The Guardian (35 page)

Again silence. He could picture the two of them looking at each other, trying to decide whether or not to tell him.

“We’re going to the—”

“Anna!” It was the young man again.

Again, there was a
click
. He was off speakerphone now. He could hear the muffled sounds of arguing again. He needed to end this. It was only going to get worse. Besides, he’d already gotten the info he needed.

“Anna … Anna.” He tried to get her back on the line.

Click
. Speakerphone again.

“What?”

“I’m leaving the Vatican right now.” A lie, of course. He was just a few floors below. “I’ll pick you up in your plane at the airport.” A pause. Then, “You have my plane?”

“Yes. I told you. Hale came here for a meeting with me. He never showed, but the plane is here. I will take a couple of Swiss guards with me and a pilot I trust. We’ll be there waiting for you.”

Click
. Off speakerphone. Again there was the muffled conversation.
Click
. Back on. It was the young man this time. “I’m sorry, whoever you are. Don’t bother. We won’t be there.”

Click
. The line went dead.

Wickham slammed the phone back into its cradle. That stupid girl and her boyfriend were going to die. He would see to it. He needed a new plan. His mind began racing with ideas. Finally, he settled on the best one he could think of. He would force her to the airport, if necessary, and make his move when he could. But she did say she had a security team with her. That posed a problem.

He picked up his phone again and hit the speed dial. Jonathan answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s Wickham. I have some information for you. I know where she is going to be.”

B
en Gurion Airport’s private terminal, hangar number five, at midnight. That’s what Wickham said.

Jonathan’s mind raced trying to make sense of the phone conversation he just had. How in the world did Wickham know that? More importantly,
why
did Wickham know that? And what in the world was going on around here? This was all fouled up. Wickham had just told him where the girl was, precisely. And now he was to make sure she was at the airport by midnight by any means necessary. Oh, and there was the other brilliant piece of information. She had security. No kidding! Who the heck did Wickham think put him out of commission for the past week! The man was an idiot! He couldn’t stand him anymore. His resolve to finish this—and Wickham—was growing stronger by the second.

“Listen up!” He turned to face the men. “We know where she is. She has a security team with her. They’re probably good. I’d like to tell you that they aren’t that good, but we can all see the condition my leg is in. So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the plan. Twenty minutes later they were loading their gear into the trucks.

They were headed down the road toward the hotel when Waukeem closed his phone and turned around to face Jonathan who sat in the back.

“Frick and Frack in the hospital, mon. They pretty bad, mon. Broken fingers, and they both have they jawbones wired shut. The only way you gonna get any info out of them, mon, is if they can write with they toes, mon.”

Jonathan let out a sigh. “Perfect.”

He sat thinking for a minute. Neither of the two men would be able to tell him anything, but he would still be able to read their eyes. He decided he needed to see them first.

“Waukeem, take us to the hospital.”

“But what about de girl, mon?”

Jonathan thought about this for a minute. He couldn’t take a chance of losing her if she left the hotel. And they needed to get into place to be able to spot her security and take them out.

“Radio the other car and tell them to pull over.”

Waukeem did as he was told, and the two vehicles pulled over to the side of the road. Jonathan told Waukeem to take the other truck to the hotel, just as they had discussed. He would go to the hospital and visit Frick and Frack. The men shifted some gear that Waukeem would need to get set up from one truck to the other. Jonathan took a driver and one other person with him as backup and headed to the hospital. Both trucks pulled back onto the road and went their separate ways.

Ten minutes later Jonathan walked into the emergency room. Like any ER, it was busy. A woman was there holding an ice pack on her forehead. A young man was sitting there with torn jeans, a deep cut just below his knee. And about fifty others were tending

to other minor injuries or doubled over in pain. The staff behind the desk looked both extremely busy and disinterested.

He used that to his advantage. He walked right through the lobby and straight through the double doors that had a sign hanging over them, both in Hebrew and English, that said: A
UTHORIZED
P
ERSONNEL
O
NLY
. No one even gave him a second glance.

Down the hall he found a linen closet with some scrubs in it. He put them on over his clothes and headed down to the nurse’s station. After a little charm and some schmoozing, he was given the information he needed.

The elevator at the end of the hall took him to the fourth floor. He stepped out, walked down the hall, took the first left, and stood in front of the room. He had a thought and stopped for a second. He had just passed a supply closet.

He quickly backtracked and tried the door. Locked. He looked around to see if anyone was looking and pulled out a little leather case from his shirt pocket. He checked again. All clear.

He picked the lock with precision and was inside in seconds. He closed the door and felt against the wall for a switch. The room was instantly filled with light. There, over in the corner, was what he was in search of.

He opened the door a crack and checked the hall again. The coast was still clear. He let himself out and relocked the door.

On his way back a doctor and a nurse turned the corner and headed right for him. They seemed to be deep in conversation. He put his head down and walked right past them. They never gave him a second look. This was working out perfectly.

He checked over his shoulder one last time. The doctor and nurse were out of sight. He found the room and walked inside, locking the door behind him.

Both men were lying in bed unconscious. The beds were beside

each other with enough room for someone to walk in between. He leaned over the one called Frick and patted his face. Nothing. He turned around and did the same to the one called Frack.

Frack slowly opened his eyes. They were glossy, and his pupils were dilated. He was drugged heavily, but it only took a couple of seconds for him to recognize the man who stood before him. The glossy look in his eyes was instantly replaced with fear. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down his face.

Without any dialogue, Jonathan’s questions were answered. They had talked.

He didn’t bother to make conversation with the man. He just went about his task. He reached inside his scrubs and pulled out the empty syringes. He took the plastic tips off each of them and turned to face each man’s I.V. drip. He disconnected the solution from each one and pulled back the plungers of the syringes, filling them with nothing but air. He carefully inserted the needles into the lines. He could see a look of panic in Frack’s eyes. His head began to twist back and forth, and a desperate moan escaped his wired-shut lips.

Jonathan turned his head to face the man. “Be still.”

Frack stopped and looked at Jonathan, pleading with his eyes.

“Remember what I told you when you came to work for me?” Jonathan asked him.

A tear slipped from Frack’s eye and down his cheek.

“I told you that I can understand mistakes. I can even accept failure, on occasion. But I would never tolerate a traitor. You knew that and still you talked. So you don’t have anyone but yourself to blame for this.”

Frack shook his head vehemently, tears now streaming down his face. Jonathan paid him no attention as he turned away, placed his thumbs on the plungers, and pushed.

Almost in unison, both Frick and Frack arched their backs as their bodies went rigid with the embolisms.

Jonathan let himself out the same way he came in. Right through the front door. And as he made his way throughout the hospital, not one person paid him any attention.

A
nna woke up from her nap and found Jason reading in his room. She walked in, leaned down, and kissed him on the nose. He looked up from his Bible and smiled.

“Wow! What’s that for?” He smiled.

“Nothing. Just felt like it,” she said.

“Well, I’ll take one of those whenever you feel like it again.”

She giggled and leaned in and kissed him on the lips this time. They both laughed, and Jason stood up.

“I guess we’d better get ready to go meet Benjamin,” he said.

“I have scissors and hair dye waiting in my bathroom.”

Jason tossed his Bible on the bed and followed her from the room.

Anna stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, Jason behind her looking over her shoulder.

“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

“Let’s do it.” She handed him the scissors and stared straight ahead.

Jason grabbed the back of her shoulder length hair and twisted

it into a kind of ponytail. “Here goes.” It took several rough hacks before the mass of hair fell to the floor.

Anna let out a squeak.

“Sorry,” Jason said.

Anna pursed her lips and said, “No, it’s okay. I just haven’t had my hair this short since I was a little girl.”

“Well, I think you look even more beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you, Jason, but you don’t have to try and make me feel better about this. This was all my idea. Remember?”

“I wasn’t. You
are
beautiful.”

Anna smiled as another giant lock of hair fell.

Five minutes later they stood there admiring the ragged new haircut.

“It’s … not bad,” Anna said, wincing. “Kinda like a European-freakish thing.”

Jason laughed. “Now for the dye.”

Anna let out a big sigh and stuck her head under the sink while Jason read the instructions. They were simple enough: just wash and rinse.

Anna toweled her head as Jason put on the protective gloves. He massaged the solution into her scalp thoroughly. Two minutes later, she rinsed her head under the sink. When she stood up, she had short, choppy, coal-black hair.

Next on the list was a bottle of instant tanner.

Anna’s skin complexion was naturally dark anyway, but Jason was extremely fair skinned. The tanning solution said that it would instantly give the appearance of rich, olive-toned skin. And that was what they both needed if they were going to pass for a couple of Arabs.

The effect was immediate—just as the bottle promised—and convincing.

Next was the wardrobe and makeup. They couldn’t very well just walk in wearing Nikes and jeans from The Buckle. They had found a Muslim clothing store nearby and bought the needed attire.

A half hour later, with a little makeup, the right clothes, and the instant tanner, Jason and Anna both looked ready to visit the mosque.

Jason sat on the edge of the bed watching Anna as she finished packing her backpack. The scroll was neatly tucked inside one of the pockets. She looked like a young Muslim boy. It made him chuckle. But still he was bothered.

“Anna, about this Cardinal Wickham, I just don’t know ….”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t trust him,” Jason said flatly.

“Well, he’s got our plane. What should we do?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”

Anna sighed. “Bottom line, we need the plane.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to take it back,” Jason said.

She nodded and grabbed her backpack. “We’d better go if we’re going to make it on time. It’s 10:30. We’ll worry about Wickham later.”

The Wailing Wall

Benjamin sat on a bench across from the wall, watching the people place their little notes inside the cracks. Prayers. It was a custom here at the wall. Young and old, native and foreigner, all alike, seemed to stand in awe of the great biblical structure.

It was a quarter past the hour, and he’d seen no sign of his friends. He was starting to get worried. What if he’d been turned

in? What if someone got to those kids before he had a chance to get them inside. What if he was sitting here, a marked man, waiting for the bullet to penetrate his brain at one thousand feet per second?

He shook it off. No, nothing happened to them. He was just being paranoid. They would be here any minute now. He just needed to be watchful. They would be in disguise. He would have to look for the sign.

Several more minutes passed and still no sign of them. They were a half hour late. He was sure something was wrong. He stood to leave. And that’s when he noticed two young Arabs strolling through the courtyard. He sat back down and resumed his act of reading the pamphlet he’d picked up from one of the tourist booths nearby.

The two Arabs strolled silently through the courtyard with their arms folded and heads down. They walked to the end of the wall, directly across from where Benjamin sat.

He watched as the shorter one pulled something from his robe. It was a picture. Then, just as Benjamin had instructed, the young Arab took the picture and tore it in two. He placed one half inside a small crack in the wall. The other he kissed and placed back inside his robe. That was the sign. His friends had made it. And with pretty good disguises, too, he might add. He didn’t recognize them at all. Of course, they wouldn’t have recognized him either. He had also changed his appearance.

He stood from his bench and walked to them. They both had their backs to him, staring at the great wall. He casually stepped up to them and touched them on the shoulder as he passed. No words were spoken. The two immediately turned and followed him as if they were being led by a leash.