She leaned farther across the table. “Some months ago, he began holding meetings in secret. Representatives of his movement in Haifa, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and the settlements were all briefed on his discovery of a means to eliminate the Arab problem forever, to destroy the entire Arab world. An agent I planted within Rasin’s camp was present at those briefings. He reported to me what he had heard. That was the last we heard from him. That was just about a month ago, near the time Rasin himself disappeared. He hasn’t been seen since. That’s what made me try to contact you.”
“Destroy the Arab world,” Blaine repeated. “Your contact’s words or Rasin’s?”
“Rasin’s expoundings were bolder, yet vague. Perhaps obliterate would be a better word than destroy. Rasin didn’t state it that way, but what else could we be facing?”
“How did he state it?”
“In shadows and riddles. The Arab peoples both nearest and farthest would be put down in a way that would make it impossible for them to ever rise up again.”
“And yet here we have Israel sitting square in the center of all these Arab peoples. How can this weapon Rasin claims he has destroy one without the other?”
“His briefings were quite clear about this result. ‘An oasis in the middle of the desert of destruction’ were his exact words.”
“Then we must be talking about some kind of selective destruction. What he seems to be talking about is a weapon that can’t possibly exist.”
“Only within the parameters our reason permits us to consider.”
“Your reason, Evira, and your fight. I’ve read the files on you, and if there’s any truth to them at all, then I’ve got to figure you’re just as able to track Rasin down as I am.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. We’ll never know for sure because I have my own target to pursue: Amir Hassani.”
“An Ar—”
“Go ahead. Finish. You were about to say ‘Arab,’ weren’t you?” She didn’t let him answer. “Yes, I am an Arab, Mr. Blaine McCracken, but my birth place was annexed, which makes me an Israeli, too. My loyalty may be divided, but on both counts Hassani is as much my enemy as Rasin. He is against everything I stand for.”
“And just what is that?”
“Peace. Does that surprise you?”
“Coming from a woman who kidnaps children to further her ends, frankly it does.”
“Not just my ends, Mr. Blaine McCracken, the world’s ends. What do you know of Hassani?”
“No more than anyone else, I suppose. He’s a real enigma, installed as military strongman of a beaten and impoverished Iran in a coup after the war was finally settled with Iraq and Khomeini passed on to the nuthouse in the sky. He came back from exile, à la Khomeini, and promised to return national pride and prosperity to a country sorely lacking in both.”
“And has he?”
“In the past six months things have gotten steadily worse. He woos the wealthy and powerful like the Shah did while giving limitless power to the Revolutionary Guard like Khomeini.”
“And caught in the middle are the Iranian masses who mean nothing to him. But you left out one thing. Hassani has used his position to rally other militant Arab leaders, and he has convinced them that with the Iran-Iraq war no longer serving as a distraction, they can turn all their attention toward a common enemy.”
“Israel,” Blaine surmised.
“Of course. Hassani has brought together a collection of madmen who want nothing more than to see Israel destroyed and collectively are in possession of the means to assure it happens.”
“Then we’re facing two madmen, each of which is poised to destroy the world of the other.”
“And they’ll succeed unless we are successful in stopping them.”
“Stop or kill?”
“One and the same.”
Blaine shook his head mockingly. “This really isn’t your game, is it? Why don’t you just come out and say what you mean: you plan to kill Hassani while I kill Rasin.”
Evira’s eyes were cold. “Whatever is necessary.”
“How did you learn so much about Hassani? You work in Israel, not Iran.”
She just looked at him, and might have been about to speak when Blaine suddenly answered his own question.
“Unless … unless you found out about Hassani’s plans through the agents you planted with Rasin. Of course!”
“You see what I mean now.”
“What I see is an Israeli fanatic with a weapon he intends to use because of what a militant Iranian is planning. In Rasin’s mind, what he’s doing is self-defense, a preventive strike.”
“But it cuts both ways,” Evira explained. “Part of the reason why Hassani has been able at last to unite the various militant factions of the Arab world is the symbol Rasin and his rising popularity presents. His following is no longer limited or hidden away. It is thriving in Israel and it is powerful. Can you imagine the kind of concessions he’ll demand, and the price Israel will be forced to pay, once he and his party capture enough seats in parliament for Rasin to become kingmaker? Hassani and the other madmen cannot wait to find out. They feel Israel must be destroyed before the tide becomes too strong to turn….”
“Which, accordingly, provides Rasin with the perfect rationale to utilize his superweapon. My God, it’s almost as if Hassani and the others had played right into his hands.”
“In any case he has the weapon and the justification to unleash it.” Her eyes became pleading. “I couldn’t trust anyone else, don’t you see? Hassani’s people have penetrated my organization, and Rasin’s people are onto me. You were my only hope. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if our positions were reversed!”
“I wouldn’t. There’s a code that must not have made it to your part of the world yet. We don’t involve family. We never involve family.”
“Our way of life is facing destruction. Israel’s, too. I hate the militants as much as you do. I’m going to kill Hassani. I want him stopped as much as I want Rasin stopped. This is our only chance to beat down what both of them represent forever.”
“Only to do so you have to employ their methods, so you become no better than they are.” Blaine paused and looked at her with eyes of ice. “Tell me how civilized you are, but first tell me what will happen if I get up from this table and walk away.”
Evira hesitated only slightly. “Your son will die.”
Chapter 7
Colonel Ben-Neser stood nervously in the open warehouse across from the gift shop. Shielded by porcelain fixtures, he gazed across the street, clenching and unclenching his remaining hand into a fist. Evira was barely thirty yards away from him. A quick dash across the street and he could take her himself. Screw the complications and get it over with.
Still, the American Evira was meeting with provided an unexpected complication. Bad enough the colonel should be about to initiate a wholly unsanctioned operation. But if an American, innocent or otherwise, should perish as a result the political fallout might be sufficient to cost Ben-Neser his career.
What little remained of it, that is. He had been born to be a soldier, not a bureaucrat. He came from a tradition of warriors and had proved himself worthy of that legacy as an infantryman in the Six-Day War of ’67. Six years later the Yom Kippur engagement had seen him perform heroically in a leadership capacity until his tenure was ended prematurely. He was rounding up strays when a boy lunged out and tossed a grenade. While the attention of his men remained fixed on the escaping boy, Ben-Neser had focused on the grenade. Calculating instantly that the only hope his squad had of survival lay in his tossing it away from them, he had managed to lift and start to hurl the grenade when it detonated. The colonel’s men were saved, but his arm was reduced to sinews sprouting from the shoulder joint.