Mordechai just smiled. “So, what country is located to the remotest parts of the north of Israel?”
It was unmistakable, even from where Bennett sat.
“Russia.”
“And what city is located due north of Jerusalem?”
That, too, was unmistakable.
“Moscow.”
38
“Erin, can you hear me?”
Someone was calling her name.
Gently, like a father. Like a friend.
“Jon… is that you?”
It took all the energy she had, but McCoy forced herself to open her eyes. But the face she saw was not Jon Bennett’s. It was Mohammed Jibril’s.
Instinctively, she recoiled — emotionally at least. She was still tied to the pole. For the first time, she knew exactly what she was up against. If Jibril was the one torturing her, she was not long for this earth. Her hands began to shake behind her.
There was no place to run.
“Erin, I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you.”
McCoy shut her eyes. She tried to shut out the voice, but she could not. It was still there — first on her right side, then on her left. Jibril was circling her.
“Jon Bennett is alive — barely.”
McCoy gasped.
“He is not here — not in this facility, anyway. But we have him. As you know, he was shot and severely wounded in the Kremlin. We almost lost him a few times, but we needed him, and he survived.”
Jibril’s voice was but a whisper.
“Now, Erin, you will be glad to know your government and your friends back home are anxious to get you both back. For the moment, our public position is that you were both wounded in the cross fire and are on life support. But I am prepared to send you both home, if you cooperate. Not Jon, mind you. We do not need his cooperation. We need yours.”
Here it came — the offer she couldn’t refuse.
They were kidding themselves. There was no way she was going to tell them anything. They’d have to kill her first. She was ready to die. At this point, she was almost looking forward to it.
“During the coup, we were able to capture a very interesting piece of equipment from the embassy vehicle that brought you to the Kremlin.”
McCoy’s heart began racing faster.
“You know which piece I am talking about. And you know something Bennett does not — the encryption codes.”
Could that be true? Had Jibril gotten his hands on her laptop? If so, he and Gogolov could access the entire U.S. intelligence grid, including communications servers carrying classified cable traffic between the CIA, NSC, State Department, and the White House Situation Room. Giving up the codes would mean giving Gogolov and Jibril unrestricted access to everything the president and his senior advisors were saying, thinking, doing.
It was probable, of course, that the codes had been changed following the coup. And they were supposed to be changed on the first of each month anyway. But how could she take such a chance? Cooperating at all would make her guilty of treason even if the codes had been changed.
Jibril had to be bluffing. There was no way their driver would have allowed those laptops to be compromised — unless…
“You think I am lying, yes?” Jibril said softly, as if reading her mind. “Very well, I will show it to you.”
She couldn’t resist. She had to know. She opened her eyes and looked at him. And sure enough, he was holding her laptop — booted up and awaiting her password. Jibril set it on a small table, then walked over to her. His face was just inches from hers. She had one chance. She might as well take it.
“Drop dead,” she screamed and spit in his face.
Jibril didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He stared calmly at her for a moment, then slowly removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. He didn’t seem angry. He was even beginning to smile.
“Erin, Erin — come — you did not even let me finish. We both know what you really do for a living. And we both know whom you really work for. So here is the deal— every day you refuse to give us the correct codes, we will torture Jon Bennett without mercy.”
McCoy could barely breathe.
They were bluffing. They had to be.
“It is as simple as that, Erin. Obviously, you will be tortured, too, though I do not think that really bothers you. You are a trained CIA operative. You know what it takes to survive, or at least to hold out for several weeks. But really, how could you live with yourself knowing that you alone were responsible for the suffering of the man you love?”
The question hung in the air for a moment, and then Jibril began to beat her again.
“Who is left on our list?” Mordechai asked.
Bennett flipped back through his notepad and read off the remaining names: “Persia, Cush, Put, Gomer, and Beth-togarmah.”
“Of course,” said Mordechai. “These are Gog’s allies. Historically, Persia is the easiest to identify. Until 1935, Persia was the name of the country we now call Iran, one of the founding members of the Axis of Evil and the epicenter of modern terrorism. The Cushites, according to Josephus, settled in Africa, south of Egypt. Josephus called that area Ethiopia, but it included what we now call Eritrea and Sudan as well. Sudan, of course, has become a base camp for radical Islamic terrorism, armed for years by the Soviets and more recently by Iran. And, as you know, the Sudanese jihadists have waged a campaign of genocide, particularly in the Darfur region, killing some three hundred thousand people in recent years.”
Mordechai used a laser pointer to direct Bennett around the map on the far wall.
“Which brings us to Put. Josephus wrote that ‘Phut also was the founder of Libya.’ Now, I know that Libya claims to have given up their weapons of mass destruction and support for terrorism. But personally, I do not believe it. And you should know that ancient Libya actually included Tunisia and Algeria, both of which have long histories of hatred toward Israel and close ties to Moscow and Tehran. What is more, notice the reference Ezekiel makes in 38:13 to Sheba and Dedan. Those are ancient names for Saudi Arabia and the Persian Gulf region.”
“So what are you saying, exactly?” asked Bennett.
“I am saying that when you add up Ezekiel’s references to central Asia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, the Persian Gulf, and North Africa, you get a coalition of modern radical Islamic countries working closely with Russia.”
One by one, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. There were only two holes remaining now: Gomer and Beth-togarmah.
“These are a little trickier,” Mordechai admitted.
He dug into the briefcase again and this time pulled out a thick file folder stuffed with pages of notes. He opened the file and selected a page as if at random, though Bennett figured Mordechai could probably identify every piece of paper simply from its location in the stack.
“Let me start with Beth-togarmah, which means ‘the House of Togarmah.’ The best evidence I have read for the identity of Beth-togarmah is in a book called Things To Come by Dr. Dwight Pentecost, a professor of Bible exposition at Dallas Theological Seminary. He concluded that Togarmah ‘is generally identified as Turkey or Armenia.’ ”
“What was the evidence?” Bennett asked.
“Dr. Pentecost cites two primary sources,” said Mordechai, consulting his notes. “One was Dr. Harry Rimmer, a prophecy scholar who wrote a book in 1940 called The Coming War and the Rise of Russia. According to Rimmer’s research, ‘Togarmah has always been the land which we now call Armenia. It is so named in the records of Assyria…. Indeed, all Armenian literature refers to the land and its people as The House of Togarmah.’