The Trespass(56)

She had to get Natasha away. It was the least she could do for Simon. Now that she had torn herself away from him she found it easier to assess her feelings. All the while she had known their time together was like water escaping through her fingers. Kadesh was always in her mind’s eye, watching, waiting, expectant. Wait for the diary. You are the safeguard. If it falls to you, you must bring it home. We will be watching. If. She had played her part with alacrity, never expecting to be called upon. He was attractive, certainly, but she could keep a distance, couldn’t she? But then it all changed. And Simon was no longer the subject; he had become the lover. Sara held her head in her hands. She had lost him anyway, and he had lost more. She must act before Kadesh came to a decision. If the security of the Korumak was at stake he would show mercy to neither lover nor enemy. She remembered Ruth in her chamber, wild-eyed: We all fear him.

Her brother had related Ibrahim’s fate. It is not the same here, Sara. You are in danger. Jassim had smiled grimly. It may be that we are all in danger. I will speak with Kadesh. Perhaps he will listen. Sara lay flat on the smooth bed of stone. She felt cool air venting from the funnel, soothing her spirit, breathing courage into her veins. She heard the soft sigh of the wind passing down the length of the gallery and hugged her knees, a delicate shiver running down her spine. She had never ventured beyond the gallery, not even as a childhood dare; it was considered a haunted place, a place to be shunned. But here… here in the familiar quietness she was safe.

Sara lay still, staring at the arches, the gently glowing strata above her. She felt her ancestors’ presence, and with the feeling came a crushing weight of responsibility. Who was she to place her needs above those of the Korumak? Her life was of little consequence, a drop in the millennia. But her knowledge might yet prove advantageous to her people. The CIA man, Potzner, was dangerous. With Simon’s help he would find the caverns, and there would be an end to it all. Simon would not rest until he found Natasha; he was smart. It was only a matter of time. Together they were a powerful partnership, but she knew that Simon mistrusted Potzner. So she needed a lever, something to exploit Simon’s intuitive reservations and split them apart. Then she could concentrate on returning Natasha to Simon whilst Potzner scrambled around in the dark.

The archives, the pre-CIA records were in Kadesh’s possession. They were damning; case histories of the drugs which had been used to control and finally destroy the minds of those participating in the Twenties expeditions. She knew what Theodore Dracup had experienced on Ararat: dreadful, terrifying hallucinations, the effects of the chemicals injected as they slept at the instigation of the US government. Her people had watched and observed. The Americans had wanted at first to control the minds of the expedition members but then later, when the implications of what they had found became clear, to impose a permanent amnesia – the discoveries were too significant, too contentious to be made public. Dracup’s grandfather had had his life erased like an unwanted recording. Simon had the right to know. And once in possession of that knowledge he would drop Potzner like a brick.

Sara bent and picked up a handful of stones, threw them one by one into the blackness of the gallery. She bit her lip. Kadesh would never agree to the release of such information. She would have to obtain it herself. And the final step would be the hardest: to gain Ruth’s confidence and free the child.

Sara took a deep breath. To do this she had to be prepared. She must go to the one they protected. She must see for herself. And having seen, she would be strengthened. Sara stood up and began to climb the funnel, back to her people.





A handful of the faithful were gathered for their evening vigil. Sara joined them, bowing cordially to those she recognized. The holy chamber was suffused with a deep emerald light. One by one they were shepherded forward to lean into the deep-cut circle of brilliance. The slow, ritualistic approach tested her patience; the need to experience the truth had become an imperative. Her life up to this point had been marked by expectancy, a looking forward to what would inevitably be revealed. Now the reality was before her. She felt a coolness invade her nostrils, a faint smell of some preservative chemical.

Then the mist cleared and she saw. A small gasp of astonishment escaped from her mouth and she fell to her knees. She felt a prayer tumble, unbidden, unrehearsed from her trembling lips. Her hands came together and her head bowed in acknowledgment. He had walked with God and now he rested in the bosom of his people. Sara lifted her head and the attendant acolyte returned her smile, nodding slowly. He knew, he understood. For decades they had lived without purpose, only hope and patience sustaining them. Now the wait was over.