Fuse of Armageddon (27 page)

“We need you,” Saxon said. “A lot of money and time went into training you because every single man in this unit matters to our goal. I can’t afford to have you with us if you aren’t committed. I can’t afford to not have you with us. Understood?”

“Understood,” Patterson said.

“Good. Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple. I haven’t forgotten how you forced me to let you phone your wife. Call it what you want, but it was an act of insubordination and I haven’t trusted you since. Fact is, no matter what you might say to me right now, I still won’t trust you. That’s why we’re having this talk. Because it’s what I’m going to say to you next that will allow me to trust you.”

“Sir, you can—”

“Shut up, Patterson. You don’t have any idea how big this is. So I’m going to tell you. You know our military unit is only a small part of a secret network of Christians dedicated to striking back at the network established by Islamic terrorists. All across America, men of influence and power are helping fight the war. All of them Freedom Crusaders, though not all of them soldiers. But you might not know exactly how far the reach is. Except if you were back in Georgia, you would, because you would have heard that your wife has disappeared.”

“What?”

“We are not men to be pushed around,” Saxon said. “You may have believed you won with your little stunt when you called her, but that was only because it served me best for you to keep that illusion. Your wife is gone, and she won’t be returned to you until this operation is completed successfully. So if you want her to live, from here on you obey me without question.”

CCTI Headquarters, Tel Aviv • 10:42 GMT


“You defied a direct order from me,” Hamer said. “Let me guess. Rule one in negotiating is to follow orders unless you don’t feel like following orders.”

“How was his location leaked to the news?” Quinn asked. “That information could only have come from one of two sources. Either Brad Silver clued them in, or someone inside the Mossad did. Either way, you have a major security breach.”

“Are you listening to me?” Hamer moved in on Quinn. He was shorter and older but broad enough to be a substantial physical menace. “
You’re
the security breach. You have just compromised a national security operation.”

“So arrest me,” Quinn said. “It will keep me from getting on a plane and facing a murder indictment. You deal with the next call from Safady.”

“Hey!” Kate protested from a conference chair in the corner of the office.

“While you’re calling Mossad to get the arrest papers signed,” Quinn said to Hamer, “tell them you are going to tell Safady how many men IDF plans to move into the area and where they are.”

“Not a chance. You can’t give up that information.”

“You can. You’ll be talking to him. Not me.”

“Shut up,” Hamer said. “You know he’s demanded that you handle this.”

“So if I’m handling this, I want to know how his location was leaked to the news within minutes of you and the Mossad finding out. If we don’t stop the source, how much damage will the next leak do?”

“You don’t think I’m furious too?” Hamer asked.

“And at the same time, I want the IDF special-ops plans.”

“Not a chance. I just saw how you defied my direct order.”

“Then you and I decide how much information we can give him. We’re going to have to earn as much trust from Safady as possible.”

Hamer glared.

Before he could reply, Brad Silver stepped into the office. “Did I miss anything?”

Quinn stepped away from Hamer. He knelt beside Kate and spoke in a low voice. “Lend me your pistol.”

“No way,” she whispered. “Are you nuts?”

“Trust me on this. We need to know Brad Silver’s involvement here, and this is the most expedient way to find out. Besides, there are IDF agents all over the building. Do you really think I’m going to try to escape?”

“What’s going on?” Brad asked loudly. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Come on,” Quinn whispered.

Still Kate hesitated. He could see distrust in her eyes.

“Trust me.”

Finally she relented. “Safety’s on,” she whispered. She unbuckled the firearm from her holster.

Quinn accepted the pistol, then turned and pointed it at Brad Silver’s chest.

“Give me your cell phone,” Quinn said.

“What?” It was a near shriek from Brad.

“Quinn!” Hamer said.

“Cell phone.” Quinn released the safety. “Drop it and kick it to me.”

“You’re threatening me at gunpoint,” Brad said. “That’s illegal.”

“So’s this.” Quinn pulled the trigger, aiming wide.

Still, the explosion staggered Brad. He dropped to his knees and felt his body as if searching for the bullet entry point.

Quinn spoke calmly. “I want the phone.”

Brad tossed it at Quinn’s feet.

Quinn picked up the phone, turned his back on Brad and Hamer, and moved to the far side of the office. He dropped the cell phone again and pointed the pistol.

“Speed dial this,” he said to Brad. Quinn fired again. The phone exploded. He kicked the jumbled, smoking remains under the couch.

The door to the office was kicked open. IDF security men. But they didn’t stand in the doorway to present a target.

“Major General Hamer?” came a voice from the hallway.

“It’s nothing,” Hamer said, almost weary. “We’re fine.”

“Go out there if you want,” Quinn said. “I doubt they’re going to take your word for it.”

Hamer shrugged. He stepped to the doorway and spoke to his security men, then returned.

Brad Silver was sitting now, his face pale.

“Any more dramatics planned?” Hamer asked Quinn.

“Only if necessary. Do you realize how much worse the kidnapping situation has become?” Quinn answered his own question. “Because it’s no longer a kidnapping. It’s a hostage situation. Now it’s a win-lose situation. And if we don’t win, people start dying.”

24

Khan Yunis, Gaza Strip • 10:46 GMT


This was my promise,” Safady said. He stood at the far end of the room. The children had been moved to another area. All the blankets had been temporarily lifted so that the hostages could see him from the bunk beds. “That for each one of you who tried to escape, one of the children would be killed.”

The silence that followed was as dense and pressing as the heat inside the room.

“Two tried to escape,” Safady continued. “So, as you Americans are fond of saying, you do the math.” He began to walk toward Jonathan Silver. “It is a difficult decision. Which two should die? After all, none of those children are responsible for your group’s actions.”

A couple of the women hostages had begun to weep. The men were staring at the floor.

Safady stopped in front of Silver. “You’re the leader. I hold you most responsible.”

Silver felt as if his entire body was trembling.

“Yesterday you made the choice between beheading and bullet for the two men who had to die,” Safady told Silver, smiling. “Today you choose which two children pay the price. I’ll have them walk past you, and you point out which ones.”

“How can you hate us like this?” Silver asked, his voice a croak.

“The fact that you don’t understand the reasons for my hatred is reason enough,” Safady answered. “You give no thought as to how your actions affect the Arab world. Tell me again how much money you have raised in the United States to help Palestinians. Then tell me how much support you’ve given to the people who have taken our land.”

“These children are innocent.”

“It is only now that you are concerned for them?” Safady’s tone was light and mocking. “What are two more lives compared to the suffering of all the other Palestinian children over the years?”

Silver was conscious of the line attached to the grenade on his back, conscious that sudden movement could blow his body apart. He wanted to bow with this emotional pain but had to sit straight, staring at Safady’s chest. “Killing children now doesn’t erase the past,” he said.

“Think of it as your atonement,” Safady responded, obviously enjoying Silver’s pain. “That’s a concept you’re familiar with, correct? Let me recall from your New Testament stories. Ah yes. Wasn’t it said that better one should die than a nation perish? That was atonement, the reason for a man to be sacrificed on the cross by the Romans. So let’s try that concept of sacrifice here. I’ll reduce it to the death of one child as punishment for allowing two of you Americans to attempt escape. Understand? You only need to choose one child for death. And the others will live. Fair enough?”

Silver put his hands over his face.

“Fair enough?” Safady repeated. “And I won’t even bring them in here for you to choose. How about the little one with the burn scars? Let her die to save the others. She’s disfigured. What does she have to look forward to as an adult? Men will look away from her; women will mock her for not having a child. Israeli bombs ensured a worthless life for her. Why not end her misery now and spare the other children?”

An image of Alyiah’s smile flashed through Silver’s mind, and he was seared by a sudden depth of compassion for the child. He kept his face buried.
Our Father who art in heaven,
he began to pray silently,
hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven
.
 
. . .

“Who will it be?” Safady demanded.

Deliver us from evil.
Silver prayed.
Oh, my Father, please deliver us from this evil.

“Make your choice, coward,” Safady said.

Oh Lord,
give me strength and peace to do what only I can do.
Silver lifted his hands away from his face. For the first time, he met Safady’s stare without flinching.

“Who will it be?” Safady said, that hateful mocking in his voice. “The crippled one with the burns?”

Silver felt resolve and strength given to him. “It will be you.” Without hesitating, he dove forward and tackled Safady. Silver felt the cord attached to the grenade pull loose.

Safady flailed as he fell backward. Silver clung to the man and waited for death to take them both.

CCTI Headquarters, Tel Aviv • 10:46 GMT


“So,” Kate said to Quinn, “are you going to tell me why you shot the wrong phone?”

“I thought you’d catch the switch.” Quinn was sitting at his desk. He opened a drawer to his left, pulled out Brad’s phone, and handed it to Kate.

“This is a fascinating process,” Kate said. “Step by step, you’re making me an accomplice. Social engineering at its best.”

“It’s not social engineering. Reverse Stockholm syndrome, maybe.”

Stockholm syndrome, as cops knew, happened when kidnapping victims bonded with their captors. The term was coined after employees at a Stockhom bank were held captive for six days in 1973; a few hostages resisted rescue attempts and later refused to testify against the kidnappers.

“Jury’s still out on whether you’re playing me,” Kate said. It was best to stick to the subject of her professional feelings toward Quinn and ignore discussion of her personal feelings. “If I get a whiff that this feels like it’s about you and not helping those hostages, I go straight to Hamer. In other words, you’d better have a good reason for this.” She tapped the cell phone.

“Call history,” Quinn said. “The numbers and times of the calls should tell us if he was the one who leaked to the media the fact that the Mossad had Safady’s location. It would be very helpful if you checked it out.”

Kate looked down at the phone. “Only one thing here is making me happy.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

“I know I don’t have to worry about reverse Stockholm syndrome. You’re not that easy to like.”

Khan Yunis, Gaza Strip • 10:49 GMT


In the seconds that passed as Jonathan Silver wrestled with Safady, none of the men with machine guns moved in to pull Silver away.

Safady tried to shove Silver off but failed. Silver had him pinned with his full body weight, and his anger gave him a temporary strength that belied his years.

Silver braced himself for the explosion that would rip them into shreds, amazed at the joy and peace that filled him instead of fear. In those seconds, there was a timelessness that confirmed for him that his faith was truly worth more than his life.

Then, dimly, the noise and physical sensations of his struggle with Safady intruded on the amazing grace that he knew was God’s gift in his dying moments. And as he realized this, he began to understand that too much time had passed. He’d felt grace and peace, but this wasn’t his time to die.

The grenade taped to his upper body had not exploded.

Hands pulled at Silver. A rifle butt hit his cheekbone, cutting a gash into his skin.

Moments later, he was standing, breathing hard, almost hyperventilating, blood pouring from his face.

Safady, incredibly, showed amusement. “Impressive dramatics. I would never have expected such courage from you.”

Silver glanced at the end of the cord lying over the side of the bed.

“You’re much more valuable to me alive than dead,” Safady said in answer to Silver’s unspoken question. “The others are wired to live grenades; not you.”

Silver’s legs began to give way. The tension and forced willpower and that moment of peace beyond all understanding had drained his emotional reserves. He let himself fall back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Tears mingled with his blood.

“A child still dies,” Safady said. “I will make the choice for you. The burned one.”

“No.” Silver was reaching as deep as he could for this last strength.

“Another one, then,” Safady said. “I don’t care.”

“No.”

Safady just snorted. “You have no power here.” He turned to walk away.

“You get no cooperation,” Silver said, still trying to find oxygen between words. “No money.”