The cheering this time didn’t last as long, but it gave Omar chills up his back. His hands flexed, and he could only imagine how strongly the leaders of the al Fatah and Tanzim were reacting. Tomorrow would see the launching of many new headaches and deaths for the Israelis and as much trouble for the Americans as possible.
Oweida stopped reciting the Palestinian Covenant, and swung into his special skills: organization and carrying out battles and campaigns against their enemies. He quickly divided the group into four parts, each with a specific set of targets. Their job was to devise ways that would not be defensed by the enemy, or even thought of. Oweida moved from one group to the next, listening, making suggestions, helping them refine and pinpoint targets that would have the most lasting effects against all of their enemies.
Omar slipped out and talked with the head cook. There was a new shift of cooks on hand to make a midnight supper for the planners. They would eat and then continue their discussions at thirty minutes into the new day. Omar was satisfied that the meal was progressing, and went back to the assembly room.
Omar looked with pride at the fourth man in the first row. He was one of the top three leaders in the al Fatah movement. He was also Omar’s second son. His firstborn had been killed while delivering a bomb into the heart of Jerusalem in the Jewish quarter. The bomb had gone off prematurely, but it had killed over fifty Israelis including ten soldiers. As soon as they knew that Esam had died, Jamil, his second son, had quit his job as a banker in Gaza City and charged into the al Fatah with a zest and ambition and talent that Omar had not been aware he possessed.
Now Jamil was third in line for the top al Fatah leadership spot. Even Yassir Arafat himself had commented on the talent of the young man, much to Omar’s pleasure. Jamil would be coming home with him after the meeting before he went back to his post in Jerusalem, where he was in deep cover and working hard with new ways to frustrate and injure the Israelis. Currently Jamil had the toughest and most dangerous job of any in the PLO.
Omar stood slowly, tested his left knee, nodded, and left his chair at the back of the assembly hall and checked on the guards. He had put on four extra tonight. This was no time to let down, not with the finest leaders in their entire organization here for the planning session. Nothing was going to disturb them, absolutely nothing. Omar dropped back in his seat near the back of the big room. It was going well. They would break at eleven-thirty for their supper, then start again an hour later for the last part of the work session.
Omar bent and rubbed his knee. The doctor had told him to take pain pills to deaden the hurt. When that didn’t kill the pain and the cartilage wore down even more, they would have to use cortisone shots. After that the doctor wouldn’t tell him what they would do.
Omar frowned, then rubbed his knee. It seemed to help. Tomorrow he would get some of the pain pills.
11
Murdock looked out the cabin of the 105-foot Israeli patrol craft at the lights of Gaza City. They were over a mile offshore and the lights were fused together into a glow. The Israeli Navy lieutenant checked his watch.
“Twenty minutes until 0200, Commander.”
“Move in slowly at five knots. Plenty of time. Get us to a quarter mile if you can, then we’ll swim.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The Navy man made a transmission on his radio and both the patrol crafts moved toward shore. The second boat held the sixteen Israeli underwater forces.
Murdock checked his watch. “Better gun it up to ten knots, Lieutenant. This is one party I don’t want to be late for.”
The boat captain nodded at his man on the throttle, and the boat moved ahead faster. The Israeli team in the second boat caught up quickly.
“Quarter mile, sir,” the lieutenant said.
“Dead stop,” Murdock ordered. DeWitt had been checking the SEALs at the bow of the ship. He had been over every bit of gear and straps twice. Murdock walked in beside them, with the flippers giving him trouble on land or deck as they always did. They had decided on wearing their cammies and no rubber suits. They wouldn’t be in the water long enough to make up for the clumsiness the wet suits produced on land. They had also decided not to go with the Draegr rebreathing device. They would swim in on the surface. Nobody could see them in the dark anyway, and they wouldn’t have to worry about finding the Draegrs or dragging them along on the firefight.
“We’ll go overboard in three minutes. Gives us ten to swim in and get ready for 0200. Everyone ready?”
Murdock saw the dim outline of the second patrol boat, which was without lights, forty yards away. He looked back at his boat driver. “Tell the other boat we get wet in two minutes.”
They dropped in by squads, surfaced quickly, and powered toward shore. They had decided to stop just outside the surf line and wait until two minutes before attack time. Then they would swim directly through the breakers and head for the sand. If nothing happened at 0200, they would play wet logs on the beach until the jets came in.
Murdock had seen a few floodlights around the PLO headquarters, but not as many as he’d figured. Now as he waited just beyond the breakers, he could see there were more lights than he first thought. He knew he wouldn’t hear the jets coming. The first sound they would hear would be the detonation of the missiles, with the jets flashing overhead seconds later. He had no idea what type of missiles the Israelis would use, but he was sure they would be big ones that could get the job done. Four missiles had been planned. The SEALs would be moving up on the sand after the first two, then wait out the second pass.
His watch glowed that it was 0200. He didn’t hear the missile, more sensed it, and he snapped his head around to watch the big building. One side of it suddenly exploded in a huge ball of flames, the sound crashing over them a moment later. The second missile came then, producing flames and a brilliant flash and roar as it exploded on the other end of the complex. Murdock could see the center of the three-story building slowly sag, then crash down into the second story, and then all of it collapsed onto the ground floor.
The sixteen SEALs on the surface began their crawl stroke into the breakers and through them until they could feel the sand under their feet. They hesitated in the waist-high water as more waves broke over and around them. The third and fourth missiles came into the firestorm of blasted rubble a moment later, both hitting almost at the same time. It was overkill, but Murdock didn’t worry about it. He waved the men forward and they charged up the beach, splashing through the waist-high, then knee-high water as it surged back at them from the sloping beach. They kicked off the troublesome flippers and surged ahead.
Murdock didn’t see them until they began running up the beach. The underwater men from Israel were on his right and exactly on time, heading for the right half of the big bonfire. Murdock and the SEALs took the left-hand section for any mop-up needed and to run down any escaping terrorists. Behind somewhere, Murdock heard a high-speed engine whining toward him from the sea. That would be the SAS men coming in to attack the six off-site targets.
Murdock’s SEALs charged up the sand and over a decorative low fence toward the structure. What was left of it standing was burning. There was no chance to get within fifty feet of the flaming mass. They had just started to circle to the left end of the place, when a secondary explosion caught them all by surprise. The pounding, roaring blast came at the far left end and put out part of the fire, but sent burning boards, roofing, and other debris high into the air.