Dracup estimated that around an hour had passed by the time he had reached the closest possible point to the prostrate man. He leaned against the wall and took stock. His biggest fear was that Mukannishum was already dead. The lion had spread itself into what Dracup hoped would be a long term posture — front legs at full stretch, rear legs tucked, the great head bowed over its paws. He spent a few moments in reflection. If I die, God, then so be it. But let my little one live. Let her come home to her mother and strengthen her to face the future. Give her a fond memory of me. Let her understand, when she is old enough, that we both love her, whatever happened between us.
The lion stirred and made a low noise in its throat. The tail flicked once and was still. Dracup held his breath. Amen. He lay forward in the dirt and began to inch his way towards Mukannishum. He rested on his good side to ease the pressure, then continued a metre at a time. He tried to make his movements economical, but the temperature was rising and soon bubbles of perspiration began to collect on his forehead and trickle down the bridge of his nose. Dracup stopped for a breather. Just a couple of metres and he would be there. Mukannishum twitched and the lion’s tail moved minutely in response, but the animal was lethargic, indifferent to the prospect of another meal at this early hour. Dracup pulled himself forward and flopped down parallel to Mukannishum’s fevered head.
He was in a bad way. Dracup could see the deep gashes in both legs, the torn fabric of his trousers woven into the fleshy lacerations. Flies busied themselves around the congealing blood. Dracup swatted them away but they were persistent and he soon gave up, allowing the insects to settle on his face wherever they chose; too much flapping around would only attract the lion. Dracup prayed that Mukannishum was too weak to make a loud, attention-attracting response, and pulled gently on the man’s shoulder.
“Listen to me,” he told him. “I can get you out of this, but you have to do exactly what I tell you.” Mukannishum moaned and opened his eyes. Dracup put his face close to his. “We are in a pit. There is a lion, but it is sleeping. Do you understand?”
Mukannishum moved his head fractionally. His eyes showed that he had registered the danger.
“There may be an exit tunnel. I’m going to check it out later. Keep still and stay as quiet as possible.”
Mukannishum tried to shift position and his face creased in pain. The man’s injuries were significant: both legs fractured and one arm splayed uselessly. Dracup ripped off a strip of his shirttail and fashioned a tourniquet. First aid was not his forte, but he had to try to stop Mukannishum bleeding to death. He wrapped the material around Mukannishum’s thigh and tightened it into a knot, speaking quickly as he worked to keep Mukannishum’s attention.
“Before I check it,” Dracup told him, “we’re going to have a little chat. Let’s start with an easy one. Who is ‘Kadesh’ and where can I find him?” He waited for a reaction. Mukannishum’s skin was a yellowish colour and his breathing was becoming laboured. He shook the man’s arm firmly. “If you want to have any chance of getting out of here you’d better start talking.”
Mukannishum turned his head fractionally. The eyes slid open. “Kadesh is the prophet, leader and encourager, blessed be his name.”
“The leader of the Korumak?”
But Mukannishum only grimaced and his head fell back. The flies buzzed around them with renewed vigour. Dracup kept one eye on the lion as he waited for a response. The animal was sound asleep, its chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. There was time; there had to be time. Dracup reached into Mukannishum’s robe and found the diary in a zipped pocket. He slipped it beneath his waistband. That was one problem dealt with.
“Where are the Korumak?” he repeated, giving Mukannishum’s cheek a firm slap.
Mukannishum opened his mouth and groaned. “Water.”
“There isn’t any. Not until we get out of here.”
Mukannishum closed his eyes. Dracup was about to rouse him again when he began to speak softly, in English and in another, unfamiliar tongue. Dracup recognized the onset of delirium. He repeated his question. “The Korumak. Your people. Where are they?”
“Korumak Tanri — God’s chosen. Blessed keepers of His law. Blessed protectors of His truth. Blessed children of Noah.”
“Yes,” Dracup cajoled. “Pure descendants of his line—”
Mukannishum muttered and writhed, slipping in and out of consciousness. Dracup shook him hard. “But where? Where is the girl?”
Mukannishum shouted in pain and Dracup froze. He clapped a hand over Mukannishum’s mouth. A tense moment passed as the lion grunted and yawned but remained in its chosen location by the tree.
Mukannishum was fully awake now. His lip curled in distaste. “You killed him. And he has taken her in exchange.”
“Killed who?” Dracup leaned in close, but the answer had already come to him in a moment of sick revelation. The man in the Aberdeen hotel. The assassin.
“His brother,” Mukannishum hissed. “The blessed one’s brother. Your forefather betrayed the son of God, and you murdered Kadesh’s brother.” Mukannishum coughed and spat a dry ball of vomit. The flies circled it gleefully. “The blessed one has pronounced your family to be cursed. For all generations.” He gasped with the effort of speech and allowed his head to sink back to the ground.
Dracup remembered the smell of cordite, the hole in the pillow. The fractured glass of his hotel window. Now he knew why he was the victim of such pure, unadulterated hatred. But there was another reference he needed to explore.
“Son of God?” Dracup probed. “What do you mean by that?”
Mukannishum coughed again and a trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth. He levered himself into a half-sitting position and opened his mouth to speak, but Dracup saw the look in his eye and knew what it meant. He was no longer looking at Dracup, but past him. Dracup turned slowly. The lion was padding purposefully towards them, its great head raised. When the roar came it was deafening, but more terrifying was the low growl it made as it closed the distance between them.
Chapter 27
Kadesh had dismissed the others. Natasha had been returned to Ruth’s care. The searchlights had been extinguished and the only remaining illumination was provided by a silvery slice of moon. Sara sat in the passenger seat of the jeep, Kadesh beside her playing with the bunch of keys, passing them from hand to hand. Her heart was beating in a sick, slow pulse.
“I brought you back out of kindness,” Kadesh said eventually. “I believed you to be a true worshipper.”