“Kelvin Patterson, the head of the American Evangelical Alliance,” Malik spluttered.
Rafael slowly reached down and from his waistband produced a slim, long blade with a needle-sharp tip. Malik whimpered and shivered as he caught a whiff of a pungent odor staining the breeze, that of his own feces and urine.
“Now,” Rafael said quietly, “you’re going to tell me everything, from the very day you joined MACE. If you hide anything or fail to answer any of my questions, I will kill you. Begin.”
Malik told him. Everything. Of Byron Stone’s plan, of the fossils and the girl, of Bill Griffiths and the Bedouin and Israel and the profits from weapons and abductions. When he was done, Rafael looked at his watch.
“Let me go,” Malik begged, still trembling and with tears now blurring his eyes.
Rafael looked down at him and nodded. “Very well.”
A pitiful wave of relief and gratitude flooded Malik as Rafael turned and reached out for his wrist bonds. The assassin suddenly pressed down hard, and Malik’s breath caught in his throat as he felt something pierce the base of his neck, a quiver of motion that was gone as soon as it had arrived. Malik’s body stopped trembling as though a switch had been flicked. The assassin leaned back on his haunches.
“I would pity you, were you not such a coward.”
Malik managed to crane his head around to look at him. “What have you done?”
Rafael leaned forward, raising one hand and revealing the blade now smeared with dark blood. Malik heard a pitiful sound crawl from his own larynx as Rafael spoke.
“You are paralyzed for what little remains of your life. I’ve severed your spinal cord between the fourth and fifth vertebrae. Enough remains intact for you to breathe and speak, but little more.”
Malik tried to move his body. Nothing happened. Tears scalded his face as he cried out in despair, only for Rafael to shove a pungent-smelling sock into his mouth.
Malik watched helplessly as Rafael reached down, searching his body and retrieving his cell phone. Then Rafael turned to the sniper rifle, pushing it forward to poke out of the window and tying a length of thread to the trigger, unwinding it as he backed away. Malik could see that the rifle would be easy to see from outside the open windows, as would his body lying prone behind it.
Malik screamed through the sock lodged in his mouth as sweat streamed down his face and prickly heat stung his skin. Rafael looked down at him for a few moments, an expression of absolute calm on his dark features, and then he turned and walked out of sight.
Moments later, the apartment door closed behind him.
Byron Stone settled into the plush leather seat of the SUV and picked up the phone, dialing a number and listening as the line clattered with digital activity, the scramblers coding and decoding the signal before allowing the line to connect.
“General Aydan,” came the gruff voice on the line, sounding as though it were coming through a microphone rather than a mouthpiece.
“General, how are you?”
“I have been looking for you, Mr. Stone.” Byron felt a ripple of alarm twist his guts. “Where is your remaining Valkyrie UAV?”
“Airborne, somewhere over Jerusalem, I believe. We have identified a potential insurgent target in Wadi al-Joz that we think should be neutralized with a—”
“We’ve taken control of the Valkyrie,” the general interrupted sharply. “Where are you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Stone muttered. “That UAV is private property and you have no right to—”
“Our men are on site in Wadi al-Joz and we have it on the authority of one Dr. Damon Sheviz that MACE is responsible for the security of illegal experiments there. Where are you, Mr. Stone?”
Byron Stone sat in dumbfounded silence for a long moment, staring wide-eyed at the city passing by outside.
“The man is insane,” he stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We have also found explosive devices like those described by Ethan Warner in the possession of your men,” the general muttered angrily down the line. A long pause followed. “Where are you, Mr. Stone?”
Byron Stone sat for a moment in catatonic silence and then promptly put the phone down. He leaned forward in his seat, tapping a button on a console beside him that activated the intercom with his driver.
“Get us to the airport at Tel Aviv immediately.”
What the hell’s happened?
One of the cell phones next to him rang loudly and he almost jumped out