"He's a cool one."
The comment came from a tall man with black eyes and sallow skin and big ears. His face was weathered from the desert sun with lines that made him look older than his forty-eight years. He wore a short sleeved white shirt, black tie, crisp blue pants and black shoes. Silver insignia of the National Police glittered on his shoulders. A name tag on his shirt identified him as Ben Ezra.
"Eighteen stitches for that gash in his thigh, no anesthetic," he said. "He didn't even flinch. While he was being sewed up he worked with the sketch artist. We're running it through the database now. So far, no hits."
He held out the artist's rendering of the man Nick had followed into the alley. Herzog looked at the drawing, then opened a Shin Bet dossier he carried in his right hand.
"Nicholas Carter," Herzog said. "Former Major in their Marines, Force Recon. That's part of their Special Operations Command now. He's supposed to be part of an advance party for the US President's visit."
Herzog continued reading.
"Silver star, bronze star with cluster, three purple hearts, tours in South America, Persian Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan. Redacted records. High security clearance. Part of a covert unit that answers to their President and specializes in targeted operations against terrorists."
"Sounds a little like one of yours, Ari." The policeman scratched under his armpit.
Carter's effects were in a box on a nearby table. Herzog looked through them. Airline ticket. Rental car keys. A wallet with driver's license, credit cards and two thousand dollars in currency. There was a picture in the wallet of a dark haired woman standing in front of a restaurant, blowing a kiss at the camera. Carter's passport was full of stamps from all over the globe.
There was a state of the art, encrypted satellite phone. A small pocket knife and flashlight, locally bought. A flat, black credentials holder with Carter's ID. A room key for the King David Citadel Hotel.
Carter's pistol, a Heckler and Koch .45, had been sent forward from storage at Ben Gurion airport. Herzog picked up the gun, examined it. He eyed the three fifteen round magazines and the shoulder rig.
"Big pistol. Custom hollow points. This one doesn't fool around." Herzog set the pistol down.
"You think it's a coincidence he was there when that bomb went?"
"What does he say?"
"That he was having a cup of coffee when the bomb exploded. He says he saw a man talking on a cell phone. In his opinion the man was involved with the bombing, so he went after him. When he did, two others attacked him. The one with the phone got in a white Volvo and was driven away. Then my men showed up and took this one into custody. We're on the lookout for the car, but there are a lot of white Volvos."
Ben Ezra scratched his arm. "One of the men he fought is dead. The other is in a coma. The one he killed was in our files from demonstrations in the West Bank. No ID on the other yet. When he comes out of it, if he comes out of it, we'll encourage him to answer some questions."
"Mmmm."
Ben Ezra continued. "We found two knives in the alley." He gestured through the glass. "This one was unarmed. Except for that little penknife. It was in his pocket."
"Not bad, against two with knives. We're sure he's who he says he is?"
"Confirmed."
"Their President gives his speech two days from now. Why send a covert operative here, using his own name, claiming him as part of the Presidential party?"
"Maybe we should ask him."
"Let's do that."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carter looked up as two men entered the room. The first was about forty-five, dressed in a crumpled dark blue suit, white shirt with no tie, and black shoes. His hair was curly and black with touches of gray. Around five ten and a hundred and seventy, his eyes were dark brown, intense and bloodshot. He looked tired. Lines of stress were grooved into his cheeks and forehead. He was wearing a wedding ring and carried a folder in his left hand.
The blue logo of Shin Bet was prominent on the credentials he held up for Nick to see. Shin Bet's motto translated as "The Invisible Shield". In the covert war zone comprising all of Israel, Shin Bet was the front line.
Standing next to him was a ranking policeman with silver pips and a leaf on his shoulders. A cop in uniform entered the room, closed the door and stood by it.
The man put his credentials back in his jacket pocket. "My name is Ari Herzog."
"Nick Carter." Nick rose and held out his hand, trying not to wince at the pain in his leg. Herzog looked surprised. He hesitated, then shook. His grip was firm.
"This is Commander Ben Ezra. We'd like to talk with you." He gestured at the chair.
They sat down. The cop and Ben Ezra remained standing.
Carter looked at the folder under Herzog's arm. The only way he'd get out of here was cooperation. He decided to play it straight. "You've checked me out by now," he said. "What is it you want to know?"
Herzog and Ben Ezra looked at one another. Herzog cleared his throat.
"Many things, Mr. Carter. Beginning with what you were doing at the mall earlier this evening."
"I was having a cup of coffee."
"At the exact time and place of a terrorist attack."
"Wrong time, wrong place. But yes, having a cup of coffee. Do you think this attack had something to do with me?"
"Not necessarily." Herzog glanced at the folder. "You were sent here as part of an advance detail prior to your president's visit?"
"Yes."
"For what purpose? You're not Secret Service."
"My boss thinks there could be a terrorist attack timed to coincide with Rice's speech. We have a source in the Old City. I was sent to see if I could find specific facts to back up that intelligence. That's why I'm here."
"Armed."
"I was, until your people confiscated my weapon. If I'd had it tonight, your terrorist might be sitting here instead of me."
"Or not. One of the men you fought is dead, the other is badly injured. He's in a coma."
Nick shrugged. "I didn't have many options."
"How were you to obtain the facts needed to, as you say, back up your intelligence?"
"I was going to connect with your organization after I'd scouted around a bit. This isn't the kind of meeting I'd pictured, though." He gestured at the room.
"What had you planned to do next?"
"Meet with our source."
"When was this meeting to take place?"
"It's today at nine. I'd hoped yesterday, but no luck. My instructions were that if I discovered anything definite to let your people handle it."
"Mmm." Herzog was non-committal. "You are willing to share this source with us?"
Carter thought about it. He'd never given up a contact. But Israel was an ally and what counted was the success of the mission.
"Yes. But I think it's better if he doesn't know you're involved."
"You're proposing that you and I work together?"
"We've got a common interest. Tonight's attack could be part of some bigger terrorist scenario. I'll bet you've already had to divert manpower from Rice's visit to handle it. Put me back out there and I can help."
Herzog gave him a long look. He turned to Ben Ezra.
"What do you think?"
The policeman let out a long breath. Scratched under his arm.
"It's your call, Ari. We're stretched thin right now. If you trust him, maybe he can help, but we need him on a tight leash."
"Mmm. Mr. Carter, if we do this you must remain under my operational supervision. No 'cowboy' stuff, yes?"