The Sword of Moses Read Online Free

was one hundred and ten. Now it’s a shade lower. But who knows where it’s headed. It’s got a mind of its own, not connected to anything real any more. With the ongoing instability in the region, the number could break loose any time and punch through the two hundred mark.” He looked at her solemnly. “Every industrialist and motorist in the world is feeling the effect of what we do here.”
    Ava was not at all sure where the conversation was going. She was not an expert in petrochemical economics.
    “And,” he grimaced, gesturing to a white board visible through the glass in the control room, “that’s the reality no one wants to see. I make sure it’s updated and on display here at all times.”
    She read the handwritten script:
     
    Insurgent Forces
    Iraqi Sunnis 65,000 50%
    Iraqi Islamists 32,500 25%
    Iraqi Shi’a 29,900 23%
    al-Qa’eda & Jihaadis 2,600 2%
    Total 130,000
     
    She was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. She knew a huge amount about Iraq. But this was not her area at all—she was not a military analyst.
    A soldier entered the glass box quietly without knocking. He had the regulation high-and-tight shaved head and the same desert-pattern combat uniform as Hunter. His sleeve showed the three chevrons and rockers of a master sergeant.
    He stooped to whisper something in Hunter’s ear, then left without waiting for a reply.
    Hunter pursed his lips before turning to the woman sitting to his right. She was neatly dressed in a light grey suit, with long slightly wavy auburn hair pulled back into an austere bun.
    “Seven Revolutionary Guard boghammars have been spotted on the wrong side of the Shatt al-Arab, intention unknown.” He spoke softly but decisively. “When we finish here, I want an incident response unit set up immediately.”
    “Washington’s going to want to know,” she replied, typing something rapidly into her Blackberry.
    He nodded curtly.
    Ava was rapidly getting the feeling she was being involved in something of major strategic importance—she doubted General Hunter had time for purely social meetings. But looking around the room, she had no idea how her skills fitted in.
    The general leaned his ox-like frame towards her. She could see why he had risen to the top. He oozed authority. “Dr Curzon, none of these are in themselves my biggest problem. The real headache is that embedded into each of them—oil, insurgents, and border-disputes to name a few—is one unknowable factor.” He paused and looked at her grimly, before answering his own question with five words—“The Islamic Republic of Iran.”
    Ava decided it was time to say something before the situation developed further. It was obvious there had been some kind of serious mistake.
    She looked at him apologetically “General, if I can speak directly, I think you may have the wrong person. I don’t—”
    He silenced her with a dismissive wave of his massive hand. “Dr Curzon, we know this isn’t your field of expertise. You’re an archaeologist. That’s why you’re here.”
    Ava heard the words, but it still felt like there had been a fundamental mistake. “General, I’m not engaged in any field work at present. I just—”
    Hunter cut her off. “Okay. So let’s get on. Starting with your experience. We’d be grateful for an overview of your résumé.”
    Although still lost as to how she fitted into General Hunter’s hi-tech military world, she breathed a little more easily.
    It was not a difficult question.
    “I’m a specialist in the ancient Middle East,” she began. “I studied archaeology and ancient Middle-Eastern languages at Oxford, Cairo, and Harvard. In 2005, I joined the British Museum’s Department of the Middle East. In mid-2007, I was seconded to the National Archaeological Museum in Amman, Jordan. In 2009, given my regional experience in the field, I was invited to head up the Iraqi UNESCO taskforce to trace the tens of thousands of artefacts looted from the National