shook his head in disbelief. “I might have known.”
“That’s insane,” Lieutenant Ash said. “They’d never have gotten away with it.”
“Yes, they could,” Ethan said. “Desperate, wealthy parents make an easy target for predatory companies like MACE. They needed the extra income when the supply of arms contracts dried up in the United States after the Iraq War fiasco.” Ethan shook his head, amazed that he hadn’t thought of it before. “They wouldn’t have to worry about a damn thing unless someone looked into it and got too close, and then they’d have to …”
Ethan’s voice trailed off.
“Ethan?”
Rachel’s voice reached him as though from the other side of the universe. Ethan stared vacantly as an image of Joanna appeared in his mind’s eye, clearer and sharper than ever before, her face watching him from a crowded but blurred street. Her gaze was boring into his, driving into and through him with an unshakable, unbearable certainty.
The world shifted beneath his feet and he collapsed sideways, grabbing the edge of the gurney for support as his legs quivered beneath him. Rachel jumped up to his side, holding his shoulders.
“How long has MACE been working in Gaza and Israel?” Ethan asked Lieutenant Ash in a feeble voice.
“Four years, maybe five.”
Ethan looked at Damon Sheviz.
“Where else has MACE done this?”
“South America, maybe North America too.”
The doctor’s voice trailed off as Ethan spoke.
“Joanna was tracking the movements of hostage takers and guerrilla groups in Colombia, writing reports on the corruption of governments and police forces. We barely got out of the country after receiving anonymous death threats. Shortly afterward we came to Israel and Joanna began working on the same thing in Gaza and the West Bank.” Ethan looked at Lieutenant Ash. “She was sure that someone was behind the abductions, but she never got to the bottom of it.”
Rachel put her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she did but never got the chance to tell you.”
Ethan’s voice was a whisper in his own ears as he looked at her.
“MACE. The Defense Intelligence Agency must have suspected them before we even left Washington. You were right. They weren’t interested in finding Lucy or Joanna, they just wanted the remains found and MACE investigated without arousing the suspicions of Congress.”
Rachel nodded slowly.
“MACE has strong connections with the administration,” she said. “The encumbent president’s campaign could be derailed if any evidence of MACE’s activities here were leaked to the press.”
“All lies lead to the truth,” Ethan murmured. He looked up, shaking himself from his sudden torpor. “We need to stop them, now.”
Lieutenant Ash nodded.
“We were tipped off,” he said to Ethan. “Someone let us know where Lucy was.”
“If that’s so,” Ethan said, “then MACE’s operation may be collapsing. We need to find Byron Stone.”
“I’ll radio General Aydan and let him know about this,” Lieutenant Ash replied. “Do we know where he is?”
Ethan looked at Bill Griffiths, who had walked into the room with Aaron Luckov.
“MACE has a private jet, a Gulfstream V550, waiting to leave Ben Gurion International.”
“Then let’s get out of here,” Ethan said. “I need to stop that jet from taking off.”
“What about him?” Lieutenant Ash asked, jabbing a finger at Sheviz.
Ethan turned to the lieutenant and whispered in his ear.
“Ayeem Khan lives near Bar Yehuda,” he said simply. “Don’t forget the videotape.”
Lieutenant Ash turned and called to his men.
“Time to move out!”
Lucy Morgan moved to stand before Ethan.
“I’m coming too,” she said.
“This could be dangerous,” Ethan said, “and I don’t know if—”
“I wasn’t asking,” Lucy snapped. “I want to see these bastards go down, understood?”
Spencer Malik strode into Wadi al-Joz even as the distant sound of small-arms fire echoed off the ancient stone walls around him. He quickened his pace, and saw IDF cordons ahead near the entrance to the quiet little street where the MACE warehouses stood.
The Israeli Defense Force had moved swiftly. Malik didn’t know how the operation had become exposed, and could only assume that everything had unraveled in Washington somehow. It mattered little. Soon, it would all be over.
He carried a bag filled with vegetables bought from a local market nearby, and he wore traditional Palestinian dress that helped to conceal his features and detract attention from himself. Among the vegetables in the bag was a large pistol, just in case anyone attempted to stop him in his mission.
Malik turned, entered a familiar apartment building, and climbed up the stairwell, slipping the pistol out of the bag and setting the safety catch to Off. The stairs opened out onto a single