Pandora's grave

“A house on the outskirts of Ramallah. We’ve checked the address-it was flagged on our servers as a possible Fatah safehouse back in 2010.”

“Fatah?” Kranemeyer asked skeptically. “That’s a connection we’ve not seen before.”

He stared at the picture for a moment, lost in thought. All at once, his head came up, a look of decision on his face. “Pass this along to Nichols and get him moving in that direction. Have Ron contact Sorenson over at the NRO and get him to task a satellite to the West Bank. Pull it off Myanmar if he has to. If he complains, tell him Burmese monks will be the least of our worries if these dirtbags reach their target.”

“Yes, sir.”

6:43 P.M. Local Time

Wadi al-Harimaya Highway

The West Bank

Harry’s phone closed with a click and he looked over at Asefi, who was once more ensconced behind the steering wheel. “Let’s get this show on the road, Achmed.”

“What do we have?” Tex asked from the back seat.

“The tangos are at a Fatah safehouse in Ramallah. Word is it looks like they’re preparing to move.”

The car moved out onto the highway, merging with southbound traffic. Harry looked up from his map. “Given current traffic conditions, I’d say we can be there in twenty-five minutes. Be ready.”

There was no acknowledgment from the backseat. None was needed. Just a look of grim determination on the Texan’s face. They were going into battle once again.

Asefi stole a look at the American beside him as the car gained speed, accelerating down the highway. Despite the warmth of the day, he felt himself shiver. What a risk it was, this deception he had chosen to perpetrate. He felt for all the world like a tightrope artist, balancing high above a bottomless chasm. A single step to the left or the right and his fate was sealed.

Never look down…

6:56 P.M.

Outside Jericho

It’s a diversion. Nichols is behind this somewhere. And he’s got help. Shoham’s words rang in Gideon’s mind as he climbed out of the wadi, leaving behind the burned-out SUV in the gathering twilight.

The old man was right. As usual.

Nichols’ fingerprints were all over this. Not in the sense of physical, iron-clad proof, but the very absence of it. After years in the field, Gideon’s instincts were as honed as finely as those of a sonarman.

Don’t look for the signs of a trained operator because you won’t see them. Look for what’s not there, the black hole where there should be noise.

Yossi Eiland was waiting at the vehicle, a kheffiyeh draped jauntily around his shoulder, an assault rifle in his hands.

Gideon motioned for him to get in the SUV and slipped into the driver’s seat himself, sitting there in silence for a long moment. The American had made fools of them only days before, he reflected grimly. It wasn’t going to happen again.

“Where now, boss?” Eiland asked, handing the rifle to Chaim in the back seat.

Off to the east, Laner could see the setting sun glinting off the turbulent waters of the Jordan River. “Ramallah,” he responded finally. “I’ve got contacts there.”

11:13 A.M. Eastern Time

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

“Nichols and the rest of the field team are here,” Ron explained, using a pointer to illustrate. The sat image from the commercial bird was displayed on a screen covering one wall of the conference room. “They’ve abandoned their vehicle a mile from the safehouse and are moving in on foot.”

“Where’s Asefi?” Kranemeyer asked, a shrewd look in his eyes.

“I believe Harry has him,” Carter replied.

The DCS shook his head. “He’ll be a liability. Should have terminated him along the side of the road.”

“Harry believes that the Iranian bodyguard has more information he’s holding back,” Carol interjected, entering the room with a file folder under her arm.

“Key words there,” Kranemeyer retorted, “are ‘Harry believes’. Nobody has to convince me how good he is, but he’s exhausted. His behavior in Nablus only proves that he’s getting sloppy. If I thought we could get Hamid and the rest of the team into Ramallah in time, I’d pull him. What’s our estimate from Sorenson?”

Carol spread out her papers on the conference table. “Another forty-five minutes before he has the spy sat in place. Until then, we’re on our own.”

“Then make this clear to Nichols. There is to be no assault until we have thermal imaging. Let’s reduce the variables here. If they start to leave, well then, that’s a different story.”

Ron and Carol exchanged uncomfortable glances. At last Carter cleared his throat.“The field team went dark five minutes ago,” he stated. “We don’t have a way to reach him.”

7:15 P.M. Local Time

At the safehouse

Ramallah, the West Bank