DISCLAIMER: The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all who have reviewed this story! I'm working on the end – your comments have spurred me to be extra attentive as I finish what you have said started so well.
Chapter 9 * Outside Tel Aviv, Israel * 5:45 p.m. (GMT+2)
Seven small airplanes took off from an airstrip on one of the few Kibbutzim that was not a Jewish community in the entire nation of Israel. Ali laughed to himself as he watched the cropdusters disappear into the twilight sky. Someone in the Mossad would lose a lot more than his job once the true owners of this prime piece of land became known.
The eighth plane, still on the ground behind him, was his; it would take him over the border to Lebanon, where he would deal with his hostages. In the mean time, the land-killing chemicals inadvertently released in Texas and so recently duplicated in the Virginia labs of the Environmental Defense Initiative would wreak their havoc on 14 vital farms. Too bad that Dr. Palmer hadn't been able to get more of the catalyst out of the lab, as it would have been more glorious to kill 50 farms, or 100, even. But 14 large kibbutzim would do serious damage to the food production of the country, so it would be enough for the moment.
And in the mean time, Ali mused, he would think of all the things he could do to help Jikar Qitani exact revenge on the three Americans who seemed to be his sole reason for living. It was a double-edged sword to have his Mossad informer away during this critical time; the man could not be implicated should anything go wrong, but neither could he provide vital information – such as the actual American response to the kidnapping and to the casually leaked word yesterday that chemical weapons might be used in Israel. He just had to wonder if their stab in the dark with the videotape were true, that B. Andrew Forest really would appear, a ghoul out to stop the righteous war Ali and his fellow soldiers waged against the state and people of Israel. And if the threat of harm to his lover would truly prevent the Gardener from doing his job.
In the Skies Above Israel * 5:49 p.m. (GMT+2)
Sir, I just watched seven planes take off from a civilian airstrip without clearance, the Radar Intercept Officer (RIO) of an Israeli F-14 told his pilot. Tel Aviv Control is trying to raise them but they're not responding.
Then let's take a look, Lieutenant. The pilot notified his wingman to stay behind, then rolled the stick to the right. The plane bent to his will, slipping down toward the ground gracefully in the purpling sky of a desert sunset.
The supersonic jet came up behind the smaller craft, just behind the center plane. Well, what have we here? Don't they look like cropdusters, Dan?
The RIO looked out to either side of the plane at the formation. Yes, they do, Captain. But why after dark?
That is a very good question – especially since it's illegal.
We don't seem to have fazed them, though.
Maybe they're hoping that playing innocent will keep us from getting curious.
They're wrong. Shall I call Smokestack in?
Yes, and Viper and Hangman, as well. I'm not liking this, not with the warning we got before we left.
You think they might be carrying nerve gas, sir? For the first time in the year that the two had been flying together, the pilot heard real fear in his young RIO's voice.
I pray God they aren't, but I'm not ruling it out, either.
The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR * 6:57 p.m. (GMT+3)
Well, of course the Americans have a team on the ground in Tel Aviv. They're trying to prevent a catastrophe, the head of the GRU said to the Secretary General's assistant as he pounded on the man's desk for emphasis. I told you three years ago when we found out just who some of our predecessors had made money from over the years that this would happen. He leaned down into the ancient, creased face.
Ya neh panimayu, the secretary replied timidly, backing away from the agitated general. I don't understand. How did we lose control of these weapons?
Sheer stupidity, replied the other man, spitting his opinion. And arrogance. But please, tell Comrade Gorbachev that this is not a time to huff and puff about military buildup. Even if the Komitet Gosyudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti says otherwise. The full name of the Committee for State Security rattled out of the man's mouth like automatic gunfire.
Da, I will tell him to ignore the hawks of the KGB. A grim smile graced the grey old man's face. Are we going to help our Arab friends if this blows up?
The general shook his head. We have too much to worry about in Warsaw and Berlin right now. I doubt even our Cuban friends will want to be involved in this. They do not need money that badly.
In the Skies over Israel * 6:02 p.m. (GMT+2)
We have you in sight, Tapdancer, the soothing voice of Smokestack said into the ears of the pilot and RIO. You've got seven bogeys, eh?
Easy targets. I think we ought to force them down, Tapdancer replied.
We could just follow them until they have to land. I doubt they'd do anything nefarious with a flight of Tomcats lurking in their wakes.
Good point.
Smokestack took command as flight lead. Viper, Hangman, you copy Tapdancer's status?
The other pilots affirmed the decision; Smokestack's RIO asked for stand-by ground crews to respond once the final destination of the civilian planes became clear.
The waiting began...
The Tel Aviv Holy Land Hotel * 6:04 p.m. (GMT+2)
Waitstaff bustled about, putting the finishing touches on an elaborate Kosher buffet that included both a dairy and a meat section – a sure sign, sighed the catering manager, that times were changing in Israel. Once upon a time, dairy and meat couldn't be served at the same meal, let alone in the same room. Feeling a drop of water hit his sleeve, the man looked up at the ceiling, wondering if the heated air going through the conduits were causing condensation again. Supposedly, the engineering staff had solved that problem last week.
When, after a few minutes, only a little more dripping had been reported and that over the ice sculpture in the center of the room, the manager put it out of his mind. He had many other things to worry about that evening, each of them far more important than an occasional splatter of water onto a guest's clothing in the middle of a raucous Purim party.
Tel Aviv, Israel * 6:05 p.m. (GMT+2)
Ariel Steinmetz looked haggard. It had been a very long weekend, and there was no end in sight to the week just begun. He was in his least favorite city in the entire world – with the possible exception of Tehran – for what had to be the nastiest part of his job: dealing with the very real presence of violence aimed at destroying the only country he ever remembered calling home. He groaned and leaned forward into his hands as he listened to the American expert tell him far more than he had ever wanted to know about Tabun, VX-2, and Botulinum A. As he listened, he thought back to the vague whispers of the adults he had known as a young teenager trying to survive in a hellhole with the innocuously pleasant name of Birkenau: Zyklon B; showers that weren't showers, furnaces that did not keep anyone warm... Haman had come back in many guises in the history of his people; who would play the role of Esther this time?
Dr. Forest continued his lecture to the troops gathered in the gymnasium of the armory, oblivious to the ruminations of his host. To Andy, this was the worst kind of professional responsibility – preparing men – and women, he reminded himself, looking at the many bright young faces of the Sabras in the crowd – to die in defense of their country. He took his job very seriously; his team brought with them some 1,500 doses of his enhanced pre-exposure neutralizer, carefully but quickly produced in the 36 hours between his confirmation that it would (on mice, at least) be more effective than anything else and their swift departure in the middle of the next night. He still hoped fervently that none of those shots would be needed.
That hope died when a communications officer came flying into the room, not bothering to keep anything confidential as he announced that three medical teams had been reported missing after responding to two different emergency calls in separate areas of Tel Aviv. Initial indications were that the signs of illness reported by those making the calls were consistent with the possibility of nerve agent exposure, and the common factor was helium balloon equipment. The Americans had been right, apparently.
The room fell silent. This was real, and every heart in the space pumped just a little faster as the spectre of what had just been unleashed grew into unfettered terror.
Over the Eastern Atlantic Ocean * 3:10 p.m. (GMT-1)
Billy, can't we fly any faster? Lee Stetson groused to his boss as they stood beside the command and communications console of the 747. Does it have to be a 13-hour flight?
Under other circumstances, Billy might have laughed. Instead, he replied, Lee, you know that we only get so much leeway with these things. Getting the Concorde was more important than getting international permission to fly faster'.
Yeah, I know. I just feel so helpless.
Amanda looked up at the men from the status report she was reading. Just how do you think I feel? She set the papers down and stood up, joined them by encircling her husband's waist with one slim, elegant arm. Sir, I think there may be much more trouble now that Jamie has been linked to us. Even if this Hammedatha group doesn't have a history with us, that doesn't mean that they aren't in contact with someone who does – especially if they really do have the same backers as Adi Birol. Jamie could be worth a lot of money and political capital to any number of people in the Mid East.
Or anywhere else, for that matter, Billy added, dejected at the reality of that fact.
Yes, sir. Amanda focused on staying with the business at hand, trying with visible effort to be detached in her analysis. I don't think they're going to kill them now. It just wouldn't make sense.
There's that – and how did they know that Andy was on his way to Israel, anyway? Lee slammed his hand against the countertop beside him.
Billy snorted. You know our friends at the CIA – they leak like a sieve and half the time it's intentional. It could also be the Mossad; they know they've got a Soviet mole, so it's possible that he's also feeding the Arabs. You know the theory that treason once committed is twice as easy. Or it could be a luck guess, too. Don't forget that whomever actually engineered the kidnapping knew quite a bit about Andy and Joanna to be able to snatch her in broad daylight. They might have become aware of the EDIN team's commitment to overseas use during CBW events.
And there's not a thing we can do for seven more hours – assuming that Amanda's right that their captors won't kill them. Do we have any assets in Lebanon?
Amanda answered before Billy could. Not since the Marine Barracks bombing in any strength. That was a major failing of the Reagan years. At Lee's surprised look, she shrugged. Advanced Political Strategy and RealPolitk over at the CIA, she said, reminding him of her continuing education. It's been far too dangerous to have an open American presence, so most of what we have on the ground is third-party, Israeli primarily, with a smattering of French and Saudi assets in place, too.
Aren't you glad you picked her for that package? Billy asked, enjoying the pleased and proud look on Lee's face as Amanda proved her mettle yet again. He supposed that it was just a sign of their love, but he wondered if Stetson would ever stop being surprised at his wife's abilities.
If I hadn't, we wouldn't be missing a son, Lee answered quietly.
If you hadn't, you wouldn't have a son to be missing, Amanda reminded him, pulling him closer. And Jamie wouldn't trade for anything, I'm sure.
Somewhere in rural Lebanon * 6:20 p.m. (GMT+2)
Miss Marley, would you think it's strange to say that I'm really glad my parents are spies?
Joanna, on the floor with Marlena, looked up at Jamie with a crooked smile. Under the circumstances, no. But tell me why.
Jamie sat down beside the mother and daughter. Well, since my mom and step-dad are spies, I figure that they will have a better chance of finding us because they'll care more than just any old federal agents working on the case. I mean, Terry Anderson and his friends have been hostages for almost 4 years – you would think that America could find them and rescue them. We could be next door to them and no one would ever know – but Mom and Lee are going to find us and get us out of here.
She couldn't dash the hope burning in the young man's eyes; rather, she patted his shoulder and smiled. You may be right, Jamie. I just hope that what Tariq Agazi said about nerve gas was wrong, or many more than us will be in trouble tonight.
Twubble Marlena repeated, sinking further baby talk as each hour of their captivity progressed.
Marlena, can you say it again for me? Trouble tonight, Jamie corrected, knowing that Miss Marley didn't like the baby talk.
Trouble tonight, she said slowly. I's scared.
I'm scared, too, Jamie told her, stressing the proper contraction.
Obviously thinking it was still part of the game, Marlena repeated him. I'm scared.
Joanna looked at the two of them and laughed softly. Leave it to my daughter to master the conjugation of to be' while being held hostage in a foreign county. It was the only bright spot at the moment; she held on to it for dear life.
Israeli National Broadcasting Service Headquarters, Jerusalem, Israel * 6:25 p.m. (GMT+2)
This is an emergency broadcast to all citizens of the State of Israel. The government has issued a class one security threat alert for the entire country. All residents who have rented or purchased helium tanks for the Purim festivities are advised to notify their nearest National Guard armory immediately. All balloons which have been inflated with these tanks should be removed to an uninhabited area of your home and no further contact should be made with these balloons. We repeat, this is an emergency broadcast...
Tel Aviv, Israel * 6:30 p.m. (GMT+2)
Francine and Ian stood at the head of two of the ten lines of Israeli soldiers waiting for their pre-exposure injections. Neither had ever thought they would learn how to give intramuscular injections, but Andy had taught them and seven other men on the American team how to do so with the help of the team medic – it would, he persuaded them, save lives. Arm after arm came by, offered reluctantly but proudly, until the 800 Israeli men and women had each received a full dose of Andy's new formula as well as a half dose of the next most effective treatment to augment the protection.
The American team followed, and then the injectors themselves received their shots. By that time, everyone else had donned their moonsuits, looking for all the world like the astronauts in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Francine, who had never trained for Chemical and Biological Warfare, giggled nervously as Ian helped her into her orange outfit.
You're probably the only person in the world who looks good in this color, he whispered to her as he assisted her a bit more than was probably strictly necessary. And you do look good.
She flushed, partly from the comment and partly because his hand had found a resting place against her hip and was massaging it in a way that left her weak in the knees. You don't look half bad yourself, she answered huskily, leaning into his body just a little.
No chances, Ian warned with unmistakable love in his midnight dark eyes and gentle tone. You do exactly what Andy or any team member tells you. Those shots we gave everybody are protection, not prevention.
Warmed all over again by the power of her feelings for this man, Francine couldn't trust her voice. She simply nodded, and kissed him with all the passion she could muster in a life or death situation.
The kiss left them both breathless under the hoods of their moonsuits a moment later as they walked carefully to the command vehicle. Holding gloved hands, Francine and Ian sat in the back of the truck as it moved out into the now dark night; they would stay in the mobile command center with Andy in a central of the city until the one or more of the many teams had found proof that Israel really had suffered a chemical and/or biological attack. Then they would move out, and hope that they were not too late.
Over the West Bank of Israel * 6:40 p.m. (GMT+2)
Smokestack, this is Hangman, the voice crackled on the radio. I have two bogeys going off toward the Med, looks like they might try to ditch. Should I follow?
Smokestack replied. Hangman, yours still in formation?
Affir – make that negative, I repeat, negative, Smokestack. One of mine is going east and sinking fast. I think they were loaded for bear with whatever those tanks have in them and are starting to get low on fuel.
Concur, Smokestack, Tapdancer interjected. I show four turning and trying to line up with a lit strip about 20 miles from here.
Hangman's RIO spoke to the group. Sir, I'm from this area. The airstrip they're aiming for must be Beer-Gazim. It's the only lit field in fifty miles of here.
Thanks, Junior. Holler when your bogeys make a definitive move. I'm calling in the land crawlers for the nasties here. Tapdancer, chase the lone gunman down.
The two remaining jets in the flight flew in silence for three or four minutes, still following the four planes seeking the Beer-Gazim airstrip.
Uh, Viper... I don't think I like what I just saw, Smokestack said, forgetting proper radio etiquette momentarily.
What's that, Smokestack?
Three of the four just sprayed that village we just passed. And I think... Yeah, the fourth dropped his load over the orange grove.
He must have missed, Viper's RIO miked in.
Or it's long-lasting, Viper said. Call it in?
On it right now. How many people just died?
Not even the army could answer his question.