No more shots came.
Breathless and pumped full of adrenaline, both men exchanged glances.
“What just happened?” Barton said, hands trembling.
Glancing over at him, Razak didn’t have an answer. For the next few minutes, he focused on angling his way through the narrow streets, backtracking through the city toward the main highway.
Without warning, the Mercedes’s rear lurched to the right amidst the deafening crunch of metal and glass as Razak and Barton were jerked sideways, almost out of their seats.
Somehow, Razak managed to regain control of the Mercedes, only after running up onto a curb and steering back onto the roadway. His head swiveled to glimpse the late model Fiat sedan with a mangled front end that had spun out in the intersection and was in the process of maneuvering to continue its pursuit. Razak could see the driver and a second man riding in the passenger seat. Both were wearing hooded masks. When he saw that the passenger leaned out the window, aiming at them with an AK47, he yelled over at Barton, “Get down!”
The archaeologist sank below the seat and huddled below the dashboard just as a string of bullets took out the car’s rear window and windshield, glass fragments showering down on him. Two of the bullets burrowed deep into the stereo console, spewing out a shower of electric sparks.
Moving his head lower, Razak sped through two more intersections before swinging a wide turn onto the highway, heading north. More shots loudly strafed the driver’s side of the car in rapid succession and Razak felt one dig into the side of his seat, almost clipping him beneath the armpit.
The road opened up with no traffic. Adrenaline buzzing through him, Razak pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The Mercedes’s engine revved hard and pulled him back in his seat. Miraculously, the car’s rear end had endured the collision, though the steering wheel was pulling hard to the left and was vibrating fiercely. He quickly glanced down at Barton who, understandably, looked completely shaken up. “You okay?”
“Are they still behind us?”
Razak eyed the rearview mirror. “Yes. But I don’t think they’ll be able to keep up.”
More shots pinged off the rear of the car.
Racing past the cement barricades of abandoned checkpoints, Razak kept an eye on the pursuers. As he anticipated, the Fiat—now spewing gray smoke out from its twisted grill—was quickly losing ground.
Sighing in relief, Razak tried to settle his breathing. His thoughts drifted momentarily to Farouq who would clearly not be pleased with the condition of his cherished Mercedes.
A half-kilometer from the border crossing, Razak watched the rearview mirror as the pursuers came to an abrupt stop. Up ahead, there was no long queue of cars waiting to cross over to Israel—probably what the gunmen were hoping for, Razak thought—one last opportunity to have a clean shot. “You can come up now,” he told Barton.
“I can understand why you haven’t come back here until now,” Barton said, settling back into his seat and carefully shaking glass fragments out of his hair.
Decelerating, Razak wound the car through the barricades below the watchtower. Stopping in front of the guard shelter, he waited until the soldiers signaled for him to pull forward. Alarmed by the condition of the Mercedes, they cautiously surrounded the car, rifles drawn, commanding the occupants to remain still.
Then the same young guard that had allowed them entry into Gaza stepped forward. Grimacing, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and put his hands on his hips, raking the Mercedes’s marred exterior with his eyes. He crouched down beside Razak’s blown-out window and smugly said, “That was fast. Hope you enjoyed your stay.”
36
******
Just after five o’clock, Father Donovan entered the lab.
“Working late again, I see,” he said, flashing a friendly smile. “We want to make sure that the Vatican gets the best value for its
money,” Bersei replied.
“Is there anything that the two of you need? Anything I can help with?” The scientists exchanged glances. “No,” Charlotte replied. “The lab’s
very well equipped.”
“Excellent.” Donovan’s curious eyes wandered over to the skeleton and
the opened ossuary.
Bersei spread his hands. “Would you like a quick overview of what
we’ve found so far?”
The priest visibly perked up. “Yes, indeed.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the scientists gave Donovan a basic
summary of the forensic study and carbon dating results, and showed
him the additional relics hidden in the ossuary’s secret compartment.
Bersei maintained a clinical, objective demeanor and Charlotte followed
his lead.
Judging from the priest’s reaction to the preliminary findings—ranging
from genuine surprise and intrigue, to tempered concern over the nature
