and dropped to the ground.
High-tech security was extremely expensive, and terrorists could rarely afford it. Fundamentalists who became terrorists maintained such an extreme secrecy that their paranoia prevented them from seeking out the necessary hardware, the sales of which were often too closely monitored for their tastes. At least, that was the theory, and she could only hope it was correct and be cautious as hell.
With that in mind, she released the wire from the dart, pulled the coil over the wall after it, and returned everything to her backpack. She melted through the vegetation toward the unseen villa.
Dr. Emile Chambord paused, his hands on the lid of the glass tray. 'It's possible. Yes, I believe you're right, Colonel. We should be able to escape that way. It appears you're indeed more than a physician.'
'We've got to go immediately. No telling when they'll discover I'm here.' He nodded at the computer, which was only partially disassembled. 'There's no more time. We'll take the gel packs and leave the rest'
There was a noise out in the corridor, the door flung open, and Abu Auda and three armed terrorists rushed in, weapons raised. Therese cried out, and Dr. Chambord attempted to jump in front of her to protect her with his pistol. Instead, the scientist stumbled heavily into Jon, destroying his balance.
Jon recovered, grabbed for his Walther, and spun. It was too late to destroy the DNA prototype, but he could damage it so that Chambord would need days to make it operational again. That would buy Randi and Peter time to find it, if he were not around to help.
But before Jon's gun could home in on the gel packs, Abu Auda and his men jumped him, knocked the pistol away, and wrestled him to the floor.
'Really, Doctor.' Mauritania had followed his men into the room. He pulled Chambord's pistol away from him. 'This is hardly your style. I don't know whether to be impressed or shocked.'
Abu Auda jumped to his feet and pointed his assault rifle down at Jon's head where he lay on the floor tiles. 'You've given us enough trouble.'
'Stop,' Mauritania ordered. 'Don't kill him. Think, Abu Auda. An army doctor is one thing, but the American colonel we saw in action in Toledo who's managed to find us again is quite another. We may have need of him before this is finished. Who knows how valuable he may be to the Americans?'
Abu Auda did not move, the rifle still at Jon's head. His erect, angry posture radiated intent to kill. Mauritania said his name again. He looked at Mauritania. His eyes blinked thoughtfully, and the fire in them slowly banked.
At last, he decided, 'Wasting a resource is a sin.'
'Yes.'
Abu Auda gestured with disgust, and his men hauled Smith to his feet. 'Let me see the doctor's gun.' Mauritania handed him Chambord's pistol, and he examined it. 'It's one of ours. Someone will pay for this carelessness.'
Mauritania's attention returned to Smith. 'Destroying the computer would've been a futile gesture in any event, Colonel Smith. Dr. Chambord would simply have had to build us another.'
'Never,' Therese Chambord insisted and pulled away from Mauritania.
'She hasn't been friendly, Colonel Smith. Pity.' He glanced back at her. 'You underestimate your power, my dear. Your father would build us another. After all, we have you, and we have him. Your life, his own life, and all the work he will do in the future. Much too high a price to save a few people from a bad day, wouldn't you say? After all, the Americans would not be as concerned about you or me. We'd be a small ancillary cost 'collateral damage,' they call it while they took what they wanted.'
'He'll never build you another!' Therese raged. 'Why do you think he stole your pistol!'
'Ah?' Mauritania raised an eyebrow at the scientist. 'A Roman act, Dr. Chambord? You'd fall onto your sword before you'd help us in our dastardly attack? How foolish, but how brave to consider such a gesture. My congratulations.' He looked at Jon. 'And you are equally foolish, Colonel, to think you could stop us for any length of time by putting a few bullets into the doctor's creation.' The terrorist leader sighed almost sadly. 'Please give us credit for some intelligence. Accidents are always possible, so naturally we have the materials at hand for the doctor to rebuild, should you decide to martyr yourself even now.' He shook his head. 'That's perhaps you Americans' worst sin hubris. Your so-smug assumption of your own superiority in all things, from your borrowed technology to your unexamined beliefs and assumed invulnerability. A smug assumption you often extend to include your friends, the Jews.'
'This isn't religious or even cultural with you, Mauritania,' Jon told him. 'You're just like every other aspiring dictator. Look at you. This is profoundly personal. And disgusting.'
Mauritania's pale eyes were alight, and his small body bristled with energy. There was an air about him of almost godlike invincibility, as if he alone had seen heaven and had been charged with the mission of not simply spreading God's word, but enforcing it.
'This from a heathen,' Mauritania mocked. 'Your greedy nation has turned the Middle East into a series of puppet monarchies. You gorge on our resources while the world struggles to find food for the next meal. That's your pattern everywhere. You're the richest nation the planet's ever known, but you manipulate and hoard and then wonder why no one thanks you, much less likes you. Because of you, one of every three people doesn't have enough to eat, and one billion are actually starving. Are we to be grateful?'
'Let's talk about all the innocents that'll be killed in your attack on Israel,' Jon retorted. 'The Koran says, 'You shall not kill any man whom God has forbidden you to kill, except for a just cause.' That's from your sacred writings, Mauritania. There's no justness in your cause, just cold-eyed, selfish ambition. You're fooling no one but the poor souls you've lied to so they'd follow you.'
Therese accused, 'You're hiding behind a god you've invented.'
Mauritania ignored her. He told Jon, 'For us, the man protects his women. They are not to be on public display for all to touch with their eyes.'
But Jon was no longer listening, nor was he watching Therese and Mauritania. He was focused on Emile Chambord, who had said nothing since Mauritania, Abu Auda, and their men had rushed in. The scientist stood exactly where he had been when he tried to protect Therese. He was silent, looking at no one in particular, not even at his daughter. He seemed almost unconcerned. Perhaps he was in shock, paralyzed. Or maybe his thoughts were no longer here in this room, but somewhere else where there were no worries and the future was safe. Watching Chambord made Jon uneasy.
'We talk too much,' Abu Auda announced and beckoned his men forward. 'Take them out and lock them in the punishment cell. If even one should escape,' he warned his followers, 'I'll have all your eyes.'
Mauritania stopped Abu Auda. 'Leave Chambord. We have work to do, do we not, Doctor? Tomorrow will see a changed world, a new beginning for mankind.' The little terrorist leader chortled with genuine pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Randi watched the two armed sentries cross at the front of the villa, followed by another who came out of the entrance. The two who crossed were walking easily, relaxed, laughing to each other. The solitary sentry stopped on the terrace outside the front door and stared appreciatively up at the moonlit night, savoring the citrus- scented breeze and the cool weather and the few clouds that were floating gently across the starry sky.
There was a laxness about them, as if they had been doing this too long with nothing happening. They were expecting nothing to happen. This told her the Crescent Shield had spotted neither her insertion nor her climb over the wall. As she had hoped, there were no motion detectors, closed-circuit cameras, or optical scanners mounted at the perimeter. The villa itself could be another matter.
She had reconnoitered the area, finding barracks and a training camp, a road out to the east-west coastal highway, and a helipad with one dark old U.S. Army Huey, and one equally old Hughes OH-6 Loach scout, guarded by a single sleepy terrorist wearing a white turban. Now she circled past the villa's front and through the vegetation, hidden by it from both the arid area of olive trees and the sea. She stopped to study the villa again, which lay like a reclining white phantom, most of its windows dark, only its mosaic dome glowing like some alien spaceship.
