by Tim LaHaye
Abrams rounded the corner of the door with his gun ready for action, then paused and surveyed the room. He looked back at Jacob and raised one finger. Jacob nodded. One man was lying on a couch in front of the TV. He had fallen asleep.
Abrams crossed to the couch quickly, put his hand over the man’s mouth, and whispered in Arabic, “Don’t move.” But the startled man did move. As he started to struggle, Abrams hit him with the gun.
That will slow him down a little.
He searched the man for a weapon and found a .32 automatic and a very impressive knife. Abrams recognized it; the special knife had sharp blades on both the top and the bottom. This man must have been a trained assassin.
Abrams nodded to Jacob to go to the closed door. Jacob turned the knob as quietly as possible. The door handle clicked. Anyone in the room might have heard the sound. He waited for a moment and then slowly opened the door.
He had the door partly open when there was a yell in Arabic and the sound of a gunshot. Murphy couldn’t see the bullet, but he saw Jacob twisted and yelling. Jacob fell back against the wall in the hallway and collapsed, the gun falling from his hand, blood flowing from his thigh.
Abrams had ducked down and away from the doorway.
The Arab was yelling as he came out of the room. Seeing Jacob on the floor, he swung his gun toward him to finish the job. Then Murphy sprang forward, shouting. The Arab tried to swing the gun in Murphy’s direction, but it was too late.
Murphy blocked the gun arm with his left hand. His right came forward with a twisting karate fist into the Arab’s left temple. The man fell to the floor unconscious. Murphy kept moving past the door opening.
The sudden silence was shocking. Abrams and Murphy were listening for any sound that might reveal the presence of another terrorist. Jacob was gritting his teeth trying not to make a sound.
Abrams was the first to speak. “Michael, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but they’ve shot Jacob.”
“I’ll be okay,” Jacob replied grimly “Check and see if there is anyone else here.”
Abrams and Murphy searched the apartment but found no one else.
As they came back to the hallway, Jacob spoke.
“They’re all alone. The others are probably nearby at some bar. These Muslims are not like the rest. They like their alcohol and women.”
Murphy helped Jacob into the living room.
Jacob looked at the man who was on the couch. “Ah, no wonder he fought you. That one is Ibrahim, the uptight zealot. You hit him pretty hard.”
Abrams and Murphy stopped the bleeding in Jacob’s leg, then searched the apartment. Near the telephone was a dean pad of paper. Abrams picked it up and held it at different angles, studying it in the lamplight.
“Someone wrote on this and removed the note.”
He grabbed a pencil and began to lightly brush it back and forth over the pad. Soon fine white lines emerged from the depressions created on the pad by the last note written. It only contained one word.
“Presidio,” Abrams read.
“Presidio? There’s a military base called Presidio in San Francisco. It’s next to the Golden Gate Bridge,” Jacob said.
Murphy spoke up. “There is also a sleepy little town called Presidio in Texas. It’s on the border between Texas and Mexico. The Rio Grande runs between Presidio on the American side and Ojinaga on the Mexican side. Presidio has grown to about six or seven thousand people due to the amnesty program for undocumented aliens. During the Mexican Revolution, General Pancho Villa used Ojinaga as his headquarters for operations. It would be a perfect place to infiltrate the border.”
Murphy had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the man on the couch regained consciousness and leaped onto Abrams’s back, trying to choke him. Instinctively Abrams made a fist with his right hand; at the same moment his left hand came on top of the fist. He twisted slightly and drove his elbow into Ibrahim’s stomach. The pain and loss of air made the man bend forward. As his head went down, Abrams turned around and brought his knee up into the terrorist’s face, sending him backward against the wall to collapse on the floor, his nose broken and bleeding.
Jacob was crawling toward his automatic, which Murphy had picked up and placed on a table. Abrams was reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster. Ibrahim, dripping blood, looked like a trapped animal, desperate to escape. His eyes darted back and forth from Abrams, to Murphy, then to Jacob on the floor.
Abrams spoke in Arabic. “Tell us about Presidio.”
Ibrahim screamed back, “Never, you infidel devils.” Then he turned and started to run. Abrams and Murphy both leaped forward, but he was just beyond their reach. He threw himself through the window, yelling “Allah be praised.”
Ibrahim landed on the fire escape just outside the window. Now he was bleeding from several cuts caused by broken glass in addition to his broken nose. He scrambled up the stairs toward the roof.
“Michael, make sure Jacob is all right. I’m going after this one,” Abrams called over his shoulder.
Murphy grabbed the gun off the table and propped Jacob up against the couch. “Here,” he said, “you take the gun in case anyone comes back. I’m going to help Levi.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THE SUDDEN ROAR of the lions startled Daniel out of his thoughts. Two were snarling and fighting with each other. He could hear the clatter of teeth and the slapping of paws against fur. The lion relaxing next to him bolted up with a snort as the two males tumbled toward them.
Daniel tried to move but was not quick enough. His joints had grown stiff and sore from the den’s cold rock floor. He was an elderly man; swiftness of movement was a thing of the past.
The two fighting lions rolled right over him, knocking the wind out of him. He couldn’t believe how heavy they were. How ironic to be crushed to death in a lions’ den, Daniel thought. But it was just a brief skirmish. Daniel quickly checked his body for bleeding wounds. He didn’t want the lions to smell fresh blood.
The fight had come on too quickly for Daniel to pray. He had been too shocked to react. But he now found himself thanking God that he had not been injured by the wild beasts.
My friends would be surprised to see me alive, he thought. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
The strange evening dragged on with Daniel slipping in and out of sleep. He had a hard time separating the reality of the den with the reality of over sixty years of memories of being a Babylonian slave in the king’s court. He could hear King Nebuchadnezzar’s words as if it had been yesterday.
“Well, Daniel. No doubt I do not need to explain why you are here.”
“You have been troubled by a dream, my king. An awesome dream that stirred your spirit, and yet when you awoke, not a fragment, not a shred of it remained. Only an empty echo, like the sound of a word in a strange tongue.”
Daniel remembered how this troubled the king.
“You saw a great image, O King. The head of the statue was of gold, wondrously bright, like molten fire, the chest and arms of shining silver like the moon when she is full. The belly and thighs of the statue were of bronze, the legs of iron, the feet of clay and iron mixed.”
Even though Daniel foretold of the destruction of Nebuchadnezzr’s kingdom, he remembered how the king had rewarded him by making him the chief administrator over all of the wise men of Babylon.
He thought back to how Nebuchadnezzar’s heart had become hardened over the years. He would not acknowledge Jehovah, the God of heaven. His pride was too great to give God credit for establishing his kingdom. In his arrogance, the king erected a ninety-cubit-high golden statue in his honor. He acted like he had superhuman power… until that fateful night. The night God struck him with insanity.
“Master! Master! Wake up!”
Daniel could feel his assistant shaking him.
“What is it? What time is it?”
“Master, the royal guards are at the door. You must come quickly. Something has happened to the king.
”
Dressing hurriedly, Daniel joined the guards, who had chariots waiting. They rode like the wind to the palace.
What could be wrong with Nebuchadnezzar? He was a very healthy man. Had he been attacked?
As they drove into the palace courtyard, Daniel could see soldiers rushing downstairs with the king’s servants following them. Everyone was yelling and screaming. Daniel rushed over to the captain of the guard, who was shouting orders.
“Tarub. What is happening? Where is the king?”
“He’s gone mad. One moment he was eating dinner, and the next moment he was tossing food and plates. He growls like a wild animal. We tried to restrain him, but he is extremely powerful. He seems to have the strength of ten men. We locked him in his chambers and called for the astrologers and wise men. A few moments ago he escaped and ran into the fields across the Euphrates. The men are looking for him now. Can you do anything?”
Daniel turned and looked through the gate and out toward the fields. He could see many torches in the distance.
A guard ran up to the captain as Daniel was offering a silent prayer for wisdom.
“Sir. Some of the men have just found the king. He is near the canal that waters the fig trees. Over there to the left, where the torches are gathering.”
As he got out of the chariot, Daniel could see the king on the ground circled by soldiers who were keeping a good distance from him. They didn’t want to provoke him to run again. Nebuchadnezzar was down on his hands and knees digging in the dirt.
The soldiers parted ranks to let Daniel through. He was well-known as a great man, a man who had the wisdom of the gods. All eyes were on him.
As he moved closer to the king, he could see what Nebuchadnezzar was doing. He was digging up plants and eating the roots. His eyes were wild. Saliva mixed with dirt was dripping from his mouth. He growled as Daniel grew nearer.
Daniel stopped and squatted down, so he would seem less threatening. He began to talk in a very calm and soothing voice. “O King Nebuchadnezzar. What troubles you? I your servant Daniel am here to comfort you. May I have permission to speak?”
Growling loudly, the king threw the plant he was uprooting at Daniel, who fell over backward. Daniel knew the king wouldn’t get well until God allowed it to happen.
Yet Daniel remained faithful to the king. Every week for seven years, he’d go out to the fields to visit and try to talk to Nebuchadnezzar. Sometimes he would find field workers throwing rocks at the king, whose hair and nails had grown long. They’d yell and call him names. Daniel would chase them away. He felt sorry for Nebuchadnezzar, a king who lived like an animal.
God humbled Nebuchadnezzar for seven years as he groveled in the dirt in the shadow of his palace. His wits had been scattered to the four corners of the wind. During that period his great kingdom was almost destroyed. It hung together by a thin thread. His jealous neighbors were plotting its overthrow until God brought back his sanity.
“O God. Please keep me humble. Please keep pride from overpowering me. Don’t let me forget that You and You alone are the one who puts people up and can take them down just as you did Nebuchadnezzar,” Daniel prayed.
TWENTY-FIVE
AS ABRAMS CLIMBED through the broken window, he looked up. He could barely see Ibrahim climbing the fire escape stairs about a floor above. Abrams yelled for the man to stop even though he knew it was useless.
Their shoes made a lot of noise against the steel of the fire escape. Above that sound, Abrams could hear Ibrahim shouting death threats in Arabic.
There were eight stories to the old tenement, and by the time Abrams reached the roof he was breathing heavily. He paused for a second before sticking his head up to see. As he peeked up, he heard the sound of a gunshot and felt the spray of brick next to his face. Instinctively he ducked down.
He must have had a gun hidden on the roof somewhere.
Abrams took out his gun, raised his arm above the wall, and fired three times in the direction of the gunshot. Then he could hear Ibrahim running on the gravel of the roof.
As he popped his head over the wall again, he could see the Arab disappearing around the elevator shaft. He fired and saw a brick explode close to Ibrahim’s shoulder. Abrams leaped onto the roof and ran toward the small building. By the time he had reached it, Ibrahim was nowhere to be seen.
Abrams poked his head around the building, staring into the darkness. Just then the zealot fired. Abrams fired off several rounds, and then there was silence.
Murphy was just starting up the fire escape when he heard the first shot.
Maybe there were more Arabs!
He began to climb as fast as he could as gunshots echoed through the night. A battle was taking place, and he had no idea who was winning.
By the time Murphy reached the roof, there was silence. As he peered over the wall, he couldn’t see anyone, just a small building. Carefully he made his way over the wall toward the building. He had almost reached it when he heard two muffled shots in the distance—not from the roof. Had they come from the apartment?
Murphy reached the small building and peered around it. Levi Abrams was standing upright, his hands raised. The zealot Ibrahim was yelling at him, “You are going to die, you Jewish pig.”
Murphy shouted.
Ibrahim turned at the sound and fired. Both Murphy and Abrams hit the ground. Ibrahim then turned back toward where Abrams had been standing and pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. Abrams leaped up and rushed forward. His right hand hit the inside wrist of the Arab’s gun hand just as his left hand hit the back of the gun hand. The gun went flying.
Ibrahim ducked down as Abrams’s body weight came forward. He too had been trained to fight.
The zealot then rose and flipped Abrams onto his back. The wind was knocked out of him.
By now Murphy was running toward the battle. Ibrahim heard him coming, and ran, with Murphy trailing after him. Once he’d regained his breath, Abrams too pursued the terrorist.
It only took a few moments for Ibrahim to reach the edge of the building. He leaped onto the outer wall, then hesitated. The adjacent building was about ten feet away His only chance for escape was to leap.
Murphy yelled. “Don’t do it! You’ll never make it!”
Ibrahim briefly crouched down and sprang. His hands were up and his entire body was extended as he crossed the gap, crying “Allah be praised!”
Abrams had just reached the edge in time to see the zealot’s hands grasping bricks on the top of the other building. Then the rest of his body hit the wall. The impact jerked his hands free and he began to fall.
Murphy and Abrams watched helplessly as Ibrahim dropped eight stories, desperately flailing his arms and legs. His body hit the alley below with a sickening thud.
Abrams and Murphy looked at each other. There was a split second of silence, and then the same thought seemed to hit both of them at the same time: Jacob!
They ran across the roof and back down the fire escape. As they clambered through the window, they could see Jacob on the floor with his eyes closed and the gun in his hand.
At the sound, Jacob opened his eyes and pointed the gun at them.
“You’re alive!” Abrams exclaimed.
“Yes. After you left I could hear the gun battle. Then I heard some noise in the hallway The other Arab must have woken up. I could hear him but couldn’t see him. All of a sudden he dashed to the front door. I fired twice but I don’t think I hit him.”
“We have to get you out of here and to the safe house,” Abrams said, reaching down and lifting his partner. Murphy grabbed his other arm, and the three limped to the elevator. They could hear noise behind other doors; some of the other tenants were probably calling the police. But they also knew that no one would leave their apartment to see what was happening—not in this neighborhood. There was too much danger of being shot yourself.
“I’m sorry to get you mixed up in all of this, Michael. You don’t need this kind of trouble,”
Abrams said ruefully
“I’m just glad I was here to help. When I know terrorists are planning to do something to the country I love, how can I just stand around and do nothing?”
“Michael, after you drop us off at the safe house, get back to your hotel. Act as if nothing happened. We must get information back to our group. I’ll try to contact you later. Thanks again for your help—especially on the roof.”
“What happened up there?” Murphy asked.
“I guess I got sloppy. During the gun battle Ibrahim yelled and hit the ground like he had been shot. I ran over thinking he’d been wounded. He was just faking and got the drop on me. If you hadn’t yelled when you did, I wouldn’t be walking out of here now.”
Abrams, wearing gloves, went through the dead zealot’s pockets, searching for clues. Murphy, holding the flashlight, looked at the body and asked, “What’s that on his neck?”
Abrams moved the collar of his shirt slightly “A crescent moon with a star. You see it on the flags of many Muslim countries.”
Murphy got closer and shined the light directly on the tattoo. “No. This is different. Look closely, Levi. In all Muslim symbols, the points of the crescent moon point to the right or up, with a five-pointed star or several stars. This crescent moon is pointing down to a star with six points made up of two triangles, similar to the Star of David. And look at the points of the crescent. Three small lines are coming off each point.”
“Yes. I see them. They almost look like claws that are closing in on the Star of David.”
“Those aren’t claws like a cat’s; they look more like the talons of a bird.”
Abrams looked up at Murphy “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Murphy glared at Abrams. “Do you think Talon has Arab terrorists working for him now? How does Presidio tie in to all of this?”
“I don’t know, Michael. But I do know I’m going to Texas for sure.”
TWENTY-SIX
MURPHY HAD a difficult time going to sleep that night. Adrenaline was still coursing through his system. His mind kept reverting to the evening’s events. He could see Matthew sitting up in the car staring into space with a slight trace of blood dripping from his lips.