End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(113)
He chuckled and said, “Okay, Pike, we’re on it.” He paused a second, talked to someone else away from the handset, then said, “And I’ve got your grid. The phone is no longer on the network, but the last location was on Highway Four, outside of Acre, Israel. Does that help?”
I looked at Shoshana, saying, “I have no idea.”
She said, “He’s north. He’s headed to the border.”
Chapter 73
Garrett continued driving faster than was necessary on the highway, looking above him every few minutes for a strike from a circling drone—a fear only someone who had engendered such death would wonder about. Eventually, he realized he was traveling faster than the speed limit, and slowed down. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by some roving police patrol.
He kept checking his iPhone for a signal, and was routinely rebuffed, making him curse the fact that he had destroyed his satellite phone. Sooner or later he would reach a town or city, as the highway was the main north-south road. He was sure that Israeli phones worked throughout the country, and regretted not spending the money on a local one. His cell was from Rome, and apparently, his service didn’t transfer, which had the potential to cause the death of the entire mission.
One more single point of failure he should have seen. He’d avoided them one time after another, from the killings of the women to the Palestinian identification for Michelangelo, but now they were so close to success. So close.
He began praying, begging God to help him on his quest, just like Abraham had when he’d traveled to sacrifice his son. Just like Moses when he’d spent the time in the wilderness. Just like he’d done in Syria when they’d mutilated him, and he’d come out pure. He was pure, and he knew it. Felt it.
He saw a signal on his phone, his prayers answered. He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, not wanting to lose it. He checked the connection, saw he had enough for Zello, and initiated the application, saying, “Mikey, you there?”
Michelangelo answered immediately, saying, “Yes, I’m here. What’s happening?”
“You need to initiate the attack. Do it now.”
There was a pause, then, “What happened to Raph and Leo?”
“They’re gone. Execute the attack and I’ll meet you back in Tel Aviv for the flight out.”
He heard a pause, then, “What happened?”
“I don’t know, but they were stopped. It’s just you and me now. We’re the only ones standing.”
“Okay, okay, I’m on the way.”
The manner in which he said it gave Garrett concern. He said, “What do you mean, you’re on the way? You mean you’re on the way to the Temple Mount? Is that it?”
“No, I mean I’m on the way to Jerusalem. I’m still at the hotel.”
Garrett wanted to throw the phone through the windshield. He said, “Are you still in Tel Aviv? I told you to go to Jerusalem this morning.”
Hearing the accusation in Garrett’s voice, Michelangelo said, “Yeah, that was before the damn sun had risen. I had to shower, eat, and get packed. I’m going, I’m going. I didn’t know this was time sensitive.”
Through gritted teeth, Garrett said, “Get your ass there, plant the explosives, and get out. There are people hunting us. You need to go—now!”
He heard a scrambling of feet, then, “Okay, sir, I’m on it. I’m on the way.”
Garrett pulled back onto the highway, knowing he was going to leave Michelangelo to his fate. He would not be meeting him in Tel Aviv. His only solution was to get to Lebanon, and he knew where to do that.
At the very tip of this highway was a place called the Rosh Hanikra Grottoes, a tourist site where people could go underground to see the sea wash inside. It also held an old railway system that connected Lebanon to Israel through the tunnels carved by the ocean and the original British Mandate, built before Israel existed as a country. He’d visited it once and seen how the tunnels worked, even walking down the railway of one tunnel through the splashing water until he was told to turn back by the tour guide.
The connection between the two countries had been closed decades ago, but it existed. He didn’t know how he would penetrate it, but it was the closest escape. The crossing to Lebanon on the above-ground section of Rosh Hanikra was a nonstarter, as it was heavily fortified by the IDF, but the tunnels underneath weren’t patrolled. If it didn’t pan out, he’d reassess, maybe trying to go south, to the Eilat crossing point and into Egypt.
He checked his watch, wanting to do a reconnaissance before he tried to penetrate in the night.
I hit the gas on our vehicle, pulling out onto the highway at a rate of speed that was most definitely not allowed.
I said, “Call Jennifer and Aaron. Tell them to get ready. I don’t know where the lost Turtle is going, but the guy we’re chasing does.”
She nodded, staring at me intently. I said, “What?”
She glanced away, embarrassed. She dialed the phone and said, “You believe. You think he’s bringing about Armageddon, like I said all along. That’s all.”
I said, “I think he’s a lunatic killer that almost started a war, and he’s still on the loose. And he’s got some other nutjob out there. Is that good enough?”