a way in and out for those who know. Be gone.”
Malik whipped his pistol out of its holster, strode forward, and jammed the metal barrel against Rafael’s head.
“Who are you calling a fool?”
Rafael stared up at Malik for a long moment before speaking in a soft whisper, his shoulders slumping. “Forgive me, I did not mean to offend.”
Malik felt his features melting into a grin of deep satisfaction, and with his free hand he tapped Rafael’s stubbled cheek a few times for good measure.
“Run along, little man.”
Rafael nodded obediently before turning and walking away. Malik watched him stride into the night, then basked in the surge of adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Rafael was just big talk, dominated as easily as a whipped dog. A euphoric sense of well-being enveloped him as he looked down and slipped his pistol back into its holster.
It was only then that he saw the small tear in the fabric of his shirt, just below his rib cage. He tugged at the material, saw the clean cut, and cursed. The bloody Arab had held a blade to his ribs and he never even noticed.
He looked up, but Rafael had vanished.
IDF NORTHERN COMMAND (PATZAN)
NEVE YAAKOV, JERUSALEM
This had better be important.”
Byron Stone stood inside the doorway to the office of Lieutenant General Benjamin Aydan, a craggy, broad-shouldered veteran of the Six-Day War.
“It is.”
The Israeli Defense Force was never off duty, even in the small hours of the night. In a country surrounded by populations violently opposed to its very existence, it had long been learned by both the government and the military that letting one’s guard down was tantamount to submission and an invitation to destruction.
Within just a few years of its independence, Israel had been subjected to a joint military invasion by all three of its neighboring enemies, Arab states infected with the divine certainty that to destroy Israel was to enact the will of Allah. Israel had fought back, repelling even this concerted assault on its statehood, and had done so alone.
“Enter.”
Byron Stone walked into the office and closed the door. Benjamin Aydan stood and was courteous enough to shake Stone’s hand before gesturing for him to sit in the chair opposite.
“What may I do for you?”
“We have a situation in the Negev,” Stone said briskly. “Several hours ago one of our encampments in the Negev was infiltrated by what we believe to be a terrorist cell. Several items were stolen from the site and smuggled into Gaza.”
General Aydan sat in silence for a moment, regarding Stone through icy eyes that had seen untold horrors. “Value?”
“High,” Stone replied crisply. “We’re not sure of the insurgents’ intentions but we were able to track them into Gaza just after sundown.”
“What do you want us to do?”
Stone took a deep breath. “I’d like to conduct an air strike on the insurgents’ lair.”
Aydan’s eyes narrowed.
“How can you be sure that the target will not incur civilian casualties?”
“I have a man inside Gaza as we speak. He’ll identify the insurgents and their locations and be ready to provide coordinates.”
“You’ve a man on the ground right now? That’s beyond your remit.”
Stone maintained a neutral expression.
“Sensitive data was stolen that concerns both MACE and Israeli Defense Force operations in the Negev. Exposure of that data to insurgent networks could be catastrophic.”
Stone saw the general’s fist clench on his desk as he spoke.
“What could they have taken from a little company like MACE that might possibly cause such a disruption?”
Stone didn’t miss the jibe.
“It isn’t just data that they’ve stolen,” he uttered. “They murdered one of my men and injured several others. Whoever they are, they’re serious enough to kill.”
The general offered Stone a dispassionate stare. “In fifty years, thousands of Israel’s sons have lost their lives defending us. Your men know the risks of service here and are paid considerably more than our conscripts. Live with it.”
“They also have footage of Israeli troops beating an unarmed Bedouin.”
The lie fell out of Stone’s mouth as though it had been waiting there all along.
“What?”
“Almost five minutes’ worth,” Stone went on without missing a beat. “I’ve been assured that it was immensely brutal.” He leaned forward on the desk, staring hard at the general. “It could cause a crisis should the footage be released to the media. The northern Negev battalions are under your command, are they not, General?”
Benjamin Aydan glowered at Stone.
“Do you have copies of this supposed footage?”
“No, the cameraman escaped before he could be apprehended.”
“Incompetent.”
Benjamin Aydan remained silent and still as