For a split second, the shooting stopped. Bennett guessed the shooter was reloading. Erin grabbed Natasha and pulled her to safety while Bennett rushed to Barak’s side and checked his pulse. There was none.
Suddenly, he heard Erin shouting. “Jon, get down!”
He could see a shadow moving on a fourth-floor balcony across the courtyard.
Then Erin was there, Beretta in hand. She opened fire. “Jon, now, go,” she yelled.
Bennett made his move. He grabbed Natasha by her arms and literally dragged her into the stone colonnade, behind the café and out of the line of fire. She was kicking and swinging at him and stronger than Bennett had expected.
“Let me go,” she screamed. “Let me die with him!”
But there was no way Bennett was going to let that happen. Natasha Barak was now the only link they had to the secrets of the scrolls and the men willing to kill for them.
29
Bennett shielded Natasha with his own body.
Erin shot back at their assailants until she had fired her last round. A moment later, she dove into the colonnade as more automatic gunfire tore up the café. The shooters didn’t have a clear shot at them now, but they didn’t seem to care. They were firing at anything and everything that moved.
Erin glanced into the café through a side door as she reloaded her Beretta. Then she disappeared inside.
Bennett had no idea what she was doing, but he didn’t dare call out to ask. Instead, he grabbed Natasha’s chin and squeezed until her frightened eyes focused on his. “You can’t stay here,” he said through gritted teeth. “They’ll kill you, and we need you.”
Natasha was shaking, but she had not slipped into shock. Not yet.
Erin reemerged from the café with an Uzi in her hand. It was covered with blood. “Everyone in there is dead,” she said as she handed over the machine gun and some ammo. “I found this inside.”
Suddenly, they could hear men running and shouting in Arabic. Whoever was hunting them, they were coming fast.
“We need to move—now,” Bennett ordered. “Follow me.”
He held the gun in one hand, grabbed Natasha with the other, and sprinted down the colonnade toward the Moslem Quarter. They scrambled down some stairs, took a sharp left, and entered the Arab market. During the day, these narrow stone streets were bustling with shoppers buying spices or electronics or shoes or bread and old men haggling over prices, playing backgammon, and smoking their water pipes. But the streets were deserted now. The shoppers were gone. The shops were closed, their metal shutters pulled down and locked for the night.
A burst of automatic gunfire let loose over Bennett’s shoulder as they whipped around another corner and headed deeper into the souk. He could hear the rounds pelting into the stone walls behind him but didn’t dare look back.
He hugged the Uzi tight to his chest and wrapped the strap around his neck and shoulder. He would use it only as a last resort, he decided. Then he realized he’d never checked the magazine. Was it even loaded? How many rounds did he have left, if any?
Another burst of gunfire. The shooters were gaining ground.
Bennett rounded another corner, quickly handed Natasha off to Erin, and told them to keep running. Then he backed into the shadows and dropped to the ground. He could see two masked men coming at him, full steam. But for the moment, they couldn’t see him.
He steadied the Uzi, took aim, and when they got close, he pulled the trigger and didn’t let go. Fire poured from the end of the weapon. The two men dropped to the ground, careening down the narrow passageway and coming to a stop not far from where he was hiding.
And suddenly, all was quiet.
Bennett could hear his heart pounding. He knew how close to death he had just come. He climbed to his feet and carefully peered around the corner. No one else was coming, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Until he heard Erin scream, “Jon, look out.”
Startled, Bennett swung around to see one of his injured assailants groping for his AK-47. But before Jon could fire, Erin kicked away the man’s gun and smashed his head against the stones. Then she ripped off his mask, jammed her Beretta in his left temple, and growled at him in Arabic. He smiled but said nothing. She slammed his head against the rock a second time and again jammed her Beretta into his temple.
It wasn’t working. Blood was running from the man’s ears and mouth. His eyes were glassy. What little life was still within was quickly draining away. She wasn’t going to get whatever information she had hoped to extract from him. Sure enough, a moment later he was dead.
Bennett peeked back around the corner. They were still alone, but they wouldn’t be for long.
Erin, meanwhile, moved to the second man and checked his pulse. He, too, was dead. She checked their pockets for any bit of identification but came up empty.
“Two John Does,” she said. “But they knew right where to find us.”
“How?” asked Natasha, her body trembling and covered with sweat.
That wasn’t a topic Bennett wanted to cover just yet.
“We need to keep moving,” he insisted. “Whoever these guys are, they’ve got better intel than we do. We’re sitting ducks if we stay here.”
“Where should we go?” Erin asked. “We can’t take her back to her flat. They’ll kill her. And we can’t go back to the King David either. They obviously know we’re with her.”
“What are you two talking about?” Natasha demanded. “Just call the police. Tell them what happened. Call the prime minister. He’ll give us anything we need.”
“We can’t,” said Erin. She stuffed her Beretta into her back pocket and put her arm around Natasha, trying to calm her down. “We think there’s a mole in Doron’s office. No one else knew we’d be meeting you tonight but Doron and his top staff.”
“Why? Why are they doing this to us?” Natasha cried.
Erin’s hand shot to Natasha’s mouth, trying to keep her quiet without terrifying her all the more. “Your grandfather just told us why. But now you’ve got to believe us. You’re not safe in Israel — not anymore. And neither are we. We’ve got to find a way to get you out of the country. It’s too dangerous.”
“Erin, really, we need to get moving,” said Bennett.
Erin turned to Natasha and stared into her eyes. “Think, Natasha. Do you know anyone in the Old City? anyone we could stay with overnight until we sort things out?”
Natasha tried, but it was clear her emotions were getting the best of her. “My sister-in-law… she and my brother… they… ”
“No,” said Erin. “No family. No close friends. Somewhere no one would know to look. It has to be someone you know but not well. Someone who will take us in without turning us in.”
Natasha said suddenly, “I’ve got it. Come on. This way.”
Bennett and Erin looked at each other but did not say a word. They could hear sirens rapidly approaching. They had no choice and no time. They had to trust Natasha and hope for the best. So they each grabbed an AK-47 and extra ammo and followed Natasha deeper inside the Moslem Quarter.
Dogs were barking. People were awakening to the commotion. Lights were coming on in every home, and Bennett knew if they did not get off the streets quickly, they could easily get cornered by an angry mob or by an Israeli patrol, and for the moment, he wasn’t sure which was worse. Were they really being hunted by forces bought and paid for by Abdullah Farouk or by a fifth column inside the Israeli government, possibly run by a mole deep inside Prime Minister Doron’s own office? Who were their allies? Whom could they trust?