The Israeli saluted. "Yes, Mr. President. Thank you, sir."
Nick followed the President inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The team watched the explosion in disbelief.
"Oh, my God!" Selena put her hand to her mouth.
They watched the stage lift, the people flying into the air. They watched the Mosque collapse in a deep rumble of falling stone. The camera shook and swayed. The sound of the detonation died away. Screams came from the television speakers.
"Holy shit!" Ronnie said. "The President! And the Mosque! It's gone!"
Elizabeth put her hand out, gripped Stephanie's shoulder. "There's Nick!"
On screen, the camera steadied. They watched Nick scramble to his feet and run to the edge of the pit. He disappeared into the hole. Fragmented, shaky images of the destruction filled the screen as the cameraman ran forward. The picture steadied. The camera looked over the edge of the pit.
Nick was helping the President sit up. The camera zoomed in on their faces. Rice was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. Nick's sunglasses were gone and his suit was torn and dirty. The camera swung toward a man in the uniform of the Muslim honor guard. He was standing on the edge of the pit and brandishing a pistol.
He was screaming, distraught. He began firing into the pit. The camera moved again and the team watched Nick cover the President with his body, draw and fire. His face was closed and angry. He kept firing while the shooter rolled down into the hole. The camera followed him down. They watched the slide lock back on Nick's .45.
"The whole magazine," Ronnie said. "He gave him the whole magazine."
The camera swung round to a jittery shot of running Israeli soldiers. The screen went black. A few seconds later a studio shot with a famous anchor appeared. The live feed from Jerusalem was down. Ronnie went to the set and turned off the sound.
They looked at each other. No one knew what to say.
Stephanie took a deep breath. "What shall we do, Director?"
"This will start a war. We've got to get evidence to take Dysart down. So far we've got nothing. For all we know Valkyrie and Parsifal are part of a school play for his teen age daughter."
"Sure they are," said Ronnie. "That bastard is in this all the way. Can he find out where we are?"
"I don't know. We'll stand watch. Four hour shifts in front of the monitors. Ronnie, you and Selena take the first one. You got a little sleep earlier. Steph and I are beat. We're too tired to do much good. Wake us in four and Steph and I will get back on the computers."
In her room, Elizabeth stripped off her crumpled clothes and headed for the shower. She stood for a long time with the hot water streaming down the front of her body. It washed away some of the stress and tiredness of the day, but she was exhausted. She turned around and let the water soak her hair and back, feeling some of the tightness go out of her shoulders.
She dried off and pulled an old shirt and pair of jeans from the closet. She dressed and lay down on the bed. She was drifting off when the phone signaled. It was Nick.
"Director. You know about the bomb?"
"We watched it live. Good work with the President."
"They broadcast it all?"
"Yes. You've got your fifteen minutes of fame."
"Director, Rice wants you to find out who did this. He told me to 'get her on it'. I'm flying back with him today."
"We're already doing that. Tell the President he'll be first to know if I find something to nail Dysart or anyone else."
"What happens when I get to Washington?"
"That's up to Rice. Assume you'll be watched. Use the email protocol or the sat link to keep me up to speed."
"Roger that, Director."
"Good luck, Nick." But he was already gone.
Elizabeth set the phone down on the nightstand and lay back on the bed. Her eyes closed and she slept.
She dreamed she was being buried alive and woke gasping for breath.
The Grand Master watched a rerun of the explosion for the fourth time. For the fourth time he smiled as the Mosque crumbled into ruin. But then came the part where the President was rescued by that woman's operative. It was irritating. Now he'd have to find another way to get rid of Rice. Harker and her agents were proving to be an obstacle that needed to be eliminated.
Perhaps he could turn things to an advantage. Rice would have to be killed here in America. It could add fuel to the fire he had started. Proof could be found of Iranian involvement.
Yes, that would fit nicely. He knew just the person for the job. Nothing would stop PARSIFAL.
Nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The rhythmic tramp of Nick's military escort echoed on the tiled floors of the hospital ward. The ward supervisor looked up from her station by the elevators. She was stout and dark haired. She reminded Nick of his old drill instructor at Pendleton.
"Could you tell me where Rivka Stern is?"
The nurse was pretty in a hard way, around thirty, which meant she'd done her time in the army. She gave the soldiers a once-over and studied the tall American. She ignored the weapons. Everyone in Israel saw weapons all the time. It was part of daily life, along with the random, lethal explosions marking the reality of terror. By contrast, the drive-by violence of America's inner cities looked almost peaceful.
"She's in 1438, down the hall on the right. Please have your escort wait outside the room."
"Yes, Ma'am," Nick said. "Thank you."
Ari Herzog was there. He put his phone away, ready to leave. Rivka sat propped up in bed in a blue hospital robe, her left arm strapped across her chest. She sipped something red from a clear plastic glass held in her good hand. There were dark circles under her eyes. An IV was taped to her good arm.
Ari looked haggard and tense.
"Your call saved the President, Ari."
"No, Nick, you saved him. I only gave the warning. Anyway, he's safe. But Ascher is dead. In hours Israel will be at war."
"It can't be stopped?"
"No. I just got a call. A Jewish group has claimed credit for the bombing. They've been a problem for years, calling for the demolition of the Dome of the Rock and construction of a new Temple on the Mount. They released an announcement to all the major networks, starting with Al-Jazeera."
"Is it authentic?"
"Maybe. I don't know, yet. We've already detained the leaders of the group. They deny any knowledge or participation. Even if the announcement is a phony, the damage is done. The entire Muslim world now believes a group of fanatical right-wing Jews desecrated one of the holiest sites in Islam. We're on full alert. The reserves are being called up as we speak."
"That's bad news."
"A masterpiece of understatement."
"I'm leaving with the President," Nick said. He thought for a moment. This man was a friend. "How can I help?"
"Keep an open channel for me. I'd like to know what's going on. I don't expect you to betray confidences, but…"
"I'll do what I can."
"Good enough." Ari took out a card, scribbled on it. "This number will reach me any time of the day or night." Nick took it.
Ari bent over Rivka. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek.
"Shalom. Get well."
The door closed behind him.
"How are you?"
"Messed up. I'll be in rehab for a few months."
"Rivka, I'm sorry."
"For what, Nick? You know better. I should have been more careful."
"Yes, but…"
"No 'buts'. There is no 'but'. I should have ducked or shot sooner, that's all."
"At least we got the son of a bitch."
She smiled, looked away, back again. "You are with somebody."
"Yes. But I haven't figured it out yet."
Rivka laughed. "Figured it out? Oh, Nick." She laughed again. "Ow, that hurts," she said, still laughing.