Juan Gómez-Jurado - Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

Wednesday, 12 July 2006. 4:15 p.m.

It would be a stretch of the imagination to call the ribbon of hard earth that the expedition convoy was travelling along a road. Viewed from one of the cliffs that dominated the desolate landscape, the eight vehicles must have seemed like nothing more than dusty anomalies. The journey from Aqaba to the excavation site was a little more than a hundred miles, but it took the convoy five hours due to the irregularity of the terrain coupled with the dust and sand thrown up in the wake of each successive vehicle, resulting in zero visibility for the drivers who followed.

At the head of the convoy were two all-purpose Hummer H3s, each containing four passengers. Painted white, with the open red hand of Kayn Industries emblazoned on the doors, these vehicles were part of a limited series built specifically to contend with the harshest conditions on earth.

‘It’s one hell of a truck,’ said Tommy Eichberg at the wheel of the second H3, to a bored Andrea. ‘I shouldn’t call it a truck. It’s a tank. It can go over a fifteen-inch wall, or climb a sixty-degree slope.’

‘I’m sure it costs more than my apartment,’ said the reporter. Unable to get any photos of the landscape because of the dust, she contented herself with some candid shots of Stowe Erling and David Pappas, who were seated behind her.

‘Almost three hundred thousand euros. As long as it has enough fuel, this machine can cope with anything.’

‘That’s why we brought the gasoline trucks, right?’ said David.

He was an olive-skinned young man, with a slightly flattened nose and a narrow forehead. Whenever he opened his eyes wide in surprise – something he did fairly often – his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. Andrea liked him, in contrast to Stowe, who even though he was tall and attractive, with a neat ponytail, behaved liked something out of a self-help manual.

‘Of course, David,’ Stowe replied. ‘You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to. Assertiveness, remember? That’s the key.’

‘You’re very sure of yourself when the professor’s not around, Stowe,’ David said, sounding slightly hurt. ‘This morning, when he was correcting your evaluations, you didn’t seem so assertive.’

Stowe raised his chin, making a ‘can you believe this?’ gesture to Andrea, who ignored him and busied herself changing the memory card of her camera. Each four-gigabyte card had room for 600 high-resolution photos. As soon as each card was full, Andrea transferred the pictures to a special portable hard disk that could store 12,000 stills and had a seven-inch LCD preview screen. She would have preferred to bring her laptop, but only Forrester’s team was allowed them on the expedition.

‘How much fuel do we have, Tommy?’ Andrea asked, turning towards the driver.

Eichberg stroked his moustache thoughtfully. Andrea was amused by how slowly he spoke, and the way he began every other sentence with a long ‘W-e-l-l-l-l-l-l’.

‘The two trucks behind us are carrying the supplies. Russian Kamaz, military. Hard as nails. The Russians tried them out in Afghanistan. Well… after that we have the tankers. The one with water is carrying 10,500 gallons. The one with the gasoline is a little smaller and has a little over 9,000 gallons.’

‘That’s a lot of fuel.’

‘Well, we’re going to be out here for weeks, and we need electricity.’

‘We can always fall back on the ship. You know… to send more supplies.’

‘Well, that’s not going to happen. Orders are that once we get to the camp, we’re incommunicado. No contact with the outside world, period.’

‘What if there’s an emergency?’ Andrea said nervously.

‘We’re pretty self-sufficient. We could survive for months on what we’ve brought, but the planning has taken every aspect into consideration. I know, because as official driver and mechanic, I was in charge of supervising the loading of all the vehicles. Dr Harel has a veritable hospital back there. And, well, if there’s anything more than a sprained ankle, we’re only forty-five miles away from the nearest town, Al Mudawwara.’

‘That’s a relief. How many people live there? Twelve?’

‘Did they teach you that attitude in your journalism classes?’ Stowe cut in from the back seat.

‘Yes, it’s called Sarcasm 101.’

‘I bet it was your best subject.’

Smart arse. I hope you suffer a stroke while you’re digging. Then let’s see what you think about getting sick in the middle of the Jordanian desert , thought Andrea, who had never got high marks in anything at school. Insulted, she maintained a dignified silence for a short while.

‘Welcome to Southern Jordan, my friends,’ Tommy said happily. ‘Home of the simoon. Population: zero.’

‘What’s a simoon, Tommy?’ Andrea said.

‘A giant sand storm. You have to see one to believe it. Right, we’re almost there.’

The H3 slowed down and the trucks began to line up at the side of the road.

‘I think this is the turn-off,’ Tommy said, pointing to the GPS on the dashboard. We only have about two miles to go, but it’ll take us a while to cover the distance. These dunes are going to be tough on the trucks.’

When the dust began to settle, Andrea spied an enormous dune of rose-coloured sand. Behind it was Claw Canyon, the place, according to Forrester, where the Ark of the Covenant had lain hidden for over two thousand years. Small whirlwinds chased each other up the side of the dune, beckoning Andrea to join them.

‘Do you think I could walk the rest of the way? I’d like to take a few photos of the expedition as it arrives. I’ll get there before the trucks do, by the look of it.’

Tommy regarded her with concern. ‘Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Climbing that hill isn’t going to be easy. It’s cool inside the truck. Out there it’s 104 degrees.’

‘I’ll be careful. Anyway, we’ll stay in visual contact all the time. Nothing will happen to me.’

‘I don’t think you should do it, either, Ms Otero,’ said David Pappas.

‘Come on, Eichberg. Let her go. She’s a big girl,’ Stowe said, more for the fun of going against Pappas than to back up Andrea.

‘I’ll have to consult Mr Russell.’

‘Then go ahead.’

Against his better judgement Tommy grabbed the walkie-talkie.

Twenty minutes later Andrea was regretting her decision. Before beginning the climb to the top of the dune, she first had to descend some eighty feet from the road, and then stagger slowly up another 2,500 feet, the last fifty of which were at an incline of 25 degrees. The top of the dune seemed deceptively close; the sand, deceptively smooth.

Andrea had taken with her a backpack containing a large bottle of water. Before she had reached the top of the dune she had drunk every drop. She had a headache, even though she was wearing a hat, and her nose and throat hurt. She was wearing only a short-sleeved shirt, shorts and boots and despite the fact she had put on a high factor sunscreen before getting out of the Hummer, the skin on her arms was starting to sting.

Less than a half an hour and I’m ready for the burns unit. Let’s hope nothing goes wrong with the trucks or we’ll have to walk back , she thought.

That didn’t seem likely. Tommy personally drove each truck to the top of the dune, a task that required experience to avoid the risk of overturning the vehicle. First he took care of the two Kamaz supply trucks, leaving them parked on the hill just below the steepest part of the climb. Then he dealt with the two water trucks while the rest of his team watched from the shade of the H3s.