He was sobbing now — sobbing and coughing and circling the truck, weaving through the flames, trying to find an access point to the ambulance. But there was none. It was gone, crushed, yet Bennett refused to believe it. The sobs deepened. He doubled over, heaving, gasping for air, but in the process he was sucking in huge amounts of smoke. The more he searched, the more he wept, but the more he wept, the more he choked on the acrid smoke and noxious fumes around him. He gagged and began throwing up. Again and again he vomited until there was nothing left. But the vomiting didn’t stop.
As if the poison of death itself had entered his system and his body was trying to force it out, the innermost parts of his being convulsed again and again. Such dry heaves, however, only forced more smoke and fumes into his lungs and he began to panic all the more. He was suffocating — emotionally, physically — but he wouldn’t leave the wreckage. He couldn’t, not without the woman he loved.
His skin was blistering from the intense heat. His feet were shredded by glass and shrapnel. And then he heard what sounded like automatic gunfire. It didn’t make sense. But even if it was, so what? He wasn’t going anywhere without her. He wasn’t going anywhere without his Erin.
Bennett stumbled about in the acrid fog, circling the blazing wreckage, still calling Erin’s name, distantly cognizant of the danger to his own life but disinterested in his own fate just the same. He refused to believe she was dead. It was all a mistake — a nightmare perhaps, a wicked hallucination — but it certainly wasn’t true. He would find her. He had to. He would find her, and he would rescue her, and he would take her to a safe place, a place where he could nurse her back to health, a place where no one could find them — not the president, not his staff, not Doron, not this mystery caller or the monsters for whom he worked.
But suddenly he heard another burst of automatic gunfire and felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. His knees buckled. He hit the ground hard. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of him. He struggled to breathe. He struggled to get up. He was choking. He was gagging again. Someone hog-tied his hands and feet, stuffed a bandanna in his mouth, and forced a hood over his head.
Bennett couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was slipping into shock, about to black out, and then he heard the sound of footsteps. Many footsteps, running hard and approaching fast. He heard the pump action of several shotguns and of magazines being ejected and replaced in automatic assault weapons and sidearms as well. The Mossad team was getting mowed down, he realized. He heard voices, shouting something he couldn’t understand; then he felt a boot in his groin and everything went black.
50
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?”
Claire Devreaux, Salvador Lucente’s press secretary, cleared her throat and waited for the commotion to settle down. She looked out at the bank of at least fifty or sixty television cameras, several dozen photographers, and several dozen reporters and network news producers from around the globe. The press pool seemed to be growing week by week. Coverage of the U.N. secretary-general was approaching that of the American president, and the logistics of handling such a massive international media operation were becoming overwhelming to their small staff, she realized. They had to hire some more experienced hands, and they had to do it fast.
A junior aide signaled Devreaux that everyone was now in place. Several networks, including BBC and CNN, were carrying the press conference live. It was time.
“Very well,” Devreaux continued, “thank you for assembling on such short notice. The secretary-general is going to make a brief statement and then take a few questions. I need to inform you, however, that we will not be flying to Brussels as planned. Rather, I have just been informed that we are returning to Beijing for emergency talks. What’s more, the secretary-general has a phone call scheduled with U.S. president Oaks exactly one hour from now. So we need to make this fast, get everyone on the plane, and get airborne. That said, ladies and gentlemen, the secretary-general.”
A less experienced man might have been blinded by all the camera flashes and distracted by the buzz and whir of autoadvancers. But Lucente didn’t seem fazed.
“You and I stand at a very precarious moment in human history,” he began, dispensing with all preliminaries. “The forces of evil have attacked us when we least expected. We will strike back when they least expect. Let there be no doubt. I am a man of peace and diplomacy; this is true. What’s more, I represent an international community that seeks peace and prosperity for every man, woman, and child on this great, green earth. But there is ‘a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to heal and a time to kill, a time to tear down and a time to build… a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.’ This, I am afraid, is a time for war.”
Devreaux looked at the faces of those in the press pool. They were clearly as taken aback as she was.
“I will be talking to the American president by phone in a short while,” Lucente continued. “I will brief him on the many conversations I have had with world leaders over the past several hours, including with President Al-Hassani. I will be telling President Oaks that sixty-three countries have pledged to me the full use of their military forces, intelligence services, and any other resources they have to help track down those responsible for this barbaric act of genocide and to impose the justice that is needed and rightly demanded.”
As Lucente continued speaking, Devreaux could barely believe what she was hearing. Curiosity was killing her. How was the international media playing this? She pulled up CNN’s Web site on her iPhone and a few moments later found headlines she had never expected to read in her lifetime.
TIME FOR WAR, NOT PEACE, U.N. CHIEF SAYS
LUCENTE CALLS ATTACK ON U.S. ‘GENOCIDE’
ASSEMBLES 63-NATION COALITION TO RESPOND MILITARILY
But Lucente was not yet finished.
“That said, I am pleased to report that I have just spoken with Chinese prime minister Liu Xing Zhao. He told me that in the interest of world peace, he is ready to negotiate a full peace treaty with the United States and the United Nations. He said everything is on the table, including a dramatic reduction of Beijing’s nuclear warheads and long-range ballistic missiles, if the U.S. will reciprocate. What’s more, the People’s Republic of China is prepared to send 100,000 peacekeeping forces — to serve under U.N. command — and $100 billion worth of reconstruction aid to the Gulf region to help stabilize the Middle East and intensify our efforts to rebuild the oil and gas industry and thus sharply bring down the price of oil worldwide.”
The press corps was buzzing now. They had been expecting a pro forma press conference. But Lucente was dropping media bombshells one after another. And there was still more.
“I am also pleased to report that President Al-Hassani told me earlier that he is ready to make some news of his own,” Lucente explained, waiting a few beats until the press corps settled again and were hanging on his every word. “The president tells me that the United States of Eurasia is now prepared to forge a historic, comprehensive peace agreement with the State of Israel. Mr. Al-Hassani says that after much deliberation — and after seeing how close the world is to even further disaster — he is prepared to fly to Israel, address the Knesset, and share his vision for peace with the people of the Jewish state. He said that will include full recognition of Israel as a state, full diplomatic relations, and access to the Middle East Free Trade Area. What’s more, President Al-Hassani said he has no preconditions. In light of unfolding events, he simply wants to sit down with the Israelis and begin their discussions as quickly as possible.”