animal further. It reared and struck his forehead with a hoof. Heinrich disappeared into the trench.
Behind her, the helicopter powered down.
The stallion edged away from the noise, toward the trench.
Erin circled around the horse. “Easy, boy.” She kept her voice low and relaxed. “No one’s going to hurt you here.”
A large brown eye rolled to stare at her. The horse’s chest heaved, his quivering flanks coated in sweat, froth spattering his lips. She had to calm him and keep him from falling into the trench where Heinrich lay motionless.
She stepped between the trench and the horse, talking all the while. When she reached up to stroke his curved neck, the stallion shuddered, but he did not bolt. The familiar smell of horse surrounded her. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. The animal did the same.
Hoping the horse would follow, she stepped to the side, away from Heinrich. She had to move him someplace safer in case he spooked again.
The stallion moved a step on trembling legs.
Nate came running, followed by Amy and Julia.
Erin held up a hand to stop them.
“Nate,” she said in a singsong voice. “Keep everyone back until I get the horse away from Heinrich.”
Nate skidded to a stop. The others followed suit.
The horse blew out heavily, and his sweat-stained withers twitched.
She threaded her fingers into his gray mane and led him a few steps away from the trench. Then she nodded to Nate.
A cry drew her attention over her shoulder, to a small robed figure flying across the sand. The man, plainly the horse’s handler, came rushing forward.
He dropped a lead over the animal’s head, jabbering and gesturing to where the helicopter had landed. Erin got it. The animal didn’t like helicopters. She didn’t much either. She patted the horse on his withers to say good- bye. The handler led him away.
Amy and Julia had already climbed down next to Heinrich. Julia held one hand to his forehead. Blood coated the side of his face. Julia murmured to Heinrich in German. He didn’t answer. Erin held her breath. At least he was still breathing.
Erin joined them. Kneeling down, she gently moved Julia’s hand aside and felt his head. Plenty of blood, but the skull seemed intact. She stripped off her bandanna and held it against the wound. Far from sterile, but it was all she had. Warm blood wet her palm.
Heinrich opened his gray eyes, groaning. “It takes a sacrifice. In crushed skulls. This site.”
She gave him a tight smile. Two skulls crushed on her watch.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
He muttered something in German through bloodless lips. His eyes lost focus, rolling backward. She had to get him to a doctor.
“Dr. Granger?” A voice with an Israeli accent spoke from behind her. “Please stand at once.”
She put Julia’s trembling hand over the makeshift bandage and stood, hands in the air. In her experience, people used that tone only when they were armed. She turned very slowly, Heinrich’s blood already drying on her palms.
Soldiers. A lot of soldiers.
They stood in a semicircle in front of the trench, dressed in desert sand fatigues, sidearms on their belts, automatic weapons strapped around their shoulders. Eight in all, each standing at attention. They wore gray berets, except for the man in front. His was olive green; obviously their leader. The guns weren’t pointed at her.
Yet.
She lowered her hands.
“Dr. Erin Granger.” It was a statement, not a question. He didn’t sound like he ever asked questions.
“Why are you here?” In spite of her fear, she kept her voice even. “Our permits are in order.”
He studied her with eyes like two oiled brown marbles. “You must come with us, Dr. Granger.”
She had to take care of Heinrich first. “I’m busy. My student is injured and—”
“I’m Lieutenant Perlman. With Aman. I’ve been ordered to fetch you.”
As if to underline his point, the soldiers raised their weapons a fraction of an inch.
Aman was Israeli military intelligence. That couldn’t be good. Anger rose in her chest. They had come to fetch her, and their machine had spooked the horse that hurt Heinrich. Erin kept her voice steady, but it still came out cold. “Fetch me to where?”
“I’m not authorized to say.”
The lieutenant did not look like he would be backing down anytime soon, but she could make use of him. “Your helicopter frightened a horse, and it wounded my student.” She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Badly.”
He looked down at Heinrich, then inclined his head to one of the soldiers. The man pulled a trauma kit from a pack and climbed into the trench. A medic. That was something. She unclenched her hands and wiped her bloody palms on her jeans.
“I want him airlifted to a hospital,” she said. “Then, perhaps, we can talk about other things.”
The lieutenant looked down at the medic. The man nodded, looking worried.
That couldn’t be good.
“Very well,” Perlman said.
He gestured, and his men responded quickly. Two soldiers helped lift Heinrich out of the trench; another two hauled over a stretcher. Once loaded, he was carried toward the helicopter. Julia followed them, sticking close to his side.
Erin drew in a deep breath. A helicopter ride to the hospital was the best chance Heinrich had.
She took Lieutenant Perlman’s proffered hand, noticing his strength as he pulled her out of the trench.
Without a word, he turned and headed back toward the helicopter. The remaining soldiers stepped in behind her, indicating that she should follow. She stomped after Perlman. She was being kidnapped from her site at gunpoint.
She wouldn’t win this fight, but she would get what information she could from them. “Does this have to do with the earthquake?” she called to Perlman.
The lieutenant glanced back, didn’t answer, but she read his face. Her mind filled in the blanks. Earthquakes broke things. But they also uncovered them.
All of which raised another question.
There were plenty of other archaeologists in Israel. What reason could they have to drag her out of her own dig? No ancient treasure warranted this kind of urgency. Archaeologists didn’t get shuttled around in military helicopters.
Something was very wrong.
“Why me?” she pressed.
Perlman finally responded. “I can only say that it is a delicate situation, and your expertise has been requested.”
“By whom?”
“I could not say.”
“If I refuse?”
Perlman’s gaze bored into her. “You’re a guest of our country. If you refuse to come with us, you’ll no longer be a guest of our country. And your friend will
“I think the embassy would not condone this treatment,” she bluffed.
His lips twisted into an unconvincing smile. “It was a member of the delegation at the U.S. embassy who recommended you.”
She fought to conceal her surprise. So far as she knew, no one in the embassy cared anything about her. Either Perlman was lying, or he knew way more than she did. Regardless, the time for talking was past. She had to get Heinrich to a hospital.
