Digitalis (40 page)

Two men leapt from the sides and tackled Frogman.

“You’ve done well.”

Azzan shifted toward the voice. Smiled. “It was easier than I expected.”

Shaking off the last flashback proved … difficult. Now, an annoying buzz lingered at the back of his head. His muscles still felt weak and his pride dented more than ever before, especially “coming to” and seeing Piper’s frightened expression. Fear. Pity.

Colton blinked. A shadow moved between the houses. He took aim and fired, wishing the loud
crack
of the M4 could sever the greedy claws of the past just as it severed the threat to the team.

“Clear,” Legend called.

Scanning the road, the narrow stretch of road that sliced the small village in two, Colton searched for more unfriendlies. Inside the house, he heard the clear signal given by everyone else on the team. Finally satisfied there were no more living enemies out there, he lowered his weapon. Let out a ragged sigh.

Almost instantly, Piper stood at his side, her hand on his arm.

It was her. She was the reason he’d had the flashback. He’d heard her coming, saw her in his periphery as she hurried toward him. But it shouldn’t matter what triggered it. And it didn’t. He’d never make it through this alive if he couldn’t keep his mind in one piece. He had to keep it together. And keeping it together meant keeping her away.

“Cowboy!”

Colton jerked around.

Near the curtained divider, Legend stood a half-dozen feet off. “You clear?”

“Yeah.”

Legend thumbed toward the door. “We need to move out.” He looked at the others. “Which way did the assassin go with Frogman?”

“East. Not sure where,” Squirt said. “I managed to keep them in my sights for the first klick, but then lost them.”

“Then we move east. Can’t stay here and get pumped full of lead. We’ll skirt the village, stay in the shadows.”

Could he do it—could he carry out this mission without succumbing again to the demons that had once controlled his life? Why now? Why had this returned with such unrelenting force?

“Bitterness is a defeat you cannot afford. “

A soft touch on his arm, however, drew his gaze to Piper. His gaze flicked to Rosenblum, who stood watching him. Colton looked down. How … how had he gotten so far off track that he couldn’t keep himself together? He’d had enough of this long ago. Living with flashbacks was no kind of life. He didn’t want it. Wouldn’t live like this again.

I just want to walk out into the night and keep going
.

Again, he looked at Piper. He wished things could’ve been so different. That he could go back and change a few things.

“Hey!” A slap on his chest snapped him around. Legend grabbed his lapels. “You with me?”

Surprise lit through Colton, along with a lump of humiliation. He stumbled back, then gave Legend a shove. “Back off.”

“You with us, Cowboy?”

“We weren’t sure you’d come.”

Azzan clasped the arm of his handler and nodded. “I wasn’t sure either.” He turned and nodded to the guards pinning Frogman on the floor. “Get him up.”

The two hauled their prisoner to his feet, tugging his hands behind the back so that Frogman’s chest arched forward.

“You must understand, in my profession, no one can be trusted.” Azzan stood eye-to-eye with him.

“Likewise,” Frogman bit out through a bloodied lip.

“Release him.” Azzan sighed.

When released, Frogman shuffled forward and regained his balance, looking every bit the vicious soldier he was. Ready to fight. Ready to kill. Ready to do whatever it took to get out of here and back to his team.

Nesher stepped closer. “Your team has been attacked.”

Frogman’s eyes blazed.

Though Azzan glared at the handler—Nesher really must learn to allow Azzan to handle things—he folded his arms over his chest. “This is my handler.” Again, he glowered at Nesher.

“What?” Nesher shrugged as he bobbed his head toward Frogman. “He needs to know.”

“What he needs to know is that a team of mercenaries helped protect his pinned-down team.” He held out his hands, hoping to calm Frogman, whose gaze flitted between fury and uncertainty. “They are fine. En route toward us even as we speak. That is a good thing.”

A deep chuckle. “You have grown soft, Azzan.”

He flashed a look at Nesher. “We have a larger purpose the eve of this dark day in history.”

“What is that?” Frogman wiped his lips.

Tapping the keys on a control panel, he entered a code. “It is true that I am Palestinian. Also that I am an assassin.” He glanced at the man. “But what you are not aware of is that I am a Mossad agent.”

Frogman stood, waited.

“I double for Israel.” With one final keystroke, he accessed the secure room. The wall before them vanished, revealing a bustling control center. “What you see at work here is the best intelligence within the Israeli borders.” He started walking, motioning Frogman with him. “You are a soldier—”

“Sailor.”

“A subtle difference.” Azzan moved to another station and logged in. Within seconds, images filled the screen, but he instead watched as the American’s face registered shock. “Ah, as it should be. Realize that nothing happens that we are not able to ascertain the truth about.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “In truth, your name is Max Jacobs. A Navy SEAL with eight years’ experience. You have a wife, a s—”

“What do you want?” Max’s hands balled into fists.

“Forgive me. It was not my intent to anger you.”

“What was your intent?”

Azzan folded his arms. “For you to understand that when I say we have a larger purpose, when I said we must go to Be’er Sheva as my uncle indicated, it is not a light thing I am saying.” He spun toward the keyboard and drew up six images. “It is a known fact that seven messengers have been dispatched to attack Israel from within tomorrow.”

Nesher joined them. “Israelis have grown soft, believing the separation fence will keep them safe.” He pointed to pictures in the lower left. “The first two are Iranian. Part of the Republican Guard. There you will see both of them seated at a dinner with Bashar al-Jafari.” He clicked and zoomed. “Last night, these two checked into a hotel in Be’er Sheva.” He pointed to the screen again. “Under Israeli names.”

Frogman didn’t understand. Azzan could see it by the lack of intensity in the man’s eyes. Perhaps because Israel was not the man’s country, he could not be expected to care.

Nesher leaned against the desk, gripping the edge. “Do you understand the significance of Purim, Mr. Jacobs?”

Max’s glare lengthened.

Nesher continued. “Purim is a holiday when children dress in costumes, sort of like your Halloween, except that here in Israel, there are no little witches or wizards or pumpkins. Cowboys, and of course little Queen Esther’s.” He smiled, but Azzan had seen that smile before. It hid the man’s animosity. “Many of us feel that Purim has become a kind of European Carnival.”

Azzan wanted to make sure Max understood so the team would understand. “Tomorrow, children—hundreds of children—will gather in the streets with their families to celebrate this holiday.” He straightened. “Thousands of Israelis in one place.”

“It won’t be the only place they hit.”

Azzan drew back, surprised by the intelligent comment from the American. “You are correct. The seven messengers are being dispatched throughout Be’er Sheva and the surrounding lands. We have managed with the help of my uncle to identify all but one of the messengers. They are there before you now. The elusive one, we must trust our instincts to help us locate.”

“Can’t imagine anyone slaughtering children like that.” Frogman’s gaze tracked over the wall-to-floor images, clearly processing the images and information. “Where else are you expecting trouble?”

Azzan shared a look with his handler.

Frogman shrugged. “That’s why you brought me here, right?”

“The one place we are not allowed to place guards,” Nesher said.

“And that is?”

Azzan held Max’s gaze evenly. “The nuclear plant at Dimona.”

T
ake cover!”

The hissed order came from the front, where Legend knelt beside a small home. Behind him crouched the Kid. With a fluid move, Colton guided Piper, her father, and Raiyah into the shadows of a building.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Not sure.” Colton pressed his shoulder against the wall and peered toward his team.

Piper wrapped an arm around her father. “Are you well?”

“Yes, yes. All will be well, nachon?”

Wide, dark eyes considered Piper as they stood under the moonlit night. “Are we safe?”

Raiyah was a very beautiful woman, and for a moment, Piper couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than his job as an assassin that kept her cousin from killing the beauty. Even now, the woman’s expression seemed saturated in wide-eyed innocence. “What of Azzan?”

Surprise drew Piper back. Didn’t this girl understand assassins were ruthless? And if he served Palestine—which his nationality dictated, did it not?—what about his loyalty to Israel? Yet the woman seemed scared to be without him. “He’ll come back,” Piper whispered. But she could only hope. Assassins were not exactly the kindest of men, and it made her curious what type of man her cousin had become. Confusion cluttered Piper’s thoughts. If this girl was the daughter of al-Jafari, why had Azzan kept her alive? Wasn’t the girl afraid he’d kill her?

“He promised to bring me to Israel.” She gave a soft shrug and winced. “I wasn’t sure if he had left me because he’d fulfilled his promise.”

“I—”

A loud roar barreled onto the street. Seconds later, a wave of nauseating diesel fumes washed over her. She glanced around Colton. Though she expected to see headlights, the darkness prevailed. Leaning closer, she still couldn’t see.

Only as she strained to look around the corner did she notice Colton easing into a position and taking aim down the street. The sight pushed her back.

A strange whistle carried through the night.

“Let’s go!” Colton grabbed her hand and pulled her into the open.

She scrambled to catch her father’s hand, drawing him behind. As Piper stumbled up the slight incline in the road, she glanced behind them to make sure her father and the girl had followed.

“Move it!”

Max’s voice jerked Piper’s attention back to the road. There, in the middle of the intersection, sat a rumbling black van. It looked large, and the windows were covered with steel plates. Colton dragged her to the back, where Max stood with Azzan. And a half-dozen men dressed in black. Her breath lodged in her throat. Mossad. Cruel, ruthless men, loyal not to their own morals and ethics. Their loyalty was in one place only—Israel.

“What are you doing with them?” Piper bit out at her cousin.

Azzan’s expression darkened. “Get in.” The whispered command held more punch than a fist. He’d brook no argument. Then almost as quickly, his scowl vanished as he looked at Raiyah. “Hurry.”

“Come on, people. Time’s our enemy,” Max growled.

Colton nudged Piper inside, then took a seat across from her. As she helped her father, she glanced back to the doors. The rest of the team filed in behind. Only as the doors shut did she see another vehicle. No doubt for the black-attired and black-hearted men Azzan had brought. Did he not realize the dangers?