If he drew his Glock, there was no way the police would approach him. He hoped they also saw the al Humat men pursuing him and understood that he was the good guy in this scenario.
The area was brightly illuminated, though another thirty yards later a spotlight hit him in the face and a blaring klaxon sounded. Several police officers in blue uniforms came through a thick metal door, clad in tactical vests and helmets.
“Stop! Get down,” they yelled in Arabic.
Uzi stumbled to a jog, then pulled up and dropped to his knees. “I’m American,” he said as they surrounded him. “Being pursued by two or three armed al Humat—”
“Check it,” the lead officer said. Four of the men headed down the corridor the way Uzi had come. The cop then pulled his two-way and barked orders in Hebrew. He lowered his radio and knelt in front of Uzi. “What are you doing in Gaza?”
“I have an appointment with Director General Aksel.”
The man shared a glance with one of his underlings as if to say, “Did I just hear right?”
“We need to search you,” one of the others said. “Don’t move.”
Uzi glanced up and saw the three-bar insignia on the senior officer’s shoulder: a sergeant major. Peretz, by his nametag.
“You’ll find a Glock and a Tanto,” Uzi said, “and a satphone and a Lumia.”
“Call it in,” Peretz said to one of his men. “And get a medic over here.”
The cops emptied the pockets of his 5.11s and backed away from their detainee, showing Peretz the cache — which was exactly as Uzi had described — except his satphone’s screen was shattered and his Lumia was missing.
“Get up,” Peretz said. “Name?”
Uzi got to his feet. “Aaron Uziel.”
Peretz pulled an Israeli bandage from the backpack of one of his men and began applying the compression dressing to Uzi’s arm. “Mind telling us what you were doing in Gaza? And why you have an appointment with the director general of Mossad? You’re no ordinary American.”
Uzi chuckled. “Trust me, Sergeant Major. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
Peretz frowned. “Actually, if your friend is Hector DeSantos, I might, in fact, believe you.”
Vail arrived at the location of the tunnel entrance. But the sky was now completely black save for a sliver of moonlight that was fighting to be seen through the otherwise dense cloud cover.
There was barely enough illumination to keep her from stepping in a hole as she navigated the hard, rocky soil.
With the satphone in her left hand and the Glock in her right, she stumbled her way to the coordinates. She hoped no one engaged her, because staring at the backlit screen destroyed her night vision. If someone approached she would not be able to see him.
After five minutes of searching — and the phone losing its satellite signal, then regaining it — she stopped at a rock outcropping, where the tunnel’s mouth was supposedly located. You’ve gotta be kidding. It better be here.
She turned on her Samsung’s flashlight and found the entrance behind a large boulder. Then it hit her: she was headed underground into a tunnel. How long it was, how tight it would be, she had no idea.
Claustrophobia or not, she had no choice but to push forward. Safety resided on the other side of the border.
She wrapped her left arm around the tube and looked into the abyss: there was a metal ladder bolted to the wall that led straight down, perhaps thirty feet. Holy shit.
Vail took a deep breath and started descending, one rung at a time. As she neared the bottom, her right foot slipped on the next to last step and she hit the ground hard. A jolt of pain shot through both ankles.
Shake it off. Keep going.
She held up the flashlight. Ahead of her the tunnel stretched as far as she could see, with a bend near the end. Was it the end, or merely a turn?
Standing there and debating it was fruitless. Vail turned off the satphone to conserve the battery — there was no reception down here — and trudged forward, keeping the light in front of her. There was electrical conduit mounted along the left wall and bare bulbs every thirty feet or so. But she did not see a switch.
The spherical tunnel was constructed of formed concrete bunker-style sections and stood about six feet across at its widest point and about six feet tall at its apex. At five foot seven, as long as Vail remained in the center, she would be able to stand straight.
Another hundred yards — and she heard a noise. She stopped, painted the area with her flashlight. Nothing.
She reached for her Glock — but it was gone. Shit. Shit!
Vail spun around and peered into the darkness behind her. Might’ve fallen when I fell off the ladder. Go back? No. Could’ve also dropped it up top. I may never find it. It’d totally suck if I got captured looking for my gun.
As it was, she did not expect to find anyone else down here. And once she reached the end, she would no longer need it.
Vail rested her palm on the handle of her Tanto and continued forward. She kicked something made of glass and it bounced repeatedly ahead of her, ultimately striking the concrete wall.
Her heart, already beating hard, felt like it skipped a beat. Perspiration blanketed her body and she felt clammy. Between the anxiety of claustrophobia and the stress of not knowing what lie ahead in the darkness, she would not be surprised if she had a coronary.
Stop it, Karen. Nothing’s lurking in the darkness and you’re not gonna have a heart attack.
Vail reached the bend but was dismayed to see that it continued on. That, however, was not the problem. The road forked — and the two options led in opposite directions.
She stood there trying to reason it through based on which direction she was headed on the surface and where the satphone image had indicated Israel was located. It was a nearly impossible equation because she did not know which direction she had been walking when she entered the tunnel.
Vail turned left to see if there was any indication as to which way she needed to go. But as she took a step forward someone grabbed her from behind.
77
The man’s forearm was locked across her neck, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She would lose consciousness in a matter of seconds.
His other arm was around her torso, pinning her limbs to her body. Vail dropped her phone and the tube and tried to raise her arms up — but she could not pry them loose.
As he dragged her backward she dug her heels into the dirt, hoping to throw him off balance. But he maintained his center of gravity.
The darkness was disorienting, the only light coming from her cell lying somewhere on the ground. And even that was fading as he squeezed harder and she started to lose consciousness.
Using her legs, she pushed herself side to side — and drove them both into the concrete wall. His grip loosened, enough for her to get some oxygen, enough to free a hand.
She reached back to grab him — and felt cold metal. A gun! She got her fingers on it and pulled, but he jerked her back and it went flying somewhere into the darkness.
Fuck. She swung her left foot out, hoping to kick the weapon away to prevent him from getting to it. She hit it once but could not tell if it traveled any distance.