the air. Manny had been on the porch, the porch with glass doors! Kendrick had to get out there. He had to! He rushed into the smoke and fire of the living room, shielding his eyes and his nostrils, when suddenly a figure flew into the shattered front windows, crashing through the fragments of glass. The man rolled on the floor and sprang to his feet.
'Ahbyahd!' screamed Evan, paralysed.
'You!' roared the Palestinian, his weapon levelled. 'My life has glory! Glory! Beloved Allah be praised! You bring me great happiness!'
'Am I worth it to you? So many killed? So many butchered? Am I really worth it? Does your Allah demand so much death?'
'You can speak of death? shrieked the terrorist. 'Azra dead! Yaakov dead! Zaya killed by Jews from the skies over the Baaka! All the others… hundreds, thousands—dead! Now, Amal Bahrudi, such a clever traitor, I take you to hell'
'Not yet came the voice, half whispered, half shouted from the archway leading to the porch. The words were accompanied by two loud, reverberating gunshots that momentarily drowned out the rapid fire outside. Ahbyahd, the white-haired one, arched back under the impact of the powerful weapon, a portion of his skull blown away. Emmanuel Weingrass, his face and shirt drenched with blood, his left shoulder pressed into the interior of the arch, slid to the floor.
'Manny!' yelled Kendrick, racing over to the old architect, kneeling down and lifting his upper body off the hard floor. 'Where are you hit?'
'Where wasn't I?' replied Weingrass throatily, with difficulty. 'Check the two girls! When… everything started they went to the windows… I tried to stop them. Check them, goddamn you!'
Evan looked over at the two bodies on the porch. Beyond them, the sliding doors were no more than frames bordering sharp, pointed fragments of thick glass. The car bomb had done its work; there was little left of two human beings but shredded skin and blood. 'There's nothing to check, Manny. I'm sorry.'
'Oh, you call yourself a God in your fucking heaven!' screamed Weingrass, tears welling in his eyes. 'What more do you want, you fraud!' The old man collapsed into unconsciousness.
Outside the gunfire stopped. Kendrick prepared for the worst, wrenching the .357 Magnum out of Manny's hand, wondering briefly who had given it to him, instantly knowing it was Gee-Gee Gonzalez. He gently lowered Weingrass and stood up. He walked cautiously into the smouldering living room and was suddenly assaulted by the stench of wet smoke, aware that water was showering out of the ceiling sprinklers.
A gunshot! He dropped to the floor, his eyes darting in all directions, followed by his weapon.
'Four!' shouted a voice from beyond the shattered windows. 'I count four!'
'One went inside!' yelled another. 'Approach and fire at any goddamn thing that moves! Christ, I don't want our body count! And I also don't want one of these motherfuckers to walk out alive! Do you understand me?'
'Understood.'
'He's dead!' yelled Evan with what voice he had left. 'But there's another, a wounded man in here. He's alive and he's severely wounded and he's one of us.'
'Congressman? Is that you, Mr. Kendrick?'
'It's me, and I never want to hear that title again.' Once more the telephone started ringing. Evan got to his feet and headed wearily towards the charred pine desk, drenched by the separated sprays from the sprinklers. Suddenly, he saw the nurse who had saved his life walk hesitantly around the stone arch of the hallway. 'Stay out of here,' he said. 'I don't want you to go out there.'
'I heard you say there was someone wounded, sir. That's what I'm trained for.'
The telephone kept ringing.
'Him, yes. Not the others. I don't want you to see the others!'
'I'm no spring chicken, Congressman. I did three tours of duty in 'Nam.'
'But these were your friends!'
