Digitalis (42 page)

“Eagle One, this is Team Three. We have movement.” Azzan flinched at the message coming through his ear mic. He couldn’t verify what was happening or provide aid with the monitors down. He motioned to Midas.

“Take him into the hall and secure him.” Azzan nodded to the American medic. “Keep him covered. If he moves, kill him.”

Azzan waited until the men had cleared the room, then hurried back to the computers. It took several long, agonizing minutes for the systems to reboot. When they did, he scanned the positions of the various teams. His heart backed up into his throat.

Team Two … the camera showed them down. Dead.

Azzan gulped down the panic seizing him. “All teams. Eyes out. We’ve been compromised.”

W
hat does he mean, compromised?”

Stomach pressed against the roof of the three-story building, Colton propped his arms under the rifle and peered through the scope. It bothered him that a team had been taken out and he hadn’t heard a single thing through the coms, nor had he been able to intervene—which he should’ve considering his situation on top of the roof and being a sniper.

This reminded him of Emelie’s death. The vacuous pressure of the explosion had sucked his hearing out. A concussion had slammed him backward. He’d woken up … to a crumbled building. And a dead sister.

“Nightshade report.”

His mind hauled itself back to the present at Max’s order. With a practiced eye, Colton swept his weapon up the lonely stretch of road that led to the plant.

“Midas here. We have an uninvited guest to our little party.”

Tensed, Colton listened—Midas was with Piper at the command center. Who’d shown up? Their team was still in control if Midas wasn’t calling for backup or screaming for them to beg off.

“Keep your eyes open, folks. I have a bad feeling.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Scar said.

Swallowing, Colton aimed the weapon back at the plant. Black of night surrendered to the blues of dawn. Few people moved about the city at this hour, and even fewer a mile out at the plant. Crosshairs on a mother and her child opening a fruit stand, Colton’s mind zigzagged through the information. The people were just going about their days ready to celebrate Purim. And some sicko was out there, wanting to wreak devastation on the people.

Piper’s people.

The thought pushed his eye away from the scope. The mile-off plant blurred as the scene around him came into sharp focus. Piper had kept the wool over his eyes all this time. Her father. Her cousin. Who knows what else. Staring out over the roof to the white buildings where the first streaks of the sunrise bled against the sky.
Why am I here?

Because. He believed in missions like this. In protecting the innocent.

But he’d had enough. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to sear images into his brain and live with them night after night so someone half a world away could sleep when he couldn’t? Was it right? Sacrificing his peace for theirs?

“Cowboy, report.”

Max. Max wanted his progress, wanted his observations. Though Colton felt Scar look at him, he fixed his gaze on the horizon. They wanted him to nail the mysterious seventh messenger. Nobody knew what he looked like. Nobody knew what to expect. It could be a woman. Or a child.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

A child …

The ten-year-old they’d rigged with a bomb to ambush him. Hold him captive. Torture him. The stench of his own flesh burning during interrogations. His screams echoing like a warble as if his head had been dunked underwater. He blinked, sweat dribbling down his temple despite the cool morning temperature.

Israel … Israel … I’m in Israel
.

His pulsed increased.

Easy … Israel …

“Cowboy!”

Colton shook his head. Wiped his face. Scanned the plant. Tried to push his mind into focus, which felt like trying to squeeze Jell-O with his bare hands.

The … plant. Watch for … backpack
.

“Scar here. We’re in place.”

Ear trained on the guy, Colton monitored his own heart rate. His errant thoughts. He had to hold himself together. A subtle buzzing at

the back of his brain warned him to relax, bring his heart rate down.

It went up.

Dawg. He could feel it coming. He fisted his left hand.

“You okay?” The voice snapped against his conscience. Agitated him.

“Eyes on target.”

What if the target was in a car, and they couldn’t get a bead on him in time? What if the teams were all killed, and they were left to fend for themselves? Why was he here and trying to get himself killed—for Piper? Her father? For a country he’d never lived in? True, God had chosen this land for His people. And Colton could appreciate it. But—

Crack!
The sound streaked through his coms, followed by curses and grunts.

“Team Four under fire.”

There. That was a sound familiar to him. “Where are they?” Colton asked without thinking.

Scar dragged the map that lay between them closer “Quadrant B2, center.”

Colton adjusted his sniper rifle and nudged it to the location just outside the site where the Purim celebration would take place within the hour. Shadows drifted in and out of view. Finally he had the team in his crosshairs. Sorting friend from foe proved difficult. But finally, he assessed the situation. “Target acquired.”

“We aren’t supposed to engage them,” Scar said. “Our orders are to focus on the plant.”

Colton eased back the trigger. The tiny sonic boom almost proved a sound of relief and familiarity that he could relax with. “Broke one-third mil right.” He immediately chambered another round and located another target as he waited for Scar to report on his accuracy.

“Cowboy! Negative. Stand down. Stand down. Do not engage.” Azzan’s voice nearly shouted through the coms. “I repeat, do
not
engage.”

“They’re killing our men,” Colton finally barked.

“I don’t care if they take everyone out. Do
not
compromise your position.”

“A bit late,” Scar said.

Anger roiled through Colton. Who was this assassin to tell him how to manage his position and operations?

A wall of fire rushed over him. He ducked, slid to the side and buried his head in his arms. Pebbles rained down on him. Screams tore at the very fiber of his being.

“Cowboy!”

Looking up, he frowned. The overcast sky vanished into a broiling, sun-baked morning. Heat blasted him. Crunching beside him jerked him around. A man, a soldier hollering at him, but the voice was lost. Who was he? He didn’t remember bunking with this man or riding out with him on the Black Hawk.

A disguised enemy?

Fear sped through Colton’s body as if a direct IV. He scrabbled away from the man. Drew up his weapon.

The man cursed.

“Stand down,” Colton shouted at him.

“Cowboy, report!”

Colton blinked. His hearing popped, returned. The gray overcast sky returned. His realization returned. Another flashback.

Scar stared at him, scowling. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

“Cowboy, what is your situation?”

“Dude, you going to answer or what?”

Indignation … humiliation … His stomach was ready to hurl the contents of his dinner—which wasn’t much. He wiped a hand over his mouth, swallowing the bitter taste that filled his mouth.

Shaken and limbs trembling, he low-crawled back to his rifle. Worked to steady his breathing. Cursing himself for being so messed up he couldn’t keep it together under pressure. They had to do this. For Israel …

Piper
.

“Cowboy, are you there?”

This time it wasn’t Max calling his name. It was Piper. And the sound of her voice spiraling through the coms nearly sickened him. She didn’t belong here, not in the middle of a fight like this. He didn’t want her in his head. Didn’t want anyone in his head.

“Please … Col—Cowboy, talk to me.”

He yanked out the ear mic. Breathing hard, he tried to shake off the adrenaline that drenched his system. Shook his head. Ran a hand over his face and crown of his head.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Scar stared at him. “It’s almost time.”

Colton rolled twice toward the far side of the roof, then hustled down the stairs that led to the alley. He stepped onto the dirty road.

Walked away.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Piper looked at her cousin, whose face bore the pallor of panic—chalky, a sheen over his brow.

“I don’t know. His mic could be out. Or the radios may be jammed.” Azzan growled. “His location—I can’t get the cameras to work.”

“Please, Lily, some water.”

Frustration scraped along her worry. “What …? Oh. Water?”

“Please.” Baba smiled.

Only when he said that did she hear the weariness in his voice. She gathered her frayed nerves and drew in a deep breath. Patted her father’s hand. She went to the cabinet and opened it. Empty. “Azzan, where can I get water?”

He glanced back quickly before returning his attention to the boards. “Uh … through the room with the couch. There’s …” He messed with more dials. “There’s another door. It leads to the kitchen. You will find more in the cabinets.”

Hands on her waist, she stared at the map of the city. Particularly at the location in the southwestern corner where a giant
X
marked Colton’s location. Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering the calls for his name?

What if something had happened to him—like getting shot? Or killed!

Someone would’ve reported that, nachon? Azzan had promised her that Colton and his spotter were in the safest location, situated the farthest from the team.

She pushed herself from the room, anxiety tightening every muscle she possessed. As she wandered past the darkened office, opened the other door that let into a semi-darkened room, she tried to steady her racing heart. Stale air swarmed her. Dust tickled her nose as she walked toward the white cabinets. Despite his reassurances, he had certainly lost his calm composure when Colton had killed one of the attackers that had hit the Mossad agents. A trickling sunbeam streaked through the darkness, glinting against her eyes as she crossed it.

She stopped, Azzan’s words ringing in her ears as she eyed the beam of light.
If they so much as see the glint of sun off his scope, they will destroy that building, and with it, our hopes of stopping this attack
.

Piper leaned against the cabinet door. A sob leapt into her throat. She covered her mouth and tried not to imagine Colton … dead. Like Bazak.

She pushed herself upright. “No,” she ground out. “Yeshua, protect him!”

Heart heavy, she searched the cabinets for more water. She hurried through the dusty storage units, wanting to get back, hoping for news of Colton. Finally, she discovered the stash and reached for several bottles.

Thud!

Bam! Oof!

Piper stilled. Her gaze shot to her left. A door sat ajar. Light flowed from the open area. The front foyer. She glanced back toward the command room. Who was out in the foyer?

She rushed to the door.

A body fell into view, nudging the door opened.
Midas!

Raiyah’s brother must’ve overpowered him. She drew in a breath and held it. Piper leapt back, plastering herself against the wall.

A stream of Arabic flowed through the hall. Her mind reeled—he’d just given away their position! Suddenly, she was grateful for dear Mrs. Mukhtarian, a neighbor lady born in Israel but of Arabian descent, as she listened to him speaking … to someone. Who?

“I will take care of them. But you must not let him take that shot …. I don’t care how you do it; just do it!”

Piper bolted to the side and rushed back through the small office. Around the sofa. Into the command center. “Azzan! He’s loose. He’s—”

The door burst in.

Azzan came up out of his chair with a weapon in his hand.

Without hesitating, Hamzah rushed forward and dragged his sister backward by the hair, pulling her into his chokehold.

“Leave her!” Azzan shouted.

Hamzah jammed the gun against Raiyah’s head.

Baba hurried toward Piper. He prodded her into the office, but she struggled to stay where she could see the altercation.