But nothing could have totally prepared him for what the casket contained. He reached in a trembling hand and came out with a fistful of glinting gold. Coins, jewellery, figurines. Magnificent objects from the time of Alexander. More, far far more, than had ever been found in one place before now. It was unbelievable. Dizzying. He’d come here simply in the hope of uncovering the Alexandrian lost city of Zakara. This was a hundred times – no, a thousand times – beyond what he could have dreamed of. And for all they knew, there could be dozens more caskets buried inside the chamber.

By now Safi had come up from the hole and was standing behind Rigby’s shoulder, Abdul at the other, staring at the loot like hungry hawks. As they all watched, Rigby opened the second casket. It was even fuller than the first. Then the third.

Rigby had tears in his eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Abdul’s initial excitement seemed to have died down, and he was looking thoughtful. He muttered, ‘Who does this belong to?’

‘It belongs to Afghanistan,’ Rigby told him. ‘To your country. It’ll be the finest exhibit in the state museum in Kabul.’

Abdul shook his head. He said softly, ‘No.’

Rigby wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right. ‘What do you mean, no?’

The clack of a rifle bolt in the darkness. Rigby’s blood froze. He turned slowly to see the muzzle of the weapon pointing in his face, held by Safi.

Abdul said, ‘No. It belongs to us.’

Chapter 1

Ben Hope often reflected on all the bad things he’d done in his life. The failures, the mistakes, the disappointments, the times when he hadn’t managed to achieve what he’d set out to do, or had fallen short of the rigorous standards he expected of himself. The people he’d hurt, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Whatever his professional track record might indicate about his character and integrity, however many personal sacrifices he’d made in the pursuit of doing good, and in spite of his history of saving lives and bringing justice to the wrongdoers of this world, there were moments when all he could see about himself was fault and weakness, and his mind was preyed on by remorse and self-blame over the path he’d taken in his life.

And yet, for all that, in his more reflective moments even he had to admit that he must have done some good things too. Because every now and then, according to the laws of fate, or karma, or whatever obscure metaphysical forces were responsible for the allocation of recompenses and just deserts, as the case may be, an unexpected reward came to him that he couldn’t otherwise have deserved.