‘You need to look for a left turn,’ said Angela. ‘The place we have to head towards is called Al Tafile.’
Bronson drove past a settlement on the right and then another on the left called Al Maamura, and then saw the junction right in front of them. The volume of traffic had diminished significantly after they’d cleared the southern edge of the Dead Sea, and there were even fewer vehicles on route 60, the road that they were now on, but there were still at least two trucks and nearly a dozen cars behind the hired Renault. There were so few roads in that part of Jordan, he realized, that there would inevitably be a large volume of traffic on every road, probably for most of the time.
This road was noticeably narrower than the one they had just left, the surface poorer, and the terrain even more unforgiving, the hills and valleys not permitting a straight course to be followed. As it climbed and descended significant heights, there were a few hairpin bends to be carefully negotiated before the road finally straightened out towards a settlement called Arfah.
‘Al Tafile is over to the east,’ Angela said. ‘Just follow this road until you reach a Y-junction, then bear right. It’s a new road, the King’s Highway, and it’s one of the main routes out of Aqaba on the coast up to Amman. Hopefully it’ll be a bit better than that last stretch we were on.’
The road was better, and also much busier, and Bronson again found himself part of a loose convoy of vehicles all heading south at about the same speed. They passed through or close by a number of dusty settlements, while the hills on both sides of the highway were characterized by their rugged and uneven flanks, many of them reaching quite impressive heights.
After a few miles, the road straightened out and they left the small towns and villages behind, the only obvious signs of life then being the occasional Bedouin encampment, the infrequent petrol stations, usually attached to small cafés, and the even less frequent sight of a man on a camel or a shepherd surrounded by the sheep or goats that were in his charge.
The road gradually swung around towards the west, and when Angela spotted a sign for a village called Al Muthallith, she checked the map again.
‘We’re getting fairly close to the castle now,’ she said. ‘There’s a right turn at the other end of this village.’
The village was busy and the road congested, cars parked somewhat haphazardly and locals wandering about apparently oblivious to the vehicles passing in both directions.
‘That’s it,’ Angela said, pointing straight ahead towards a narrow road that angled off the main street.
Bronson took the turning, and immediately they started to climb, the road rising quickly above the settlement that they had just left.
Within a couple of minutes, Angela pointed over to the east, to where an ancient grey-brown stone structure crowned the crest of a substantial hill.
‘There it is,’ she said. ‘That’s Shobak Castle.’
The road didn’t really go anywhere else apart from the castle, and as they descended the hill they saw the visitor centre on the left-hand side of the road, where Bronson pulled in and parked the Renault.
There were already half a dozen cars and a coach — all empty — in the parking area, and when they climbed out of the vehicle they could see people milling about in the courtyard of the visitor centre, some holding guidebooks and cameras, others sipping drinks. Beyond the visitor centre, the castle itself and the approach road to it were both clearly visible, as were several groups climbing up to the castle or descending from it.
‘Here’s where we do our impersonations of tourists, I suppose,’ Bronson said, opening the boot of the hire car. ‘Just stand in front of me,’ he added, ‘while I grab the pistol.’
‘Is that really necessary?’ Angela asked. ‘We’re just a couple of visitors taking a look at an ancient ruin. Surely you don’t think we’ll have any problems here? I thought nobody followed us from Jerusalem.’
‘I can’t see how they can be here already,’ he agreed, ‘but just because I didn’t spot anybody following us, that doesn’t mean that they didn’t. There was so much traffic behind us on that road that there could have been half a dozen cars tailing us, and I wouldn’t necessarily have been able to spot a single one of them. So, yes, I do think taking the pistol with us is a sensible precaution. Let’s just hope we don’t need it.’
He recovered the weapon from its hiding place and slipped it into the rear waistband of his trousers, ensuring that his light jacket covered it completely. Angela picked up her camera and a spare battery pack, while Bronson took two small but powerful flashlights from his overnight case and half a dozen spare batteries. Then they headed towards the castle.
53
With the motorbike tailing the car, Farooq hadn’t found it a problem to follow Angela and Bronson all the way to the castle.
He was now using a pair of powerful compact binoculars to watch them, and was relaying what he saw to Khaled, sitting beside him.
‘He’s locked the car,’ he said, his voice sounding puzzled, ‘and they’re walking over to the visitor centre. It looks as if they’re going to explore the ruins. But you told me that this wasn’t a Templar castle, didn’t you?’
‘I did and it wasn’t,’ Khaled snapped. ‘It was a Crusader fort, and at no time did any Templar knight even visit the place. But we’re not looking for a Templar knight, and whatever clue those two think they might find here must have been left by somebody else. It doesn’t matter who was involved back in the Middle Ages. The point is that the only reason Bronson and the woman could possibly have for being here is because they discovered some pointer or clue that we missed in Jerusalem. So what we have to do is find it, and the easiest way to do that is to follow them and see what they look at.’
‘So what we do now? Are you sure they’re not just here to look around? As tourists?’
‘No. I can promise you this is something more. Tell the man on the motorcycle to go back down the hill and to wait in the village, because when they leave that’s the road they’ll take. Call the other car, tell them where we are and have them wait somewhere on this road as backup. And we’ll drive into the visitor centre, park and then the two of you can buy tickets for the castle and follow Bronson and the woman wherever they go. Whatever they stop and look at, you stop and look at, and take pictures of it as well. They haven’t seen either of your faces, so you shouldn’t arouse any suspicion. You’ll just be another couple of tourists wandering around an ancient monument. I’ll stay in the car, for obvious reasons, and if they do anything that seems peculiar or out of character, call me immediately.’
Less than five minutes later, their driver stopped the car on the edge of the parking area, as far away from the target vehicle as he could get, and he and Farooq stepped out of the Ford and strode across to the entrance to the visitor centre. Khaled remained in the car, an almost invisible shape sitting in the shadows of the back seat, but with all his attention focused on the visitor centre and the ruined castle that lay beyond it.
Once they had identified this final clue, he thought that the desolate countryside they had driven through since entering Jordan would offer an unlimited number of places where they could conclude their business with the English couple in private and without interruption.
Though following the trail to find the relic was still his first priority, Khaled was also keenly looking forward to attending to the two of them. Especially the woman.