“You? You killed your own sons?” Omid whispered into Qazvin’s ear.
Omid’s arms moved slowly from around Qazvin’s chest and up toward his head and neck. He tried to fight the urge but he wanted to kill his grandfather.
“Yes,” Qazvin whispered as he thrust the tip of his 9-inch Pesh-kabz dagger, housed on the hip inside the Kamarband, deep inside Omid’s chest and quickly punctured his lung.
Omid gasped in utter disbelief as he heard Qazvin weep. Sharp pain engulfed his lungs and chest as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening.
With a quick twist, the Pesh-kabz turned clockwise and was pulled out as a mixture of blood, water and air covered Qazvin’s clothes. Omid felt life racing out of his body as Qazvin pushed the dagger in second time, another clockwise spin, then he pulled it out of Omid’s belly.
Omid could not believe what was happening. His hands fell down and back to his weeping grandfather’s side, then went limp. Omid bent his head down and kissed his grandfather’s cheek. The sounds of his grandfather weeping faded slowly as life poured out of Omid and finally into silence.
39
Beirut Luna Park
Beirut, Lebanon
An elderly woman walked through Luna Park in Beirut taking photographs of the 50 hot air balloons and flying teams that had arrived from all over the Middle East. The small, discreet camera was hidden in her hijab and triggered by a clicker in her hand. The woman was a common sight in Luna Park and throughout most of the public areas of Beirut since Mossad placed her in Lebanon 23 years before.
Most of the balloon teams were from Egypt. Three days of carnival rides, music, and food would open the Unity Festival after the Friday holy day. The balloons would race from Beirut, down the Mediterranean coast past Israel and the Gaza Strip before crossing the finish line in Port Said, Egypt. The winning team would receive 100,000 Egyptian pounds, more than $16,000 in US currency.
Organizers had moved the event up by two weeks, claiming that political unrest between Iran and Israel necessitated an earlier festival.
With the start of the festival still seven days away, balloon teams wanted plenty of time to practice, rig their equipment properly and get familiar with the tricky wind conditions that could change at a moment’s notice along the sea.
The woman took photos of the posters stapled to trees and taped to sign poles in Luna Park which had created excitement among the locals. She photographed TV news crews from around the Middle East as they were filming and reporting the preparations for the race.
But one thing caught her attention more than anything else. The date of the race had been moved up to October 1st. The woman left the park and headed back to her apartment. She knew this was information that Yitzhak would want to know about immediately.
Tel Aviv
Few things ever surprised Reuven, but the photos Yitzhak showed him and then the Al Jazeera News footage from Beirut left him stunned.
“They changed the dates,” Reuven said calmly as Yitzhak began to panic.
“I thought the plan was 10 days before Ali’s birthday… the 23rd?” Yitzhak asked.
“Perhaps we have been played. Get Shin Bet and Aman over here now. Tell them we advise going to ‘orange’ on the Jericho 3.”
Reuven started the call chain to Lyon, France. He needed to speak with Camp.
Lyon, France
Raines uncorked a chilled bottle of Pinot Gris and placed it next to the bathtub in her apartment. The hot water was starting to fill the basin and the aromas of exotic oils and spices began to fill the steamed-up room as she lit four candles.
Most nights since she had been at LyonBio were filled with 20-hour days and a quick nap on her couch covered with Grandma Lydia’s hand-knitted Afghan blanket. She was relieved, almost giddy, to have 24 hours of unplugged time just to herself as LyonBio started to manufacture the sublingual vaccine.
Sitting on the ledge of her tub, wearing an open white robe, she picked up her cell phone and made one last call. The call went to voice mail as she knew it would.
“Hey sailor… I know you’re probably somewhere over the Atlantic and sound asleep by now… just want you to know that I’m naked, well, almost naked… and ready for a three-hour bath, an entire bottle of wine, and 100 hours of sleep… but guess what… I miss you already. Give me a call when you land so I know you made it home okay… miss you.”
Raines ended her call and powered her iPhone to off.
40
ISAF Headquarters
Kabul, Afghanistan
General Ferguson, Billy Finn and two coffee-pouring majors were carrying their food trays and looking for an open table in the DFAC. Finn was positioned right in front of one of the 10 flat-screen TVs that played news, sports and movies — all courtesy of the Armed Forces Network.
The noise in the DFAC prevented anyone from hearing the TVs but they served as conduits of moving wallpaper back to the real world nonetheless.
“Did Camp seem excited about his new assignment at Walter Reed?” Ferguson asked as Finn speared his tossed green salad.
“Seemed to be. Better than coming back to OEF,” Finn said.
Finn noticed Major Spann’s fixation with the news report and looked up.
“I’m at a loss about what to do with that man,” Ferguson said with his back to the TV. “Maybe getting back in a hospital is the best thing for him.”
Finn put his fork down, got up and ran over to the TV so he could hear the report on CNN.
“What is it?” Ferguson said finally turning around.
“The Iranians claim that Israel, through the covert action of Mossad, has assassinated another high level military officer. Colonel Farid Amir was visiting family in Markazi Province when a motorcyclist attached a magnet bomb to his car and drove off as the blast killed the Iranian colonel. No other injuries were reported. Israel denies that it had anything to do with the Iranian officer’s death.”
Finn ran out the back door of the DFAC and back to the general’s office.
Tel Aviv, Israel
Top level officers from Shin Bet, Aman and Mossad were gathered in the conference room closest to Reuven’s command center.
Yitzhak turned the TV off.
“Was this the man you met with?” Major General Shalom from Aman asked.
Reuven nodded.
“But this wasn’t us,” the officer from Shin Bet hoped.
Reuven shook his head.
“Have you heard from the American?” the general pushed.
Reuven was silent.
“Then we have no choice. There is a firm plan. We know the plan thanks to Iranian military intelligence. We must strike first.”
Reuven was powerless to offer a different solution as the general from Aman went to prepare for an all-out military attack as Shin Bet would try to protect the people of Israel.
Yitzhak stayed with Reuven alone in the conference room for a few more minutes then finally left as well. Reuven stared ahead at the wall. His face was void of emotion.
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and pulled out his phone. He was tired of the chain. He called the number directly.
Camp answered on the second ring.
“Yes.”
“Shepherd’s Pie?”
“Molly Bloom! How the hell are you?” Camp said with great enthusiasm.
“Where are you?”
“Just went through customs after a long flight home. Feels good to be home, my friend.”