The Hijack

by Duncan Falconer

  She tried once more to say something, but the words would not come.

  ‘Give me some water,’ he said to one of the women who quickly obeyed, handing him a small cup. He placed the edge against her lips and allowed a little liquid to trickle into them.

  ‘David,’ she suddenly murmured, as if the word had come from elsewhere other than her lips.

  ‘Don’t talk,’ he said softly and with deep affection as he took hold of her thin hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he continued after a thoughtful pause. ‘I never thought I would see you again . . . I’m glad I came.’

  She thought about the other women in the room, what they might make of this, for he was without a doubt Israeli, but then almost immediately she realised how pointless her fears were. It was not twenty years ago. What did it matter? David was old, Abed was gone and she was dying.

  It felt strange being called David after so many years, for that was not his real name. He could never have risked telling her who he was for many reasons, but primarily because of his own survival. Israelis did not fraternise with Palestinians without great personal risk, especially Israelis like him. He wondered if she had an inkling of who he was now. His picture had been in the papers on occasion, which had never been wise considering his position, but it could not always be helped. But then again, she probably never read the Israeli papers, since they were unwanted and not sold openly in Gaza. Perhaps she was wondering how he had the ability to enter this camp since it was illegal for Israelis to cross into Palestinian territory. But she was so close to death, why should he expect her to be cognisant enough to consider any of that.

  He looked at her, frail beyond her years, unable to see the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with all that time ago. She could not be much more than forty, if that, but she looked much, much older. He could only wonder at the life she must have led in this hellhole that had turned her into this pitiful wretch. He knew she was dying from utter despair. She was not the first in these camps and would not be the last.

  ‘Abed,’ she suddenly uttered. Perhaps it was a question, or she was trying to tell him their son was not here. He knew Abed had gone from Gaza, and much more than that, for it was his business to know.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t worry about anything . . . Be at peace, my darling.’ He smiled.

  She was comforted by his words, why, she did not know, but he always had that power. Those nights, when she would meet him in secret, though she was always fearful of being found out, he would talk to her and make her feel at ease. When they were together it was just them, he used to tell her, and the whole world did not exist. She had believed him because she had wanted to, and she believed him now.

  A slight smile formed on her lips and spread to her eyes, and at once he could see her, the little girl he had loved, and his heart was suddenly filled with sadness and pity. These were emotions he had managed to stifle his entire professional life and now he was unable to halt them. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry for everything . . . I have always loved you.’

  She closed her eyes and drifted away but he knew she had not died. The slight smile remained on her face and he wondered if, like him, she was thinking of those days they had together. He had given her the only happiness in her adult life and she had been his only true love. Despite feeling the world was a vile place his smile remained as he watched her and realised it was people who brought true happiness and gave value to everything else that was good in life.

  He remained with her for just a while longer; too long would have been dangerous, and, besides, important work beckoned and there was somewhere he had to be. When he replaced her hand by her side, she exhaled, barely perceptibly, and he wondered if that was her last breath. He did not want to know and he stood and went to the door. He paused a moment, then without looking back walked away and out of the house.

  Chapter 11

  The C130 banked high above Tel Aviv turning on to its final heading while gradually losing height to approach Ben Gurion airport. Stratton looked down on the city through the small window. This was his first trip to Israel and as he studied the sprawling, modern city that hugged the Mediterranean coastline, he thought about the crusades and how this stretch of land was once owned by European kings and princes. Coincidentally, the last chapter he had read of his book was about Richard the Lion Heart and his great nemesis, Saladin, the two military giants of their day: the Christian known for his tactical brilliance and reckless bravery, and the Muslim for his exceptional magnanimity as well as courage. Stratton wondered where Jaffa was, an ancient harbour the modern city of Tel Aviv was built on, for it was there, a little less than a thousand years ago, that Richard had stormed ashore, leaping into the water from a boat, to take back the town that had been captured by Saladin. During that battle, which on this occasion Richard had won, Saladin watched in angry admiration as the Coeur de Lion repulsed wave after wave of his Saracen hordes. Even then, on learning that Richard’s horse had been killed under him, the paragon of Islamic chivalry dispatched two fresh steeds as a gift for the English king. Looking down on the sprawling metropolis with its towering glass-and-steel structures it was impossible to imagine how it looked in those ancient times or what it must have been like as a European soldier on horse-back wearing armour and wielding a heavy sword.

  Saladin’s famed chivalry in war was not lost on Stratton. Despite his own ignoble reputation, deserved or not, graciousness in battle was a more natural impulse in him than those who thought they knew him would have imagined, but, then again, he had made a conscious effort to appear to have dispensed with it. Fair play was as out of date in warfare nowadays as the siege tower and if anything was seen as a weakness.

  The loadmaster entered the cabin from the cockpit and signalled those he passed to buckle their seatbelts. Stratton watched him help Gabriel locate his belt and wondered how seriously Gabriel’s dream of death had affected him. Under normal circumstances Gabriel’s condition would have been enough to see him pulled from the field as an operational risk but since there was no one to replace him, Stratton knew Sumners would keep him on for as long as he could, to his death if need be. Considering the gravity of the situation that was an acceptable price to pay and the CIA would concur in a heartbeat. However, there was a point of exhaustion beyond which Gabriel could become a liability and Stratton wondered if he was not already close to reaching it.

  The cabin suddenly shook and jolted as the wheels hit the runway and the engines immediately screamed louder as the pilot threw the propellers into reverse thrust. The craft lurched several times as the brakes were touched and the plane quickly decelerated. After taxiing for a few minutes, it came to a stop on the edge of the airfield far from the arrivals building and prying eyes, and the loadmaster opened the rear side door letting a thick beam of sunlight stream into the cabin.

  Sumners climbed out of his seat, leaned over to Gabriel and said something, then walked up the cabin without so much as a glance at Stratton and began a conversation with his boss. Stratton expected to be called to attend a final brief any moment and was still in a quandary as to what to say or do regarding Gabriel’s fear.

  Stratton had not come up with an alternative solution to quitting the assignment but he had spent some time on the one major weakness of Gabriel’s vision and a possible way through. Since it was in the future, and since it was not a viewing by the definition he understood, and Gabriel had supported that much, then surely it could be changed.

  Stratton unbuckled his seatbelt and got to his feet to look out of the window. It was decision-making time and this was not an easy one.

  A nondescript car approached with two men inside and came to a stop just beyond the wingtip.The men remained inside the car watching the aircraft. If they were customs or immigrations, they would most likely have been in uniform and walking over to the aircraft by now. The way they sat silently watching with the patience of those who do it for a living left Stratton with
little doubt they were Israeli intelligence.

  The aircraft’s engines finally died, plunging the cabin into a relative calm and a welcome relief after the hours of constant drone.

  ‘Stratton?’ It was Sumners calling him over.

  Stratton stepped to the table where Chalmers was still tapping away at his keyboard, Sumners’ boss beside him on a phone.

  ‘Well,’ Sumners began with one of his thin smiles which characteristically masked something new and unexpected. Stratton was not to be disappointed. ‘You’ll be happy to know you’ll be home before the end of the day and you can take that holiday you’d planned. You might need a new pair of skis though - we seem to have lost yours. You were insured I take it?’ ‘I’m off the op?’ Stratton asked, taken by surprise.

  ‘I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you?’ Sumners said.‘You’re probably relieved, I’m sure. Damned fine job, by the way.’

  ‘The op’s cancelled?’ Stratton asked, confused, and at a loss as to what the new developments might be.

  ‘Gosh, no. Op’s still very much on. We’ll be taking it over from here.’

  ‘We?’ Stratton asked, looking around as if he had missed someone on the plane capable of running the operation in the field.

  ‘Well, me, actually,’ Sumners said, his smile starting to wane as Stratton’s expression clearly telegraphed his disdain.

  It was immediately clear to Stratton what was going on. Sumners had been a desk operative since he joined the firm God knows how long ago; he had not been promoted in years and had been passed over for several younger, better-connected players, a trend that had no reason not to continue. If he wanted to move any further up the ladder the only way he was going to do it was to broaden his experience base. Sumners had obviously decided this was a perfect opportunity to get his field wings. Stratton was appalled at the timing and lack of thought this supposedly intelligent and experienced man had put into the move. He wanted to say as much, and on any other occasion he would have voiced his disapproval, but something was holding him back and he knew what it was. Survival. Sumners’ move was the simple and convenient God-given solution to his problem. It was proof Sumners knew nothing about Gabriel’s fear. Stratton would sit back, let him take over the op, and, if Gabriel were correct, Sumners would die in Stratton’s place. Even if it was discovered that Stratton knew about Gabriel’s viewing, he had been ordered off the op and that was that. There would be no comebacks.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Stratton heard himself say almost immediately.

  Sumners’ smile regained some of its vigour as if he had misread Stratton’s initial look and that this response was one of approval. ‘I was going to have you come along as an assistant,’ Sumners said buoyantly. ‘But let’s be honest, you are rather headstrong, and since you’re used to working alone it might not be such a good idea . . . Make sense?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Good. Well, you stay aboard and make yourself comfortable and go home knowing you’re on a recommend for a job well done.’

  Sumners’ boss was wearing one of his cold smiles as he put down the phone and stared at Stratton as if examining him. Stratton gave nothing away.

  Chalmers got to his feet holding a small canvas bag and Stratton watched him walk down the cabin to chat to Gabriel, then after a minute he came back to the table while Gabriel waited by the door holding his bag.

  Stratton felt he should at least say goodbye to him but could not bring himself to be so duplicitous. A part of him believed Gabriel was heading to his death and he would not be able to look him in the eye, shake his hand, congratulate him on a job well done, tell him how much he had enjoyed working with him and wish him well for the future. Gabriel would see through him as if he were a sheet of glass. Stratton wished that just for one moment he could be the cold-hearted bastard everyone thought he was, but he could not turn his back on Gabriel, not like this.

  Strangely, in the end, it was not just his conscience that changed his mind about letting Sumners take over the op, but an ingrained belief in himself and his destiny. Ultimately, he could not accept that if he continued the assignment his end would come at the hands of a mad Russian with an atom bomb. It felt ludicrous and impossible. Fate had many more things in store for him, and perhaps a more horrible finale, but not this. It was more than simple optimism. Stratton believed his life was written and that he had some kind of an insight into his future. He did not know when his time would come but it was not now, not on this operation. Of all the beliefs Stratton possessed, this was his most valuable. He believed he had a life worth living beyond this moment.

  He came to a decision, turned his attention to the problem and focused on the tactics required to achieve his goal.The answer was immediate, simple and based entirely on intuition. He believed Sumners to have a high degree of self-preservation, enough for him to drop the ball once he learned of Gabriel’s fear, but Sumners also had pride and the trick was going to be how to manipulate it. The success would hang on the execution.

  ‘Sumners,’ Stratton said.

  Sumners was talking to his boss and did not appear to hear him. Stratton stepped over to the table and leaned closer. ‘Sumners,’ he repeated.

  Sumners was annoyed at the interruption. ‘What is it?’ he said.

  ‘Something you need to know.’

  ‘You’ll be fully debriefed by Chalmers on the flight back and I’ll receive your entire report,’ he said.

  ‘That may be too late.’

  Sumners exaggerated a sigh. ‘What is it?’ he asked like a tired parent.

  ‘You’re pretty sold on Gabriel, aren’t you?’

  ‘Sold?’

  ‘You suggested earlier you had become one of the converted, a believer.’

  ‘Hard to be sceptical under the circumstances. He got us this far, didn’t he? What’s your point?’

  ‘You’re going to be with Gabriel all the way?’

  ‘Of course,’ Sumners said. ‘He’s our golden goose.’ Sumners suddenly felt he had detected Stratton’s true worry. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added. ‘I’ll look after him. I must say I’m touched if not a little surprised at your concern.’

  Sumners turned away to continue talking to his boss.

  ‘It’s not him I’m concerned about,’ Stratton said. ‘It’s you. Gabriel has seen his own death by the device. He believes he’s going to be blown up by the nuclear bomb. I thought you should know.’

  The words dropped like a ten-ton weight through the thin roof of the aircraft, and although Sumners did not face Stratton immediately, he had stopped in mid-sentence, and his boss’s eyes had moved from Sumners to look directly at Stratton - he could smell a game afoot if Sumners could not. Chalmers stopped tapping the keys of the computer and looked between the men. They all instantly understood the implication of the statement that anyone within five miles of Gabriel would also be vaporised. It seemed to rock Sumners to his very foundations though probably only Stratton and his boss could see it.

  The blow was a multiple one for Sumners. Every plan and dream of glory he had fermented in the hours since his boss had given him his blessing to take over the assignment were shattered like a stack of crystal ten-pins.

  There was a long silence which served only to emphasise Sumners’ astonishment as his mind worked like a computer calculating the various angles he might employ to get out of this predicament, unable to find a single one.

  ‘When did he tell you this?’ Sumners’ boss asked Stratton, breaking the silence.

  ‘Yesterday. Obviously the implications weren’t apparent to me until I heard about the nuclear device when I came on board.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything right away, as soon as I told you?’ Sumners asked.

  ‘I didn’t know you were taking over the operation. ’

  ‘Why are you telling us this now?’ Sumners’ boss asked, curious.

  ‘You just heard Sumners say he believes in Gabriel’s viewings,’ Stratton said. ‘If he didn’t f
ind out now he’d find out later and, since he’s a believer, it might affect his command of the situation.’

  Stratton and Sumners stared at each other unblinking. If their positions were reversed, Sumners would not have said anything. The operation could go forward on Gabriel’s viewings, but it certainly could not halt because of a daydream about the future. Nevertheless, that wasn’t why Stratton had offered the information. He was not trying to do Sumners any favours either. On the contrary, Stratton had had his operation taken away from him and he was obviously manoeuvring to take it back. But the implication remained that whoever was with Gabriel was going to end up being blown up. It would be easy to prove. Gabriel was right at the door and a lie like that would be the end of Stratton’s career. There was something devious behind it, Sumners was sure of it.

  Sumners’ boss remained coldly relaxed in his chair with his legs crossed and fingers intertwined in front of him. ‘Do you believe Gabriel?’ he asked, switching his gaze to Sumners.

  Sumners didn’t answer right away, his mind still going like the clappers weighing the various implications of his answer.

  Stratton was impressed with the heartlessness of Sumners’ boss.The man had the charm of a rattlesnake and the personality of a lettuce. He was coldly twisting the knife that Stratton had shoved into Sumners, pushing his subordinate into a corner. Stratton almost felt sorry for Sumners. It was his first attempt to step into the field and he was about to be metaphorically blown out of the water before his foot touched down. Since Sumners admitted believing in Gabriel’s unusual abilities, it disqualified him from taking over the ground operation because it would influence his decision-making process. If he now changed his tune, his credibility would be in jeopardy.

  Sumners suddenly found himself hating Stratton for putting him in this position, even more so because it was in front of his boss. Stratton could have taken him aside and discussed it first, which would have given him time to manoeuvre. But no, not him. This mere thug of a labourer had conducted himself in the callous and brutal manner he was famed for. The ungrateful sod had turned on his master. This was Stratton’s revenge for the cold-shoulder he had received all those months prior to this operation. What’s more, he had correctly estimated and then ruthlessly attacked Sumners’ weakness, which was his sense of self-preservation, and exposed for all to see that it was greater than the desire to further his career. What Stratton did not know, and what made it look even worse for Sumners, was that Sumners had confided in his boss and Chalmers that his doubts about Gabriel would always remain. The reason behind that revelation was that he simply felt foolish admitting otherwise. He was an intelligence officer of the old school and it was impossible for him to accept that the advancement of this case, of which he was the operations officer, had so far relied entirely on the mystical viewings of a mind reader. The tormenting truth was that until Stratton’s comment, Sumners did not realise how much of a believer he had become. He was now afraid to take over the operation and everyone knew it. Stratton had exposed him, not only to his boss and young Chalmers, but also to himself, and he hated him for it. However, having put everything through the mental scrambler, Sumners still could not understand why Stratton was placing himself in a position to take over the op if everyone on the ground was going to die.