The Sword of Moses Read Online Free PDF Page B

a low and quiet voice. “That, Dr Curzon, is precisely what you’re going to tell us. The hostile party has said we can send an independent expert to verify the artefact. You just got the job. Major Ferguson here will go with you as your technical assistant.”
    Ava’s head spun.
    “Your plane leaves for Kazakhstan in forty minutes.” Hunter got up to leave. “Ms Prince will see you are provided with everything you need for your trip.”
    A thousand questions flooded Ava’s mind.
    “General, I’ll need lab conditions to examine the artefact—special lighting, tools and chemicals, photographic equipment—”
    Hunter waved his hand dismissively as he opened the door for her. “I’m afraid none of that will be possible. You’ll be fully briefed on arrival in Astana. I believe you already know Peter DeVere. He’ll be joining you there, and he’ll fill you in.”
    Despite the reassuring tone in Hunter’s voice, the effect the name had on Ava was anything but comforting. As she heard the words, she felt as if she had just been punched hard in the stomach.

 
    ——————— ◆ ———————

3
     
    US Central Command
(USCENTCOM)
    Camp as-Sayliyah
    The State of Qatar
    The Arabian Gulf
     
    Prince had shown Ava to the visitors’ facilities so she could freshen up and take a hot shower.
    Once the tall American had left, Ava headed for the ablutions area. It was basic—a heavily air-conditioned section of the large prefabricated hangar, indistinguishable from the rest of Camp as-Sayliyah.
    Her head was buzzing as she stepped under the steaming jets of water.
    Despite the outside temperature, she could feel her shoulders dropping as the hot water began to work out the tension that had been building ever since the escort of marines had arrived at her Baghdad office that morning.
    With the steam rising around her, she tried to make sense of the bombshells General Hunter had dropped on her in the briefing room, and to calm the maelstrom they had set swirling inside her head.
    She had been completely unprepared for the news that the American and British governments believed the historical Ark of the Covenant might be sitting at that moment in a Kazakh warehouse.
    And she had been knocked sideways to learn that she had been chosen by them to go and evaluate it. The Ark was one of those objects that all archaeologists dreamed of, but none ever expected to see. She was still having difficulty digesting the information fully.
    But the Ark aside, she had been equally overwhelmed to find out that an organization she had wanted nothing to do with for the last eight years now seemed to be back in her life. General Hunter had mentioned Peter DeVere, and if DeVere really was waiting for her in Kazakhstan, then it could only mean that MI6 was closely involved.
    Her stomach tightened.
    She had known DeVere for as long as she could remember. Throughout her childhood, he had been her father's most trusted friend in the Firm. He had become a frequent visitor to their home, and practically an adopted member of the family.
    She tried to brush the memories away, but images kept flooding back from mid-December 2002. She and her father had left the house for work together as usual, both heading through the biting cold to the Firm’s colourful and iconic Babylonian-ziggurat headquarters at Vauxhall Cross. At the end of the day, as usual, she had returned home.
    He never did.
    The next time she saw him was at his snowy funeral a few days before Christmas, when she, her mother, and her brother buried the man they had all loved so much.
    Dozens of his work colleagues had packed the intimate service at the triangular-windowed and white-blanketed Saxon church in the small Somerset village, but a wall of official silence had already descended around the exact circumstances of his death. ‘On her Majesty’s service’ was all the family was ever told.
    And DeVere reminded her too painfully of that time. She had left the Firm not