corrupted.”
“Oh, the monks are cool.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“No, really. The cops already came here once looking for me. Father Bessarion refused to answer questions or let them inside. The monks are the only ones I trust. Except you, I mean.”
“That’s good. I’m glad we can trust the monks, but it sounds as though we’re endangering them by staying. What’s your exit plan?”
“I’ve given that some thought. We shouldn’t take the truck. It’s in terrible shape after my midnight drive. The suspension is shot, and I might have bent an axle. Plus, I bet Simon’s men are watching for it.”
Ava nodded.
“And obviously we can’t go on foot.”
“I agree.”
“So I think we should take the bus.”
“Pardon me?”
“Bessarion said a religious group will arrive this afternoon. They’ll pray at the monastery for a few hours and then return via bus to Cairo. We could buy seats on that bus.”
“Won’t we be spotted?”
“Maybe, but this morning I borrowed some traditional garb for us. We’ll get all wrapped up and cover our faces. They won’t expect us to be dressed like Coptic pilgrims. We just might slip through.”
Ava thought it over. “I guess it’s worth a try,” she conceded. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“Cool. We’ll chance it.” He grinned. “That leaves only one issue to resolve.”
“Yes?”
“What we do about the jars.”
“The moment we hit Cairo, I’ll contact Dr. Zahi Hawass. He’s someone I trust. We met at Harvard years ago, although I’m sure he won’t remember. Anyway, we’ll report DeMaj for trafficking in stolen artifacts, not to mention murder.”
“No, I mean what do we do with the jars? Do you think they’re safe here?”
Ava inhaled deeply. Then she closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and with great discipline kept her tone steady. “Paul, listen very carefully. Are you telling me that, right now, you’re in possession of the lost jars of Cana?”
“Yes. I suppose so. I sort of borrowed them . . . temporarily. It was either that, or let Simon take them. That’s why I stole his truck. The jars were already loaded into super-high-tech, indestructible titanium canisters. When I saw those poor people get killed, I jumped in the truck and split.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this last night?”
“See, I didn’t tell you because even though you were exhausted, I knew you’d freak. You history nuts get worked up when anyone mentions the jars. I saw the way your eyes bugged out when I described examining them. You looked a little, I don’t know, hungry, but also excited—”
“Paul,” Ava interrupted, “where are the jars now?”
“I hid them in a cave. It’s less than three kilometers from here—”
Ava insisted they go immediately.
Sheik Ahmed sat in his bunker, thinking. He expected an important call. One of his bodyguards entered and handed him a special phone reserved for calls from the master. Ahmed then gestured for the guard to leave. He spoke into the phone and in a respectful voice he said in Arabic: “I am your servant, great one.”
The master had no time for pleasantries. He required an update on the mission.
“The Frenchman lost the jars. He paid with his life. My soldiers say his American aide stole them. He’s hiding with a woman. We will find them soon.”
“Find them and kill them,” said the master.
Chapter 5
5
Paul took Ava up a rocky trail into the mountains. They climbed for an hour, following the course of a dry streambed until they came to a wide ravine. The cave’s mouth adjoined the wadi, but two overhanging boulders shielded it from view, making the entrance almost invisible.
“A decent hiding place,” Ava thought, although a careful search of the area would likely result in its detection. Paul hid the jars here three days ago. How long until Simon’s minions found them? Ava wiped her brow and watched Paul descend into the gulch, seemingly unencumbered by the
“Oh, the monks are cool.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“No, really. The cops already came here once looking for me. Father Bessarion refused to answer questions or let them inside. The monks are the only ones I trust. Except you, I mean.”
“That’s good. I’m glad we can trust the monks, but it sounds as though we’re endangering them by staying. What’s your exit plan?”
“I’ve given that some thought. We shouldn’t take the truck. It’s in terrible shape after my midnight drive. The suspension is shot, and I might have bent an axle. Plus, I bet Simon’s men are watching for it.”
Ava nodded.
“And obviously we can’t go on foot.”
“I agree.”
“So I think we should take the bus.”
“Pardon me?”
“Bessarion said a religious group will arrive this afternoon. They’ll pray at the monastery for a few hours and then return via bus to Cairo. We could buy seats on that bus.”
“Won’t we be spotted?”
“Maybe, but this morning I borrowed some traditional garb for us. We’ll get all wrapped up and cover our faces. They won’t expect us to be dressed like Coptic pilgrims. We just might slip through.”
Ava thought it over. “I guess it’s worth a try,” she conceded. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“Cool. We’ll chance it.” He grinned. “That leaves only one issue to resolve.”
“Yes?”
“What we do about the jars.”
“The moment we hit Cairo, I’ll contact Dr. Zahi Hawass. He’s someone I trust. We met at Harvard years ago, although I’m sure he won’t remember. Anyway, we’ll report DeMaj for trafficking in stolen artifacts, not to mention murder.”
“No, I mean what do we do with the jars? Do you think they’re safe here?”
Ava inhaled deeply. Then she closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and with great discipline kept her tone steady. “Paul, listen very carefully. Are you telling me that, right now, you’re in possession of the lost jars of Cana?”
“Yes. I suppose so. I sort of borrowed them . . . temporarily. It was either that, or let Simon take them. That’s why I stole his truck. The jars were already loaded into super-high-tech, indestructible titanium canisters. When I saw those poor people get killed, I jumped in the truck and split.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this last night?”
“See, I didn’t tell you because even though you were exhausted, I knew you’d freak. You history nuts get worked up when anyone mentions the jars. I saw the way your eyes bugged out when I described examining them. You looked a little, I don’t know, hungry, but also excited—”
“Paul,” Ava interrupted, “where are the jars now?”
“I hid them in a cave. It’s less than three kilometers from here—”
Ava insisted they go immediately.
Sheik Ahmed sat in his bunker, thinking. He expected an important call. One of his bodyguards entered and handed him a special phone reserved for calls from the master. Ahmed then gestured for the guard to leave. He spoke into the phone and in a respectful voice he said in Arabic: “I am your servant, great one.”
The master had no time for pleasantries. He required an update on the mission.
“The Frenchman lost the jars. He paid with his life. My soldiers say his American aide stole them. He’s hiding with a woman. We will find them soon.”
“Find them and kill them,” said the master.
Chapter 5
5
Paul took Ava up a rocky trail into the mountains. They climbed for an hour, following the course of a dry streambed until they came to a wide ravine. The cave’s mouth adjoined the wadi, but two overhanging boulders shielded it from view, making the entrance almost invisible.
“A decent hiding place,” Ava thought, although a careful search of the area would likely result in its detection. Paul hid the jars here three days ago. How long until Simon’s minions found them? Ava wiped her brow and watched Paul descend into the gulch, seemingly unencumbered by the
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