His shocking outburst had the desired effect. The patrol swung back toward the group of kidnappers, and in the split second of indecision, one of the young Israelis with Rachel was startled and drew his weapon. Harry dropped to the ground as the patrol’s Galil assault rifles chattered, the street dancing with the fire of the muzzle flashes. Rachel dove out of the way, bringing her pistol up. She dropped one of the soldiers with a double tap, the trooper’s throat exploding with the impact of the two rounds. Another soldier was taken out before the patrol managed to direct their aim with more accuracy. Moshe was dead from a dozen bullet wounds before his corpse hit the ground.
Rolling on the cobbled street, Harry maneuvered himself around a corner and out of the battle as gunfire whined over his head. In the gloom ahead, he saw a dark figure running toward him, a machine pistol at the ready. He guessed that it was one of Rachel’s diversionary troops, and he slunk into a darkened store entrance to let the kidnapper pass, knowing he would add to the confusion behind him.
Lev’s Uzi had a sharper sound than the patrol’s Galils, and a full magazine exploded into the ranks of soldiers, scything down four of them and wounding three more. His burst gave Rachel the covering fire she needed to race from the confined street, firing behind her as she managed her escape, limping badly from a bullet lodged in her upper thigh.
Harry didn’t wait to listen for the patrol’s return fire. He got to his feet and started running, keeping to the shadows, cutting through any alley he came to in an effort to lose himself in the ancient city.
The only thing that saved him from being picked up was the patrol’s diminished number and the fact that they tracked the fleeing kidnappers slowly, fearing an ambush. In ten minutes, Harry felt he had put enough distance between himself and the firefight to rest for a few minutes and consider his next move. Savoring freedom for the first time in weeks, he was still cut off and alone. He realized that a curfew must be in effect and he would have to wait before trying to find help.
He had to find Americans, embassy staffers or someone, if he hoped to get out of the country alive. That would be his best option. But how? Where could he find countrymen in a nation he knew virtually nothing about? Harry looked around and saw a church across the street. In the milky glow of spotlights washing up the building’s facade he saw that there was an English translation to the announcements on their bulletin board. Reading the list of regular services the church provided, Harry saw his opportunity and smiled.
David was waiting exactly as planned, the engine of the windowless van idling quietly. Rachel ran up to the vehicle, her face tight with the pain in her leg. Without a word she threw open the passenger door and eased herself into the seat. “Drive.”
“What about the others?”
“No one else made it. We were hit by a security patrol. Everyone else is dead.” Her voice was weak and exhausted.
Her cell phone chirped. Now what?
“Rachel, it’s Yosef.”
“We were hit, Yosef. The team was wiped out, and White’s gone.”
“At the safe house?”
“We ran into a patrol while leaving the city, and Harry White managed to escape in the confusion. Levine said he couldn’t compromise himself by giving us a military escort or ordering troops to let us break curfew. He left us on our own, and it turned into a massacre.”
“That prick,” Yosef spat. “He wants the prime minister’s office, and now that it’s within his reach, I think he wants to cut us loose. I spoke with him about a helicopter extraction, and while he agreed to it, it sounded as though he’s not too enthusiastic.”
“I’ve been reading the papers. It looks like he’s going to win the election in a landslide,” Rachel said. “He really doesn’t need us any longer.” The enormity of her situation crashed in on her. “Do you think he’ll have us killed?”
“No, he still wants what’s at the mine, but afterward? I don’t know.” Yosef paused as he reconsidered. “Levine is an ambitious bastard, but we know enough to force him to honor his commitment. If he kills us, he’ll never be sure we haven’t told what we’ve done to others. Besides, when we’re successful, his position within the government will be secure forever. Our involvement and our actions couldn’t hurt him. There would be no need to kill us.”
“But White will talk.”
“He doesn’t know anything, and when I kill Mercer, there will be no witnesses.”
“That still leaves Selome Nagast,” Rachel reminded.
“I know. She’ll have to die too. I didn’t want to do that. The fallout from Shin Bet will be enormous, but Levine will have to handle it.”
“Yosef, are we right?” Rachel asked. “Is our job important enough for all of these killings?”
“No job is important enough to kill for, but our quest is. Not because of Levine, but because of what it will mean to the rest of Israel.”
He told her about Mercer’s discovery of the Valley of Dead Children and his plans to reach the site the following day. He also told her about Giancarlo Gianelli’s operation and how it likely overlapped with theirs. Yosef had a suspicion that he would find the industrialist had already beaten him to the mine, which forced the Israeli agent to modify his plan. He decided they would approach the valley cautiously and keep it under observation before making their own play. He refocused his attention on Rachel and her plight. “You have to find someplace to hide until after the election and let us worry about what to do next. Don’t contact Levine, I’ll handle him. We’ve got just a few weeks left, and then it will be over. For all of us.” Yosef cut the connection.
Northern Eritrea
The Toyota was a speck in the vastness of the desert, moving just ahead of the billowing dust of its wake. The twin scars of its tire prints ran off to the infinity of the horizon. Other than the truck, nothing moved in the desert — no animal or bird, no lizard or crawling insect ventured out into the torturous heat. While rain fell on the eastern part of the country and angry masses of clouds were visible in the distance, the storms had not yet come to the Hajar region. The desert floor was cracked, split open in a natural process that tripled its surface area and would allow a greater amount of water to be absorbed when it finally did rain. It was as if the soil itself needed the precious water to survive.
Mercer drove recklessly, trusting his own reactions and the vehicle’s speed in case they drove over any of the antipersonnel mines sown on the open plain. If they hit a larger antitank mine, nothing he could do would save their lives. Gibby sat next to him, his hand braced against the dash while Selome grimly gripped a ceiling strap in the back, her eyes riveted out the rear window.
“Do you see them yet?” Mercer shouted over the engine’s roar.
“No, not yet,” Selome replied hoarsely. “Oh shit, I see them now.”
Mercer shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror for a second and spied the pursuing four-wheel drive. At this distance, it was only a sparkling reflection, a jewel pinned to the desert by dust blowing up behind it.
“Sorry, guys,” he called darkly. “I don’t think we’re going to make it.”
They had started their drive from the camp two hours after dawn. Mercer and Habte, with the help of Abebe, had laid the explosive charges Mercer had fashioned during the night by premixing the ammonium nitrate and fuel oil in a dozen one-gallon metal cans. At dawn, the three of them had dug holes into the mountain according to a plan Mercer had devised to maximize the shots and tumble the overhanging walls of their excavation.
Once the holes had been dug and the charges buried, they scrambled back to ground level, moved the vehicles to a safe distance, and waited while Mercer made the final connections to the battery-driven detonator. He called the countdown but gave Gibby the honor of shooting the amfo. The boy had practically begged. The fuses burned at twelve thousand feet per second, so it seemed the detonations were instantaneous, but a cascade compression wave had been created in the rock that built steadily in fractions of seconds.