The figured swallowed hard, still in the shadows cast by the single lamp. “Don’t forget your son, which is what this is all about.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about killing you. A simple maiming would suffice once you’ve told me what you’ve come to say. Whatever it is you won’t hurt the boy no matter what I do to you because you need me to deliver. You’re a worm, nothing more.”
The figure stepped further into the light, and Blaine blinked several times to make sure he had the face right. It was Mohammed Fett, an Arab power broker who fluctuated back and forth between the moderate forces of the PLO and the various radical cells populating the Mideast.
“Robes are more fitting for you than Giorgio Armani, Fett.”
“Ah, but when in Rome …”
“Your geography’s off. This is Reading, England, where one Matthew Ericson resided until a few hours ago.”
Fett came slightly more forward, slowly, making sure his hands were in plain view. “It was necessary because we need you. Desperately.”
“You couldn’t think of a better way to ask for my help?”
“We tried. You rebuked all our advances. Surely you remember. The channels, the contacts — we tried. We even sent a representative directly to you. You treated him rather rudely.”
Blaine did remember all too well. An Arab force had sought him out just over a month before and he had refused even to speak to them. He had mentioned to Henri Dejourner how the last agent they sent to his island condominium had ended up in the bay.
“You do remember! I can tell! You are going to work for us, Mr. McCracken. You won’t like it but you have no choice, just as we have no choice.”
“Someone holding something over your head too, Fett?”
“Millions of Arab lives … if it matters to you.”
“Not nearly as much as Matthew Ericson’s does.”
“Listen to me,” Fett responded, voice tense. “Israel is going to strike at us. There is going to be a war, and this time they are going to be the ones to start it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to stop it for your son’s sake, and for the sake of the world.”
“Spare me. Please.”
“Listen to me, McCracken. You and I have fought before on different sides. But there are forces at work this time that bode ill for me and for you as well.”
“And were these the forces responsible for the deaths of John Neville and Henri Dejourner?”
“The people retained exceeded their mandate.”
“They did a hell of a lot more than that. You should have seen the housemaster’s residence, Fett. Whoever killed him enjoyed it and they wanted me to know that. What did they want him to see after he was dead?”
“I—”
“You might be bringing me one message, but those women were delivering a different one.”
“My point exactly. Their role in this has ended. You have only me to deal with now.”
“My lucky day …”
“There will be far more deaths on your head if you do not act, if we do not act.”
“Against Israel?”
“Against a militant force within Israel. This force is in possession of a weapon of incredible scope. If utilized, it will destroy the Arab world as it is known today.”
“And I’m supposed to stop it from being utilized, is that it?”
“Exactly.”
Blaine felt himself starting to fume again,”Know something, Fett? I could torture the boy’s location out of you now.”
“That would be useless because I don’t know it. Steps were taken to guard against just what you are threatening.”
“Fine. Now explain why me? What makes me so important to you?”
Fett shrugged. “It was not my idea. I warned them against angering you. I told them what you were capable of. She overruled me.”
“She?”
“You’ve heard of Evira no doubt.”
“Have I ever. She’s an Arab agent operating within Israel, certainly the most wanted terrorist in the entire country.”
“Not a terrorist, McCracken! Not even a militant!”
“Call her whatever you want. She chose me?”
“She insisted on you. There have been leaks, deep ones, within our organization. Evira fears her own identity has been compromised. An outsider seemed the only hope, and you were the only choice she presented.”
Blaine eased off. “So you’re saying Israel has this weapon and I’m supposed to prevent it from being used.”
Fett nodded. “In return for the life of your son, yes. But it becomes even more complicated. The government of Israel is not to blame here, but a cell operating within the country. With the government’s blessing or not, it is difficult to tell. The Israelis are masters of misdirection. But the weapon exists and the cell intends to use it; there’s no misreading that.”
“Can you tell me more about this cell?”
Fett shook his head. “I only know what I’ve been allowed to. The rest of what you need to hear will come from one closer to Evira.”
“Another messenger, Fett?”
“Only this time the journey will be yours, McCracken. To Tel Aviv. I have your ticket with me.”
Part Two
Critical Mass
Jaffa: Thursday, May 4; two P.M.
Chapter 6
McCracken’s thougths swirled as the 747 dipped into its descent for Ben-Gurion Airport. Fett had handed him a ticket on an El Al jet that left for Israel just after dawn. When he at last closed the door behind the Arab, Blaine had never felt more helpless or alone. Ever since learning of Matthew’s kidnapping, he’d been filled with a cold dread, exactly the kind of feeling that Lauren had wished to spare him by never mentioning his son’s existence. To say nothing of sparing the boy the terrors that had now befallen him.
He wondered how it was possible to develop such strong feelings of love and devotion for Matthew after knowing him for barely two days. The feelings were foreign to Blaine, terrifying in their implications. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. All he had was a cryptic instruction from Fett on where to meet Evira’s contact:
Go to the Jaffa Flea Market. Present yourself in the gift shop featuring leather handbags over its door on the market’s last corner.
Once there, McCracken would be filled in on further details that Fett himself wasn’t privy to. With the leaks to consider, Evira was taking no chances. Similarly, Blaine was forbidden to contact anyone else for help. Under those circumstances, useless were his allies in intelligence and the vast cache of favors owed him by friendly forces within Israel, forces he was now ironically pitted against. He knew these men well. If they caught him working for the other side, they would kill him without hesitation.
He’d spent five hard months in Israel in 1973, but they’d been worthwhile ones. It was his first action after being pulled out of Nam, and it reassured him that his skills were still required now that the Phoenix Project was history. One well kept secret about the Yom Kippur War was that Israel knew it was coming, just as she had in ’68. But this time Nixon and the Americans absolutely forbade her to make the first move on threats of a total cut-off. Let the Arabs fire the first shots and Nixon promised to back Israel with everything he had.
“Everything” turned out to be five hundred Special Forces troops fresh from the Phoenix Project under the command of Blaine McCracken. They were spirited into the country hours before the war started and worked the magic they had refined so well in Vietnam. The terrain was different, but that was all. Infiltration behind enemy lines was still the key. Lines of communication were disrupted, so that contradictory and downright ludicrous orders reached the Arab fighters at the front. Direct intelligence gathered by McCracken and his men paved the road the Israelis could have taken straight to Cairo and Damascus if Nixon hadn’t intervened again. As for direct engagements in battle, each of Blaine’s men was worth a hundred untrained Arabs, and the kill ratio was not far from that. His troops were sharp, seasoned, and unwilling to accept defeat again. Winning was a nice feeling and a number of them, including McCracken and Johnny Wareagle, stayed on afterward to savor it while educating Israeli paratroopers in the lessons of the Phoenix Project.