The guard peered into the VW.
Bennett turned his face away and groaned.
“May Allah be with you,” the man said.
“And with you,” Hamid replied.
The guard returned their passports and waved them through. Hamid gently stepped on the gas, trying to clear through the frontier without attracting any attention but before the fuel truck blew.
Seconds later, they turned the bend and picked up speed as an enormous explosion lit the night sky behind them.
52
Mordechai found a letter waiting for him.
His post-office-box information had been carefully typed on an old IBM Selectric. There was no return address and no postmark.
Perhaps it was from Sasha with news of Erin.
Mordechai’s pulse quickened. His Mossad security detail assured him it had been thoroughly screened for explosives and toxins. It was clean.
The old man took it to his balcony and sat down with a cup of hot chai to read it. But the moment he tore the envelope open, he knew it was from Bennett.
Dear Dr. Mordechai,
I have only a few minutes, so I’ll be brief. By now I am either in or dead. Either way, this may be my last communication with you before I meet you on the other side. If that’s the case, I want you to know how grateful I am for your friendship and wise counsel. I thank God for you, for bringing me to Christ and teaching me so much. I’m sorry I’m so slow at this. Thanks for your patience.
I have something to say that I’m too much a coward to say in person. Thus, this letter. I am not the only one positioned for such a time as this. God has positioned you as well, my friend. First, to tell Prime Minister Doron about “The Ezekiel Option.” And second, to go public. The world needs to know what God is about to do. The church at large does not seem prepared to share this message. Few have studied the prophecy closely. Now events are moving so rapidly that few will have time — or take the time — to decipher its meaning. But the lives of millions hang in the balance.
Jesus commands us to pray for our enemies, because we, too, were once enemies of God. What of the millions of Russian, German, and Islamic soldiers massing on Israel’s borders? What of the thousands of intelligence operatives and government officials who are now just days away from divine judgment? Christ died for them, too, didn’t He?
You must explain the prophecy to anyone who will listen. You must share the good news of Christ’s saving love to those who will soon perish in the firestorm, to their families and friends and loved ones, and to those who live in fear of a nuclear holocaust, especially your Jewish brothers and sisters in Israel and in the Diaspora.
I am young, and perhaps I am foolish for trying to save the woman who saved me. But even if I stayed, I would never have had the platform — or the standing — you have to be God’s spokesman. I know He doesn’t need mere mortals to speak on His behalf. But wasn’t it you who taught me that He chooses us to speak for Him? Wasn’t it you who taught me the words of the apostle Paul?
“For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, abounding in riches for all who call on Him; for ‘Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved.’ How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher? How will they preach unless they are sent? Just as it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of good things!’… So faith comes from hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.”
On the back, you’ll find the phone number and private e-mail address for Marcus Jackson at the New York Times. I have a feeling he would love to do this story. Thanks again for everything, and may God continue to bless you.
Your brother in Christ, JB.
(AMOS 3:7)
Ken Costello pored over the latest cable traffic.
Russian forces were streaming toward the Mediterranean. Iranian forces were pouring into Syria and Lebanon. German forces were being mobilized and would soon begin deploying to Saudi Arabia. France was still on the fence in regard to committing forces, but two new nations had joined the coalition against Israel over the weekend: Ethiopia and Sudan.
Mordechai’s memo was playing out.
Talking about it with Rajiv, however, was pointless. By now she admitted that Gogolov’s coalition looked a lot like the one Ezekiel had described. But every day she threw new objections at him. Didn’t Ezekiel say Israel’s enemies were supposed to be armed with arrows and swords? Didn’t he say the army would be mounted on horses? Did Costello see any cowboys and Indians out there? cavemen? Roman legions, even?
That had bothered Costello for days. But wasn’t it possible that someone writing 2,500 years ago might have described missiles as “arrows”? After all, the Russian R-37 air-to-air missile was code-named Arrow. The Chinese had an antitank missile known as the Red Arrow, now being deployed by the Iranians and Libyans. The Israelis themselves had an entire class of missiles called the Arrow, designed jointly with the U.S.
The horses, on the other hand, he had no answer for.
It was almost two in the morning.
But Gogolov insisted on an update.
“All in all, we are slightly ahead of schedule,” Jibril reported.
“You do not take talk of an American first strike seriously?” asked Gogolov.
“No,” Jibril replied. “Obviously, we must be vigilant, but look how quickly the White House distanced itself from the Post story. They are painting Bennett as a psychopath.”
“Perhaps, but that ignores the larger point, Mohammed. If the United States really is planning to assassinate me or launch a commando operation of some kind, would you not expect them to deny it — especially in public?”
“Of course, Your Excellency, but there is no evidence of U.S. or NATO forces moving toward us, and our borders and airspace are effectively sealed.”
Gogolov was not convinced. They weren’t looking for a full-scale invasion, after all. Signs of American special forces preparing for a surgical strike would be harder to detect than perhaps Jibril was prepared to admit.
“Mr. President, you called?”
It was Jack Mitchell from Langley.
“Yeah, Jack, what’s the latest on Bennett?”
“It’s sketchy so far, Mr. President,” the DCI began. “We know he took an Air France flight out of Dulles to Charles de Gaulle. He rented a car in his own name and took out three hundred euros from an airport ATM. He hasn’t popped up on the grid since.”
“Why Paris?”
“At this point we have no idea.”
The president began to imagine the worst. Gogolov and Jibril had proven to be craftier adversaries than any of them had expected. They’d put both the Mossad and the CIA on the defensive. Could they now be luring Bennett into a trap?
MacPherson couldn’t believe he’d let Bennett resign, much less sign a waiver allowing him to refuse further DSS or Secret Service protection. He’d been angry. They both had been. But the stakes were too high for either of them to let their emotions get the best of them. The last thing the country could afford was to have another senior White House official missing and presumed dead.
“Anything from McCoy?” Gogolov asked.
“Nothing so far.”
“We need those codes, Mohammed!” Gogolov erupted. “We have no idea what the Americans are really up to. We are flying blind, and time is running out.”