'I am code name Blue. That is my response and I will give no other—’
'Code name what?
'Blue.'
'Oh, my God …' whispered Evan, glancing over at the dead Azra. He turned back to the Israeli and, without comment, handed the Uzi machine pistol to the stunned commando. 'Go ahead,' he said softly. 'Shoot up the fucking world. I don't give a damn.' With those words, Kendrick walked to the door and let himself out.
Yaakov stared after the American, at the closed door and then over at the corpse slumped on the floor against the wall. He angled the weapon down with his left hand and with his right pulled out the powerful miniaturized radio from his belt. He pressed a button.
'Itklem,' said the voice of code Black outside the hotel.
'Did you contact the others?'
'Code R did. They're here—or I should say I can see them walking up the Al Ahd now. Our elder colleague is with R; G is with the eldest, but something's wrong with the latter. G is holding him. How about you?'
'I'm no good to you now, maybe later.'
'Orange?'
'He's gone—'
'What?'
'No time. So's the pig. The subject's on his way out; he's in a red and blue uniform. Follow him. He's gone over the edge. Call me at my room, I'll be there.'
As if in a daze, Evan crossed the Wadi Al Ahd and went directly to the line of shrubbery where he had thrown the plastic shopping bag. Whether it was there or not did not really matter; it was simply that he would feel more comfortable, certainly be able to move more quickly and be less of a target now in the clothes from Masqat. Whatever the case, he had gone this far; he could not turn back. Only one man, he kept repeating to himself. If he could find him within the parameters of the meeting ground—the Mahdi! He had to find him!
The shopping bag was where he had left it, and the shadows of the shrubbery were adequate for his purpose. Crouching in the deepest bushes he slowly, article by article, changed clothes. He walked out on the pavement and started west towards the Shaikh Isa Road and the Juma Mosque.
* * *
'Itklem,' said Yaakov into the radio while lying on the bed in his unsullied room, towels wrapped tightly around his wounds, wet lukewarm towels scattered about the bedspread.
'It's G,' said code Grey. 'How bad are you?'
'Cuts, mainly. Some loss of blood. I'll make it.'
'Then you agree that until you do, I take over?'
That's the line.'
'I wanted to hear it from you.'
'You've heard it.'
'I've got to hear something else. With the pig eliminated do you want us to abort and head back to Masqat? I can force it if your answer's yes.'
Yaakov stared at the ceiling, the conflicts raging inside him, the scathing words of the American still scalding his ears. 'No,' he said haltingly. 'He came too far, he risks too much. Stay with him.'
'About W. I'd like to leave him behind. With you, perhaps—’
'He'd never permit it. That's his “son” out there, remember?'
'You're right, forget it. I might add he's impossible.'
'Tell me something I don't know—’
'I will,' interrupted code Grey. 'The subject dropped the uniform and has just passed us across the street. W spotted him. He's walking like a dead man.'
