He rides a motorcycle to Talbiya, faster than a car in Jerusalem’s crowded streets. Back in HQ, Meir Raphael is riding hard on the team.
Back in the war of ’73, while racing to capture the Suez Canal, Ariel Sharon used to say, “Advance. Attack. The logistics will follow, because they must.” This is one of Din Unit’s guiding principles. Logistics will follow, because they must.
And so Bloom advances, betting on logistics following him. Raphael will make sure they do. God help us if he can’t, thinks Bloom.
His commlink lights up.
“Witch Doctor to Lone Indian: We have data on the firecrackers. If purchase order is correct, firecrackers have a two-click wick. Repeat: two-click wick.”
“Lone Indian to Witch Doctor: Copy. What if the wick is longer?”
“We’re fucked,” replies Raphael over Bloom’s commlink.
“Any news on where the campground is?” says Bloom.
“Negative. We’re on it.”
We’re fucked, thinks Bloom.
I should’ve shot him when I had him, he thinks, even though he knows he couldn’t shoot him. Besides, he never really had him.
So he must find the baker’s son in a two-kilometer radius around an unknown, renovated Talbiya house close to the presidential palace.
Fuck.