with localized damage from air bursts over the targets.
By far the worst effects are noted in central Arabia, where a ground burst on a Saudi airfield produced effects described as 'enormously bad.' Experts predict the region may be radioactive for years, though most of the nuclides descended locally owing to light winds in the area.
One moderate Arab diplomat described the Saudis as 'livid with rage,' since Riyadh had limited its participation to air support and a few units in southern Jordan. In contrast, no atomic attack was launched against Iran, which played a major role in the war against Israel from the beginning. Informed speculation held that the distance was too great for fighter-bombers to penetrate layers of Arab air defenses. Other authorities, noting Israel possesses long-range Jericho missiles, believe the initial attacks were warnings of a second wave to be launched in the event the war continued. Military experts note that neither side can defend against missiles, and that Israel- perhaps 24 hours from collapse-had nothing to lose in that event.
Israeli ambassador Avrim Ran told a news conference that no Arab troops should remain in Israel within 72 hours. In exchange, Tel Aviv will cede the West Bank to U. N. control while acknowledging the 'loss' of Jordan as the long-awaited Palestinian homeland.
Chapter 17
The doorbell rang in the house on Mill Avenue. The young father shouted 'I'll get it.' and walked briskly through the living room. He opened the door to see a well-built man in his late thirties, leaning on a cane. The visitor had a dark tan, and his curly black hair was flecked with premature gray.
'Mr. Paul Bennett?' the visitor asked. 'Yes. '
'I phoned you yesterday, from the airport.'
Paul opened the screen door. 'Oh, yes. Of course, Mr. '
'Levi Bar-El.' The visitor extended his hand.
'Mr. Bar-El. Please come in.' Paul stepped back and bumped into his daughter. 'Be careful, Angelina.' The girl was nine years old with light brown hair and big gray eyes. Uncertain of what to make of the stranger, she retreated to the corner to join her younger brother, Edward.
Paul showed Bar-EI to the sofa, careful to seat him where his left leg would not be cramped. Paul assumed the Israeli had been injured in the war, as he had mentioned research for a book when he phoned.
After giving Bar-El an iced tea, Paul Bennett asked, 'What may I do for you? I assume you want to know about my father.'
Levi Bar-EI sipped his tea and nodded. His gaze took in the dining room and Mrs. Bennett's silverware. Then his scan stopped at the mantle. He leaned forward, staring at a green figurine. It was a pregnant woman.
Momentarily distracted, Bar-El recovered quickly. Turning to Paul, he said, 'Actually, Mr. Bennett, I know a great deal about your father. I thought I might be able to tell you a few things about him.'
For most of the afternoon the former intelligence officer described the inner workings of Tiger Force. Some of the names were familiar to Paul. Bar-El had talked to Peter Saint-Martin and Geoff Hampton in London, where he had signed a contract with a publisher for a history of the war. They in turn had led him to some of the Americans.
The most helpful IP was Congressman Tim Ottman of New York.
Though few of his constituents knew anything about Tiger Force, they admired the second-term representative for his candor and his humor. He had stolen more than one tense press conference with an elaborate display of skill with an old yellow yo-yo. However, House staffers knew Tim Ottman to be exceptionally well informed on tactical airpower. A few regarded this as normal for a former Air Force pilot, but others wondered about his sense of urgency in procuring a mix of simple, reliable aircraft and complex, expensive ones.
Not all Tiger Force IPs were anxious to talk to an Israeli officer.
But some were professionally curious, and others bore no grudge. Paul Bennett himself was mildly surprised to find he liked the disabled Israeli, and questioned him closely.
Paul asked about the remaining Saudi F-20 pilots. He knew that many had perished in the explosion at Ha'il or from the radiation effects thereafter. While not telling all he knew, Bar-El said that some still were in the program and two or three had been promoted to seniority beyond their years. Paul already knew that Lieutenant Colonel Rajid Hamir was headed for the top. They kept in touch by mail and by phone.
The next day Levi Bar-El took an airliner to Seattle and rented a car at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. He had phoned Ed Lawrence from Phoenix to confirm the meeting. Actually, Devil already knew of the Israeli's interest in Tiger Force and looked forward to the meeting with cautious anticipation.
Ed and Nancy Lawrence lived on twenty acres near Renton, where they raised Arabian horses and llamas. Peter Saint-Martin and Tim Ottman had said that Devil surprised everyone who knew him by settling down to a happy married life, and the irony was not lost upon them. Like John Bennett, they had expected the Tiger Force exec to die in an F-20 or, failing that, to drift away as an aerial beachcomber.
No one was more surprised than Lawrence himself. A lifelong bachelor, he had met Nancy Mays on a Boeing 737 to Phoenix. An uncommonly pretty brunette, she had startling green eyes and a genuine curiosity about flying that captivated him. But her interest should have been no surprise-she was captain of the airliner, and they talked shop at length.
Two years later they married and built a home on Lawrence's property near Renton. In addition to their animals they maintained a Champion Citabria in a small hangar on their private airstrip. It was a trim little aircraft, sporting a red-and-white color scheme. Lawrence had intended to paint three yellow and six blue stars below the left window, but Nancy refused to allow it.
From a lifetime of globe-trotting the Lawrences were content to remain at home with their son, John B. The boy was almost three now and already had more flight time than some private pilots. Ed and Nancy Lawrence always made it to the Tiger Force reunions, but his attendance had dropped off at the Tailhook and Red River Rat gatherings. He was mildly surprised to find he preferred staying home.
It was mid-afternoon when Levi Bar-EI finally found the farm, 'Devil's Den.' Nancy greeted him and led him to the hangar, where Lawrence was pulling unauthorized maintenance on the Citabria's Lycoming engine. Bar-El followed Nancy inside, appreciatively noting her shapely figure. She wore designer jeans and a faded blue T-shirt with some sort of black-and-white naval insignia on the front. Nancy introduced the Israeli, made him at ease, and returned to the house.
Lawrence had weathered the years in good form, Bar-EI thought.
The red hair was lightly streaked with gray, but the bright blue eyes and dazzling white smile seemed to erase ten or more of the aviator's 54 years. They sat and talked cautiously at first, feeling out one anothers' attitudes.
At length Lawrence motioned outside and suggested they sit by the fence in the evening's low sun. The Israeli leaned his back against the rails, easing the load on his bad leg. He noticed some llamas and horses in the pasture, but paid them scant attention.
Lawrence was describing his pilot training philosophy when Bar-El let out a shout. It was more of surprise than pain. Lawrence saw the cause and laughed aloud, in spite of himself. When Bar-El turned, he was eyeball to eyeball with a magnificent stud llama. The animal had curiously stuck his nose in the back of Bar-EI's neck.
'He's just mooching,' Lawrence explained. 'Wants to see if you have anything to eat.' He waved his orange ballcap at the black-and-white animal, who raised its head and gurgled. 'Damn it, Rambo, get away. You're the biggest chowhound in three states.'
Distracted, Bar-El took in the livestock again. 'You make a living with these creatures, Mr. Lawrence?'
The aviator shrugged and laughed. 'Yeah, pretty good. Rambo here would go for about forty thousand dollars if we wanted to sell him. But he's like an overgrown pet. Llamas seem to go with Arabian horses and Nancy likes to ride. I prefer the llamas myself, but I enjoy the horses, too.' He looked around. 'That one over there'-he pointed to a dappled gray-and-white mare-'is our prize breeder. Aren't you, Inshallah?' He whistled and the animal pricked up her ears.
