and if you abandon us, then I’ll make damn sure that ten percent of this country’s voters abandon you.”
Senator Black’s jaw dropped open. “You can’t control voters like that.”
The pastor shook his head slowly, a smile creasing his thin lips.
“Can you afford to take the risk? I would suggest that you ask yourself something, Isaiah. What matters more to you: misguided government policy or your place as the president of the United States of America?”
Senator Black ground his teeth.
“I have blood to give,” he said, and turned for the door.
“We too are prepared to shed blood, to seal the covenant between man and God,” Patterson said after him, “no matter what the consequences.”
AUGUST 25
The woman stared at him from across the street, her hair in disarray, her wrists bound, guns wedged into her side as she was wrestled into a battered sedan by masked men. Ethan shouted at her, but his voice was muted. He ran toward her, but his legs refused to move, dragging like lead weights beneath him. He saw her scream in desperation, and he heard a strange whining noise assault his ears as the world shuddered beneath his feet.
Ethan’s eyes blinked open, the turbulence shuddering through the aircraft jolting him awake.
He stared out of his window as the Boeing 737 turned steeply over the sparkling azure Mediterranean. The coast of Israel drifted past five thousand feet below beneath a scattering of cloud, and to the north he could see the metallic sprawl of Tel Aviv glinting through the early-morning haze. His eyes ached, and he realized that he had drifted into sleep, the first time since taking off some seven hours previously.
Beside him Rachel Morgan sat in catatonic silence, as she had done for the past four hours. Ethan had spent half of his life crammed into aircraft flying from one godforsaken war zone to another, and had hated the narcissistic chatter of journalists from a dozen countries sharing their unwanted opinions on whatever crisis they were heading to document. Rachel’s silence had been initially a great relief. Now, he suspected that there was something more to it, emphasized by the empty seat between them.
“We’re descending,” he said in a vague attempt to provoke conversation.
“So it would seem.”
He tried again.
“You ever been to the Middle East before?”
“Only when family members go missing.”
“Is that some kind of joke?” Ethan snapped.
Rachel’s eyes swiveled to peer sideways at him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood for talking right now.”
“Is there some kind of problem here, with me?”
“Should there be?”
“You’ve barely spoken since we met, and if this trip is going to achieve anything at all, I need your help.” Ethan leaned across the empty seat between them. “If we can’t work together and start uncovering what happened to Lucy, you know what will happen?”
“What will happen?”
“Nothing at all.”
Rachel stared ahead for a few moments before replying. “I’m not comfortable with the idea of running around a foreign country with someone I don’t know anything about and who clearly has problems of his own.”
“You think I want to be cooped up on an airliner bound for the Middle East?” Ethan challenged. “I was perfectly happy where I was.”
“Is that so?” Rachel said. “You see, that’s my point. Even Doug admitted to me that you’re troubled, and whether that’s because of whatever happened to you out here or not is irrelevant. If you’re unable to help yourself, then what use are you to me or to Lucy?”
Ethan struggled to erect a harbor of dignity around his shame.
“Do you think Doug would have asked me here if he thought that?”
“By his own admission, there was nobody else he could ask.”
Ethan gave up and stared out of the window. “Glad I could help.”
For a long time Rachel sat staring into space, but eventually she glanced across at him.
“Look, I appreciate you being here.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said quietly. “As you’ve pointed out neither of us has much of a choice, so why don’t we just get on with it?”
Rachel stared at him for a long moment with an unconvinced expression. “Fine.”
“I need you to tell me everything you can about your daughter and what she was up to out here.”
“Lucy was born in 1981, but her father Robert died when she was fourteen.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So were we,” Rachel said, her voice softening. “He died before his time. I’ve questioned a thousand times what would make God take someone from us, but I’ve never found an answer.”