or very closely acquainted with the person who wrote it.’
‘And there’s the Baigdandu anomaly,’ Donovan interjected.
‘That’s a contributing factor, yes,’ Angela nodded. ‘Whatever the source of the genes that throw up occasional fair-skinned, blue-eyed children in that village, you can be reasonably certain it wasn’t some wandering tribe of Greeks. It’s far more likely to have been a single source, one very different bloodline that became intermixed with the local genetic make-up.’
‘This is making no sense to me,’ John Cross interrupted. ‘What is this all about?’
Angela smiled at him, half-turned and pointed at the wall behind her. ‘On the other side of that stone door,’ she continued, ‘we’ll find a tomb, and in it will be the body of a late-middle-aged or elderly man who in his time acquired a certain reputation, both here and in the country of his birth, which is a long way to the west of here. In India, he was called Yus Asaph or Yuz Asaf, and occasionally Isa-Masih, but you all know him better by another, much more familiar, name.’
She looked around the cave, taking her time. She took a deep breath.
‘I believe that in the cavern just behind me is the last resting place of Isa-Masih or Jesus the Messiah – the man better known to you all as Jesus Christ.’
62
‘Four minutes,’ the pilot murmured.
‘OK. Time we sent the Hind in front,’ Tembla said, then issued a crisp order.
Almost immediately, the pilot of the Dhruv banked the helicopter to the left, hauling it around in a tight turn.
As the manoeuvre started, Killian glanced to his right and saw the Hind gunship’s nose dip slightly as the pilot accelerated ahead of them. Then he concentrated on keeping what little he’d had for breakfast in his stomach as the Dhruv seemed to roll completely on to its side, the ‘whupwhup-whup’ of the rotor blades clawing at the air rose to a crescendo, the sound exploding through his skull as the chopper seemed to defy both gravity and the laws of physics.
Below the aircraft, the ground spun past at a dizzying speed, a grey-brown featureless blur. Then the pilot righted the helicopter, pulling it straight, the nose dipping as he increased speed.
Killian looked through the windscreen and saw that the Hind was now well ahead of them, maybe half a mile in front.
‘Good,’ Tembla said. ‘We’ll let the gunship take out the mercenaries; then we’ll go in and see what Bronson and Angela Lewis are up to.’
For a long moment there was absolute silence in the cave, then John Cross muttered, ‘Bull
Donovan started a slow, ironic hand-clap. ‘Bravo,’ he said. ‘Impeccable reasoning based upon an imaginative and expert interpretation of the available evidence. It’s just a shame you’ll never get to find out whether or not you’re right.’
Angela looked startled.
‘What’s behind that wall may be the most important archaeological find ever,’ Donovan continued, ‘but it means far more to me than that. If the stories in the Bible are true – and I believe that they are – then Jesus had the power to heal the sick and raise the dead. That’s why I’ve been following this trail for so long. Just think what I could do with that kind of power today.’
‘But how can the bones of a two-thousand-year-old corpse be . . . ?’ Bronson’s voice trailed off as he made the connection.
‘You’re a geneticist,’ Angela said flatly, making an intuitive leap. ‘And the whole purpose of all this’ – she gestured at the armed men in the cave – ‘is so that you can get your hands on the body. Or more accurately get your hands on a sample of tissue from the remains.’
Donovan nodded. ‘That’s what I’ve been looking for all along – the DNA of Jesus Christ. Have you the slightest idea what that could be worth today? To medical science? To cutting-edge genetic research? To achieve this, any risk, any price, and any sacrifice is entirely justified. And that’s why I’m afraid you’re both going to have to die. There can be no witnesses to what happens next.’
‘What about the two men with you?’ Bronson asked, desperate to keep some sort of dialogue going. ‘Have you told them about the sacrifice you’ll be expecting them to make?’
Donovan smiled. ‘These men are part of my private army. I’d trust them with my life. But I’m afraid you two are surplus to requirements.’ He turned to Masters. ‘Kill them, will you, Nick, and then we can get started.’
A few yards further up the valley from the cave entrance, one of Masters’s men was sitting on a rock, his Kalashnikov resting across his lap, his hand holding the pistol grip. About fifty yards down the slope, another two of the mercenaries were staring down towards the foot of the valley, their AK-47s slung over their shoulders. The three men were covering the two possible approaches to the cave.
They all heard the unmistakable roaring, clattering sound of a helicopter and for an instant none of them took any notice. They knew they were in a disputed border area, and they had seen and heard several helicopters since they’d crossed into India, so a chopper wasn’t exactly a new sight. But then the Hind appeared over the side wall of the valley, nose-down and heading straight towards the cave.
‘Take cover!’ one of the men yelled, swinging his weapon round to point at the approaching gunship, as his companion opened fire.
The mercenary closest to the cave looked round desperately for somewhere – anywhere – to hide. He knew he’d never make it to the cave entrance, but it was the only possible shelter. He had to try.
His finger slid on to the trigger of his AK-47 and fired a long burst, then turned and started running. But at that very moment the crew of the attack helicopter opened fire. There was a flicker of flame from the nose of the aircraft and a stream of machine-gun bullets ploughed a deep furrow across the rocky ground, ricochets from the impact of the shells and rock splinters flying everywhere.
Half a dozen rounds caught the running man in the chest and almost cut him in two. His momentum carried him forward another couple of steps, but he was dead before he stopped moving.
The Hind’s crew switched their aim, and in less than two seconds the other soldiers’ weapons fell silent as their bullet-riddled bodies slumped down among the rocks.
* * *
The cave echoed with the sound of automatic weapons’ fire. The armed man at the back of the cave reacted immediately, unslinging their weapon and starting to move. Bronson’s attention was fixed on Masters.
The former soldier glanced across at him, then at John Cross and what little was visible of the mountain slope outside the cave. Then he reached inside his parka and pulled out a semi-automatic pistol.
For an instant Bronson thought he was going to shoot them both. Instead the soldier turned, and in a single fluid movement reversed the weapon in his hand and tossed the pistol over to Bronson. Then he swung back, snapped off the safety catch of his Kalashnikov and headed for the cave entrance.
Donovan was white with fear and anger. ‘What’s happening?’ he demanded.
‘Just get out of sight, JJ, and shut the hell up while I sort this,’ Masters snapped. Then he turned away. ‘Don’t go outside,’ he yelled.
But he’d picked his men well – they were all ex-military – and the last thing John Cross was going to do was run out of a dark cave into bright sunlight where enemy troops were probably waiting to cut him down.
Bronson didn’t question, didn’t hesitate. He caught the weapon in mid-air, grabbed Angela by the hand and pulled her as far away from the entrance as he could.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded breathlessly, crouching beside him in the darkness at the far end of the
