Fuse of Armageddon (45 page)

Quinn paused and pointed at a road sign coming up in the headlights. “We’re almost to Jerusalem. I’ve got a CIA connection there. I don’t want to call ahead because they probably monitor his phone as a general policy. I doubt the Mossad knows yet we’re in Israel, so I should be safe to stop by his apartment and call in a favor without telling him why I need it. Let me run it past you and tell me if you see any flaws in it.”

They discussed what he had in mind. When both were satisfied, Quinn said, “How about we stop at a phone booth? I don’t want to use the cell phone we took from IDF. Too easy to track. I want to make two calls. The first call is to Kevin, our IT guy. He’ll meet you at a drop point and take you from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv.”

“Tel Aviv?”

“To the U.S. embassy,” Quinn answered. “That’s the second call. To the American ambassador. I’ve got a direct number to him, day or night. He will get you inside, no questions asked. I want you to get on the line with him and verify all the historical facts I’ve just told you. Then you make your decision.”

Kate spoke quietly. “I’ve made it already. The last Temple uprising—the Intifada that lasted for five years—I just realized how much it cost you. The suicide bomber that killed your—”

“You don’t need to go there.”

“Quinn,” she said, “do whatever it takes to stop this.”

Temple Mount, Jerusalem • 19:18 GMT


Silver had walked away from Esther in rage, refusing to turn at her call to come back. He now sat near some shrubs, away from the activities at the helicopters. Any other evening, it would have been pleasant in the soft night air.

He’d written best-selling books; he’d built his church and his television ministry; he’d founded a university. All on the dispensational view, which promised that current events showed the end of time was about to deliver punishment to nonbelievers and escape for believers. He knew critics called it a theology of despair, but it was a successful and appealing theology. In uncertain times, those who despaired because they felt little control wanted a certain leader. So certain that Silver did not allow students at his university to graduate unless they literally signed agreement forms to confirm his end-times teachings. Many of these students went on to be preachers, insisting on the same views within their own congregations.

Over forty years, he’d built the ministry. Wasn’t it obvious that God had blessed it by the revenue He directed toward it? What did Esther expect, that after forty years he would stand at the pulpit and say he was wrong? that he’d changed his mind?

He thought of Alyiah—how she’d offered her precious milk to him. Thought of her hesitant smile and the slow way she moved on her crutches without any self-pity. Thought of the Muslim guard dying in his arms and of the photos of the two Palestinian children who would hear the news that their father had been killed guarding the Muslim sanctuary. Thought of Esther’s warning about the consequences of taking the Temple Mount, the riots and wars that would follow.

Yes, he could try to ignore what Esther had said about Christ and the Temple, ignore her questions about the atonement. But ten hours earlier, he had been willing to give up his life for Alyiah. Now couldn’t he at least question his own certainty on his end-times teachings enough to follow the teachings of Christ and save countless thousands of little girls like her?

43

Old City, Jerusalem • 20:21 GMT


Quinn stood on top of the rampart that surrounded the Old City of Jerusalem. It was a fortified wall about as wide as an alley, some forty feet above the ground. It had been built by the Ottoman Turks in the sixteenth century, some two miles of imposing stone barrier. Now tourists accessed the top of the wall from one of the gates.

Quinn had chosen a spot near the citadel, and from it he saw car traffic passing below. He was in a position to see two men approaching exactly at the time he’d set up via his CIA contact.

“Hamer,” Quinn said in greeting. He kept his hands out of his pockets. He did not want to appear threatening.

“Quinn?”

Quinn watched the other man, who was easily a head taller than Hamer, dressed in a black jacket and black pants. Quinn knew he was Hamer’s bodyguard; the CIA guy had warned that Hamer wouldn’t go anywhere in Jerusalem without security.

“Surprised?” Quinn asked Hamer in return. Quinn stayed away from the wall’s railing, only waist high. Then a forty-foot drop to the pavement.

“Surprised?” Hamer repeated. “Let me think about it. Our last conversation ends with you blaming me for blowing up your van and then threatening to go to the media. Then silence, which makes you my biggest worry until the choppers got diverted and I had to deal with hostages stuck on the Temple Mount with Palestinian terrorists. Then I get a call from the CIA demanding I come to a clandestine meeting about a national security issue more important than all of that. Now I show up, and you’re here. Nope, not surprised at all.”

The bodyguard had drawn a pistol and made no secret of it.

“Tell your bodyguard to relax,” Quinn told Hamer. “Much as I’d like to shoot you, all I have is a cell phone.”

“Would that be the same cell phone you decided not to use to call me over the last few hours? Any reason you couldn’t have done something that simple?”

“Like letting you track me via GPS and giving you a third chance to kill me?”

“My wife does this a lot,” Hamer said. “Answers a question with a question. Expects me to read between the lines.”

“So read between these lines. I wouldn’t be here unless I had insurance.”

“Any chance you could explain enough to make me feel like I’m part of this conversation?”

“Probability tells me you want me dead,” Quinn said. “I’ve ensured it won’t happen. Kate’s in a safe place, sitting in front of a computer.”

“Kate? You said she was dead.”

“Nice try, Hamer. If I don’t get back to her, she hits a Send button with everything we know. It reaches the media outlets. They’ll dig up the rest. You can’t muzzle the media. Not enough explosives or IDF for that.”

“Back up. You think I knew she was alive. You think I want you dead.”

“I’m a slow learner, but the two IDF agents you sent in after the van exploded were a helpful hint. Just in case I didn’t figure out that you set me up for the explosion with your phone call to tell me to start driving back.”

“Two agents. I’ve got operatives in Gaza looking for you.”

“Exactly. Backup for missing me in the van.”

“I sent operatives in to rescue you after your call to me.”

“Can you get your guy to put his gun down?” Quinn asked. “I’m in a bad mood here.”

The bodyguard didn’t shift.

“Humor me,” Hamer said. “Pretend for a minute that I really don’t know what’s going on. I don’t have to pretend, but you go ahead.”

“What’s the point in trying to drag this out? I’m not here to run from you. Like I said, Kate’s in a safe place. You’d be stupid to kill me or arrest me now. Remind your bodyguard of this. The Rottweiler-at-the-end-of-a-leash routine is getting old.”

Hamer shook his head, puzzled. Or pretending to be puzzled. “I already got the part about me trying to kill you. If you believe it, why are you here?”

“On the chance that I’m protected enough that I can force you to stop whatever you have planned on the Temple Mount.”

The night was quiet. In the morning, from where they stood, they’d be able to plainly hear the call to worship from the Al-Aqsa. It was barely two hundred yards away, down cobblestone streets barely wide enough for loaded camels to move.

“You’re scaring me, Quinn. I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too. And scared. By this time tomorrow night, a thousand people in Jerusalem might be dead. Maybe ten thousand. Jews and Palestinians. Innocent people. Kids. Tourists. Multiply that by a hundred across the world a week from now.”

“No,” Hamer said. “What scares me is how your little world of delusion seems so real to you.”

“The entire hostage situation was a setup. IDF had a special-forces team in place at the orphanage. IDF wanted it to look like choppers were sent into Gaza to load up with Palestinian terrorists. Except those terrorists didn’t get on the choppers like the world thinks. They were replaced. And it wasn’t random ground fire that forced the choppers to be diverted to the Temple Mount. It was just supposed to look that way. You had a nice little transcript of an emergency call from the pilot to prove it to the media.”

Hamer said nothing for so long that Quinn wondered if he was considering an execution order right there. Quinn noticed Hamer had yet to ask the bodyguard to put down the pistol.

“Sooner, rather than later,” Hamer said, “I’d like to know how you learned this.”

“So you’re confirming it was an IDF special op?”

“What’s more important is that if Kate leaks this to the media, it will cause the very thing you say you want us to stop.”

“Like maybe the Muslim world will riot, burn, and kill once it learns that IDF has violated holy ground? Very astute, Hamer.”

“The political fallout terrifies us. But in about five hours, the choppers will be out of there. Unless you and Kate do something stupid, the sun will rise on a world that has no idea any of this happened.”

Quinn sighed. “I see it one of two ways. First, you’re lying to me and you know how badly the operation’s gone wrong. If that’s the case, I didn’t need to risk this meeting, and Kate’s going to make sure the blame falls on the right people.”

“The operation will be complete by dawn. If you don’t get in the way.”

“The second way, you’re actually telling me the truth and have no idea the operation’s gone wrong.” Quinn gave a tight grin. “Either way, Hamer, you’d better do something about the situation, or Kate lets the terrible little birdie out of the cage.”

“You’re telling me our special unit didn’t get on the helicopters.”

“The two agents you sent in to take me out haven’t reported back yet, have they? Otherwise you’d know that.”

Hamer shook his head. “My operatives have been calling every half hour with negative results on their search for you.”

“You’re a good liar, Hamer. I’d prefer to deal with what’s really important. The operation has gone wrong.”

“Convince me our special unit didn’t get on the choppers and I’ll find a way to convince you I’m as blind to this as you are.”

Quinn stepped toward Hamer, then immediately stepped away when the bodyguard growled. Literally growled. Now didn’t seem like the time to make another smart Rottweiler comment.

“I’m going to toss you a cell phone from one of the IDF agents who tried to take me out after the explosion. I used it to take photos and video of the Israeli special-unit soldiers who were left behind in Gaza. Keep the phone. Kate’s got some photos on her cell phone too. If that’s not enough, I have the badges of the agents.”

Hamer studied the open phone. His shoulders sagged. “Where did you find these guys?”

“A tunnel under the street, accessed from a safe house across from the orphanage. Same safe house where the two IDF agents took me and tried to barbecue me right after I threatened you by phone. That threat was bait, and you took it.”

Air exploded from Hamer’s lungs in frustration. “I sent in men to rescue you. They didn’t get into Gaza for at least a half hour after your van exploded. From my end, I’m thinking Safady blew it up. I was glad he didn’t get you. I knew you needed help.”

“If I can believe that,” Quinn said, “there’s only one alternative. Someone else was in on both operations—the negotiation
and
the special op to put choppers on the Temple Mount.”

More silence. Quinn waited for Hamer to realize it. And say it.

“Cohen,” Hamer said. “He called me just before your van blew. Told me to confirm you were safe. He was set up to listen to any calls you made, including the threat to me.”

“That’s the other reason I’m here,” Quinn said. “In case it wasn’t you. In case those were Mossad with IDF badges. Mossad sent by Cohen. So find a way to prove it.”

Quinn started to turn his head toward the bodyguard as he caught a glimpse of movement. The bodyguard was lifting his arm, pointing the pistol. Before Quinn could react, there was the tremendously loud sound and the flash from the muzzle.

The bullet punched Quinn in the center of his chest. He fell to his knees, then onto his stomach.

From there, he heard Hamer speak to his bodyguard. “Are you crazy?”

Quinn saw the bodyguard spin and coldly lift the pistol again, pointing it at Hamer’s chest.

Hamer’s voice was filled with sad comprehension. “You’re going to do this? We’re friends. I’m godfather to your first son.”

Quinn had managed to push himself up onto his knees, unnoticed by the bodyguard, who was totally focused on Hamer.

“I’ve got to do this,” the bodyguard said. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“I take my orders from Zvi Cohen. That’s all I know and all you get.”

Quinn dove into the large man, managing to lock his arms around the bodyguard’s upper thigh. In that same upward push, he shoved, toppling the man over the wall and down to the unforgiving pavement below. Quinn’s momentum sent him sprawling on his belly. Even from his prone position, the sound of flesh and bone on the pavement was horrible, cutting short a scream, leaving Quinn the kind of memory no sane person ever wanted.

Hamer looked at Quinn, frozen by disbelief.

“Don’t need much more proof than that to clear you,” Quinn said, struggling to his hands and knees.

“He shot you. Point-blank.”

“Rule one in negotiating.” Quinn’s voice was a wheeze; the impact of the bullet in the center of his chest had left him struggling for air. “Make sure your CIA buddy lends you Kevlar.”

Temple Mount, Jerusalem • 20:21 GMT


“Brad,” Jonathan Silver said, “we need to speak. Privately.”

Brad was in conversation with one of the soldiers, touching the priestly garment as he inspected it. He showed impatience but stepped away, his face thrown in shadow. “I don’t have much time, Father.”