by R. D. Brady
“I arranged a little something on the back veranda.”
“Henry, I’m really not—”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s just a reminder of who you are.”
Ahead on the veranda was a woman with blond hair just starting to turn gray, a gray-haired man by her side. Behind them stood Lou, Rolly, Danny, and Jordan’s twin, Mike. Henry stopped the cart and nodded at them.
“That’s your family. Those are the people who know you, who love you. Vanessa—she doesn’t deserve any emotions but your pity. Because she lost out on getting to know you. And I pity anyone who doesn’t have you in their life.”
Jen turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. “I love you, Henry.”
He kissed her softly. “Not as much as I love you.”
Jen placed her hand on his cheek, then stepped out of the cart and jogged toward Martha and John Witt. They engulfed her in a hug. And Henry knew that Jen was on her way to healing.
CHAPTER 57
Tel Aviv, Israel
Laney looked out the window as the plane began its descent. Israel had always held a fascination for her. So many of the Biblical stories she’d been told had taken place here. Flying over it felt like flying over history.
This was her second trip to Israel. She’d been to Israel years ago and had been amazed by the beauty of the place. The Jerusalem Market had been her favorite. Narrow alleys cut down rows and rows of colorful stalls selling all sorts of exotic merchandise: jewelry, fabrics, spices, scarves, candles, and artifacts of dubious authenticity. And it wasn’t unusual for a merchant to invite you in to sit and talk—very different from an American store, where salespeople sometimes seemed like they were doing you a favor by being there at all.
And the food! It was everywhere. The smells reached out at you as you walked, enticing you to stop for baked goods, shakshooka, jachnun, kibbe, fruits, cheeses, Bedouin tea, and more.
Plus, you could literally see the history of the place. Apartments were built from buildings hundreds of years old. Excavations took place right next to main walkways. In any direction you walked, you were guaranteed to see a piece of history. This was the land of Herod, David, the Ottoman Empire, Saladin, the crusades, the Romans—all the periods of history layered one on top of the next. It was incredible.
When she was last here, with Drew and Jen, they had spent days wandering from one incredible site to another. But sightseeing was not part of the trip this time, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be stopping by the market for any souvenirs.
Well maybe if nothing blows up I can, she thought glumly.
The plane touched down at Ben Gurion International Airport, and they taxied around to a hangar where Jake was already waiting. After thanking the pilot, Laney headed for Jake, with Oasu right behind her.
Laney made the introductions. “Jake, this is Oasu, Kai’s son. He’s hoping he can help.”
Jake shook his hand. “Good to meet you. We can use all the help we can get. And actually, we have some pictures back at the safe house we’re hoping you can go through. We think they may be Honu Keiki members.”
“Anything I can do to help,” Oasu said.
“Where is everybody?” Laney asked.
“At the safe house. The SIA agents are slowly trickling in—we have about a dozen so far. Matt and Mustafa will be arriving within the hour. And Yoni is off meeting with some members of his old unit to see what he can find out.”
“Did he see his mother?”
Jake nodded. “He convinced her to go stay with his cousins for a little while.”
“Good.”
Jake waved over one of the Chandler operatives. “Sean, can you take Oasu back to the safe house? Explain everything we know so far and get him started on those IDs?”
“Will do.” Sean extended his hand to Oasu. “Good to meet you. If you’ll follow me.” They walked off together to one of the SUVs.
Laney watched Oasu as they left, hoping the young man was up for what was ahead. He’d been on Malama all his life, and the next few days were going to be a crash course for him in how the rest of the world worked.
“How’s Jen?” Jake asked quietly.
Laney shook her head. “Devastated. I couldn’t ask her to help with this, Jake. It’s too much. Her head wasn’t in it, and if she got hurt—”
“Hey, you don’t need to explain it to me. We’ve got this.” Jake looked like he wanted to hug her, but he just stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You okay?”
“Besides being slightly terrified, yes.”
“Only slightly? Well, you’re doing better than me then.”
Laney gave a small laugh, and she and Jake shared a genuine smile. But then she became serious again. “Okay. Anyone have any ideas how they’re going to smuggle a bomb into the Temple Mount?”
“Well, as you know, only Muslims are allowed into the Temple Mount sites.”
Laney nodded. In 2000, the sites on the Temple Mount were closed to all but Muslim visitors. Christians and Jews were still allowed on the Temple Mount—in small groups, due to the increase in clashes between Jewish and Muslim activists—but while on the Temple Mount they were not allowed to pray, and they could not visit the Dome of the Rock or the Al-Aqsa Mosque.
“So we assume they’ll be disguised as Muslims, or even using Muslims as unwitting couriers. That’s just a guess, though.”
They left the airport, and Jake headed toward Jerusalem—but not straight to the safe house. Laney smiled, recognizing the mountain ahead: the Mount of Olives. As a kid, she’d sit in church at Easter time and listen to her uncle talk about Jesus on the Mount of Olives, and his betrayal by Judas with a kiss. Her uncle had brought the ancient tale to life, and Laney could always picture the men moving between the olive trees, the branches bowing under the weight of the olives.
Jake pulled over to the side of the road near the overlook. Laney got out of the car and walked to the edge of the road, where she was gifted with an incredible view of the ancient metropolis of Jerusalem. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the bright gold dome: the Dome of the Rock. The dome had been built in the seventh century when the Muslims re-took Jerusalem; it housed the rock by which Mohammed was said to have ascended to heaven after traveling from Mecca to Jerusalem on the back of a mystical creature called a buraq. It was the same rock on which Abraham was allegedly prepared to sacrifice his son.
Surrounding the dome was the Temple Mount—a site that dated back to 70 BCE and the first Temple of Solomon. Laney ran her hand over her ring. This ring had been there for the temple’s creation. In fact, if the tales were true, her ring was the reason the temple had been built so quickly.
To the east was the fence that separated Israel from the West Bank. The fence had been erected in response to the suicide bombing camping of the second intifada. The fence had been controversial, to say the least—it had cut off Palestinian farmers from the land, destroying crops and livelihood—but it had also finally brought an end to the suicide bombs that had become commonplace.
Out of the corner of her eye, Laney saw Jake also surveying the landscape. Jake was so solid. His feet were always firmly planted on the ground. Religion didn’t play much of a role in his life, and according to Victoria, it was his pragmatism and common sense that made him an integral part of the triad.
“Jake?”
He turned to her.
“Who do you think is right in this battle for control? The Israelis or the Arabs?”
“Honestly? After all these centuries, and the amount of time that each side has settled here, I’m not sure it’s possible to declare one side as more deserving of the land.”
“Who controlled it longer?”
Jake shrugged. “Even that’s a bit hard to say. David conquered it in 3000 BC and declared it a Jewish Kingdom. That lasted until the first century AD, when Rome conquered it. Then there were the Persians in 600, followed by the Christians. Muslims controlled it from at least 1099 to the twentieth century, when the British
took control in 1917.”
“And then they created the state of Israel in 1948.”
“Yep.”
“So, if you had to choose: Who would you say has the stronger claim to the land?”
“Neither, both.” Jake shook his head. “I suppose it depends. The Jews had it earlier on, but then the Muslims controlled it for over a thousand years into the modern era. They both have a claim. I’m just not sure which one is more valid.”
“Well, the 1948 doctrine didn’t really help.” In 1948, the city of Jerusalem was split between Israel and Jordan. But then in 1967, Israel went to war and reclaimed most of Jerusalem. They’d been fighting off attempts to go back to that 1948 line ever since.
Jake sighed. “I guess as someone who’s not very religious, I don’t understand why this particular piece of land is so critical. There were previous attempts to provide a homeland for the Jewish community. Uganda was one. There was even an attempt to create one in upstate New York at Grand Island.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that.” Jake was a history buff, and was always coming up with these little nuggets of information.
“It was back in the late nineteenth century. Major Mordecai Manuel Noah came up with the plan. He was the editor of a newspaper and had a bit of political influence. He convinced a friend to buy Grand Island on the Niagara River. He was intending to call the town Ararat. He came out for the naming ceremony, was unable to get to the island, and that pretty much ended the attempt.
“At least that would have been a voluntary settlement. Later, the Third Reich had a not-at-all voluntary plan to evacuate Jews to the island of Madagascar. It was actually the first Final Solution to what the third Reich termed the ‘Jewish problem.’ While it’s cringe-worthy, in retrospect it would have been preferable to Hitler’s eventual ‘solution.’”
Laney thought about the terrible atrocities forced upon the Jewish population by the Nazi Party. And the Nazis were far from the first people in history to target the Jews. She couldn’t blame the Jewish people for wanting a home of their own.
She looked over at the West Bank. Reports varied on the level of poverty there, but she had seen estimates as high as 67%. On the Israeli side, settlements were well laid out; on the other side of the fence, small homes were built close together. In some areas, homes were little more than hovels.
But who was right? Who was wrong? It wasn’t a question she was equipped to solve, and neither was anyone else. In fact, she had a feeling time and demographics would solve that problem for them. According to the Palestinian Census Bureau, by 2020 there would be more Arabs in Israel than Jews. Some argued it wouldn’t occur until 2035 or 2048, but no one argued that it would happen. Arab birth rates simply dwarfed the birth rates of Israeli Jews, because the Arab family size was larger than that of their Jewish counterparts. And that meant that in a few short decades, the demographic composition of Israel was going to shift dramatically.
Perhaps that would bring peace at last. Or maybe it would only create more violence as a majority shifted into the minority.
Laney turned from the wall and spied the Har Hazaitim cemetery. It was said to be at least three thousand years old and contained in excess of seventy thousand tombs—tombs dating back to the time of the first temple. But it was more than just a popular place to be buried. The Mount of Olives provided holy land to spend your time while awaiting the next life. And the resurrection of the dead was said to begin with the second coming of Christ at that very spot.
There was so much history in such a relatively small area, both ancient and new—and all more than a little tragic. And now Laney needed to not only keep that history from being destroyed, but to do so without letting anyone outside her group from learning about the danger. Because in this case, the threat alone could create just as many global repercussions as an attack itself.
“What are you thinking?” Jake asked.
Laney looked at him, and for a moment she let all her doubts crowd in. “I’m thinking this might be impossible.”
CHAPTER 58
As Jake drove slowly through the streets of Jerusalem, Laney remembered spending every night with Drew and Jen at a restaurant on the beach, watching people set hookahs up right in the sand. It had been an eye-opening and life-changing trip—and one that brought only good memories. Jerusalem was a beautiful place.
But when you looked for them, you could see plenty of signs that Israel was not like most other countries. Bags were inspected at all businesses that could afford the guards. Occasionally you’d pass someone, usually a male, with an automatic weapon slung casually over his shoulder. And this wasn’t like Texas—this wasn’t about swagger. This was a true act of defense. Every able-bodied individual in Israel was required to serve time in the military, and all were allowed to open carry.
While they slowed for traffic, Laney watched a car pull up at the gate of a non-descript concrete building surrounded by a fence. A concrete divider separated the car from the street, and metal plates rose from the ground both behind and in front of the car, trapping it in place. Two guards walked over to the car; one kept a weapon trained on the car’s occupants, while the other walked around the car slowly. He had a mirror attached to a long pole, and he placed it under the car, searching for incendiary devices.
Laney swallowed. Even without the priestess’s new threat, Israel was a dangerous place.
Jake drove along Ha-Yarkon Street, the boulevard that ran along the Tel Aviv beach for nine miles. They passed the spot where the Dolphinarium had once stood. The Dolphinarium was a teen nightclub that was attacked by a suicide bomber on June 1, 2001. The man was intercepted before entering, so he set off his bomb right there at the doors. Twenty-five people died, almost all of them under the age of eighteen.
Laney pictured the teenagers lined up outside the club as the bomber blew himself up. She understood the academic reasons for suicide terrorism, but she struggled to understand how someone could look at innocent teenagers and see the need for their deaths.
Jake’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Jake here.” Then, after a short pause: “What? When?”
Laney looked over. Jake’s face was serious.
“We’re on our way.” He disconnected the call.
“What’s going on?” Laney asked, dread filling her.
“Mustafa’s been attacked.”
CHAPTER 59
Jake drove as fast as he could through the crowded streets. By the time he pulled into a spot three houses down from the safe house, Laney was practically climbing the walls of the car. As she ran toward the house, the SIA agents saw her coming and opened the door. She hurried inside, with Jake right behind her.
Matt appeared at the end of the long hallway. He waved them down. “Back here.”
As Laney hustled down the hallway, she glanced in the doorways she passed. They were clearly intended to be bedrooms, but from the weaponry on display, they had another use right now.
Laney stepped into the kitchen and took in the figure sitting at the table. His right eye was swollen, and he had cuts on his cheek and hands. “Oh, Mustafa.”
Mustafa gave her a small smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Laney whirled on Matt. “What happened?”
“It’s not Matt’s fault,” Mustafa said. “It was mine. I went to get a gift for my sister. I thought I could go to the market quickly and be back. And I did. Unfortunately, I was jumped as soon as I left the market.”
“Was it a Fallen?”
“From the way they moved?” Mustafa said. “Yes.”
Laney sank into a chair across from him. “How are you alive?”
“They didn’t want to kill me.”
Jake frowned. “So what did they want?”
Mustafa pulled a phone from his pocket. “To give Laney this.”
Laney stared at the phone like it was a snake.
“Laney?” Mustafa prompted.
She looked at Jake, who nodded at her. She took the pho
ne from Mustafa’s outstretched hand. “Any instructions?”
“I was told you’d be receiving a call at 4:45.” Mustafa looked at his watch. “That’s in fifteen minutes.”
Laney looked down at the phone. It was a burner. And she had a feeling it was encrypted to make it impossible to trace the caller. She sighed. “Well then, I guess we wait.”
CHAPTER 60
The fifteen minutes dragged by, even though Laney was actually quite busy. They reviewed the security setup at the Temple Mount, which was impressive—she didn’t see how someone could possibly smuggle a bomb in.
But Jerusalem was also known for its underground structures. Ancient tunnels were constantly being unearthed—like Hezekiah’s Tunnel, a water tunnel that dated to the eighth century BCE and ran from Gihon Spring to the Pool of Siloam, outside the walls of the Old City. And there was much more under Old Jerusalem: Roman sewers, medieval chambers. The idea of someone finding some ancient entry to the Temple Mount was not completely out of the question.
On the other hand, maybe the priestess’s people didn’t even have to get into the Temple Mount itself. If they even got close with a large explosive, they could do a lot of damage, especially seeing as there were faults running all throughout the area.
And the priestess’s people were definitely here. Thanks to Oasu, they had been able to identify eight former Honu Keiki members in the area. Unfortunately, all of them had disappeared prior to Laney’s team’s arrival. Which meant they needed to somehow search the Temple Mount—a virtual impossibility due to the religious restrictions.
Matt explained that he had two dozen agents, ten of whom were either Fallen or nephilim, in the city. Another six would arrive within the hour. With the dozen Chandler operatives they now had, they had close to forty people.
Was that anywhere near enough?
As they wrapped up their review of the situation, everyone went silent and watched the clock count down to 4:45.
