“Mission accomplished?” Harry asked.
A rare smile crossed the Texan’s face and he knelt down at the back of the car, unwrapping the second of Najeri’s license plates. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“All right, here’s what we’ve got,” Carol announced as Ron came through the door behind her. “In thirty minutes, we’ll have a satellite overpass. We should be able to get a decent thermal scan of the bath house during that window.”
“And Nichols?”
“Will be in position in twenty, as of last sitrep.”
Carter took another look at her workstation’s screens, then cleared his throat. “I’ll brief the director. Let me know when the strike team is in position.”
“Right there, that’s right-hold it! Smile.” The shutter clicked and Harry lowered the camera, smiling at the young Western couple he had just photographed.
The young man gave his bride an affectionate squeeze and stepped forward to take the camera from Harry’s hand. “
“Don’t mention it,” Harry replied, watching as they strolled away down the crowded street of the Old City. A vision of happiness. Of love.
His hand went up to adjust the earbud microphone. “How are we coming, Tex?”
“Done,” was his friend’s terse reply. Good, Harry thought. The assault rifles were reassembled.
He resisted the urge to glance at his watch. There was no point in signaling to any watchers that he was waiting for something. They already had been lingering too long in one place.
Hurry up and wait was standard protocol.
The TACSAT in his shirt pocket started vibrating and he palmed it. “Hello.”
“Sir, we have the results of your scan.” It was Carol’s voice. “We have identified thirteen polyps within your right lung.”
“All malignant?” Harry asked, more than slightly amused at the phrasing.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have that information yet.”
He glanced across the street at the
“Negative. The doctor’s recommendation is immediate removal.”
“All right.” Harry ended the call without another word, moving quickly back to the car, parked down the street a full hundred meters. Tex was in the back seat, a blanket covering the rifles.
“Time to move.”
Countryside and village flashed past at eighty kilometers per hour as the black van sped south. A war-torn country, Hossein reflected, glancing out the window as Mustafa drove. The land of Palestine had not known peace in well over seventy years, ever since the establishment of the Zionist state.
The phone in his pocket went off with a jarring ring. “Yes?”
His brow furrowed in astonishment. It was Omar, the old man’s voice pitched no higher than a whisper. “The Jews are here.”
For a scant moment in time, Hossein was struck speechless. How could it be? That they could have been tracked so quickly.
Asefi! His teeth ground together in anger as he realized the truth. It was the traitor. Another moment passed before he replied, but when he did it was with perfect calm. “You know your instructions. I can trust you to carry them out?”
“Of course, my son,” the old man replied, a trace of humor in his voice. Laughing at death. “When the angels weigh my deeds at the end of time, I will not be found wanting.”
Hossein’s face hardened, his eyes flickering from the countryside to the road before them. “The blessing of Allah upon you,” he responded finally.
“
There was something wrong. Carol could feel it. Her father would probably have jibed about feminine “intuition”, but she kept returning to the same set of frames. Just after the Land Rover parked in front of the
Struck by a sudden inspiration, she panned the camera right, southwest, Carol noted abstractly. Movement in the alley between frames 1157 and 1209 caught her eye and she zoomed in.
She reached for the phone and began dialing, knowing even as she did so that there was no time…
“Moving in,” Harry whispered into his microphone. “Take up overwatch.”
He glanced up at the towering heights of Mount Gerizim as he crossed the street toward the
The.45 under his jacket was his only weapon, a silencer screwed into the end of the five-inch barrel. Tex would provide back-up with the assault rifles, if needed.