Tracks
Page 32
Still single, Hamoodi came to like the Sinai and appreciate the tourism which introduced him to all sorts of pleasures. At thirty-five, with the position he held, he could roam free among the tourist facilities and attractions and play out some of his fantasies. Hotel spas and saunas were wide open for any treatment he wished. Massages were performed free of charge. He could detain foreign women at the station or anywhere he chose to exploit his status. Excuses ranged from Hashish being smoked, bought or sold; routine check of passports, visas, driving licenses; theft, burglary or domestic disputes. Foreign women were not as submissive as the locals, but would go out of their way to stay on the right side of the law, so as not to ruin their vacation. The Deputy Chief of Police could get them out of most jams, at a price.
A few even fell for him. A twenty-two year old German tourist who was charged with illegal drug trafficking when she was caught selling Hashish to an undercover policeman, one of Hamoodi’s own, spent a full month in his bedroom before he dropped the charges. When it was time for her to leave, she begged to stay, claiming she loved him and had become addicted to his way of living.
He had to drag her to the bus leaving for Cairo just so he could make room for a Swede who had been mugged and wanted police protection.
The soldiers were packing their gear and getting ready to roll. Hamoodi tossed the remains of his coffee onto the sand, handed back his cup, and took his position next to the prisoner in the back of the ambulance.
The convoy was back on the road averaging fifty kilometers an hour on the blazing asphalt, the route steering away from the shoreline to get around a mass of lofty cliffs descending down to the Gulf waters. Twenty minutes later, the steep incline began leveling then descending back down toward the water.
Hamoodi felt the ambulance slow down again then stop at the bottom of the long decline. Looking out over the side again, he saw the soldiers disembarking to appraise a car wreck that was blocking the road.
Then all hell broke loose.
The two soldiers who had dismounted and were inspecting the crashed vehicle, suddenly flew onto their backs, blood gushing from their chests. The third who had remained in the Jeep took a few seconds to realize what was happening. As he was attempting to aim the machine gun, he took a bullet to the head and remained slumped in his seat.
Raw fear engulfed Lieutenant Hamoodi as he jumped back to the cover of the ambulance and took out his revolver. His deputy, sitting up front, ordered the driver to flee but before they could advance even a few feet, all four of the ambulances tires flattened, causing the vehicle to veer violently and crash into the sand by the side of the road.
Hamoodi did not have time to ponder.
His three deputies in the rear police Jeep, their guns drawn, were desperately looking for cover. Two managed to jump off and hide behind their vehicle. The driver slumped over the wheel, apparently hit.
Hamoodi lay flat inside the ambulance. He saw several figures moving swiftly among the boulders overhead, guns flashing without noise, toward the rear jeep. He shot a couple of rounds toward them and was nearly hit by a barrage of bullets which hit the ambulance's roof.
Then he heard someone begin to return fire. Both his deputy and the ambulance driver had fled the front compartment and were shouting to one another.
He realized they had crawled under the ambulance and were firing at someone from below. Then something blew up right in front of Hamoodi thrusting him back on top of the prisoner. He lost his bearing for a crucial moment then tried to crawl back to the opening in back but was too late.
A figure jumped into the ambulance and caught his arm before he could fire a shot. He felt his hand jerk to an impossible position, causing his gun to drop, felt a sharp pain, then felt his mouth and nose being smothered and his lungs begin straining for air.
Seconds later he was dead, his neck twisted and slit, the key in his pocket taken, and the prisoner detached from his chains.
The soldiers and his deputies were all dead as well.
*****
Harley was dying. The bullet had punctured both lungs, and he was deteriorating fast. The operation went smoothly until a stray bullet caught him in the chest.
They had sidetracked a delivery van, parking it across the road minutes before the convoy arrived. The driver of the van was handcuffed and hidden among the boulders.
Devlin and Lizzy, hiding in the van, eliminated the two soldiers approaching to inspect while Harley fired a shot from about twenty meters that put the military Jeep’s driver out of action.
While approaching the ambulance and police Jeep in the rear, a few desperate shots were fired in their direction, but Jimmy and Robbie quickly disposed of the two policemen who had managed to flee the police Jeep, flanking them from the back while Rolston kept them busy in front. The Jeep driver had also been shot by Harley from afar.
Approaching the ambulance, Harley had launched a shock grenade and was about to follow when several shots rang from beneath the vehicle and Harley was hit.
Devlin and Lizzy, approaching from where the lead Jeep was parked, were late by only a few milliseconds as they disposed of the resistance from beneath and attacked.
Devlin jumped into the ambulance. Lizzy went to Harley’s aid.
Harley was incomprehensible. Blood was oozing from his mouth as he was gurgling words. Long-John and Copeland appeared, each with a stretcher which was quickly laid open. A heavily sedated Black Jack was laid on one of them.
Devlin and Lizzy were tending to Harley, taping his chest to stop the bleeding, sedating him with shots of morphine. There was no time to contemplate.
Both Jack and Harley were big men. The troop divided. Four carried Jack, who was a bit heavier: Rolston, Jimmy, Robbie, and Long-John. Three carried Harley, Lizzy in front by himself, Devlin and Copeland in back. For a minute they debated whether to force the delivery van driver to go along and help with the stretchers, but decided against it. This needed strength and agility and he would only slow them down. They fled into the creek that led to shore and their boats.
Kasuma saw it all.
It took no more than three minutes.
She stopped a fair distance away and could not discern the exchange in detail, but heard shots and could figure that the troop had been successful when all became still and none of the vehicles moved.
Then she heard a car from behind. An unmarked police car stopped next to her. A policeman stepped out of the vehicle and approached her pointing his gun at her, ordering her out.
She did not budge. The officer approached her hesitantly, his finger on the trigger. He opened her door and pulled her out. She did not resist. He shoved her toward his car and sat her in the passenger seat, next to him.
Then he began inching toward the obliterated convoy. Two civilian vehicles had arrived from the north, their passengers in shock, staring at the carnage.
More vehicles were arriving and more people were gathering around. The policeman hesitated. In panic he began sending menacing looks at Kasuma. Then abruptly he turned and drove back toward the south and Sharm.
He was not going to take the fall.
He stopped long enough to push Kasuma out next to her rented car, and fled the scene. There were no records of his exchange with Lieutenant Hamoodi. No one but Hamoodi and his now dead comrades knew he had followed the woman spy out of Sharm. Yes, he had caught the accomplice and could shed the needed light on the incident but if he was to do that, they would pin everything on him, regardless.
Someone had to be blamed.
Kasuma put her car in gear and approached the scene.
By then more cars had arrived and people began to run between the bodies, inspecting them. They were all shot except for the police lieutenant who was in the back of the ambulance with what looked like a broken neck and a slit throat.
Kasuma joined the crowd of onlookers. Jack was freed. She could confirm that. Also the casualties seemed to be exclusively Egyptian, though she could not be certain.
The top brass arrived an hour later, among them Chief Halil with his entourage from Dahab. The area was sealed off and army troops were being sent to inspect the area.
The driver of the van was found shortly after and was immediately taken for questioning.
No one paid any attention the Bedouin woman in the rented car driving to Nueba.
*****
The sub was out of the water less than five minutes. Arik and Zvika, the Israeli Navy commandos, steered the rubber boats parallel, and the crew transferred the stretchers across. Both wounded were then picked up by several hands and carefully slid down the opening inside the sub. The rest hustled down the shaft, Captain Ben-Tzur last, giving orders to dive as he was securing the latch.
Harley was hustled to the infirmary where the boat’s doctor was waiting, having been alerted. Jack was given a bed where a medic took a look at his knee and his general condition.
Harley was fighting for his life. Barely breathing, he managed to survive the grueling stretcher trek which his men managed in forty minutes and the half hour rubber-boat ride. Drenched in seawater, Harley was losing the battle, his pulse weak, his lungs barely functioning. The doctor was fighting a losing battle. His men managed to stop the bleeding, but his blood and heart were not getting enough air.
Devlin and Lizzy were standing outside the sub’s infirmary. The rest were huddled further down near the officers’ cabins. Tensions were high such that the air felt as if it was a spring waiting to pop.
“You take over if Joe doesn’t make it,” Lizzy whispered to Devlin.
Devlin straightened his gaze at Lizzy. The sergeant’s worried face was a mixture of salt and sweat. Dried blood, not his, was smeared across his forehead.
They both knew Harley’s situation was hopeless. Devlin was not sure there would be anything left to take over. Harley was the undisputed leader, orchestrator and force behind the unit. He was also the one with connections that got them their partial legitimacy with Her Majesty’s Government. He, Devlin, certainly did not have the kind of recognition or military record Harley had conjured up over the years and he certainly did not measure up to the colonel in the type of clout he could muster.
Devlin believed in what they were doing; covert, anonymous operations that helped friendly governments out of tricky situations. But it was Harley who was the architect. It was Harley who was sought after by obscure organizations looking to employ them. It was Harley whom ex-brigade people came looking for to join and it was he who had a feel for who to accept and who to reject. It was also he who struck up the government retainer agreement for their services and every other deal thereafter.
Devlin considered himself a go-to guy - in the field. He had battle qualities maybe the best of the crew and Harley had let it be known. But he was no administrator. He had no idea how Harley managed to get them their Scottish camp and training grounds, their equipment or how he managed their logistics.
It seemed he needed a leap of faith to try and get into his shoes. Plus he needed the team’s support. There may be others who considered themselves worthy. He would not attempt to lead without consensus, if he attempted it at all.
If Harley did not survive…
The doctor stuck his head out from the room. Both Devlin and Lizzy turned their heads expectantly.
“I am sorry,” the doctor said, shaking his head.
They were all in tears at the funeral.
Captain Yoel Ben-Tzur was asked to perform the eulogy before they slipped Harley’s body into the deep blue water of the Red Sea.
It was a decision they all took together, huddled on the sub’s watery deck. Harley was not married, had no children anyone knew of, had no known female companion, no siblings and both his parents were dead.
They were his only family and it seemed appropriate to give him a seaman’s burial. Harley belonged nowhere and everywhere and the Gulf of Aqaba was as good a place as any to send him off, the place where he took his last breath.
Lizzy thought his commander and closest friend would be happy with their choice.
So they asked the Israeli captain, his crew, and members of the elite Israeli Navy unit to do them the honor and join them in a final farewell to a man, soldier, hero, they all loved and admired.
None of the Israelis knew Harley’s background or exploits but from the little they had seen, they felt it a privilege. They knew a great soldier when they saw one and they gave him a seaman’s burial as if he was one of their own.
Captain Ben-Tzur spoke Hebrew reading phrases from the bible. Then Lizzy said a few words, Devlin added a farewell, Rolston spoke quietly and Long-John added his own. Then the crew of the sub fired three shots in succession as a final salute.
Harley’s body, wrapped in an Israeli flag, slid into the sea.
PART THREE
DELIVERANCE
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
The Dan Tel Aviv Hotel on HaYarkon Street, just above the boardwalk that spanned along the Mediterranean shore from North Tel Aviv to Jaffa, was a hub of activity throughout the day and most of the night. Its reputation, central location, proximity to a large number of foreign embassies and luxury apartments overlooking the Med owned by Israel’s elite, made it an ideal place to socialize and conduct informal meetings. In its vast lobby one could identify notable business executives, parliament members and a host of celebrities looking for a quiet corner to chat.
In the far corner of the lobby was the executive lounge where guests and members enjoyed an array of finger foods and drinks. Within the lounge, blending with the wallpaper, an innocent door with a Private sign led to a private conference room that cost guests 500 Shekels an hour with coffee, drinks and appetizers served.
Sam had received word that Jack was bringing news of his son long before the Israeli sub reached the port of Eilat. He and Kessler also heard of Harley’s fate as they stood anxiously with a number of Israeli Navy personnel waiting for the sub to arrive. Mai-Li was at the hotel sleeping. She had yet to hear the grave news of Harley.
When he finally embraced his long-time colleague and friend, as he was wheeled to an ambulance, he learned that there was a real possibility Sammy was alive and that they had found a track.
Now they were in the Dan Tel Aviv conference room for a classified brief, directed by the authorities to shed light on the matter and agree on a way ahead.
Mai-Li took the news hard. When she heard of Harley’s death, she retreated to her room and remained in solitude for the entire time in Eilat, wishing to see no one.
Everyone but Devlin from Harley’s crew left after two days. A member of the team was asked by the British Ambassador to remain in Israel and Devlin was the unanimous choice. Before they left they took a day to rest and a second to thoroughly brief Kessler and the Navy on what transpired. A huge diplomatic stink was brewing and Kessler wanted to make sure he had all the facts. He already had the Israeli internal security arm, the Mossad, and the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs waiting for answers.
The media was reporting nine Egyptians, soldiers and police personnel dead following a surprise attack by an unknown force that lay an ambush south of Dahab, escaping via the sea. The motive for the attack was still unclear but the apprehended van driver who had gotten his wind back was providing speculation. He admitted not getting a very good look at the attackers because they had immediately covered his head with a rag but he swore they spoke Hebrew.
Then word was beginning to leak from Police Headquarters at Dahab that the target was an American citizen charged with kidnapping. The prisoner, on his way to be tried at Dahab, managed to escape.
Everyone was staring as the state-owned Israeli Channel One news came on. Three days after the eve
nt it was still a hot item, with speculation running wild as various commentators tried to solve the mystery. Israel had denied involvement, thus escaping a major setback to peace along its southern border. Once again they showed clips with body bags being loaded on ambulances and Police Chief Halil being interviewed.
It was Chief Halil who gave some merit to Israel’s denials, explaining the circumstances under which the American was charged. There were no Israelis involved in the kidnapping of the French boy he confirmed, but he could not rule out Israeli assistance to the Americans in the prisoner’s hijacking.
When the US State Department and French Foreign Office denied involvement, condemning the act, the Egyptian President Mubarak, taunted by Arab nations for action, demanded the UN’s involvement in investigating the affair.
The commentators were saying it would soon be put on the back burner and get lost in the shuffle but the big question remained: who sprung the prisoner and where was he stashed? His name was still being withheld and the fact that he was injured as well.
Jack was taken to Yoseftal hospital in Eilat for emergency treatment then airlifted by helicopter to an undisclosed location near Tel Aviv, a private clinic Kessler had arranged in Herzliya.
Sam was still overwhelmed by the news of his son. He was both ecstatic to learn he was likely to be alive somewhere and astonished at the hideous plot to kidnap American babies, convert them and use them against their own country.