narrow opening and split up. Helen and her Alpha team went right. Frazer and the rest of Bravo went left.
They came out into a vast open space. Temple Emet’s worship hall cantered on an altar positioned dead- canter between the two enormous stained-glass windows. Behind the altar stood the Ark a sliding curtain fifteen feet high and six feet wide that concealed the synagogue’s Torahs, the scrolls of the Old Testament and Jewish law. Two lecterns stood beside the altar one for the rabbi and one for the cantor. Rows of chairs for the congregation faced east, toward the altar and the Ark. Just inside the big double doors, carpeted staircases on the north and south walls led up into the choir loft.
Helen knelt by the southern stairs and peered upward with the submachine gun cradled in her hands. The terrorists and their hostages were still out of sight above her and around a bend in the staircase. She glanced over her shoulder. Frazer and his men were set.
She took a deep breath, trying to settle her racing pulse, and then let it out. She keyed her mike. “Charlie Team, this is Alpha One. Go! Go! Go!”
Before she finished speaking, four sections of the huge stained-glass windows shattered inward. Four muzzles poked through the jagged holes. Two of the weapons were Remington-made sniper rifles. The other two were M16s equipped with the M203 grenade launcher.
WHUMMP. WHUMMP. The launchers coughed once each, hurling two flash/bang grenades into the loft.
Helen was on her feet and charging up the stairs even before the grenades went off. Bursts of blinding light and deafening noise smashed at her senses. She rounded the corner and threw herself up the last few steps into a wild, shrieking tumult. Women and children and grown men staggered everywhere in utter confusion.
With her submachine gun held at shoulder level, Helen yelled, “FBI! FBI! Everybody down!”
Deeper voices echoed her shouts from behind her and from the other side of the loft. Most of the disoriented people in her field of view began diving for the floor. All but a few.
Out of the left corner of her goggles, Helen saw a young, hard-faced man whirling toward her with an assault rifle in his hands. She spun left and squeezed the trigger on her submachine gun. Three rounds fired at a point-blank range slammed into the terrorist. His chest and neck exploded and he toppled backward out of sight over a row of chairs.
A sniper rifle cracked off to the right. She glanced that way in time to see a tall, black-haired man shriek in horror and agony, stagger backward, and tumble over the railing into the synagogue below.
Two down.
Still probing for targets, Helen advanced through the tangle of seats and writhing bodies. Purposeful movement near the organ caught her eye. She turned that way and saw a third man in camouflage fatigues, older and gone to fat, painfully crawling toward a metal box. Different-colored wires led out from the box to all four corners of the loft.
She fired another three-round burst. So did several of her men. The older man’s body literally disintegrated under a hail of steel jacketed bullets. Blood, shattered bone, and torn flesh sprayed across the organ keyboard.
Helen looked away, choking down a sudden urge to vomit. Three terrorists down. She moved away, hunting through the muddle for more bad guys. Frazer, Brett, and the rest fanned out with her, their weapons still ready. But there were no more men to kill.
The ringing in her ears faded away, making room for the terrified whimpers of the women and children she’d come to rescue. Helen turned slowly through a full circle, checking them over. Beyond a few bruises and scrapes, nobody seemed seriously hurt. At least physically. They would all have nightmares for years, she knew.
She spoke into her radio again. “Sierra One, this is Alpha. The loft is secure. Repeat, the loft is secure.”
But she barely heard Lang’s jubilant response. It was as though her words had broken through a massive dam inside, opening the way for the great wave of weariness and sorrow that came crashing over her.
Helen found herself staring through a numbed haze at the mangled remains of the older man she’d shot. Then her knees buckled and she sat down hard with her head spinning. She heard retching noises from close by as other men under her command threw up. Most of them had never killed anyone before. Even the veterans who had seen death before stood silent and hollow-eyed. She closed her own eyes tightly, shutting out the carnage.
When she opened them, she saw Lang kneeling beside her, watching her closely.
Helen smiled faintly. “Well, John, I guess we won.”
He nodded somberly. “You won.”
CHAPTER 10
BACKGROUND NOISE
The producers of the PBS Newshour were delighted with their Washington-based anchor’s interview of the U.S. Attorney General. Normally dour and reserved, Sarah Carpenter was in full swing and high dudgeon the very picture of official outrage at the terrorist attack on Temple Emet. She was making her anger and disgust plain with every icy word.
“According to reports this morning, the FBI has now positively identified the three dead terrorists James Burke, Anthony McGowan, and David Keller as ringleaders of a neo-Nazi fringe group located just outside of Richmond, Virginia. Are those reports accurate?” the interviewer asked.
The Attorney General nodded briskly. “They are. Our investigation has revealed that these men were the leaders of a white supremacist organisation called the Aryan Sword. We believe this organisation may also have been involved in the earlier murder of a local civil rights leader, John Malcolm.” She pursed her lips. “Past administrations have turned a blind eye toward the activities of fanatical, right-wing hate groups. This administration will not.”
“In what way, Ms. Carpenter?”
She leaned forward. “With the President’s approval, I have instructed the FBI and all other appropriate federal law enforcement agencies to immediately redouble their efforts against these potential terrorists.”
“And can you give us the broad outlines of these expanded efforts?”
“Certainly. We intend to mount a coordinated campaign on a number of fronts. First, we will increase our surveillance of known and suspected neo-Nazi terror groups. Second, I will direct the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms to take other steps to boost its seizures of illegal weapons and explosives. We will also take legal measures against illicit underground publications that advocate violence or promote bigotry and race hatred.” The Attorney General tapped the table in front of her for emphasis as she spoke. “Perhaps most important of all, I intend to seek immediate congressional action to toughen and expand our federal gun control laws. We must make it impossible for these criminals and right-wing hatemongers to acquire weapons of death and destruction.”
The PBS anchorman arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Surely only a very small proportion of the American people espouse such extremist views?”
“On the surface, the numbers are small,” she agreed. “But I believe it would be a grave error to underestimate the threat the radical right poses to this nation. We live in an increasingly complex and fragile society. In such a situation, even a tiny number of fanatics are capable of causing enormous damage.”
“You sound as though you anticipate more terror attacks like the one at Temple Emet, Ms. Carpenter.”
The Attorney General nodded grimly. “In my considered judgment, we now face a much graver threat from within our borders than from without. I’m afraid that the new terrorist threat we must combat is largely homegrown the terrible product of American racism and bigotry.”
General Amir Taleh watched the images flickering across his television screen with satisfaction. This American official, Sarah Carpenter, was unknowingly sowing the seeds for his own campaign.
Monitoring U.S. news broadcasts for items of special interest was one of the primary duties of the Iranian Interest section in Washington, D.C. At Taleh’s express order, tapes that met certain preselected criteria were
