leave.
Omar leaned back against the stones, a look of sadness coming into his eyes. “As you have found me, may you find your faith, my son. Allah guide your steps.”
“The Land Rover is parked outside the Hammam al-Shifa in Nablus. The men went inside.”
“How long have they been there?” Harry asked, glancing at his watch.
There was a brief pause, then Carter responded, “About thirty minutes.”
“Do we know what’s there?”
“I hear it’s a good place to get a massage, but no, we don’t have anything that would explain their presence there.”
Harry looked over at Asefi. The bodyguard was looking away from him, out the window of the car, but no doubt listening to the conversation. “Hold one, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Make it quick,” Carter advised. “CRUCIFIX is fifteen minutes out. We need you ready to move as soon as he makes the delivery.”
“Roger that.” Harry slipped the phone back in his pocket and sat there for a moment, alternatives, options playing through his mind. Choices. His eyes wandered to the rear-view mirror and he could see Tex seated on an idling motorcycle about thirty yards back toward the highway.
There was only one choice when it came down to it.
“Ready to go?” Asefi asked, glancing idly back toward the highway. There was no response to his question, just silence. His head jerked around, panic gripping his body in a premonition of evil.
He was staring down the barrel of a gun. “Wh-what’s going on?”
“You lied to us,” the man responded, his voice containing all the warmth of an arctic storm.
“Get out.”
“I don’t understand,” the bodyguard protested, pushing open the driver’s side door and stepping out. “What’s going on?”
“Simple, Achmed,” the American replied, keeping the hood of the car between the two of them. Disarming him was no longer a viable option. “You lied to us, took our money, sold us out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Eight million dollars, Achmed. We paid that money for reliable intelligence and you sold us a bill of goods.”
“A bill of goods? What do you mean?”
The pistol never wavered as the American continued, cold anger in his tones. “The target never was the Masjid al-Aqsa, was it? Just a city of 130,000 souls. And you take your money and ride off into the sunset.”
“A city?” Asefi demanded, the earth seeming to swim beneath his feet. He leaned forward, his hands against the hood of the car. “What are you saying?”
“Nablus is what I’m talking about. One of the largest cities of the West Bank. Thousands of Palestinians are going to die and it’s going to be your pretext for war. That crap about the Temple Mount was just that, a smokescreen to divert our efforts.”
“No, no, I told you the truth,” the bodyguard replied desperately, a cold sweat breaking forth upon his body. Everything he had said was a lie, but-Nablus? Nothing made sense. “I swear it.”
“You swear it, Achmed? Then tell me, why are your people in the Hammam al-Shifa of Nablus?”
Asefi shook his head. “I don’t know. By the beard of the Prophet, I don’t know!”
The American took a step closer, thumbing off the safety of the Colt. The metallic
“I don’t know,” Asefi repeated, his pride the only thing left keeping him on his feet. Another moment and his life would be snuffed out. The American’s face was expressionless, void of emotion. A death mask.
A minute passed, then another as Harry stared into the Iranian’s eyes through his gunsights. Truth was written there for him. Whatever else Asefi might be concealing, he knew nothing about Nablus. He’d seen what he needed to see.
He lowered the pistol and gestured to Achmed. “Back in the car, please.”
The Iranian obeyed numbly, his legs seeming on the verge of collapse, and Harry watched him, fishing in his pocket for the satphone. Their leads were wearing thin…
“Anything on the
“They need something,” he retorted, almost snapping at her. She glanced into his bloodshot eyes and let it pass. He was running on fumes. They all were.
He ran his fingers through his already-tousled hair. “Building schematics?”
“Ron, the Hammam al-Shifa was built in 1624,” Carol replied. “I can’t even find a floor plan.”
“So, we’re sending them in blind.” He stared past her, at the satellite feed displayed on her workstation. “Something’s not right here. I can just feel it.”
Harry stood along the side of the highway, watching as an old Dodge Caravan pulled off the road toward him.
As it neared, he could see the face of Avraham Najeri behind the wheel and he made a small hand gesture, directing the weapons dealer onto the side road.
Thoughts of his first meeting with Najeri flashed through his mind as he followed him along the road, waiting as he shifted the Dodge into park.
Harry had been a young agent then, barely two years in the field. Najeri, God only knew-the Arab had always seemed ageless. Objective: the forced extradition of a Chechen war criminal from the Gaza Strip. The dealer’s advice had been invaluable then.
So little had changed. As Harry approached, he could see the small statue of the Virgin Mary standing erect on the dashboard. A symbol that carried a risk of its own in this land, but Najeri was undeterred. And still alive.
“
“
“It’s been far too long. You are well?”
“I am,” Harry replied, seeing the look of uncertainty in Najeri’s eyes. The expectation that he would see others with Harry.
It wasn’t going to happen. Asefi was bound and gagged in the trunk of the car and Tex…well, Tex was
