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of water at its foot, scrambled up the far bank on his palms and knees, peered cautiously over the top. The landscape was flat and featureless, making it hard to get a fix. He waited for Omar to arrive then crouched low and headed on in. He’d barely gone fifty metres before he trod on a fat stone and turned his ankle, stumbling to the ground. There were many such stones, he now saw, pale-grey and rounded, some even arranged in rough cairns, all aligned in the same direction. He came across a tent of translucent plastic sheeting, pulled it back to expose a pit beneath, a crumbled wall of ancient bricks at its foot, filtered moonlight glowing on a domed skull, thin curved ribs and long bones. ‘Neat rows of white stones,’ he murmured, taking a photograph, though without his flash attachment he wasn’t sure quite what would show up. ‘Just like the cemetery at Qumran. Skeletons pointing south, their faces turned to the rising sun. And see how the bones are tinted slightly purple?’
    ‘So?’
    ‘The Essenes used to drink a juice made from madder root. It stains bones red, if you drink enough of it. And didn’t Griffin say they used to grow madder around here?’
    ‘You think your lid came from one of these graves?’
    ‘It’s possible.’
    ‘Then can we leave now?’
    ‘Not yet. We still need to see—’
    A snarl behind them. Knox whirled around to see a mangy dog, ribs showing through its flanks, moonlight reflecting brightly from its black eyes and silvery slobber. Ancient Egyptian cemeteries had typically been sited on desert fringes; good quality farmland had been too valuable to waste. They’d consequently become the haunts of scavengers, one reason why the jackal-god Anubis had been so closely associated with death. Knox hissed and waved. But it only growled louder, bared its fangs, its territory infringed.
    ‘Make it go away,’ said Omar.
    ‘I’m trying,’ said Knox.
    Torchlight flared away to their left, vanished then came back, stronger and nearer. A security guard on his rounds, swinging his torch back and forth, painting yellow ellipses on the ground that came perilously close. They ducked down behind the plastic tent, allowing the dog to approach to within a few feet, snarling and sniffing. Omar jabbed a finger back the way they’d come, but it was too late, the security guard was almost upon them. Knox gestured for Omar to crouch low, hold his nerve.
    The guard heard the dog, picked it out with his torch, then stooped for a stone that he hurled hard. It missed its target but provoked a furious barking. The guard came closer. Knox could see dots of moonlight gleaming on his polished black boots. His second shot caught the dog a glancing blow on its hind leg. It yelped and bounded away. The guard laughed heartily then turned and walked off.
    ‘Let’s get out of here,’ pleaded Omar, once he’d vanished from sight.
    ‘Just a little further,’ said Knox, dusting himself down. He hated playing the bully, but this place needed checking out. They soon came to a sandy embankment, a yellow glow on the other side. Knox crawled up on his elbows and knees, that familiar metallic tang at the back of his mouth as he peered over the top. Griffin and a young man with buzz-cut blond hair were standing by the rear of a pick-up backed against the open door of a squat brick building, its interior light on. Two more young men emerged with a crate that they lugged onto the flatbed. Their hair was cropped short too, and they were wearing identical cornflower blue shirts and khaki trousers.
    ‘That’ll do for now,’ said Griffin. ‘We’ll have to come back anyhow.’ He locked up the building, got into the pick-up, the three young men climbing up onto the back.
    ‘What are they doing?’ whispered Omar as the truck drove off.
    ‘Clearing out their magazine. So that we won’t find anything incriminating tomorrow.’
    ‘Let’s go to the police. We’ll tell them everything.’
    ‘They’ll have hidden