Fuse of Armageddon (41 page)

“What are the odds this thing is carrying a GPS transmitter?” Kate said.

“I’d say 100 percent. It’s an IDF vehicle. That’s why I wanted to find it. To make sure someone starts driving it.”

“But not us.”

“Not us.”

“Right,” Kate said. “We sell it. At the dealership back there between the butcher’s block and the booth selling pirated CDs.”

“Sarcasm diminishes you,” Quinn said.

“Can’t help it. Fear brings it on. I’m a victim here.”

“What kind of fearful victim kicks a man in the groin and jams a pistol against his head?”

“If that’s a thank-you for stopping the shock treatment, then you’re welcome.”

“If you could have been there a minute earlier, I wouldn’t need aspirin.”

“The Mercedes is right here. How long are we going to stand here trying to impress each other with light conversation?”

Quinn grinned. He stood at the driver’s side and clicked open the door locks.

Kate made a move to get in on the passenger side, but Quinn shook her off with a head gesture.

Instead of getting in, he reached inside and started the engine, then stepped away from the Mercedes. “I saw a car at the orphanage,” he said. “An old Fiat. The keys were in it. It’s not much, but it should be enough to get us where we need to go.” He started walking and motioned for Kate to follow.

“Changed your mind about selling it?” she asked.

“Anyone with street smarts would be too suspicious,” he answered. “Especially because I speak Arabic with an obvious accent. It’s easier this way.”

He was right. Before they’d reached the next corner, the black Mercedes blasted past them with two teenaged boys in the front seat, heads bobbing up and down to music from the radio.

Temple Mount, Jerusalem • 18:25 GMT


Jonathan Silver was still dazed as he began to lower himself from the helicopter to the ground. The noise from the explosions had disoriented him.

Esther, already on the ground, had told Alyiah to wait in the helicopter. Esther reached up and provided balance for Silver as his feet touched the ground, then they helped Alyiah.

Searchlights from the choppers were on again, throwing the scene into harsh whiteness. No guards were in place to monitor their movements, and already some of the hostages were walking confidently toward the fallen Muslims, where the first wave of men who had leaped from the helicopter were stripping off layers of clothing to reveal uniforms.

What was going on? Had the grenades stunned him so badly that he was losing his eyesight?

“What is this?” Silver asked Esther.

She didn’t answer but gripped his elbow and pulled him forward until they reached one of the soldiers. “Ask now,” Esther said.

The soldier turned his head. He straightened and saluted. “Sir!”

Silver couldn’t deny that this recognition bolstered his spirits. “We’re free now?” Silver asked.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said. “We’ve got the situation contained.” He kicked the bound man beside him, who was still groaning from the Mace attack. “We’ve got orders to move all of these dogs, and then the real work begins.”

“Dogs?” Esther bristled. She put a hand on Silver’s forearm. Her other arm was around Alyiah’s shoulder.

The soldier ignored her and grinned at Silver. “No sense shooting them. We could be here a week. Dead meat spoils. Easier to feed them than it is to refrigerate them.”

“A week,” Silver echoed. “I thought we were free.”

“Of course you are, Mr. Silver. Anywhere you want to go, you can. This is God’s house, and it’s been returned to us.”

Silver cocked his head and was about to ask more questions, but a shout farther down interrupted. All attention was drawn to the soldier who had shouted and the machine gun he’d lifted to his shoulder. A Muslim security guard was on his feet and running.

“Stop!” The shout was repeated.

But the Muslim, hands still behind his back, ignored the command. He didn’t get five more steps before a single shot snapped through the night air and he tumbled forward.

Esther’s intake of horror was audible.

“Just a Palestinian,” the soldier said with a shrug. “They’re going to die anyway.”

Esther’s grip on Silver’s forearm became tighter.

“Can you tell me what is going on here?” Silver asked.

“I thought you would know,” the soldier said.

“I don’t,” Silver snapped. “You tell me.”

“No, sir,” the soldier said pleasantly. “I can’t do that.”

“You don’t know?” This was as surreal to Silver as the initial hostage taking. He wished he could think more clearly, but the rapid and unexpected unfolding of events had disoriented him as much as the stun grenades had.

“We were fully briefed on the helicopter,” the soldier continued. “But I don’t have the authority to tell anyone.” He pointed down the line. “Ask one of them.”

“Don’t leave,” Esther said. “That man is still alive.”

She meant the Waqf guard who’d been shot. The man was slowly turning from side to side, calling out in Arabic, ignored by all of the soldiers.

Esther pulled Silver’s arm, taking his attention away from where the soldier had directed it. “We’re going to help him.”

Silver managed to nod.

Esther faced the soldier squarely. “You’re going to give Mr. Silver your flashlight.”

“I can’t,” he said.

Esther squeezed Silver’s arm. “That man needs us.”

Silver found some strength and spoke with as much authority as he could muster. “The flashlight, young man. You don’t want to disobey me.”

He didn’t expect the soldier to listen, but with a nod of respect, the soldier handed it over.

Esther pulled Silver forward to the wounded man.

“Stop!” a voice called out when they were within a few steps of the guard.

Silver instantly pictured a machine gun pointed at their backs and froze.

“A wounded man is begging for help,” Esther said. “Shine the light on your face. Tell them who you are.”

Everything in Silver told him to retreat.

“Go back, then,” Esther said when she saw Silver hesitate. “If they want to stop me, they’ll have to shoot.” She let go of his arm and took another step toward the dying man.

“Stop!”

Silver turned toward the voice and held the flashlight in a way that the beam played across his face. “I’m Jonathan Silver,” he called out as loudly as he could. His own flashlight beam blinded him from seeing how the soldier was reacting. “You will not shoot!”

He took a breath, waiting for an answer. When it didn’t come, he lowered the flashlight and turned back to Esther.

She was already kneeling on the ground beside the wounded man.

The flashlight showed blood thickening on his back. Esther rolled him over gently. More blood poured from the exit wound in his belly.

He gurgled words that Silver couldn’t understand.

Esther whispered back in Arabic.

“How do we stop the bleeding?” Silver said.

“We don’t,” she answered. “Take off your jacket. Make a pillow for him.”

“But the bleeding. If we don’t do something—”

“You’ve never seen someone die, have you?” Her voice was as terse with Silver as it had been gentle with the Arab. “These wounds can’t be patched. All we can offer is compassion and to keep him from dying alone.”

She raised the man’s head. He put one arm upward around her neck. He was weeping.

“The pillow,” she repeated.

Silver felt shame for worrying about the blood that would stain. He closed his eyes and asked God to forgive him for that weakness, then slipped out of his jacket, wadded it into a pillow, and placed it beneath the man’s head.

The guard croaked another plea.

“Find his wallet,” Esther said.

Slight surprise kept Silver from moving.

“His wallet,” she said, adding urgency. “He is asking to see his children.”

Silver reached beneath the man, feeling the slime of blood, and found the wallet. He wiped his fingers against his pants before digging into the wallet for two small photos.

The light showed head shots of a boy and a girl, not yet teenagers, with smiles that seemed alive in their dark eyes. Silver held them above the Arab’s face with one hand and with his other shone the flashlight on the photos.

It brought a smile to the Arab’s contorted face. He stared at the photos, tears in his eyes, and spoke again.

“He thanks you,” Esther told Silver. “He wants to know your name.”

“Jonathan,” Silver answered, keeping eye contact with the man. He sensed it wasn’t enough. “Ask him their names,” he whispered to Esther.

She did.

The man’s eyes shifted to Silver. “Aban. Boy. Hafa. Girl.”

“Aban,” Silver repeated. “Hafa. They are beautiful.”

Esther translated.

The Arab managed to nod as he smiled again. He mumbled something. It took him great effort, and when he was finished, his eyes fluttered.

“He says he is not afraid of dying,” Esther said, “but afraid for them when he is gone. And so sad that he won’t be able to watch them grow up.”

“Tell him that I promise to find them,” Silver said. “Tell him I promise they will be cared for.”

“Do not make this promise lightly,” Esther said.

“Tell him,” Silver said.

Esther leaned down farther and whispered to the man. His arm fell away from her shoulder, and he reached toward Silver. Silver gave Esther the flashlight, and she trained the beam on the photos he kept above the man’s face. With his free hand, Silver accepted the Arab’s fingers, and the dying man squeezed hard. His eyes, however, were on the photos, and he spoke a few more words. The man’s grip faded and his eyes closed.

Esther kissed the man’s forehead, then stood. “Alyiah. Where is she? We can’t leave her alone.”

Silver nodded. He took his jacket from beneath the dead man’s head and draped it over the man’s face and shoulders. He put the two photos back in the wallet and put the wallet in his pocket. That would give him the man’s address. With Esther’s help, he would find the boy and the girl.

If he was ever able to escape whatever was happening around him.

40

Temple Mount, Jerusalem • 18:41 GMT


Small floodlights mounted on the helicopters threw crisp shadows on the courtyard stones. Jonathan Silver stepped away from Esther to join four of the uniformed men, who stood holding hands, heads bowed in prayer.

Silver bowed his head as well and listened.

“Lord, our heavenly Father,” one of them was praying, “please bless our work so that it may advance Your Kingdom. Give us the strength and wisdom to complete the duties that You have honored us with by placing on our shoulders, Lord. And may Your Kingdom come before our eyes. In the blessed name of Jesus, we pray this. Amen.”

The men moved away from one another with the slight awkwardness that often came after holding hands in public.

One of the men stopped at Jonathan Silver’s side. “It’s amazing how God has supplied the needed technology at the moment that His prophecies are about to be fulfilled,” he said. “Of course, it’s always easier to understand this looking back in time, isn’t it?”

Silver was confused. “Technology?”

“GPS,” the soldier said, waving an arm upward at the night sky. “Satellites circling the world. I believe God allowed man to invent these specifically for tonight, that all the other uses for satellites that He gave to humans were just icing on the cake.”

“Tonight,” Silver repeated.

“To mark the borders of the walls of the original Temple. I’ve got the points programmed into a GPS locator. With a flashlight and about half an hour’s time, I’ll be able to mark exactly where the Holy of Holies stood.”

Before Silver could ask anything more, the uniformed man pointed at the helicopter, where other men were unloading boxes in the glare of the floodlights.

“That looks like my gear,” he said. He shook his head and spoke in admiring tones. “This is like reconquering Israel. And God has given us the honor.”

Somewhere in Gaza • 18:42 GMT


“You’ve been with me since we were in the tunnel below the orphanage,” Quinn said. “You know I’ve had no chance to listen to radio, watch television, or reach the Internet for news.”

Quinn was driving the Fiat they’d stolen from the orphanage, and the car bounced on bad springs every couple of seconds.

“I assume you’re pointing out that obvious fact for a reason,” Kate said.

“If I’m right, things are going to get a lot more complicated. And you’re going to have to really begin to trust me.”

“Twenty-four hours,” she said, a warning note in her voice. “Don’t even try to shift my landscape. It might have worked on Hamer, but it won’t on me.”

“We’re going to listen to the news. Together. Right now. I’m going to predict what we hear. If I don’t, you might later think I’m playing you.”

“Playing me?”

“Coming up with a plan that’s in reaction to the news. Trying to take advantage of the situation. I won’t be. There’s something else I learned down in the tunnel. Let me tell you now. Then let’s hope it’s not on the news. That means it didn’t happen.”

“What if it did happen but isn’t being reported on the news?”

“If it happened,” Quinn said, “it will be on every major media network in the world, 24-7. All languages.”

“Don’t build this up or anything,” she said.

“Choppers taking the hostages to Jordan. Ground fire cripples a chopper. No way to get to Jordan. Choppers land on the one spot in Jerusalem where Palestinian terrorists will be protected—the Temple Mount.”

“You’re right,” Kate said. “If we turn on the radio and hear that, you’ve got some credibility in your favor.”

“Go to 1323 AM,” Quinn suggested. “BBC out of Jerusalem. The signal should be strong enough to reach us here. I’d rather be wrong than credible.”

Kate reached for the dial. The interior was dark until soft light glowed from the radio when she turned it on. It hissed as she adjusted the amplitude. She stopped when a clear English voice came out of the speaker. They both listened.

Quinn kept his eyes on the road, tempted as he was to glance at her face in the soft light. In Gaza, you never knew what might appear—from goats to bandits armed with machine guns.