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The guard could of course do no such thing but he could call the President’s office and tell them what Ben Meir had said, which he did.

Four minutes and forty seconds later, a call came back to the gate house.

“Welcome to the White House, Mr Meir,” offered the guard as he opened the gate.

Ben rushed towards the Oval Office and spent the next thirty minutes telling President Andrew Russell more than a few home truths. Russell was apoplectic that anyone dared talk to him in such a manner and promptly had Ben escorted from the White House.

All in all, it had not gone well. Ben was in no position to strong-arm Russell. He needed Russell and Russell knew it. The only one piece of good news was that Russell instantly reacted to the news about the bomb. It seemed he had finally realized the threat was a genuine one.

Ben kicked himself. He could have played it far better. Russell was malleable, you just had to do it carefully. Ben’s temper had not allowed any give. Seeing James Murphy’s almost decapitated body had not brought out the best in him. America would have to wait. He had his own country to save.

Ben hitched a lift back to Israel on the B1-R and made it just in time for the 12.00 deadline. If the nukes hadn’t been found by then, just 36 hours before Yom Kippur, evacuation plans were to be fully implemented with immediate effect.

As he walked into the meeting, he could instantly detect that the weapons had not been found. Their expressions said it all. Ben stood and wished everyone the best of luck. That would be the last full meeting. Of course, they would continue the hunt up until the very last minute but it was time to begin the full-scale evacuation of the cities as a matter of urgency.

Ahmed Hameed had spent the day mulling over the very strange meeting he had had with Ben Meir. A man whom he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help liking. The parts of Ararat he discussed were mind blowing and could, as Ben had said, make him a hero but if Ben was playing him, he’d die a zero, as many a rapper would have said. Ahmed was a new generation of Palestinian and felt sure that that was the only reason Ben had tried what he had tried. Deif or Akram would have shot him without question. It was another reason why Ahmed liked Ben, Ben got him. Something that not many of his fellow terrorists did. Ahmed looked to the future. Many of the terrorists knew nothing nor wanted anything but the violence. With nothing but Ben’s word to go on, he was going to have to either trust the Jew or not. Trusting Jews was not something he had ever had to worry about before. In his world, you simply didn’t.

Out of interest, he had put his network to work and it seemed Deif had done an exceptional job. Of the four weapons, Ahmed controlled one and as for the other three, nobody knew. It was looking like his chat with Ben was all going to be academic in any event.

As the day progressed, the news did not change, nobody knew. As noon struck, the sound began. A rumble in the sky that didn’t stop. The noise travelled the length and breadth of the city, a constant droning rumble. Ahmed checked his watch. The timing was just as Ben had predicted. Ahmed called his deputies and gave them a message to take to their people. Find the controllers as though your very lives depended on it.

Ahmed began to believe these words were not without merit.

They woke up to the warmth of the Texan sun, welcome respite from the cold of Montana. Sam rolled over and looked out to the crystal blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. It was amazing how the two entirely different vistas could elicit similar emotions. One was flat and blue, the other grey and looming. The small ramshackle beach lodge South East of Corpus Christi was perfect to disappear in.

Ben had insisted they travel with him. He had a plan to sort things out and he needed Charles and Sam in Corpus Christi on Saturday. He dropped them off and travelled to Washington to ‘sort out’ the President, with a view to a meeting with Sam and Charles on Saturday when Ben knew the President would be in the city.

Apparently, it had not gone well. The call had made it clear that they should keep their heads down. No meeting for an easing of the ways on Saturday had been arranged. However, he did have some good news. The President had reacted well to the search for the bomb.

The Sheikh had watched as the small platform and arena were built. Zak’s credentials had worked a treat and on seeing his DIA ID, the assumptions that the guy on the phone with him was his partner had worked perfectly. Of course, once the President was in town, there was no way the Secret Service would fall for it but by then, the Sheikh would not need Zak anymore. This was to be a lone mission.

The Sheikh could not believe how lax things were. A sheet with the list of attendees and their seating position sat at the front of the stage. A cursory glance gave him all he needed before heading back to Zak and suggesting that they keep a low profile for the next couple of days. The number of Secret Service agents was growing by the hour.

Zak drove back to their motel and they checked out. The Sheikh wanted to be even more anonymous. A couple of days at the beach, he suggested Port Aransas, would do them good.

As they drove down to the main beach road, the Sheikh sat looking for the perfect hideaway. All the agents back in Bishop had put him on edge. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to make sure he had a clear run on Saturday. They couldn’t know he was coming. As his eyes swept from hotel to hotel, each looked more anonymous than the last. His eyes settled on one and he pointed Zak towards it, the Beach Lodge.

As they pulled up alongside, the beach and the gulf waters lay to their left. Zak whistled quietly to himself as he watched a stunning woman rinse the sand and salt from her body. Her head was thrown back as she let the fresh water rinse her dark hair that shone in the early morning sun. The Sheikh could not help but notice too. She was a true beauty, he thought, very Middle Eastern. Her curves were womanly, not girly like so many Americans. That was a real woman. She rubbed her face and swept her hair back, allowing Zak a look at the babe’s face. He was not disappointed. The Sheikh, however was panicking. He knew he recognized the body. He had seen the face before and almost screamed for Zak to hit the gas.

A non-descript motel in the heart of Corpus Christi it was.

Only two good things had come from his conversation with Ben. Confirmation he could appoint his new Secretary of Defense and a solid lead to track down the bomb. The announcement of the Secretary of Defense’s tragic death and the President’s first appointee, he was delighted to see, was buried amongst the shocking news from Israel and the continuing solar flare problem which had grounded the world’s airlines. The Israeli headline had shocked the world. Four nuclear weapons were believed to be imminently endangering the country that the world had heard so little from in the past months and years. A mass exodus of the cities was apparently underway but the country remained sealed and no foreign news crews were allowed in.

The President checked his watch. It would be another 24 hours before they would consider evacuations. At the moment, they didn’t know if there was a bomb or if there was, where it was going other than to the US. Best guesses were Washington, New York, Chicago or LA but they simply didn’t know. However, with their latest information from Ben, LA was definitely ruled out. All the others were still in play.

The President joined his National Security Council and listened as his newly appointed Secretary of Defense ran through what they had done with Ben’s information. Unbeknownst to the new Secretary of Defense, not as far as his predecessor had managed to get, the previous evening, with just a phone. They were, however, now targeting a further 500 vessels that had previously been excluded as not reaching the US in time.

“Mr President, we have almost half our ocean-going Navy, some 150 vessels currently covering our Eastern seaboard, along with pretty much every aircraft whether naval, Air Force or National Guard on round the clock watch. We will catch this,” assured the Secretary of Defense.

Henry Preston sat and listened and couldn’t help but think of the clutter that must be caused by such a massive operation. It only needed one tiny slip and an American city would pay the ultimate price.

Akram Rayyan watched as his men unloaded two containers into the Canadian port of St John. He had quietened down his men as a cheer had gone up over the news of the Israelis running for cover. He knew that his men couldn’t be prouder of being part of an operation that was teaching the Jews and her allies a lesson they’d never forget. He had also noted the significant increase in naval checks. The port was awash with the stories of checks even if you were going near America. He couldn’t help but think somehow their plan had got out.

Deif was a genius, however, and had covered just such an eventuality. Akram’s route ensured he would still be within Canadian waters when the weapon was launched. As the crane swung back on board, his men cast away and began the final leg of their momentous journey. Just to be safe, Akram instructed a trip round the North of Newfoundland. It would take longer but he had a few hours to spare and it would also mean a much calmer journey. It would also keep them even further away from the Americans while they got into position.

There would be no more drills. The next time they got ready would be for real. Akram looked at his watch. Twenty-four hours to go.

The pace at the White House was frantic. The Situation Room had become the emergency planning center as the hours clocked down. 6 a.m., twelve hours to potential detonation and they were no further forward. The President had to make a decision - begin the evacuation of major metropolitan centers or not. Time already had run too far to save everyone. If New York, Washington or Chicago were the targets, the death-toll was still running into the tens of thousands with the evacuation. Without that, the number was ten-fold and was if the weapon were released at approximately 2,000 feet above central Manhattan, there would be two million dead. The numbers were mind numbing.

The President’s advisers were coming out of the woodwork, giving reasons to evacuate and reasons not to. However, the reasons not to were dwindling. Yes, mass hysteria would lead to deaths, There’d be looting and civil unrest and general chaos but the 2 million number was stark and staring. His political adviser was firmly of the opinion that, if it hit, he was screwed anyway and evacuating lots of cities, just in case, looked like a President who had no idea what was going on. His best option and the one he’d be able to milk for votes was finding it and then claiming they had tracked it all the way and only struck when the terrorists had made their move so as to ensure their convictions.

“Mr President, I need your answer, Sir,” insisted Jim Gates, the Secretary of Homeland Security, who had his FEMA Administrator on the phone and needed to give him the President’s decision.

The President turned to Henry Preston and his Secretary of Defense. “Gentlemen, are you going to let our country be the victim of another nuclear attack?”

Obviously neither could say yes. Henry Preston answered first.

“No, Sir, we will not!” he replied adamantly followed by a “Hell no!” from the Secretary of Defense.

“Secretary Gates, you have your answer. I’m assured the weapon will not reach our country. Stand down the evacuation plans.”

“Gentlemen, I suggest you pull the fingers out of your asses and find that bomb.”

The President left the room. Had he not he felt sure he was going to puke, the decision he had just made was the biggest gamble of his life and more importantly, his career.

Senator Charles Baker had kept a close eye on the news. Nothing. They were already beyond the 12-hour countdown. 6 a.m. EST. He didn’t know what it meant. Had they found the bomb and if not, why was there no news of mass evacuations? Surely they should at least attempt to minimize casualties. He called the number Ben had given him. He answered on the second ring.

“Ben, can you talk?

“Have to be quick but yes?” said Ben sounding out of breath. He shouted to somebody in the background. “Nope that cabinet first, then this one.” He came back. “Sorry.”

“Any news on the American bomb?”

“Nope, nothing at all, they’re still looking.”

“Christ, they haven’t even begun evacuating!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I’ll call you back.”

Ben hung up and called back ten minutes later. “I’ve just spoken to our Ambassador. They’re confident they’ll find it in time.”

“On what grounds?” questioned the Senator.

“Exactly,” agreed Ben. “I’ve instructed our embassy staff to evacuate all major consulates and Israeli offices across the eastern seaboard.”

“You know, Ben, I don’t get it. James Murphy almost had the info to find the boat and he was calling Russia at 4am in the morning.”

“Why Russia?”

“I’ve no idea. I just know that’s where his leads led him!”

The Senator could sense that Ben hadn’t heard him. Banging in the background had been followed by a couple of screams in Hebrew that he could only imagine were expletives.