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featured a huge central display of purple and white flowers. It was the kind of hotel where everything was marble and polished wood, where you felt like you were worth a million. In Selena's case, she was. Her uncle's death two years before had left her a rich woman.
    The next day they set off for Mount Nebo, 40 kilometers south of Amman. The road south was modern blacktop, busy with heavy truck traffic. The Land Rover ran smoothly over the pavement.
    The day was hot and clear . Once out of the city, the desert stretched in all directions, a harsh landscape of sand and rock that sent shimmering heat ripples into the air under the brilliant sun. Selena wore a loose blue scarf around her neck and a white cotton blouse that set off her tan. There was a brown leather pouch on her belt. A calf-length cotton skirt and hiking boots completed the outfit. The gun was tucked away in the pouch. Her violet eyes were hidden behind dark brown sunglasses. Wind from the open window ruffled her hair.
    Nick had opted for jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and a light jacket to conceal his holster. He wore Ray-Bans against the relentless light. The air smelled of the desert, dry and clean. It probably smelled like this when Moses was here , he thought.
    "We're right in the heart of the Old Testament," Selena said. "Moses is supposed to be buried where we're going, on Mount Nebo. This whole area was fought over for centuries. The Israelites, the Moabites, the Ammonites, the Byzantines, the Nabateans."
    "You wonder why," Nick said. " Who would want it? This is a desolate place. Look at it. Sand, rock, sun. Hell, the nearest water is the Dead Sea. Reminds me of parts of Utah or Nevada."
    "You won't find anything like Las Vegas here," she said.
    They turned west at Madaba, a town famous for elaborate Byzantine mosaics. From there it was another ten kilometers to Mount Nebo. The road leading up the mountain was paved in a herring bone pattern of gray-blue and light stone, bordered by stone curbing and tall Eucalyptus trees on both sides.
    They had come to one of the most famous places in the Bible.
    They parked and walked the rest of the way to the top, where a chapel had been built in the 4th Century CE to commemorate the death of Moses. A Byzantine church had followed two hundred years later. Now it was a Franciscan monastery, a focal point of anger for the Muslim extremists. A shelter had been erected over the ruins of the old church to form the new Memorial Chapel.
    A low wall of limestone blocks marked the edge of the summit. A tall, modern sculpture of Moses' staff rose like a silent sentinel into the sky. Before them stretched the desert battleground of the three great Western religions.
    The Holy Land.
    "Hell of a view," Nick said. "You can see all the way to Jerusalem from here."
    "Is that all you can say?" she said. "A hell of a view?" She shook her head.
    "What do you expect me to say? All I know is that a lot of people died here for thousands of years because they had different names for God. They're still dying. It's as senseless now as it was back then."
    Selena changed the subject. She pointed to the left at a large body of water. "That's the Dead Sea. And over there you can just make out the West Bank of the Jordan."
    The sun beat down on them, hot and searing. "It does give you a sense of history," Nick said. "Imagine walking through that wasteland thousands of years ago. It must have been tough."
    "Let's look inside the church."
    They walked to the building. Nick stopped and bent down to tie his boot. "Don't look around. We're being followed. There's a man wearing a yellow shirt and a ball cap behind us. He was at the airport and I saw him again at the hotel."
    "He could be a tourist," she said. "We're not the only ones that want to come here."
    "Maybe."
    They stepped out of the bright sun into the cool shade of the chapel. It was open on the sides. The limestone ruins and broken columns of the original building were covered by a wide,