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.
Chapter 11 * Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 11:30 (GMT+2)
Miss Marley, do I have to go to sleep? Jamie moaned from his mat on the dirt floor in the room that had been the set for their mock execution barely two hours before. I feel like I need to pace or run or jump or something.
I know you do, hon, but that's your mind talking. Your body needs to rest. Have you ever had to shut your mind down? Make it stop working for a while, or distract yourself so you could concentrate on something else? Joanna sat on her own mat a few feet away, holding Marlena in her lap.
Marlena waved the fingers of her hand at Jamie without removing her thumb from her mouth; one thumb or the other had been there since Aran Birol had ordered them to rise from the dead for the benefit of the international television audience. Then she snuggled into her mother's shoulder a little more, seeking elusive comfort and respite from the terror of the last day.
Jamie looked at Joanna quizzically. I'm not quite sure what you mean.
Well, some people call it meditation, other people say it's discipline, and some just call it focus. Pick one idea or phrase or even a single word and say it out loud over and over and over. Eventually, you'll either have a revelation or fall asleep. She laughed without humor. I usually fall asleep.
What do you use?
Joanna looked at Jamie in the dim light. Well, for a very long time, I used Marlena's father's name, John Mark. Now I use something else.
Jamie smiled knowingly. Dr. Forest's name?
In a way, she acknowledged, glad the teen probably couldn't see her blushing in the semi-darkness. I have another one that I use when I want to pray, but even that puts me to sleep after a while. She shifted her daughter in her lap. Marlena, can we lie down now, please? Mommy needs to stretch out.
Marlena shook her head emphatically.
I need to sleep, my love, Joanna persisted. I'll spoon with you.
Reluctantly, Marlena relented, uncrossing her legs so she could be moved but doing nothing to help her mother get more comfortable. It took three or four minutes, but finally, Joanna was stretched out on her mat, holding Marlena close as the little girl sucked her thumb ferociously.
She looks like she's almost asleep already, Jamie said a moment later, watching the mother and daughter. I'm tempted to suck my thumb.
There was a little more humor in Joanna's laugh this time. With your braces, Jamie, you'd probably bite it off. How, pray tell, would I explain that to your mother?
Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * January 25, 1989 * 12:36 a.m. (GMT+2)
Francine wrote on the big white board in the operations office while Ariel Steinmetz, the head of the Tel Aviv division, and two other Mossad operatives worked through the puzzle with Billy, Amanda, Lee, Andy, and Ian. They had been at it for half an hour and the picture Francine had drawn on the board was much more clear than the one any smaller group of them had been able to produce. There were still a lot of question marks, but there were as many good guesses to go with the unknowns. Francine's connection of the German-Iranian to the big picture, while tenuous, seemed to be the most important piece yet for solving the whole awful mystery. It did not, however, get them any closer to the now more immediate problem of rescuing Joanna, Marlena, and Jamie before the deadline set by the kidnappers.
Okay, we're going in circles now, Francine said as she stepped away from the board to look at it. This is what we've got. We think that the German-Iranian, Gerhardt whomever, is the true owner of the parent company of the sausage company and the rubber company in Frankfurt, and the kibbutz and the party/balloon supply companies here in Israel. Gerhardt was at one time linked to Ali El-Bas Fatwah, an Iraqi who seemed to like the politics and religion of the Ayatollah Khomeni more than those of Saddam Hussein and who is well-known to the Mossad for his operations against Israeli nationals around the world. She paused to see if anyone wanted add anything; seeing only nods of encouragement, she continued.
Ali was a known financier of Adi Birol's efforts in Lebanon and in the United States, and is believed to have continued to support the remnants of Birol's group after Lee and Amanda arrested him. Birol was known to have had a stash of chemical and biological weapons but those were not found at any of his hideouts after his arrest.
Enter Jikar Qitani, who also has ties to Birol's gang and who shows up in Virginia as the representative of the buyers of this doomsday concoction that causes polysulfuic ionization, then leaves the United States and disappears from Frankfurt. That same doomsday concoction gets dumped over a Palestinian village on the West Bank, sprayed from four of the eight planes that are registered to the airfield at the kibbutz owned by the company we think Gerhardt owns. Francine shook her head and went back to the white board, retraced the big red question mark in the center. But who has Joanna and Jamie and Marlena, and how do they fit into this picture?
Amanda spoke softly, almost as though she were thinking out loud rather than making a statement. Qitani and Ali are out for revenge.
Ian cleared his throat and pressed her. What do you mean?
she started, looking to Lee for assurance that it was okay to spout her theory in this place, Originally, we figured that whoever they' are took Joanna and Marlena to get to Andy to keep him from interfering with the operation here in Israel. Jamie was just an unexpected and probably unwanted extra guest. But then, once CNN revealed more information about Jamie, Jamie became just as important, if not more important, because now they have leverage over people who have wronged them – Lee and me. So that's why the fake execution and the demand for us as well as Andy.
That makes a great deal of sense, Mrs. Stetson, Steinmetz said after he thought through her analysis. Dr. Forest, someone tried to kill you a couple of years ago. Any idea who?
Andy shrugged. My best guess has always been a Lebanese group. My security agency thinks that perhaps the Iraqis put them up to it, and that it was a kidnapping attempt rather than an assassination. He looked down at the table, seemed to stare through it for a minute. Ian, can you find out the names of the terrorists involved during that event? The Mounties had identified most of them even after they escaped. Who knows, maybe one of them is part of this, trying to get revenge on me personally.
Ian nodded and got up from the table to make a phone call, patting Amanda's shoulder in appreciation as he brushed past her.
I think we'll find all of this out once we have them in custody. It's getting that done that we should be concentrating on. Lee never had liked to sit still.
Scarecrow, we'll get there, Billy soothed, understanding his agent's need for action. Ari, do you have any more information on that eighth plane?
Oh, my friend, you're going to like what I have to say. Steinmetz smiled, the crinkles on his face making him a wizened gnome. After your Sixth Fleet so kindly pointed us in the right direction, we were able to tap into our network of agents in place. We can set you down right on top of that eighth plane if you'd like us to. We've had the farm under surveillance since just after 10:30, and our operatives report that the owner bears a striking resemblance to Jikar Qitani.
Billy followed up. Any confirmation that the hostages are there?
Not directly, but we're working on a lead. There's a satellite dish on this particular farm –
Lee jumped in, That might have been the source for the tapes' rather than actual hand-delivered tapes.
It would certainly explain the close timing of the second broadcast, one of the Israelis added.
So what are we waiting for? Let's get a special ops team together and go get them, Lee demanded.
Ian came back in, pale and worried. Francine went to him, eased him into a chair with great concern as everyone else kept silent, waiting for his news.
I talked with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Special Intelligence Command in Toronto. The four surviving terrorists have all since been arrested by other governments for terrorist activities – they seem to have been pulled together specially for the job against Andy. They all said that the leader was the man who was killed. Caliph Ben-Aran, who is technically Caliph Ben-Aran Birol.
Amanda and Lee asked at the same time.
Ian confirmed. The RCMP only received that information last year – it was part of some kind of information exchange from the Special Protective Services Agency to the RCMP. It seems the SPSA buried that fact pretty deep – along with a lot of other information about the attempted kidnapping.
Andy Forest wiped his forehead. So this could have been revenge against me, too.
Francine was the only one who could find words. Oh, happy day, she said without any joy at all.
The White House Situation Room, Washington, D.C. * January 24, 1989 * 6:00 p.m. (GMT-5)
Dr. Smyth sat with the National Security Advisor listening to the exhausted team from Tel Aviv as they took turns talking into a speaker phone. Smyth's ever-present cigarette holder bobbed up and down in an abstract rhythm while he took notes, his grim expression betraying to the NSA just how deeply the ordinarily cold man felt about the whole situation. To punctuate the power of those emotions, when Ian revealed the identity of the terrorist casualty as Caliph Ben-Aran Birol, Austin Smyth clamped his teeth together so hard that the cigarette holder broke with an audible . Unsure what had happened, the man's lips opened just long enough for the broken piece to slip out, and oblivious to the ridiculous looking stub now twitching up and down in front of his teeth like a snake's tongue, Smyth kept taking notes of the call.
The NSA had to excuse himself from the room to keep from laughing; when he came back, Smyth was just about to start firing questions back at the team. The look on the haughty Intelligence Chief's face sent the NSA back to the hallway; Smyth had finally realized his cigarette holder was broken and he stared at if for some seconds as though it had personally committed high treason. Then he focused.
Colonel Marlowe, he began frigidly, You are telling me that the man my nephew killed was Adi Birol's brother.
Sir, the man killed by Dr. Forest's bodyguard before the guard himself was shot was indeed Adi Birol's brother.
If revenge truly is their motive, and I cannot argue with that logic based on the facts at hand, what happens if they find out that his widow is the woman they have in custody, and his daughter is the little girl?
From the speakerphone came a wrenching moan and a rapid jumble of several voices talking at once, then a door slamming and a female voice saying, I'll go talk to him.
What was that? Smyth demanded from Washington.
That, sir, Ian coldly replied, was a breach of national security and personal integrity of the most offensive kind. Dr. Forest was never told about the relationship between John Randolph and Joanna because he has held himself responsible for the entire event. That was an order approved by the White House, one that only Joanna herself had permission to break when and if she felt the time appropriate. The wintry pause lengthened. Thank you, Uncle Smyth, you have now jeopardized the lives of everyone in this room unless Amanda Stetson can talk some sense into Andy Forest and very, very quickly.
How so? He's just a researcher – he wouldn't have the wherewithal to do anything on his -
The door in Tel Aviv crashed open. Sir! Andy just decked a soldier and drove off in one of the sedans!
The National Security Advisor had only met Amanda once, but he recognized her voice. Well, Austin, it seems that you have underestimated yet another man's abilities in the face of danger to those he loves and cares about.
The Desert North of Tel Aviv, Israel * January 25, 1989 * 2:10 a.m. (GMT+2)
Birchwood Andrew Forest, you have done some damned stupid things in your life, but this one has to be the stupidest damned foolish thing you've ever done, the American scientist chided himself as he stood beside the car on the side of the road. Stealing a car with only a quarter tank of gas.
He certainly wasn't going to admit that stealing the car was foolish, or worse yet that his entire hair-brained scheme was foolhardy and arrogant. The ocean of emotions that washed over him in the brief time that it took Dr. Smyth's words to imprint on his memory left him drowning; his short conversation with Amanda had only made it worse.
Andy, look, there is nothing you can do by yourself to help Joanna and Marlena. You'll probably make it worse – and my son is out there, too, so I don't like that idea very much at all. Amanda had spoken gently, as she always did, trying to get him to set aside at least the hurt of secrets kept long enough to see reason. Let us work out a plan – we're going to need your help, Andy. What if they have nerve gas or –
That's why I have to go! he had shouted at her, pushing her way with more force than he intended. They will kill them, Amanda! They may already know! And with that, he had run down the front steps, taken a swing at the driver of the car (it was, he knew, only luck that the punch connected, let alone knocked the man out), and stolen the vehicle.
The breakneck drive out of the city left him exhilarated and feeling as though he really could rescue the hostages single-handedly. Until, of course, the telltale spluttering of the engine choking on the last of its fuel forced him to the side of the road, where he sat calling himself names. Of course, one would think that a car belonging to the Israeli Army would come stocked with an extra supply of gas for occurrences just like this – but not this particular car. Water, C-rations, a full repair kit, spare anti-freeze, flares, and blankets, yes. Extra gas, no.
Okay, God, he said to the bright starlit sky. I think I get the point. I really can't do this by myself. Can you make sure I get to be a part of it? Then he took a couple of blankets, a bottle of water, and a Snickers bar from the trunk and got back inside, resigning himself to a long night in the cold desert.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 3:20 a.m. (GMT+2)
I'm so tired I think I'm already asleep, Francine mumbled to Ian, Amanda, Lee, and Billy as they rode in the elevator to the floor reserved for the American relief team.
I'm so tired I don't have a snappy comeback, Lee replied.
You win, Amanda and Billy said together.
Hey, what about mine? Ian complained. I'm so tired I don't care who's in the bed next to me.
You win, Lee's and Francine's voices joined the other two.
I don't really care who wins this, as long as we're all rested and ready to move out at 10 this morning, Billy reminded. That includes breakfast, people, so you aren't going to sleep until 9:55.
Ian groused.
The elevator opened and five very tired people lumbered off. Billy, of course, had his own room; he told his team that he truly didn't care how many of the other three rooms reserved for them were used and trundled sleepily down the corridor, yawning loudly. Amanda thanked Francine with a hug and kissed Ian's grizzled cheek before she led Lee off to their room, leaving the other couple standing alone in the elevator lobby.
I wasn't serious, you know, Ian said softly to Francine as she stepped into his arms.
I should hope not. Amanda I could understand, but not caring if Lee or Billy –
No, not Amanda. If there is anyone in my bed when I wake up, he checked his watch and groaned, later this morning, it had better be you. He kissed her forehead.
Francine cupped his cheek in her hand. It will be.
Nothing further was said as they went to his assigned room, closing the door firmly behind them.
Lee and Amanda's Room, The Holy Land Hotel * 3:30 a.m. (GMT+2)
You know it's been a tough day, Lee quipped with a little more energy than he really felt, when I can stand in a steamy, soapy shower with my wife and want nothing more than to fall into bed and go to sleep.
I know the feeling, Amanda grinned back at him, the strains of the past 29 hours showing clearly. Neither had been heartened or amused to figure out that with time zones, the hell they had been living wasn't even a day and a half long yet. It felt like centuries – and by the time it was over later in the day, it just might feel like millennia, or, God forbid, eternity.
Of course, I'd sleep better with her in my arms.
They kissed slowly as the hot water beat the stresses and anxieties to a dull ache; a few minutes later as they lay in bed together, cuddled close as always, Lee felt one silent sob wrack Amanda's slender body before she drifted into sleep. Before too long, he too, faded into dream-filled slumber that was surprisingly free of nightmares, under the circumstances.
Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 7:46 a.m. (GMT+2)
Jamie, wake up, Marlena's little voice, angelic and pure, sounded in the boy's ear.
he growled without lifting his head from the small, straw-filled pillow that kept his head from resting on the dirt floor.
Mommy says.
Aw, Mom, do I have too?
Joanna spoke next to him. Yes, Jamie, I'm afraid you have to. We need to talk before they come down to start whatever their next part of this is.
Reluctantly, Jamie stretched and sat up, rubbing his eyes carefully and hoping that his contacts were causing no permanent harm for being in for so long. He couldn't even guess how long. Okay, I'm awake.
Hug time, Marlena announced, dropping into his lap suddenly and throwing her arms around him. The ever-present stuffed bunny hit him on the head as she fumbled to find his neck; he laughed at the little girl's spirit and unconditional love shining through even in this awful darkness.
Jamie, I have no idea what might happen today. We both have to be very aware of everything around us, because we may get only one chance to get out.
He nodded; this may not be like the movies, exactly, but even the movies and television had to get it right sometimes, even by accident.
She sighed and draped her arm around the boy's shoulder, drawing strength from his youth and giving wisdom to his naivety. If I give you the signal to go, you take Marlena and you run like you've never run in your life. I think you'll know where to run to if it happens.
But what about you? I can't lea –
Jamie, no arguments. Consider this an order. I can take care of myself if I don't have to worry about you and Marlena. I know I can trust you to take care of Marlena. Joanna was taking a calculated risk, but she knew that there was no way she could get both kids out if the opportunity arose. It would have to be Jamie with Marlena, and trust her life to God to get her out, too.
Jamie seemed to sense that. He looked at her with his red, puffy, brown eyes and nodded solemnly. I promise.
And you, monkey, she said to her daughter, ruffling the girl's hair as she lay against Jamie's chest, thumb securely back in her mouth, are to do whatever Jamie tells you to do with no arguments and no crying. Do you understand me, young lady?
Seeing the seriousness of her mother's expression, Marlena took her thumb out of her mouth to respond. Yes, Mommy. Do what Jamie say.
Joanna turned and spread her other arm out, wrapping both children in a tight embrace that lasted for a very long time.
Ian's Room, The Holy Land Hotel * 8:40 a.m. (GMT+2)
Francine watched Ian as he moved quietly about the room, setting out his clothes and shower gear, ordering coffee and juice from room service, moving with cat-like grace in his t-shirt and boxers. She decided that waking up to that every morning would be very close to heaven on earth, and decided to let him know that. Hey, Mr. Macho Marine, she said throatily as she sat up.
He turned to see her disheveled blonde hair hanging in her eyes and her well-kept figure outlined neatly by the t-shirt he had loaned her for the night. She had never been more beautiful. Ms. Sex Super Spy, he answered.
You're gorgeous, you know that?
He seemed genuinely surprised to hear her say that. Uh, thank you. I have no words to say what a vision you are.
She ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously. I'm sure I look horrible.
None of that. Never in my presence are you to say such things, Francine Desmond, he admonished. You are beautiful beyond words inside and out, and if I have my way, I'm going to spend every day of the rest of my life convincing you of that. He looked up suddenly, afraid that his words would scare her.
Instead, she scrambled out of the bed and ran across the room into his arms. I'll settle for today, she murmured happily against his neck before she kissed him. Breathlessly a moment later, she finished the thought. And leave tomorrow for itself.
Ian looked down into her azure eyes. Do you know how tempting it is to ask you to...
She returned the frank gaze, loving the blackest brown color of his expressive eyes. Yes. And if you ask me, I'll give you an answer neither of us is ready for.
He laughed, a rich, lively sound that stayed in her soul, lifting it up despite the heavy task of the day ahead. I love you, he said simply, and let her go, moving the three steps into the bathroom before she could answer.
I love you, Ian, she whispered to the closed door, unexpected tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks. Oh, I love you.
On the Road to Tel Aviv, Israel * 9:50 a.m. (GMT+2)
All in all, Andy Forest reflected, it had not been a bad night. Traffic had been very light, and as with America people were not eager to stop at night to see what might be wrong when a car was pulled over on the side of the road. At 7:45, the first driver had stopped; as luck would have it, the car was headed toward Tel Aviv. So Andy hitched a ride, hoping the driver would let him off within reasonable walking distance of the Holy Land Hotel, where all his clothes were – and hopefully, where his friends were just now awakening after a long night, some of them cleaning and decontaminating, others strategizing. Except the one most important to him, but he closed his mind to those thoughts until later, when he could be alone, or could be with her, and never mind the questions that kept screaming for answers from her..
It would serve him right, he mused as the driver turned down the main road that led to downtown and the hotel, if Ian and Lee purposely made him stay behind for any rescue mission, taking another trained CBW specialist instead. He certainly had not proved himself trustworthy last night, and indeed, he reluctantly acknowledged, had he succeeded, he might very well have cost his most precious loved ones their lives.
The driver let him off five short blocks from the hotel; in the brisk wintry sea air, the walk revived his hopes as nothing else had. Entering the hotel, he met Amanda and Lee on their way to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Amanda hugged him; Lee's handshake was warm and the smile broad on the agent's face when Lee welcomed Andy to join them. He was among friends – real friends.
Billy was already at a table; his waiter added three place settings when Billy beckoned for the new arrivals to join him. Well, I see you've returned to your senses, the older man said, shaking Andy's hand as he motioned to the place to his right.
Yes, Mr. Melrose, I have. I was pretty stupid last night, and I apologize.
Accepted. For what it's worth, Ian chewed Dr. Smyth up one side and down the other after you left. I would love to have seen that in Washington.
The four laughed, a good start to a fateful day. Shortly after three additional cups of coffee arrived on the table, Ian and Francine appeared in the entryway. They spent a quick moment searching before they found Billy and the others.
Two more place settings appeared, more coffee came, and Andy told them with great self-deprecation about his night in the desert. No one made mention of the second pair of carefully intertwined hands on the table, although Ian did get a satisfied nod from Billy and a subtle thumbs up from Andy. Neither did anyone make mention of the events looming over the rest of the day.