Dazzle - The Complete Unabridged Trilogy

by Judith Gould

  It was as if a torpedo had been shot at him. The big Libyan let out a grunt and toppled backward, a spurt of wild automatic fire spraying holes in the ceiling. He broke Daliah's fall, and she collapsed on top of him. Strangely enough, she could feel no pain. There was only a dizzy disorientation. Try as she might she just couldn't get her bearings. Everything was still spinning wildly out of control.

  Then, as the vertiginous spinning started to slow, Daliah tried to stagger to her feet, but she reeled in a vain attempt to keep her balance and fell to her knees. Her senses seemed sluggish, and her body refused to obey her commands. Everything seemed fuzzy and far away, as though she and reality were light-years apart. She swallowed and shook her head, but the cotton would not leave her ears.

  And then Monika cartwheeled into the finale. She was still rasping from her recent exertions, and sweat poured off her like sheets of hot rain. She reached down, grabbed hold of Daliah's single braid of hair, wrapped it around her right hand twice like a rope, and then yanked Daliah to her feet.

  Daliah jerked up and let out a scream. Every nerve ending in her scalp screeched and sang and protested. Tears of pain stood out in her eyes. She was bound to Monika by her own hair, but at least it was a very long rope of hair, so she had some manoeuvrability, and she used it to advantage, twisting and twirling unexpectedly, her elbows repeatedly smashing into Monika's clavicle. Again and again she battered repeated punishing blows into that exact same spot, concentrating on weakening it and waiting for the bone to snap under the pressure. With every blow, the German gaped open-mouthed and expelled vast grunt after grunt of hot air mixed with sprays of saliva. Forgetting herself for a moment, Monika doubled over and loosened her grip on Daliah's hair.

  Daliah moved fast, yanking the coil of braid from around Monika's hand and kneeing her neatly in the belly for good measure.

  The German's eyes saucered, and another spray of hot air and saliva flew out of her lungs.

  One more clean strategic hit! Just one more . . . and I've got her!

  But one more elbow ram became two. And two became three. And three . . .

  Monika seemed to gather power with every blow she received. With superhuman strength she pounded a fist in Daliah's chest and flung her aside. Then, like a stunned wrestler in a ring, she slowly rose up straight, shook her head like a raging bull, and began to stagger in a wide circle around Daliah, her chest heaving as she took deep lungfuls of air and—was it possible?—psyched herself up for another round.

  Daliah kept turning, watching her carefully. Even so, she was not prepared when Monika came at her in a flash. Oblivious of all of Daliah's pokes and punches, the wiry German pinned Daliah's arms to her sides and enfolded her in an iron-armed bear hug. And began to squeeze.

  It was like nothing Daliah had ever experienced. Effortlessly Monika lifted her off her feet, and although she struggled like a fish, wiggling, twisting, and even kicking Monika's shins, nothing seemed to make any difference. The woman was too mad or too strong or possibly both. The steely embrace tightened and tightened, a grotesque death hug.

  With a series of involuntary gasps, Daliah flung her head back as far as it would go, bared her teeh, and then, with the speed of a starved vampire, caught Monika's right ear between her teeth. Daliah clamped her incisors into the cartilage with full force. Sharp enamel sliced neatly through gristle and tugged. Spurs of thick warm metallic blood filled her mouth, and she wanted to gag. Instead, she bit even deeper, jerked her head back, and . . .

  A fountain of liquid crimson velvet sprayed out from where Monika's ear had been.

  Monika instinctively loosened her grip, threw back her head, and screamed. Involuntarily, one of her hands let go of Daliah and she touched where her ear had been. Feeling nothing, her fingers clawed desperately. Her face contorted with disbelief. 'My ear! You Jew bitch! What did you do with my ear?'

  Daliah felt Monika's hot blood trickling down her throat, and with a massive effort to clear her mouth, she spat out the ear and the mouthful of blood into Monika's face.

  Stunned, Monika now let go of her complely. She staggered backward in horror and brought her blood-wet hand away from where her ear had been and stared at the dripping red fingers. Then her eyes scanned the floor, and she let out a bellow when she saw the raggedly chewed piece of cartilage lying in a pool of blood.

  Daliah knew she didn't have long. As soon as Monika got over the initial shock, she would be fiercer than ever. Daliah's only hope was to finish her off swiftly. She dived forward, her shoulder a battering ram.

  Monika's arms flashed around Daliah again, swift as an octopus' tentacles, and renewed the crushing bear hug.

  Daliah convulsed, her mouth dropping open and her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head as the grip tightened, tightened, tightened like bands of constricting steel. She felt herself reeling as sanity receded and a fuzz-filled greyness washed over her.

  She was asphyxiating.

  She could feel the relentless pressure on her ribs beginning to stave them in, and her lungs were ready to explode. The constrictor grip had forced all the air out, and there was no way she could breathe in a new mouthful. Before her eyes, brilliant sparklers spun like whirlpools, and huge blue and pink chrysanthemums burst from bud to flower and faded. As the life seeped out of her, so too the greyness darkened to blackness. She felt suddenly giddy, as though she was spinning off into the ether of a drug-induced high.

  She was not prepared for the gunshots. They sounded distant and weak, more like muffled, faraway pops. But Monika jerked backward. A look of surprise came into her eyes and still clutching Daliah, she began to slide slowly to her knees. For a moment she knelt there, her arms clasped around Daliah's hips. Her entire back, from the shoulders to the base of her spine, was one giant open wound, all shredded red meat. Then the pressure at Daliah's hips slackened as Monika let go and topped over backward, thudding horribly on the marble.

  Daliah felt her freedom, but she could not see; everything was still twinkling stars and spinning whorls. Coughing violently, she drew back her head and gasped desperately for air. Then, as the patterns faded and the black became grey, her vision slowly came back. The first thing she saw was Surour, sprawled limply on the floor, blood frothing from a massive chest wound. Then, raising her eyes, she saw two men in black standing over him, automatic rifles lowered, their faces masks of black grease. She didn't recognize either of them.

  One of the black-faced men came toward her, and she tried to scream hysterically, but no sound would come. Then the man spoke gently, and it was a voice she knew.

  'Thank God, Daliah!' he said fervently, holding her tightly. 'We got to you just in the nick of time. Another minute and . . .'

  She just stared up at him. Her face went from fear to blankness, and then relief came flooding in. 'N-N-Najib?' she asked in a trembling voice. She looked into his eyes, and then flung her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

  She began to sob as the nightmare receded, the horror drifting away. He smelled of battle—of grease and cordite and sweat and fire—but she thought it was a delicious aroma. 'Oh, Najib,' she sobbed, her chest heaving. Now that sanity had returned, she was starting to shake all over. 'I knew you would come!'

  The second man in black face came up beside them. 'Well?' he asked with a huge white grin, 'Doesn't your father deserve a kiss too?'

  She pulled away from Najib. 'Father!' she exclaimed, laughing and crying at the same time. 'I didn't recognize you!'

  'I can't imagine why,' Dani laughed. 'Come on, give your daddy a kiss, and then let's get you the hell out of here.'

  Chapter 26

  The helicopter was on the ground just inside the compound walls, shuddering and jumping in place, as though straining to lift off. The engine roar was so deafening it numbed Daliah's entire body and set her teeth on edge, and the prop lash from its whipping rotors fanned up a seat of turbulent dust all around. She shivered. The starry night was cold, and despite the fact tha
t someone had draped a blanket around her shoulders, the chill was creeping into her bones.

  'Statistics!' the Israeli captain demanded in a crisp shout in order to make himself heard above the helicopter's racket.

  'The two wounded men who were flown over to the jet are our only casualties,' a sergeant shouted back at him. 'Besides us here, we have five men holding off the terrorist forces trapped in the palace. All our men are accounted for.'

  The captain nodded with satisfaction. The casualties they'd sustained were negligible. The two wounded men would mend, and there hadn't been a single death on their side. Considering the odds against them, things had turned out phenomenally well. He turned to Schmarya and frowned. 'How many terrorists are holding the palace, do you think?'

  'Thirty?' Schmarya shrugged. 'Forty? Something like that.'

  'And Abdullah,' the captain pointed out dryly. He shook his head gravely. 'That means we have no choice but to go in and storm the place. Our orders were specific as far as Abdullah was concerned. He is to be terminated.'

  'It won't be easy,' Schmarya warned. 'We've enjoyed the element of surprise out here, but once inside, it'll be different. We're liable to be picked off like birds on a power line.'

  'I say we just blow up the palace,' the captain said.

  Schmarya frowned. 'Is that feasible?'

  'Sure. We have plenty of plastique already hooked up to the detonators. All we have to do is switch the timers on and place them where the fuel pipeline enters the palace. When it goes off . . .' The captain gestured expressively with his hands.

  'No!' Najib said forcefully. His face was grimly set and the muscles in his jaws quivered.

  They looked at him in surprise.

  'It's the safest way,' the Israeli captain explained concisely. 'If we go in, our losses are likely to be heavy. The terrorists have had a chance to regroup.'

  'No!' Najib shook his head again and stared at the captain, his eyes dark and cold. 'We have two friends in there,' he said. 'If it hadn't been for them, Captain, we would never have achieved what we already have. We owe it to them to get them out.'

  Schmarya nodded. 'Yes,' he agreed, 'we do.' He turned to the captain. 'Regroup our men. We'll go in in five minutes.' He turned to stride off.

  Najib caught him by the arm. 'You don't need to go in,' he said.

  Schmarya squinted at him. 'I take it you have a better suggestion?'

  'Yes.' Najib nodded. 'Start moving your men out and fly them in relays over to the jet. I'll go in alone. If Abdullah can be found, I've got the best chance of finding him. And as for Khalid and Hamid, only I know what they look like. Your men are liable to shoot them. He smiled. 'So you see, I am the best choice.'

  Schmarya met his gaze steadily. 'And if you're not successful?'

  Najib's expression did not change. 'Have the explosives put in place anyway, with the timers set for fifteen minutes. If I'm not out by then, let them go off.'

  Daliah was horrified. She could stand this no longer. She grabbed Najib's arm and shook it violently. 'That's madness! Can't we just forget about Abdullah? Please, let's just leave! If we don't lay the explosives, the two men will be safe.'

  'And Abdullah?' Najib asked her. 'The captain has his orders.'

  She flushed under that cold stare, but her eyes flashed green fire. 'Forget about Abdullah! He's not worth the life of any of you!' she said vehemently.

  Najib placed a hand on each of her shoulders and looked at her sorrowfully. 'Try to understand. Abdullah has hundreds, perhaps thousands of supporters elsewhere. You know we have to cut him down while we have the chance. It may never come again.'

  She looked beseechingly at Schmarya. 'Can't you talk some sense into him, Grandfather?'

  'Mr. al-Ameer is right,' Schmarya said heavily. 'We have to make sure Abdullah is dead. Or would you rather spend the rest of your very short life waiting for him to catch up with us and have us all killed?'

  She had no answer for that.

  Najib turned to the Israeli captain. 'Fifteen minutes, Captain. That's all I ask. If I don't find them by then, then let it blow.' He paused and urged, 'Have your men set the explosives, Captain. Now.'

  'We may not even have to resort to the explosives,' the captain said grimly. 'Look.' He pointed at the palace.

  At the gaping holes where the big windows of the majlis had been, a rosy glow flickered and pulsated brightly. And at the other end of the palace, where Daliah had been held captive, the closed metal shutter slats on the second floor glowed orange-pink. There were at least two major fires raging out of control inside the palace, and from the looks of them, they were spreading quickly. From the twisted, glassless majlis dome a thick column of sparks was swirling skyward like a swarm of fireflies.

  'You see?' the captain said. 'From the looks of it, I'd say it's just a matter of time before those fires spread and set off the pipeline by themselves.'

  'Be that as it may,' Najib said, 'it won't guarantee Abdullah's death. If I know him, he'll find a way to escape before it blows.'

  Dani stepped forward. 'I'll go with you,' he volunteered.

  Najib shook his head. 'No, you would only be a liability, my friend. This I must do by myself. Besides, I know the men, and I know the palace. All I need is for the helicopter to land me on the roof and wait fourteen minutes to pick me up.'

  Daliah pulled the blanket off her shoulders and tossed it to the ground. 'I want to go on the helicopter with you.'

  Najib looked at her without expression. 'No. You have already gone through enough.'

  She tightened her lips. 'I'm not going into the palace with you! I just want to be on the helicopter when it lets you off and picks you up again!'

  His brows snapped together. 'It is out of the question,' he told her firmly. 'It's far too risky. If anything should happen to you now, then the entire mission will have been futile.'

  She raised her chin resolutely. 'I'm going,' she said quietly. 'Just try to stop me.'

  Chapter 27

  In the helicopter, hovering just feet above the palace roof, Najib shouted last-minute instructions at the pilot.

  'Your watch is synchronized with mine. If I'm not back on the roof in fourteen minutes, then you are to forget about me and take off. Don't wait around a minute longer. The explosives are set for fifteen minutes time. That gives you only sixty seconds to get out of here.'

  'But if you're not—'

  'Then forget about me!' Najib reiterated. The sharpness of his voice left no room for argument.

  The pilot turned away. 'Yes, sir.'

  Najib twisted in his seat and kissed Daliah.

  'Come back to me in one piece,' she said in a strained whisper.

  He swung around to the open door and jumped out.

  In the lush gardens on the southeastern side of the palace, the Israeli captain hunkered down in the shrubbery, watching as his explosives expert attached the packets of plastique to the pipeline. 'Set them for fifteen minutes,' he told the corporal.

  The corporal nodded and set the miniaturized digital timers and activated them by flipping a switch. A tiny red light glowed on each. He looked at the captain. 'Fifteen minutes it is, sir,' he said unnecessarily.

  The captain nodded grimly. 'Then let's get the hell out of here, Corporal.'

  'Yes, sir!'

  Together they jumped to their feet and took off. A fusillade of gunfire from somewhere within the palace sprayed around them as they lunged through the flowerbeds and past a spraying fountain. Bits of earth flew up and danced all around them.

  Just before they reached the path, a bullet grazed the captain's right shoulder and spun him around.

  'Damn!' he swore angrily, and dived to the ground. Keeping his head down, he looked up for the source of the shots and saw movement behind a series of tall first-floor windows some thirty feet away. With knit brows he emptied an entire clip from his MAC-10 machine pistol and watched the sheets of glass burst and rain down in shards. For an instant there was silence. Then heads popped
out from behind the now glassless windows and streaks of return fire flashed and rattled.

  He tightened his lips grimly. How many terrorists were in that room, anyway? With al-Ameer making his way around alone inside the palace . . . Not very good odds, the captain thought. He reached for one of the firebombs hanging on his belt. After tearing off its shield, he rose in a crouch and hurled it at the gaping window with all his might and then threw himself flat on the ground.

  The explosion came with a thunderous roar. The window frames burst out into the garden in almost lazy slow motion, and chunks of masonry rained down. Inside the room a cloud of yellow-orange fire billowed up the walls. A screaming, flailing human torch staggered to the window and fell out.

  'There,' the captain muttered to himself. 'That should even things out a little.'

  Najib wished he could afford the luxury of searching the palace methodically. Normally, it would have made sense to start on the third floor and work his way down to the first, but the palace was too huge and there were too many rooms and halls and storage areas. A thorough search could take hours, and he did not have hours. He had less than fifteen minutes, and those were running out fast. As it was, unless a major miracle happened, this palace would be his tomb.

  He moved swiftly, drawn by the sound of sporadic gunfire and a rocking explosion from somewhere below. He would check that out first. His instincts told him to disregard the upper two levels and concentrate on the ground floor. That was where all the activity seemed to be centred, and there he might find Khalid and Hamid, and, if he was very lucky, Abdullah as well. All three of them had to be somewhere in this sprawling palace. But where?

  He literally flew down the two flights of marble stairs from the roof, raced down the endless marble corridors of the second floor, tore across the mezzanine above the foyer, and then jumped down the last set of stairs four at a time. The octagonal fountain gurgled and sprayed with mocking aloofness.