Carl snapped his head sideways as the gunshot echoed around the house. To his side, Louisa’s body shook with adrenaline-induced shock. On the floor in front of her lay Ishmael. Blood oozed from a bullet wound in his back and drooled out on the tiled floor in a thick matt of crimson. In her hand, Chris’ gun still issued a thin trail of smoke into the air. She dropped it instinctively, allowing it to fall back onto the blood-stained jacket from which it was removed.
“What in the name of hell just happened?” said Paul.
“You should tell me.” said Chris.
“I think you’ve got that the wrong way round colonel. Ishmael said you were criminals, just before your doctor friend shot him in the back. I’m guessing he was right.”
“Remember that he fired at you too Paul.”
“Oh, that’s right. He said he was going to kill me because I helped you, the criminals! That explains everything. I was obviously wrong!”
“We’re not criminals. I came to you for help under false pretences, but that doesn’t mean we’re the bad guys.”
“False pretences! My partner lies dead on the floor and the best you have is false bloody pretences! We broke into the tomb of Jesus Christ for you fellah, not some terrorist safe house! You try explaining that to the authorities.”
“Actually, we weren’t planning on…”
“You were just going to leave me to deal with the fall-out! Is that right?” said Paul, snarling. “You son of a bitch!”
Paul leapt at Chris and the two men thumped into the wall of the corridor, punches thrown and landed with rapidity, as they rolled around on the floor.
“Oh great!” said Carl, stepping over the body of Ishmael. “You guys need to break this up!” When no response came, he reached down and physically separated the men, grabbing them by their throats to guarantee their attention.
“Nice choke hold, Carl.” said Chris, rolling on to his back and breathing hard. “Still got some strength in those desk arms.”
“Have you two finished being immature, or do you want me to come back later so you can finish this homoerotic tryst in peace?” said Carl, with barely restrained rage. “There’s a body in the living room that needs dealing with. I also think Louisa might need counselling, but I’m happy to wait while you two finish feeling each other up in your smalls!”
“This isn’t over.” said Paul, panting hard.
“Yes it is. Carl’s right, as always.” said Chris, standing. “We don’t have time for this.”
Ishmael’s body still radiated vital fluids in an ever-increasing puddle around his prone form, as Carl crossed the living room. “How is she?”
“Not good.” said Justin, trying to get Louisa to do anything but stare at the floor. “She’s not spoken a word since.”
Carl looked her in the eye and could tell for the moment at least, the woman known as Louisa Marshall was not around. He grabbed her wrist, feeling the chill settled there. “She’s in shock. Her body temperature has dropped and her pulse is slow. We need to keep her warm until we’ve decided what to do next.”
“We know what to do next, don’t we? I mean, that’s what caused Ishmael to flip wasn’t it?” said Justin, as he wrapped Louisa in Chris’ jacket.
“Probably, but I should have known better than to discuss it in front of an orthodox Jew. It probably didn’t help the man to hear me talking about…” To Carl’s left, a low moan issued out of Ishmael and drifted across the living room. “I don’t believe it! Drop Louisa, kid, and go get me some towels. We’ve got a life to save.”
Paul turned out to be a proficient field medic. He sterilised the bullet hole and even managed to remove the slug from next to the shoulder blade. By the end of his work, he left a series of neat stitches in Ishmael where the gaping wound once was.
“You guys should get out of here.” Paul said, not moving his eyes from his fallen partner.
“You should know that…” said Chris.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” said Paul, curtailing any platitude. “No offence colonel, but I’m not in the mood. Get your stuff and get out.”
“We’re going to need your van.”
“Well you can’t have it!” said Paul, his retort filled with venom. “I need it to get Ishmael to a hospital, so you can forget that idea. Get your lousy, lying, traitorous ass out of here before I change my mind about handing you over to the authorities! Am I making myself clear?” He turned, glaring fiercely in Chris’ direction. It was obvious the statement was the end of the discussion.
Carl grabbed Chris’ arm and turned him away from Paul. He did not need the men descending to unarmed combat again.
A few moments later, Chris still staring back into the house, Carl managed to drag the group outside.
“How the hell do we get to Egypt now?” asked Justin, closing the door to the house, as he baked in the heat of the afternoon sun.
“Egypt?” said Chris.
“That’s what we reckon, yeah.” said Carl, looking around for signs of a taxi rank.
“That’s what the message in the tomb said?” asked Chris, pressing for answers.
Carl was trying to plan their next move and Chris’ question were an irritation he did not need. They had to move quickly. If Ishmael’s condition deteriorated, he could not predict how Paul would react. “Not exactly, no. But It’s logical to assume Egypt is the resting place of the Ark.”
“On what basis is it logical?” said Chris, grabbing Carl’s arm. “Let me in on the secret, please.”
“I’m not Paul, man. Don’t start a fight with me because you’re still angry.” said Carl, wrenching Chris’ hand loose and turning to face him. “If you were thinking rationally and we had the time, I would explain everything. However, as you decided to start a fight with our host in his safe house, we are now outside with no transportation in a hostile country. So don’t expect me to treat you as being capable of thinking things through effectively at the moment, ok?”
Chris caught the stern look on Carl’s face and suddenly became aware of how he was acting. “So where to then, boss?”
There were few options. Carl barely knew this area of Israel, but his military past did at least provide one way out. “A long time ago, we used to run Sunni separatists across the border, about fifty kilometres from here. If we can get there, and the route is still unblocked, it should be relatively simple to get across. We just need a form of transportation.”
“Couldn’t we go see at the local store if anyone has a car for hire?” asked Justin. “This place runs like a Western town, right? So we treat it like one.”
Justin’s innocence of thought was sometimes a little irksome, but Carl knew at other times it was just what was ordered. This town was setup, just as Paul told them, to be a model Western town. If they treated it as such, no one should suspect a thing.
“I think Paul said it was down here.” said Justin, pointing down a side street.
“By all means. Lead on McDuff.” said Carl.
“No problem.” said Justin, hitching the duffel over his shoulder.
“It’s Lay on McDuff, not Lead on.” said Chris, as he set off after Justin with the stunned Louisa. “Just thought you should know.”
Carl shook his head. Chris could be an irrational, bullish, extraordinarily irritating mass of steaming hormones from time to time, but he could not stay angry with the man. Many times when they were stationed together, he found himself wanting to punch Chris in the face for the way he was treating those around him. He soon learnt that listening to anyone else’s point of view, even for a split second could be fatal in his line of work. Due to this, Chris’ personality developed toward the narcissistic and away from the altruistic. Carl was sure he was one of the only people who came close to knowing the man behind the bark.
The group walked up the street and followed the neat, dual-language signposts to the local store. It sat in a row of shops, almost transplanted from any American town, behind an orderly car park. The store was open, but through the large glass s
creen that made up its exterior it was clear the shopkeeper was its solitary occupant.
Leaving Chris with Louisa, Carl strode inside, adorning his best, fake smile.
“Good morning, sir.” said the shopkeeper, as soon as Carl walked into the store. “What can I do for you today? Are you new in town?”
“We are indeed. We’re inspectors, come to take a look at the safety measures you have around here.” said Carl, trying to keep his voice authoritarian and remove the hints of locality from his southern accent.
“Oh, I did not realise the store needed a safety certificate. I’ll have to check with the owner, I’m just his brother, helping out whilst he…”
“We don’t do small stuff like stores.” said Carl, laughing. “Actually, we came here yesterday and were promised a vehicle would be ready so we could begin our inspection, but we’ve been waiting all morning and nothing has arrived. We’ve only got two days to complete and we’re in a hell of a rush, as you can imagine. We were wondering if you knew of anyone who would be willing to hire us a vehicle for the afternoon, until ours arrived, so we could make a start. We’d be willing to recompense the individual well for doing so, with five hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred?” said the man, raising an eyebrow.
“It will all go on expenses, so I don’t care!” said Carl, inducing a laugh from the shopkeeper.
“You can borrow mine, if you would like.”
“That is very good of you, sir. I would be happy to leave my passport with you so you know I will return.”
“I accept your offer.” said the man, holding out a hand.
“Then we have a deal.”
“It is parked to the right of the shops. It’s the silver Toyota.”
“Thank you, sir. I will have it back with you by this evening.” Carl said, as he walked back outside and motioned toward their new conveyance.
When they arrived at the car, he got into the driver’s seat and Justin climbed into the passenger’s side.
“That was easy.” said Justin.
“It’s amazing what you can do with a little cash. Now, we just need to make a quick stop at that solar station Paul told us about and see if we can get some supplies.”
-
As he watched the group disappear, the shopkeeper picked up his phone and dialled the number on the bottom of a picture faxed through that morning. “Hello, is that the American Consulate?” he asked, waiting for a reply. “I would like to claim the reward you are offering on information regarding the whereabouts of Carl Walters. I know where he is currently located and the registration of the vehicle he is driving. Yes, I’ll hold.”
Chapter 43