hundred-plus years since its founding.
At the western entrance, near the Muristan market, an icon of the Lamb of God surmounted the door, flanked by the engraving of a Prussian eagle on one side and a Maltese cross on the other, the third symbol dating back to the Crusading order of St. John.
The only Protestant church in the Old City, it was still in use as both a tourist destination and a functioning house of worship. And as Harry had said, security was virtually non-existent.
Above the church, high above the neo-Romanesque architecture of the Berliner Friedrich Adler, rose the bell tower. From its lofty height, one could gaze down on well-nigh the entire city.
And have a clear shot at almost anyone in the Haram al-Sharif…
“We just heard from WHIPPOORWILL,” Carol Chambers announced, standing in the door of David Lay’s office. “Nichols and the team have made it safely to land. Phase 2 is beginning.”
There was no response and for a long moment she thought her father hadn’t heard the message. Then a long, heavy sigh escaped his lips. “You realize what we just did, don’t you? We put a team on the ground inside an ally’s borders. It’s like playing Russian roulette-God knows the Clandestine Service won’t survive if this goes south. It’ll be the ammunition used to shut down all our capacity for black-ops, everything we’ve built since the Bush administration.”
Carol gazed keenly at him across the room. “Is that the game Hancock is playing?”
“God knows,” David Lay repeated, shaking his head. “He’s given us Hobson’s choice-which is no choice at all, really. How are you holding up?”
A faint smile crossed her face. “The coffee consumed by the op-center staff in the last twenty-four hours would float the
“People understand why we can’t bring on another shift?”
“Operational need-to-know,” Carol nodded. “Restrict the number of people that realize we could be triggering a world war.”
A grim smile. “That’s right. Housekeeping moved a sofa into Conference Room #3. I’ll be in there if you need me. It’s going to be a long night…”
They left separately, their departures staggered in time. First, Thomas-then Tex and Farshid Hossein together. A body of men traveling together tended to attract undue attention in Palestine, something Harry wanted to avoid at all costs.
“You understand I’ll need you to take point on this,” Harry said when he and Hamid were alone at last. Davood was behind the wheel of an idling SUV ten yards away, waiting. “With Husayni insisting on only Muslims entering the masjid, you’re going to be the one most likely to be exposed.”
“It’s what I told the director, Harry,” Hamid replied quietly. “I knew the risks when I joined up. What’s to be done concerning…him?”
The unspoken name of the traitor seemed to hang like an iron weight between the two men. After a moment of awkward silence, Hamid cleared his throat. “I’ll handle it if you want me to. As a Muslim, his betrayal is my shame, after all.”
“It’s mine to do,” Harry replied, grim resolution on his face as he glanced toward the vehicle where their target sat. To be discussing his imminent death-was sickening. He had been one of them… “His blood will be on all our hands, but it is my responsibility. I trusted him.”
Hamid put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. We
“I know. There will be time after the mission.” Harry gazed deeply into his friend’s eyes. “It’s mine to do.”
A brief nod was the only reply. “This is a long shot, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“This mission-it’s a Hail Mary pass. We don’t have much chance of scoring. Long odds.”
Harry smiled at the choice of words. “You want decent odds, move to Vegas. In the mean time, I’ll see you in Jerusalem.”
“May Allah guide our steps,” Hamid responded, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his lips. “I’ll see you there.”
He turned and walked back to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat.
Harry watched them go, carefully timing their departure by his dive watch. Ten minutes, and he too would leave. He turned, walking back to the dirt-brown old Citroen that WHIPPOORWILL had procured for his use. It was the perfect clandestine car, nondescript and anonymous.
He slid in on the worn leather seat, letting out a long sigh as he leaned back. He was so tired, emotionally and physically.
What was it about Davood? What had turned him? Or had he been part of it from the start, a sleeper agent waiting for activation?
Questions without answers. They would never know the truth. But the blood price would be paid.
Harry tapped the brakes and put the car into drive…
Chapter Eighteen
“For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Nichols has been spotted in Israel in the company of known Iranian terrorists,” Shoham stated, throwing both pictures on the desk.
Gideon Laner picked them up, then passed them on back to Yossi. “And one of them’s dead.”
“I’m afraid that is irrelevant in the face of the conclusion that must be drawn. The Americans are running a clandestine operation on our shores, and it involves our greatest enemy. For the past two weeks, we’ve been monitoring a spike in chatter emanating from Iran outward to the Arab states. Yesterday it dropped off and went silent.”
All three men knew the significance of that. “The attack is imminent,” Yossi nodded, his voice quiet.
Shoham’s hand moved to the computer at his desk. “Our analysts spent the last twenty-four hours decoding this conversation between Shirazi and His Royal Highness, Prince Ibrahim bin Abdul Aziz al-Saud.”
He hit a button and the tape began to roll. It hadn’t been translated, but no matter. They were all fluent in Arabic. First the voice of the Iranian president.
“The time has come…as it was spoken of by the Prophet, peace be upon him. We will rise up and claim the birthright of the faithful, the true.”
“Everything is in readiness?” the prince asked.
“Turn your face toward the northern sky, my brother, for tomorrow the first blow is struck against the infidel. Jewish blood will run once more in the streets of Al-Quds.”
“
