crews outside the Capitol.
One of the hacks barged his way past the senator’s barrier of bulky security guards and shoved a microphone under his nose.
“Senator, how will you justify your association with the New Covenant Church after the inflammatory sermons conducted by its pastor were condemned by the wider church?”
Senator Black’s neon smile flashed like a lighthouse at the correspondent, but his eyes were hard as he spoke.
“Free speech is part of our nation’s Constitution. It doesn’t mean that I agree with the sermons or that they reflect my party’s policies.”
Patterson chewed on his lip, a habit born of irritation.
“Free speech is one thing, Senator,” the journalist shot back. “Incitement to hatred is something else. Analysts are saying that you’re walking a fine line between policy and popularity that could backfire if your party sees you as a liability.”
Senator Black stopped on the steps of the Capitol, turning to face the media mob from behind an impenetrable line of secret service agents who turned with folded arms and fixed expressions to bar the journalists’ way.
“I cannot choose who supports me, nor can I dictate what they should or should not say,” Black intoned smoothly with his hands extended out to his sides. “That would be a dictatorship, would it not? I can only say that the policies I have placed my faith in include a peaceful resolution to all conflicts in which the United States of America has an interest, and that I put my place in office above my personal beliefs.”
“Do you agree then,” another voice shouted from the mob, “with Pastor Patterson’s views on the Middle East?”
Patterson leaned forward as the mob suddenly fell silent, waiting for the answer from the senator to the pointed and unavoidable question. Isaiah Black took a deep breath, his hands falling to his sides.
“No, I do not. Conflict cannot ever be ended by further conflict, that much has proven true for decades, millennia even. War is the easy option, and there is nothing easy in office when it comes to diplomacy between nations divided.” He fired off a broadside smile again. “That’s why the Senate and Congress exist—to find other ways. We can be influenced by the American people, but not through their rhetoric, only through their vote. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Senator Black turned and hurried up the steps and into the Capitol, pursued by a wave of questions that broke against the shore of his security team. Patterson switched off the monitor, chewing his lip until it hurt before picking up his phone and dialing a number. The line connected on the second ring.
“Yes?”
“Black’s not going for it,” Patterson said simply. “Arrange a press conference for the rally, so that we can get our message out to as wide an audience as possible. We’ll take the voters away from that bastard and rip the rug out from under his feet.”
“That could be risky, Pastor. There’s no guarantee the people will turn away from him, regardless of what we do. He’s too well established, too well known.”
“So are we,” Patterson snapped. “Make it happen.”
NEGEV DESERT
ISRAEL
Ayeem watched as the three guards encircled him with their rifles pointed down at his prostrate form. One of them shouted a command and the old guide got slowly to his feet, his hands behind his head but defiance etched clearly into his features. Nearby, Ayeem’s Bedouin companions stood under the watchful gaze of the other three soldiers.
A tall bearded man walked up to Ayeem.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he rumbled. “Where’s Ethan Warner?”
Ayeem said nothing. The soldier smiled cruelly and then his rifle butt swung around with terrific speed to smash into Ayeem’s temple with a sickening crack that echoed off the cliffs around them. The Bedouin spun away from the piercing pain, crumpling onto the earth and clasping his head. Instantly, the younger Bedouin were shouting, trying to surge forward.
Ayeem felt rough hands grabbing his limbs and half carrying, half dragging his body away from the tents toward the edge of the camp, where they unceremoniously dropped him onto the dust.
The tall, bearded soldier removed his rifle and pulled off his shirt, his body muscular and his pale skin smothered in purple tattoos. Ayeem struggled to his feet and watched as the soldier raised his fists in a classic boxing stance. A faint ripple of laughter from the encircling guards drifted on the hot wind.
“What were you doing in the camp?”
The bearded soldier’s words hissed from behind thick, meaty fists. Ayeem stood before