Even on a tiny five-inch-square screen, Alexana could see evidence of the anger and frustration that had arisen once again among the people. Steve had caught shot after shot of closeups, bringing the message home.
“Twelve were rushed to the hospital today,” Sam said quietly. “There will be more tomorrow. And more the next day. If you don’t call it quits, al Azeh and Eban will. It would be better if the order came from you.”
Alexana wanted to nod in agreement but stopped herself. There is too much to see … If we could just gain a few more feet in either direction …
“I’ll think about it,” she said in dismissal. She looked around defensively. “I will! Give me at least two more days,” she said, her tone pleading. “Just two more. We’ve not even been in for the two months we planned on. It’s only been six weeks!”
She looked around at the faces of her team members, some pensive, some stricken. Only Jerome seemed to have no visible opinion. She focused on him as she struggled to regain control. “Haidar, tell the digging team that their work is done in two days. Ridge, I trust you can make it public knowledge? That should help alleviate tensions.” She did not wait for his response. “Sam, our paperwork will be done within three weeks.” She raised her head, daring any of them to defy her authority.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Alexana,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
JUNE 15
Sam paced, feeling edgy from a lack of sleep and his sister’s decision to move on. He was further irritated that she still had not arrived. He had given Abu Khadim the go-ahead to start their teams without her and thought longingly of the bed he had dragged himself from early that morning.
An hour later Alexana still had not arrived. When Ridge entered the courtyard on the excavation side of the El Aksa Mosque, Sam hurried over to him. “She’s not with you?” he demanded without preamble.
Ridge looked flustered. “No. She’s not here yet?”
The two men stared at each other, fighting a growing fear. Sam looked around and spotted the Mossad chief. He ran toward him with Ridge at his heels.
The man narrowed his eyes as the big, blond man rushed toward him. Automatically the Mossad chief reached for his side arm.
“Call your men!” Sam demanded.
“What?”
“Call them! The men with Dr. Roarke! Call them!” Ridge yelled.
Seeing the genuine fear in the men’s eyes, the soldier pulled out his cellular phone. Dialing a number from memory, he waited. No one answered.
Ridge closed his eyes and prayed under his breath, “Dear God. Please, God. No. Please be with Alexana. Please let her be safe.”
He opened his eyes, swallowed hard, and leveled his gaze at the soldier. “Call your men outside the house.”
The man nodded once, hit an automatic dial button, and waited.
Again, there was no answer.
The safe house had been discovered.
To Ridge, the events that followed flashed past like a series of fast-forward and slow-motion video shots. Sam called an immediate stop to the dig and oversaw the crew’s exit under heavy guard. Within minutes, Mossad agents stormed the safe house and found the guards dead. Alexana was gone.
Wanting to be where he could be reached the fastest, Ridge accompanied Steve to CNN’s Middle East headquarters. While he waited for Sam to arrive to discuss their next move, Ridge helped his partner edit and file their report, working in a stupor.
A call from a local source interrupted his vigil an hour later. Approximately seventy men—heavily armed and apparently backed by Hamas—had stormed the Temple Mount and seized control from the more moderate Muslims. They blocked any further access to Jews or Christians. Even Muslim worship in the holy mosques was temporarily banned. Jewish faithful dared not approach the Wailing Wall for fear of being shot by snipers high above.
“Ridge, come on!” Steve yelled from across the room. “We’re gonna get scooped! Come on!”
Ridge managed to jog over to him, his feet feeling like lead. “I think you had better team up with someone else for this one, Steve. My mind is on Alexana. Sam’s coming any minute. I can’t think straight, let alone report accurately.”
“Come on!” Steve insisted. “It’s after midnight! By the time I get someone out of bed, the story will be over. Over, man!”
Years of professional training kicked in, sending a new wave of adrenaline through Ridge’s body. The ever-present threat of getting scooped sent his legs into motion when his heart begged him to stay put.
“All right, man!” Steve praised. “Don’t worry. They’ll know where to find you if word comes in about Alexana.”
Ridge stopped at the receptionist’s desk and glowered at the young woman in consternation. “Tell Samuel Roarke where I am. And I don’t care what it takes; if word about Alexana Roarke comes in, get me a message right away. Call me, page me, run there yourself if you have to! Got it?”
“Ridge, leave her alone! Come on!” Steve pleaded.
“Got it?” Ridge shouted, ignoring the cameraman.
“Got it,” the receptionist managed weakly.
Shehab ignored her soft moan and cursed the bright full moon that rose high above. This was not the ideal night to storm the Haram, but they’d had little choice. He kicked the unconscious woman before him, cloaked in the same black cloth worn by all his men. She had pushed them to this.
He had not wanted to disobey Khalil, but their leader had proven to have no backbone when it came to the Roarkes. In order to save the Haram, the pride of all faithful Palestinians, Shehab knew he had to act. Fortunately, his work over the last months had provided him with a solid, if small, army of men willing to defect from Hamas and act for the good of them all.
It had been surprisingly easy to take the woman. Two of his men had been lost in the kidnapping, but none of the Mossad slime were left to tell who had taken her. No one would find her. Shehab allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. Control felt good. This was where Allah wanted him. He was certain of it.
The woman moaned again, and Shehab reached down to yank off the hood that covered her face. She winced as he took several thick locks of hair with it.
Raising her head slowly, she sat up and looked at the east side of the El Aksa Mosque. “Why am I here?” she dared to ask.
But Shehab jammed the butt of his rifle into her shoulder, breaking her clavicle and sending her back into blessed unconsciousness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JUNE 16
By morning every available employee was at CNN headquarters, reporting on events at the Haram. All phone lines were busy. The fax machines spewed urgent messages. Computers buzzed. Keyboards clicked. People seemed to be climbing all over each other, in places sitting three to a desk.
Ridge and Steve made their way through the throng to file their latest report. From across the melee, Jack shouted and waved them into his office. They closed the door behind them, thankful to be able to shut out the greatest portion of the noise.
“Tell me what you’ve got in a hundred words or less,” Jack demanded.
“We’ve basically got the beginnings of World War III on our hands over this, Jack,” Ridge began, his voice heavy with weariness. Alexana. Dear God, please be with her. Alexana, where are you?
“Ridge! McIntyre! Stay with me! This is a lousy time for a nap! Tell me exactly what’s going on!”
Ridge squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide, willing himself to concentrate.
“Two days ago, Dr. Alexana Roarke’s team discussed ending active digging and moving forward only on the paperwork. Their thought was that it might help appease the masses outside and bring some measure of calm to Jerusalem. But Alexana wanted to go on. Just two more days, she said. We aired a clip, telling the world that the end of the excavation was at least near. I had hoped …” His voice trailed off.
Could that clip have sealed her fate? They had shown her disagreeing with the team, urging
them on for a while longer. Could her disappearance be Ridge’s fault? He felt queasy.
His boss swore as Ridge again drifted off into his own thoughts. “McIntyre! McIntyre!”
“That’s it, Steve,” Ridge mumbled. “We made a mistake airing that footage yesterday. We didn’t help Alexana. We set her up. The bad guys heard all about it and decided they couldn’t trust her any longer.”
“Hamas?” Steve asked.
“That wouldn’t make sense. I saw Khalil not too long ago. I think it might be my old contact Shehab with some renegade, fanatical troops he mustered up.”
“More maniacal than normal Hamas?” Jack asked.
“Afraid so, boss,” Steve said.
Ridge covered his face with his hands and thought about Sam. His expression of pure panic the night before had unnerved Ridge all the more. His head pounded, and his eyes swam before him. He took a deep breath and continued. “We’re looking at major consequences,” he said. “So far, the prime minister has received threats of repercussions from Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon. If Israeli troops storm the Haram and take it back, there will certainly be some sort of international response.”
“What if they send in Palestinian troops? Wouldn’t Chairman Arafat agree to the wisdom of that?”
“We’ve been trying to reach his office all day. Hopefully, that will be the answer to this chaos.”
Shehab directed the soldiers to spread out and guard the entire section of the Haram south of the Dome of the Rock. He could not hope to protect the second, beautiful jewel of a mosque with his limited resources. Besides, with the houses that physically bordered the Haram’s northwestern side, there were too many opportunities for ambush. He needed to position himself beyond the long, clear sections that could not be taken without a suicidal rush. By waiting at the southern end, his men could pick off anyone who dared to attack. It was at this location that the holy mosque was in the gravest danger.
He dragged Alexana along the ramp down to the bottom of the dig site. Although she was conscious once again, she was unable to see as they descended into darkness. She followed her captor helplessly, too weak to protest. Two men carrying lanterns followed. As they reached bottom, another hurried over to a jackhammer.
Shehab dumped Alexana at the base of the steps. She gave a fleeting thought to the beggar who had once walked there. Dear God, be with me. Hear me …
“Dr. Roarke!” Shehab shouted back to the limp woman on the ground. His voice echoed in the cavernous stables. “You made a grave mistake by coming here and desecrating the holy mosque’s foundations.”
“But I—”
“Silence! You came here to destroy our hold on the Haram, to take it away from us. But you see we are stronger than you. We will not tolerate your abuse of our holy mosque any longer!”
At his signal, two men grabbed Alexana and chained her to a column in a far corner. As they dragged her into the darkness, she mustered her strength and tried to fight back. But it was no use. She was easily overpowered in her exhausted state. Alexana bit back a scream as her wounded shoulder was yanked backward and her hands bound together. She sank slowly to the cold stone floor.
From high above, voices cheered Shehab onward. Alexana closed her eyes against the nightmare unfolding before her eyes. Two soldiers dragged the jackhammer over to the column that bore the inscription. From her perspective, it looked like the light from above shone on it in a heavenly stream. Sunlight, she supposed. Awkwardly, they raised the tip of the jackhammer toward the ancient words.
“No!” she screamed, seeing their intentions.
“You will see now,” Shehab said, “that we hold the only keys to the Haram. You will not use Christian graffiti to gain access. We will not allow it.” He nodded toward the men, giving them the go-ahead to destroy the inscription. The noise was deafening, each clang of the jackhammer echoing in Alexana’s horrified ears.
She clenched her eyes shut, praying madly. “Please God. This cannot be happening. No. No. We wanted the world to see those words. To find comfort. To find faith. Where are you? Where are you, God? Put a stop to this! Please, God, stop them!”
Alexana opened her eyes, realizing that the jackhammer had indeed stopped and her prayer had become audible, ringing through the high caverns of the stables. Dust billowed up in huge clouds that slowly settled around Shehab and his men. Shehab laughed at Alexana. She ignored him, desperately searching for the inscription with her eyes. But it was gone—blasted to bits by the tip of a single tool.
“Call out to your God all you want, Dr. Roarke. You will die with him here in the stables.” He motioned to the others and walked up the long ramp without looking back.
Within an hour the men above had used the heavy excavation equipment to pull out the long ramp and seal the huge hole. Alexana screamed as a gigantic metal plate was dragged over her only exit, abruptly cutting off her cries.
She was alone in the cold, pitch black of the stables.
And no one outside the Haram knew she was there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Within twelve hours of the takeover, the Temple Mount had been cordoned off for an entire square mile. A large portion of the Old City was evacuated as a precaution against the unlikely possibility that Israeli forces would move in with massive air strikes. Around the world, people sat glued to their television sets, aware that the decision that Middle East leaders made to rectify the situation could easily impact lives as far away as the United States.
The president himself flew in to speak with twelve other national leaders, hoping to help moderate the discussion and usher in a peaceful agenda. Other CNN correspondents covered the story in Tel Aviv while Ridge and Steve stayed on top of the progress—or the lack thereof—at the Temple Mount.
There, the troops remained at a standoff, with Palestinian police positioned in front. The renegades on the Haram seemed less likely to take potshots at Palestinians than they were to shoot at Israeli police. Still, the reprieve did not endear Shehab’s men to the policemen.
Each policeman knew that the radicals’ actions had placed the Palestinians’ tenuous hold on self-rule and efforts toward peace at grave risk. Many depended on their new jobs as policemen to support their families and enjoyed a sense of pride in their position, despite the scorn of many.
“Join us, brothers!” a soldier shouted from the Haram. “Leave your false positions! They never intend to give us what we rightfully own! It has come to this! We must fight for what is ours, even the holy El Aksa Mosque! Or they will quietly steal it away as they do our lands!”
Many of the men shifted uncomfortably at the herald’s words. These were the questions many asked themselves each day: Was Arafat merely a pawn? Had they become pawns themselves? Most important, if it came down to it, could they actually shoot their Palestinian brothers?
Inside the stables Alexana drifted in and out of sleep. Her mouth felt like parchment and her lips were cracking. Desperately she tried to gather enough saliva to swallow, the thought alone a blessed idea, but without success. She knew she had little time left if she did not get anything to drink.
I am not doing well, Father, she moaned in her mind, unable to speak. Please do not let me die here.
Suddenly twenty feet before her, she saw a small stream of light emerge from the inky darkness. Slowly it became brighter and brighter. I’m hallucinating, she thought mournfully. Dear God, save me! Surely this is not a good sign! I’m hallucinating! But the light distracted her from her prayers.
The intensity of the beam hurt her eyes, yet drew her like a magnet drew nails. I need the light, she thought hungrily. It has been hours, perhaps days, since I have seen it … How long? She searched high above to see if the excavation hole had been reopened, if rescuers were near, but she could not ascertain the source. It’s like a beam from heaven …
Looking back at the light stream, Alexana barely saw a figure working at its base. Slowly, the beam dimmed, allowing her vision to clear a little. Yes, he’s work
ing. All at once the image became clear. A man in rags stood twenty feet away, carving an inscription in the column with a hammer and chisel.
A second figure appeared at her side and offered her a hammered, copper ladle filled with blessed, cool water. The ladle smelled of cold metal as Alexana took it to her lips. Water, so fresh it might be directly from a mountain stream, slid over her tongue and down her throat. Before she could raise her head to thank the emissary of light beside her, he was gone.
When she looked to the column, the worker was gone as well. But there on the column was the Aramaic inscription, just as it once was. Alexana gazed at it in wonder, even as the beam of light dimmed to a dull glow and she rediscovered her thirst. Alexana repeated the words over and over, the testimony of the beggar feeding her heart and soul and giving her hope. Then she fell asleep and dreamed of the disciples and the beggar on shadowy steps two thousand years before.
“She’s gotta be inside,” Sam said, looking up to the tiny, walled-off windows that dotted the Haram’s walls. “Think about it. There are precious few of those men up there. They could not afford to send any of them elsewhere, so they took her with them. They figure that there are few archaeologists able or willing to lead such a dig …” His voice trailed away.
“So they’re just going to hole up in the Haram until she dies?” Ridge paced back and forth in front of Sam, dragging one hand through his hair.
Sam met his gaze. “They want two things: to get Sana out of the way and to destroy the inscription. It was too unnerving for them when the Christians demanded access. I’ll bet it pushed your pal Shehab over the edge. While they’re at it, they’d like to gain control of the Haram and to boot out the moderates—”
Sam’s exposition was interrupted by rapid gunfire, and both men dove for a large stone between them and the Haram.
“What’s going on?” Ridge yelled to Steve, who had taken cover ten feet away.
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