend on the lake. We can rent a cottage and stay for a few days. You know, I can even cook—’

  ‘Sarah, I’m thinking of going back to Ras Udash.’

  Sarah was speechless.
br />   ‘And I want you to help me.’

  ‘You’re out of your mind. What’s there to do at Ras Udash?’

  Blake took a notebook out of his pocket and made a fast sketch.

  ‘Listen, when we cleared the debris away from the opening above the sarcophagus, I didn’t remove it all. The top part of the heap was fairly compact. I smoothed it out with my trowel so that the opening would look like a niche, but with just a little work with a pick we could open a way into what I am sure is a tunnel to the side of the tomb. I want to see where it goes. It may lead outside some way or perhaps to another chamber.’

  ‘And if it does?’

  ‘This is my idea. If we can find a way out, I want to try to save as much as I can, and then close the sarcophagus back up and block the entrances.’

  ‘Will, you have no idea of—’

  ‘No, Sarah. I’ve thought of everything. In the tomb, there are five biggish pieces. Three are wooden and two are painted plaster. The plaster ones probably weigh fifty kilos or so, but between us we can easily move them. The wooden statues are light. The other pieces, thirty-four in all – perfume burners, headrests, candelabra, vases, cups, weapons and jewels are all small. It won’t take more than an hour and a half. And another hour to close the sarcophagus. We can do it bit by bit, using thinner and thinner wedges. We’ll need another half-hour to place the charges and then we’ll bury the whole complex under a few thousand tons of sand. There’s that rise just to the west of the opening Maddox made. If we set off a charge halfway up the slope, it’ll be enough to create a landslide that’ll close up the entrance.’

  ‘I see,’ said Sarah. ‘You don’t give a damn about me or about anything else. The only thing you care about is your goddamn academic glory. You’ll go to the States, present a paper and then rush back here to “bring it all out” again. The most fantastic archaeological discovery of all time, apologies and applause for the great William Blake and, guess what, the director’s chair at the Oriental Institute.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I—’