A paper bag with four pastries from the American Colony sat next to him, as did a set of eclipse glasses he had purchased from a vendor near the Jaffa gate. He picked up the glasses and peered through the black film to see how the sun fared. The orange disc was now two-thirds shrouded by the black silhouette of the moon. Soon the occultation would be complete, and the whole of Jerusalem would be covered in darkness despite the early hour of the day. Avi was going to miss it all.
Kurt put the glasses down and checked his phone for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. In the time since he had arrived at their old spot, he had sent his friend three additional text messages asking where he was and if he was coming. The texts appeared to have gone through, but he could never tell with these over-complicated smartphones. Either way, Avi had not replied.
He resisted the urge to break into a cheese-filled Danish and lifted the eclipse glasses to his eyes again. After a few seconds of watching the shadow creep across the sun, the image was suddenly blocked. Kurt lowered the glasses to find a young Israeli policeman standing in front of him.
“Dr. Baron, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Baron, Professor Avi Bendayan asked that I come and collect you.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
The policeman shifted his feet uncomfortably and scanned the area behind the professor, adjusting the submachine gun slung over his shoulder as he turned. Kurt vaguely remembered that guns were not allowed up here, but the thought was pushed out of his mind when he noticed the hand with which the young man held the weapon. It was mechanical, a prosthetic designed to hold a machine gun and pull the trigger. He wondered if the kid had lost the appendage in a suicide bombing or a rocket attack.
“Sir, Professor Bendayan has arranged for you to take your tea in the Kipat Hasela,” said the young man, using the Jewish name for the Dome of the Rock.
Again, Kurt was confused. He glanced southeast toward the central platform where the great mosque stood. “Non-Muslims are not allowed in there.”
The policeman pursed his lips. “That is not entirely true. Some are. In particular, archaeologists are permitted to enter the Kipat Hasela for research or in special circumstances. Please, Dr. Baron. Professor Bendayan is waiting.”
Kurt did not need much convincing. A total eclipse and a look at the Holy of Holies in the same day was a blessing you did not argue with. Anyway, as the kid said, Avi was waiting for him. He tossed the eclipse glasses into the bag with the pastries and got up to follow the policeman.
“This is where we part ways, boss,” whispered Drake, looking out through the partition at the Palestinians lounging on the carpet. “I said I wouldn’t leave you, but that’s the only way you’re getting out of here in one piece.”
“No. There has to be another way.” But Nick didn’t see one. The Al-Aqsa Mosque was expressly forbidden to non-Muslims. Jews had been stoned just for opening a copy of the Torah on the plaza outside, and those events were on good days, when the mosque was full of regular worshippers. There was no way a guy in an IDF uniform and a big American in a loud Hawaiian shirt were going to survive the seventy-meter gauntlet of Palestinian nationalists between their current position and the front door.
“I have to do this. We don’t have a choice,” argued Drake. He held the tablet up between them. The man with the backpack had already made it to the cypress grove at the edge of the Dome of the Rock platform. He stood there, leaning against a tree.
Nick watched him for a few seconds. The terrorist kept his eyes on the Dome, but showed no sign of continuing toward it. “What is he waiting for?”
Drake shrugged. “Maybe he’s savoring his last moments on earth. It doesn’t matter. What matters is, you’ve got to get a move on and catch him before he decides to finish the job he came here to do.”
“If you step out there, there’s going to be a riot.”
Drake grinned. “I know. A riot is exactly what you need.”
The big operative suddenly pressed his pistol and the tablet into Nick’s hands and squeezed out into the open. The closest Palestinians were a good fifteen meters away. At first, none of them saw him. He glanced back through the gap and whispered, “Godspeed, boss.” Then he strode out into the prayer room with his arms open wide, shouting, “Shalom everybody!”
At first there was confusion. Heads jerked in Drake’s direction. A Palestinian shouted. Then several more began shouting angrily from different parts of the wide prayer room. Those first sparks ignited the fuel of hatred that is always waiting at Al-Aqsa, and the crowd rippled to its feet like spreading flame. Drake’s dubious plan worked. The men all rushed to attack as he led them to one side of the mosque. He belted the first challenger across the chin and threw the next into the wall behind him. Then he disappeared behind the flood, just like a character in one of his late-night zombie movies.
Ahead of Nick, the bloodred carpet of the Al-Aqsa prayer room was clear, all the way to the door.
“What are you waiting for?” grunted Drake through the SATCOM.
Nick didn’t argue. He made one last, unsuccessful attempt to catch a glimpse of his best friend through the mob, and then bolted for the door.
CHAPTER 75
Four more Palestinians pushed through the tall green doors of the mosque right before Nick reached them. One of them took a swing. Nick ducked left and came up throwing a hook. He dropped the man to the floor in one punch. He took the next one down with an elbow to the temple and then ducked the other two and made it into open air.
Confusion was settling in. The crowd was beginning to notice the disturbance. Palestinians filtered out from the tourists and headed for the mosque. Nick was surrounded, but the group was thin, nothing like what Drake was facing inside.
Nick also had help.
Long experience had prepared the Israelis for trouble on the Temple Mount during a big event like the eclipse. They were ready. Police in riot gear rushed out of a tent to Nick’s left. He fought his way toward them. One Palestinian made the mistake of bear-hugging Nick from behind, trying to throw him down. He bought himself a head butt to the nose and a quick trip to the stone beneath the feet of his friends. Two more quickly followed, grabbing at Nick’s IDF uniform. He pulled one man’s head to his knee and heard the nasty crack of a jaw breaking. The other one got an arm around Nick’s throat, but then a black baton flashed over Nick’s head. There was an ugly thock and the arm went slack. The Israelis pulled Nick past the riot line to safety. Several patted him on the shoulders as he stumbled through, assuming he was one of the regular Temple Mount police group. Nick shouted that there was an American tourist trapped inside and kept going.
Unfortunately, the troops would not likely be much help to Drake. In the crazy world of the Temple Mount, the Israeli police were not permitted inside the mosques. Their few breaches of this protocol in the past had created massive riots all over the West Bank. The police could only set up a perimeter on the outside to protect the civilians on the plaza. In that capacity, always with unnatural patience and discipline, they had often faced rocks and Molotov cocktails thrown from the entrance of the mosque.
As he left the police line, Nick searched for the target, but a wall of sun-watchers crowding north to get away from the riot blocked his view. He could see the SWARM above them, though. The drones were drifting north. The Hashashin was on the move again.
Nick saw two men in green uniforms pushing toward him through the crowd, and he suddenly realized what the terrorist had been waiting for. The riot had lured the Islamic Waqf Authority guards away from their post in front of the Dome of the Rock. They would have stopped the target at the entrance to search his big backpack. Now they were out of the way, heading south for their customary harassment of the Israelis forming around Al-Aqsa. Nick winced. Once again, his team had become one of the dominoes in Kattan’s string of outcomes. Unbelievable.