Critical Error (38 page)

“So Ahmed, my friend,” offered Ben. “Do you want to be a hero?!”

As far as Ben could see, that’s what it came down to. Ahmed could be a hero or a villain. The spoils in this case were very much for the hero’s taking. The villain would gain nothing and could lose everything. Of course, one major hurdle had to be overcome for any of this to matter. Ahmed Hameed had to believe Ben Meir. The Palestinian terrorist would have to trust the Israeli strategist. It was a lot to ask.

Ahmed said nothing. He just looked at Ben and tried to gauge him. Ahmed Hameed prided himself on his ability to read people. That was how he had got to where he was.

“I must go now. I suppose tomorrow night, at midnight, I will have your answer,” proposed Ben.

“I repeat what I have said to you many times Ben Meir. I do not have full control, everything is compartmentalized. My answer may not give you everything you want, only partially.”

“Then I have wasted your time with my story. I should have sought another,” offered Ben, knowing it would elicit a reaction.

Ahmed rose to the challenge. “You came to the right man, Ben Meir. You know you did. But even if I did choose to believe you and go with your plan, my network stops at the beach.”

“I know, I know. Whatever happens, it has been a pleasure.” Ben shook Ahmed’s hand and drove back to the border gates, his head held just a little further forward than he would normally have it. But the anticipation was unwarranted. The gates slammed closed behind him.

Like Daniel, he had entered the lion’s den and survived. One den down, one to go.

The short flight to Nevatim air force base took thirty minutes and the striking Rockwelll B1-R Lancer stood ready for take-off. Looking more like an over sized fighter jet than a strategic bomber, it was of a similar size to a Boeing 757 and even older. However the B1-R was almost entirely rebuilt with new engines, avionics and weapon systems. Pretty much everything but the skin was new. It was also taking on a slightly more appropriate role and was looking to become a fighter bomber with the addition of air to air weaponry. Its massive range and ability to cruise like a Concorde was going to make it a very interesting addition to the US’ arsenal. In the meantime it was also going to get Ben and his two bodyguards to America before they even left.

The American Colonel welcomed Ben on board and wasted no time in kicking the engines to life and hurtling them off the runway and into the sky. They were supersonic soon after and with only his thoughts and the sound of four Pratt & Whitney P119 engines between him and America, Ben put his head back and fell asleep.

Preston waited for the Situation room to empty after the third National Security Council meeting of the day. They still were no nearer tracking the nuclear weapon and the mood of the President was deteriorating quickly. The President had been in meetings with his campaign manager prior to the NSC meeting and he had pointed out clearly and succinctly to the president that if he didn’t stop the bomb it would stop his campaign dead in the water.

“Mr President, could I have a minute please?”

“Not now Henry, I need to get on,” he replied picking up his papers.

“Mr President, I really think you will want to see this,” replied Henry intriguingly.

Henry Preston ushered the rest of the NSC attendees from the room and closed the door, locking it for good measure, which elicited a look of surprise from the President.

“Trust me sir, you won’t want to be disturbed!”

Preston hit the screen remote and the large screen ahead of the President burst into light. The grainy overview of a mountainside some 2,300 miles away quickly came into focus. The President could see the roof of a house and 10 small green blips surrounded it, five to the front and five to the rear.

Preston hit another button and the sound of men talking could be heard.

“Sniper One, I still have the shot. I repeat I still have the shot.”

“Sniper One, Team Leader, confirm target, over?”

“Male mid fifties.”

“Hold sniper one, we are awaiting the go command.”

Preston looked towards the President as the scene before him began to make sense.

“You found him?” the President asked elated, wanting to jump up and hug Preston.

Preston nodded and indicated back towards the screen. They were waiting for him to give the go.

The president nodded vociferously, Preston pressed down the intercom button. “Team Leader you have a go, I repeat Go, Go, Go.”

The President listened as Sniper One was told to fire and a few seconds later the screen flashed into life as flashbangs were thrown into the lodge.

“Target down, kill, kill, kill.” Said Sniper One confirming a hit.

Two blips stayed where they were while the other eight began to converge on the house.

Sam had noticed a movement in the corner of his eye and reacted, Rebecca and his brother stood in front of them and he took them down with him as he dived for cover. As the back of Murphy’s head exploded the house was plunged into darkness, a second later bright flashes were followed by waves of pressure as the flashbangs came from three different directions.

The front door crashed open and the main window behind them shattered as four soldiers rushed in.

Sam sucked up the flashbang and grabbed for his MP5 which lay on the side table, throwing his Sig to Rebecca as he moved. The first two men through the front door took a full magazine from the MP5 as Sam struggled to aim, he just pointed and pulled the trigger. Rebecca, like Sam in many ways remained cool under fire, as the two soldiers shot out the window and charged through under cover of the flashbang, she swung round caught the pistol that Sam had thrown and shot the two soldiers the only way she knew how, dead.

Clark was in the kitchen with Mrs Baker when the flashbangs came careening into the lodge. Clark didn’t even think about her movements, instinct took over and she pulled Mrs Baker behind her and leveled her weapon at the door to the kitchen. Whoever came through it, she’d shoot and ask questions later. Unfortunately for Clark she could not cover all the windows as well as the door and certainly could not protect against the sniper one hundred yards out in a darkened wood.

“Team Leader. Two down, I repeat two down.”

“Team Leader. Two down at rear also. I repeat two down.”

The team leader was furious, his info was a bunch of terrorists were in the house that required to be eliminated with extreme prejudice. Terrorists in his experience did not react like that to flash bangs. Flash bangs usually allowed 2 or 3 seconds to get into a room and clear it. He was against highly trained and skilled operatives, that was not the remit. He would have never gone for a full on assault had he known.

“Team Leader, this is sniper two. I have a target, female around thirty, holding a weapon.”

“Take her down.”

Ben stepped off the aircraft refreshed and ready to go, despite the fact that he had lengthened the day by seven hours. The sun was just dipping behind the mountains as his car arrived to pick him up from the terminal building. It was a thirty minute drive and Ben soaked in the American air and atmosphere. He had always loved America. The openness and size was vast in comparison to Israel. As they pulled into the driveway, the darkness was complete. Only the road was lit up ahead. The massive trees which were older than the country itself, thought Ben, seemed to stretch to the stars. It was a cloudless night and the stars sparkled brightly in the deep black sky.

A series of bright flashes soon brought Ben back to earth. His bodyguards knew small explosions when they saw them. The slammed on the brakes and threw the car into Reverse. Their job was to keep Ben Meir out of danger, not drive him towards it.

“Stop!” screamed Ben.

The car ground to a halt.

“We have fellow Israelis in that house. We’re helping not running!” Ben left no room for doubt in his tone. The car was thrown back into Drive and the car surged forward.

“Stop!” screamed Ben. The car skidded to a halt.

The two guards turned and looked at him.

“Perhaps a more subtle approach?” suggested Ben, opening the car door and heading into the trees in the direction of the house. His two bodyguards were by his side in an instant. One handed him a pistol before raising his Uzi and leading off quickly and silently through the woods. Flashes were followed by the sound of gun fire as they neared the clearing that led down to the house below.

Over two thousand miles away, it was the President that first spotted the new arrivals. He pointed to the screen.

“What’s that, Henry? Looks like two beams of light, jerking about. Oh, they’ve just gone.”

“Headlights, Mr President!”

Henry hit the transmit button. “Team Leader, you have new targets to your rear.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” screamed the Team Leader in frustration. He knew there was at least a five-second delay on the video feed. What appeared now on screen was history.

“Sniper Two?”

“Sniper Two, come in? This is Team Leader.”

“Team Leader, Sniper Two will not be playing anymore!” came the response.

“Shit!!” he screamed. He had not signed up for a suicide mission. “Pull out!” he screamed. He had already lost five men.

Ben dropped the headset and sent his men forward. He had had enough excitement for an old man and he’d just get in the way.

His two men broke cover and ran towards the house. Two soldiers in full gear ran towards them. The Israelis did not have to double-take. They shot a hail of rounds from their Uzis and cut them down without breaking stride. Rebecca heard the familiar clatter of the Uzi and grabbed Sam as the two young Israelis ran into the house.

“Shalom!” shouted Rebecca as they looked ready to fire.

“Shalom,” they replied, not lowering their weapons.

Whoever they were, they meant business.

As one kept an eye on the room, the other walked back to the door and waved. A minute later, Ben Meir was being hugged by his very grateful goddaughter and being introduced to Sam and Charles Baker. He was also learning of another old friend’s demise.

Looking across the docks, Saul knew something was very wrong indeed. For the last two days, the procession of ships arriving at the port had begun to slow. It wasn’t that they were moving back to almost normal levels, it was the fact that nothing was coming in. Everything seemed to be going out. The yards that had been a permanent mountain of cargo containers were almost empty. Each ship that docked left with more than it brought in and in the last few hours, nearly very ship was empty as it came into port but left bulging at the seams.

He locked up the office and looked at the board for the next day’s arrivals. Nothing beyond 12.00 noon. No surprise as it was the beginning of Yom Kippur. The next day, Saturday, no arrivals. Again no surprise as it was a national holiday but beyond that, there was still nothing. Nothing, the docks were emptying and no new boats were due in. Saul Weisfield had no other skills. He had heard how hard the recession had hit around the world but up until then, they had been busier than ever. He was not going without a fight. They could, at least, have told him they were shutting the yard, he thought, as he walked towards the Port Director’s office.

“Paul, what the hell is this? Could you not just tell us we were closing?!” Saul had known the Port Director personally for many, many years and threw the arrivals list on his desk.

Paul looked down at the list and suddenly realized what Saul was talking about. He knew nothing of the company closing down.

“Ah, sorry, I’ve just not put up the new list, there’s no big conspiracy!” he offered genuinely.

“But the place is empty?”

“I’m told they’re just having a big clearout.”

Saul left the office a few minutes later thoroughly unconvinced. He couldn’t help but notice how quiet the roads were. Perhaps it all made sense. However, when he arrived home, he found his wife packing up their house.

Ben had given the pilot two destinations. On arrival at the first, everyone except for him would disembark and he would travel alone to the second one. Ben Meir waited at the gates of the White House to be allowed in. Access, however, was not forthcoming.

“Have you told the President my name?” he asked again.

“Yes, Mr Meir, the answer I keep getting is that the President is in bed and is not to be disturbed. It is 11.30pm, you know.”

Ben tried his cell phone again but President Russell was not picking up.

“Listen young man,” Ben leant forward towards the guard who had kept watch on the gate for forty years and who recognized Ben very well. “Tell that little shit to let me in or I’ll hold a press conference, on this lawn, right here, in five minutes.”