“Protecting you from what?” Ethan asked once more.
“From abduction, ironically.” Hassim chuckled.
Rachel frowned as she glanced at the two burly men.
“But insurgents are sworn to Israel’s destruction, and have the most to gain from abductions.”
It was Mahmoud who spoke, his arms folded and his gaze brooding.
“Most Palestinians are not terrorists. Your Western media portrays us all as brutal, killing in the name of Allah, but most of us do not support terrorism. We want our homes and our lives back, but we don’t want to kill people any more than you do.”
Ethan turned to Hassim.
“Who’s orchestrating these abductions then? A splinter faction?”
Hassim shook his head.
“Mahmoud and Yossaf have spoken to everyone they know and nobody is aware of the abductions.”
“Unlikely,” Ethan said, turning to Mahmoud. “Who do you think is abducting Westerners?”
“The company you call MACE.”
“What would they want with my daughter?” Rachel snorted. “What could they gain from abducting people when they’re responsible for security?”
“Maintaining war maintains profits,” Mahmoud replied darkly. “And business here is booming.”
“Profits over peace?” Rachel gasped.
“Why not?” Hassim said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Rachel said, looking at Ethan for support. “If any organization wanted to abduct people, then they would target high-profile individuals like politicians or television stars, not a group of scientists. Nobody would even notice they were gone.”
Hassim nodded.
“Indeed, unless you had other motives that remain out of the public eye.”
“What do you mean?” Ethan asked.
Hassim spoke softly.
“MACE is a powerful supplier of arms and technology to Israel, but is owned by a large church.”
“You’re kidding me?” Ethan said in surprise.
“No,” Hassim replied, “and the church bought them for good reason. There are many in the United States who would like to see their interpretations of biblical prophecy fulfilled, of an undivided Jerusalem as capital of Israel heralding the supposed Second Coming of Christ.”
Ethan sat down on a crate near Hassim and looked at his watch.
“The peace accord is due to be signed in fifteen hours’ time,” he said. “Who else was involved in Lucy’s work?”
“Four of us that I know of,” Hassim said. “Hans Karowitz, Lucy Morgan, myself, and another American—Joseph Coogan—a biochemist from Washington DC. He was to receive any remains that Lucy found and attempt to identify them.”
“We need to contact them,” Ethan said. “Get the word out about what’s happening here.”
Hassim smiled bitterly.
“That’s what I was trying to do when my friends here were able to bring me to safety before I too was abducted. All of the other scientists involved in the project have either vanished or been silenced ever since Lucy found the remains out there in the Negev.”
Ethan thought about Hans Karowitz and his reluctance to speak of what had happened in front of the MACE bodyguards.
“Lucy made a brief radio call about her discovery to the museum in Jerusalem. Do you think it likely that she was tracked because of those communications?”
“It is possible,” Hassim agreed. “But the Negev is a very large desert and Lucy was digging in a restricted area where few people travel. To have found her, somebody was most likely watching her movements all along and followed her out there.”
“Which means either the IDF or MACE,” Ethan said, turning to look at Rachel, “and given what we’ve seen so far today I know who I’d put my money on.”
EREZ
ISRAEL
Spencer Malik watched as Rafael approached from the shadows, gliding silent as a ghost before stopping a meter away from where he stood. The darkness obscured his features; the broad face, the skin darkened by the passing of endless suns in countless countries. A thin silken scarf covered the lower half of his face, shielding him effectively enough to prevent identification.
“Information,” Rafael demanded in his husky accent.
“I don’t take orders,” Malik hissed. “You do.”
“A shame, then, that you so often fail to carry them out.”
Malik flashed a brittle grin in the darkness, but said nothing.
“I will contact you with the coordinates as soon as I have them,” Rafael said. “Try not to screw up this time.”
Malik’s grin did not budge.
“Just get the job done.” Malik produced a small set of folded papers. “These will get you past the security at the crossing. Israel closed it some time ago, but there …” Malik stared as Rafael walked past him without another word, ignoring the papers. “Where are you going?”
Rafael turned back to face him.
“Fool, you would have me approach a guarded crossing? I will make my own way into Gaza. There is always