CHAPTER 18

PRESENT DAY ISRAEL

Before she could think it through, Tassie was back on a plane and changing into a burka. How did I not escape? I think I’m so smart. Not so. She could overhear Omar on his phone.

As the plane paused in its taxi along the runway preparing for takeoff, Tassie watched a plane unloading onto the tarmac. A young man looked her direction and Tassie almost fainted. It was Jethro, her distant cousin, grandson of Uncle Luney. Dressed in a suit coat and khaki pants, he looked so official. He was dressed nicely at the funeral, but now he looked almost in charge. Other people were handing him items and taking his luggage for him.

A car pulled up and a man stepped out and shook Jethro’s hand. People began placing his luggage in the trunk. The man from the car turned and Tassie began to cry. It was her brother, Rube. How could this be? Why were they in Israel? Twenty minutes previous they might have seen her, but now she was in a burka, leaving in a plane. Twenty minutes ago, she could have called to them, run to them.

Now they would not see her or notice her, let alone recognize her. Were they here to rescue her? Mother must have called Rube, but how did he know to come to Israel? The Goldmans? No? Not enough time. Wait, Rube’s an IT guy. Perhaps he could have tracked her phone. The tears almost engulfed her vision. She wiped the tears and put her hand on the window. Omar was paying no attention.

Jethro pointed her way, and in what seemed slow motion, Rube turned. He looked directly at the window and leaned forward. Rube placed a hand over his eyes to shield the sun and stared. Tassie waved and blew a kiss, all the while sobbing, trying to hold it in so Omar would not hear. Rube swiped his phone and began talking into it. He walked and then ran toward the plane.

What can he do? We are moving. We are leaving. Tassie’s eyes hurt. She blew out her breath and covered her mouth with her hand. Twice now a chance to escape gone. The plane picked up speed and raced down the runway, leaving Rube and Jethro and rescue behind, and taking Tassie in a burka to a future she could not bear thinking about.

The grief engulfed Tassie’s mind and she felt herself shut down. The world, the airplane, disappeared. Darkness descended on all that she was.

I am done, I have failed at that for which I was purposed, but I never understood or accepted that purpose anyway. Perhaps I can just kill myself. I should let Rube or the Goldmans know so no one looks for me. I have set them up for danger. Danger.

Danger is real. Mother was right. Forgive me. Someone, please forgive me. God, Jesus, please forgive me. I have failed. I will die. Please don’t let anyone else be hurt or killed.

The darkness became a fog. It was almost worse than the darkness, because it seemed that she should be able to see, but she could not. It was hard to breathe. Perhaps she was dying. If so, she should just yield to it. Why did she resist? She’d failed. She deserved death.

There were no tears now. She would be brave. No, not brave, just accepting.

“Tassie, everyone deserves death. Everyone has failed.”

Tassie heard the voice and looked around. Too foggy. Gray air. Rotten, moist smelling air. No life. Dead.

What? Everyone deserves death? Then why is anyone alive? She closed her eyes and slumped into the seat. Cradling her face in her hands, she let the tears begin again.

“Tassie, look at me.”

Tassie blew out air from her cheeks and slightly shook her head. Well, Omar is here to kill me now. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed it will just be over.

“Tassie, please look at me.”

Please? What? Already it seemed hard to lift her eyelids. I can’t open my eyes. Don’t make me. Just kill me.

“I am not here to kill you, but to show you life.”

What? Tassie’s eyes flew open. What? That voice. She recognized that voice. But who did it belong to? The fog ran through her mind. Focus left. She tried to catch it. I know that voice. Who is it? Where is it?

“Tassel.”

Tassie whirled her head and looked across the aisle. There sat Hector Woodley in the fog. He had a strange light about him.

“Oh, Hector, don’t tell me you are God.” Perhaps I’ve already died.

“No, Tassel, only a messenger.” He smiled that almost toothless grin, and the warmth crossed the aisle and wrapped itself around her.

“Am I alive?”

“You are, but only physically.”

“What do you mean?”

The fog thinned and there was light in the cabin of the aircraft. Tassie could see Omar in the distance, still on the phone, but it seemed he was in a movie, not real, just visible to her.

“I mean it is time to receive forgiveness and live.”

“I don’t deserve that. I have failed.”

“Everyone has failed. No one deserves forgiveness.”

“Well that’s a happy thought, Hector. And I thought perhaps you had good news.” I guess I am still alive. My cynicism has returned.

“But God, in His great love for us all, sent us His Son as a provision to die in our place, that we might walk in newness of life.”

An electric pulse began in Tassie’s shoulders and traveled to her toes. Her mind snapped clear. Truth filled her thoughts. She was a lawyer. She always sensed that she could discern truth in a courtroom, in people. Somehow, she had remained clueless in terms of truth for herself. Now, she could see. The fog was gone from her mind.

The rabbi, the Goldmans, were right. Jesus was the Messiah. Wait. Jesus is the Messiah. He is my Messiah. He gave His life for me because He loved me. He still loves me. How can it be? Tears once more poured from her eyes.

“Hector?” Tassie’s voice was soft. It was full of respect. She had only talked with disdain to this man, the messenger of God Almighty, blessed be He. “I believe. I receive Jesus as my Messiah, as my Lord. He died for me. I’m free. I’m forgiven. Forgiven. Thank you, Hector. Forgive me for my ugly attitude.” Her eyes looked at his. “Thank you, for visiting my mother before I was born.”

Hector smiled. “Praise God, Tassie. But now, this time will seem like a dream as it seemed to your mother. The fog will lift. I will be gone. Omar will be talking on his phone. In his mind, you have been asleep all this time.” Hector chuckled. “That’s because he hears you snoring. He will continue to consider you asleep, but you will be alert, more observant than you’ve ever imagined in the courtroom. Listen to his every word. Remember them. You will not die. You did not fail. You needed to remain with Omar to hear these plans. Listen, Tassie, listen.”

“Jethro, get to the Goldmans and find out what they learned. I am already finding out where this plane is going. I’ll get back to you later.”

Rube trotted toward the terminal. His phone rang. Swiping it, he answered. “Jared, Jethro is here, but we just saw a plane leave. We’re quite sure we saw Tassie on the plane and assume Tugani is with her. I’m heading toward the terminal to find out where the plane is going. Could blow my cover, though.”

“Rube, Jethro already sent us the picture, the video, he took of the plane. Got the info.”

“Whaaat?” Rube stopped and caught his breath.

“Jethro’s good. The flight is scheduled to return to Damascus. The names are not authentic, but, you’re right, it’s most likely Tugani. And it is Tassie in the window. She’s crying, Rube.”

“Oh, man. How did this happen?” Rube bent over, placing one hand on his knee. The steam on the tarmac lifted and increased the perspiration on his face. “Okay, Jared, what now?”

“Get yourself over to the museum where the relic is kept. We’re getting some chatter about an IDF soldier there getting a take on Tugani’s phone. They were considering shooting down the plane. Frank is handling it, and talked them down, and Jill’s dad is here, too. Jill will run interference with your folks. If this continues, she may have to reveal your CIA involvement.”

“Yeah, I know.” Another car arrived as the first had left with Jethro. Rube climbed in and gave instructions to go to the museum.

Rube showed his CIA identification to the IDF that met him at the door.

“Right this way, sir.” The man ushered Rube into a small interior room. Just before entering, Rube glanced to his right.

“Is that it, the relic with the tassel? Is that it?” He walked toward it, eyes wide.

“Sir, it is, but let’s look at it later.”

Rube pulled his gaze from the bottle, and nodding his head, followed the soldier into the small room. Three more IDF greeted him.

“We got a take on Tugani’s phone. He was about to take a picture, and we stopped him. James, here, grabbed the phone out of his hand and must have hit a button for when he glanced down just before returning it to the man, there were three texts.” The soldier smiled. “It was good that it was James. He had our new copy chip strapped to the palm of his hand. He didn’t have Tugani’s phone long enough to get everything, and it took a while to get through his firewalls and encryptions, but what he did get was a gold mine and we sent it to the Mossad.

“One text was one of the five Gitmo prisoners recently released by the U.S. in exchange for a prisoner of war. Apparently, the guy is a cousin of Tugani. The second one was from The Ghost, the mastermind of the ISIS raid on Iraq. He was informing Tugani of the progress. Just on that alone, we scrambled jets to take him out, as the third text indicated that his plane was ready and waiting for him here in Tel Aviv.

“Upon informing the U.S., your lead man, Jared, requested a stand down through his operative, Frank, based on the U.S. citizen, your sister, on board that plane. Sir, there is no question that her life is in great danger. Tugani is a major player here. The texts seem to indicate that he is not just an informant but a decision maker, and these people are reporting to him. At first, we thought he was an info gatherer for ISIS. But as the back story is coming in, his family runs the Syrian part of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.

“As you may already know, ISIS plans to establish an Islamic Caliphate for the States of Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, and Israel. They are brutal and superstitious. They think the relic will give them extra powers, and if your sister is the namesake, they may feel she will serve them in some capacity. I fear to consider how. Perhaps they will return for the relic. Forgive me, sir, but they may sacrifice her for the relic or for some superstitious ritual for power.”

Sweat poured from Rube’s forehead and ran into his eyes. Wiping it with his hand did not stop it.

“Sir, perhaps you should not be here. I understand another man from the States familiar with the case of the relic and all the religious underpinnings is here as well. Perhaps he should be the point man.”

“He’s our cousin. I thank you for your consideration, but we are here, and we will perform. I trust all of you will remain involved. Please let us or Jared know whatever you need.”

“Yes, sir. I believe your cousin has arrived.”

One of the IDF soldiers opened the door. Rube did not get up but turned in his chair. Jethro stood one foot from the relic, stooped to look eye level at the tassel. He turned his head. “It’s amazing, is it not? May I handle it, albeit carefully.” He stood up and attempted to take the little boy admiration off his face as he saw the soldiers standing in the office and Rube appearing not well. “I’m sorry. I just, well . . . never mind. Forgive me.” He walked over to the IDF. “I’m Jethro Winkelman.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier shook his hand. “I’m Jonas Samuel. James, go ahead and let Mr. Stevens and Mr. Winkelman see the relic. They are part of the family that brought it to us.”

Rube stood and patted Jethro on the back. “They just debriefed me. It’s pretty bad. But let’s see the relic.”

The bell jar was removed, and the relic was carefully handed first to Rube. He gingerly held it, turning and noting everything. He counted the knots in the tassel as he handed it to Jethro.

“Your sister counted the knots, too.” James smiled.

Rube shook his head. “When we were kids, I really teased her about her name. I told her that a real tassel had k-n-o-t-s but she had n-o-t-s. Not pretty, not smart, not nice.”

Jethro nodded. “I remember that drove her crazy, and then she’d call you a Rubik’s Cube and threaten to rearrange your face.”

“She did sometimes. She’s a fighter.” Rube’s face fell. “Maybe she can survive this.”

Jethro returned the bottle to the pedestal. “Thank you so much. This is an honor, but now what?”

“Let’s return to the office.” James, Jethro, and Rube each found a seat in the small room jam-packed with papers and file boxes. The lead soldier, Jonas, sat down behind the desk. His square shoulders and his direct brown eyes displayed professionalism and respect. There was no question that he was in charge.

“We are getting more intel. Mossad has further infiltrated Tugani’s cell phone and we are quite certain he is unaware. He has revealed nothing about the hostage, excuse me, your sister, Tassie. He is planning high-level meetings in Syria. He has connections with Lemkrof, with released terrorists from Gitmo, and with ISIS. He is a powerful man.”

“Are we going after him?” Rube sat on the edge of the chair. Tassie was at the mercy of a monster.

“I am.” Jethro’s eyes met Rube’s. “I’ve been on the phone with Jared, Frank, and even Jill’s dad. You perhaps didn’t know I’ve done a lot of field work. Jared wanted that time with me, not so much for the prophecy timeline. He already knew that. He wanted to get me ready in case something of this sort happened. Thankfully I saw and actually got the video of Tassie. And I talked to the Goldmans.”

“Tell me. How was she when she was with them? Did he show his hand?”

“He did, in his disdain. They saw the pleading in her eyes and the steel in his, but they had no idea it was anything so serious. They just felt he was not very fond of the Jewish mindset, but that he really cared for Tassie. They thought they were just picking up on a basic disagreement between them concerning faith. And, they assumed he was simply a secular Jew, not a Muslim. When the soldier took his phone, the Goldmans were a bit afraid, saw real anger, but again had no idea.”

Jonas stood up. “All right, Jethro is going to Syria with a Mossad operative.”

Rube felt himself shaking. Pull yourself together, man. It’s your sister, but you can handle it. She can handle it. She can. She’s a Stevens. She’s tougher than me. We’re of Columbus stock. Rube realized his eyes were closed and his face rested in his hands with his elbows on his knees. He opened his eyes. Jethro and the soldier were looking at him.

Rube clapped his knees with his hands. “Okay, Jethro and a Mossad agent. Name?”

“Esras.” Jonas smiled. “And he’s my cousin, so Rube, you and I will be the info and intel guys here, keeping tabs, monitoring, and ready to go if need be.”

“Is there a plan?”

Jethro and Jonas exchanged looks. Jethro stood up. “Rube, I’m taking the relic and am going to set up an exchange. Tassie for the relic.”

“Wait. You do that, they’ll kill her and you. They’re ruthless, Jethro. Have you heard what ISIS is doing? They round up soldiers, cut off their heads, shoot them, and then post the video. They have kids using Uzis. He has no use for Tassie unless he thinks she can come back here and get the relic.” Rube realized he was yelling.

Jethro put his hand on Rube’s shoulder. Rube pushed it off. “Rube, it probably won’t be a direct exchange, but that’s the end result. We have some contacts there. They will be told I stole it or purchased it from someone who did. I know all the details here, so Tugani can’t fool me with the minutiae of the place and background. We hope to sell it for a handsome price and in the meantime, free Tassie.”

“Things don’t always go as planned.” Rube ran his hand over his face.

“That’s true. That’s why you will be here, monitoring every step. And that’s why we need to go now.” Jethro reached out and shook Rube’s hand. “We’ll get her, Rube. I’ll have the relic of God’s blessing with me.”

Rube pinched the bridge of his nose. “But once they have the relic, you won’t have it.”

“True, but we’ll get her, and we’ll get back.”

Tassie listened. Amazed, she could hear herself lightly snoring. She settled back in her seat and focused her mind and ears on Omar’s conversation. Her hands rested on the heavy fabric of the black burka. Not exactly my little black dress or my black power suit, but somehow, I sit in a powerful place right now.

Omar sat in the front near the pilot’s cab. His elbows were on his knee and one hand was on his chin. The other hand held the phone close to his ear. He nodded and shook his head. Occasionally he cast an eye toward Tassie, and even though she could see and hear him, he basically ignored her presence, somehow convinced she was asleep.

“No, that won’t do. I don’t care how long it takes. If they abandoned the weapons, I want them gathered. Most of them are American and we need their technology. This is not a short plan. We are in this for the long haul.” There was a pause. Omar rubbed his eye while he listened.

“My cousin that just got released from Gitmo . . . Yes, get in touch with him in Qatar. He’s already contacted me. They’re already back on board. They can run interference and help ISIS map out the strategies. I know Baghdad is tough, but we can secure borders all around. He has some ideas on how to deal with Iran. America thinks Iran backs Al-Jamal in Iraq, but we have a lot of sleeper cells in Iran.”

Omar stood and stretched. He grabbed a bottle of water, took a swig, and sat down. He waved his hand at one of his nearby men. The man walked past Tassie, paused to look at her, and went on. Shortly he returned with a plate of cheese, nuts, and grapes and set it on the tray table next to Omar.

“The Gitmo guys, one of them has connections in Iran. They’ll get in touch with them . . . true, our calls would be suspicious. Let Lemkrof know that we have Russians in Iran and Iraq, as well as Syria. Tell him they have contacted us for assistance.” Omar laughed. “Of course, I know, but what does it matter . . . if we tell Lemkrof, he’ll believe us. All he needs is a ‘concern’ and he will act. Getting Russia’s military moving our way will totally confuse the Americans. They have no idea who to work with right now, Sunni or Shia, Russia or Ukraine, so they do nothing. It’s perfect.”

Omar leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Let’s activate all the separatist cells in Ukraine. If they’re shooting down planes . . . or the Russian military is shooting them down . . . what difference does it make? The Ukrainians will fight back and then Lemkrof can move in. So can we. Now, the Czech Republic is the only one who is gathering troops on their borders. They stand with the U.S. and unfortunately with Israel, not Hamas. We need to step up our plans to get in the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Lemkrof is too slow on that, but if we can rally even a few Russian Jews or any pro-Russian citizens, we can get Lemkrof or our own people in there to ‘assist’.”

Omar stood and sat down in a different seat. “Patience. We will attack the U.S. all in good time. Right now, we need them confused and arguing about everything and accomplishing nothing. Their president thinks he should just be able to do what he wants with his pen, with no Congress or anyone to stop him or slow him down. He has effectively thrown the economy and the whole country into a tailspin. Like I said before, we need to act before the next president takes over. But right now, we need to focus on the Middle East and Eastern Europe.”

Omar stood up and walked the aisle. He paused next to Tassie and stared at her for a few seconds. Tassie could hear herself lightly snoring still and marveled. She wanted to smile but did not dare.

“Yes, yes, I almost forgot. We need to get out the information that Israel is finding good sources of oil . . . I know, who would’ve thought. However, that gives Russia another reason to go after Israel . . . for their oil. We need to find a few more Russians that will say Israel has not fulfilled their promise of prosperity to them and Lemkrof could almost take care of Israel for us. So, let ISIS know I said to get all the weapons they can and secure all borders out of Iraq, contact my cousin for more strategies to get those borders and to contact our people in Iran. Lemkrof needs to know there are abused Russians in all places, and that Israel is stealing their oil. What? Tell them you have proof that their oil reserves are connected to Russia’s. And, let Lemkrof know again we might consider sharing our chemical weapons with him . . . right, or use them in exchange for a few favors.”

Omar hit the end button on his phone. After taking a few more bites of cheese, he rubbed his eyes, glanced back at Tassie, and pulled out his laptop.

“Boss, weren’t you going to send those American weapons into Israel?”

“Yeah, my Gitmo cousin is going to get some of them into Israel, and he has some American contacts that he’ll also move into Israel. In addition, he’s going to run some interference on the possible search and rescue of the woman here.” He nodded toward Tassie. “She’ll draw some Americans, perhaps Israelis, looking for her. We can take out some key people in Israel and then leave some dead Americans with the American weapons as evidence. That will increase suspicion and distrust between Israel and the U.S. which works for us.” He crossed his arms and pulled his shoulders back. “The plan is working quite well.”

At that, Omar focused on his laptop and seemed engrossed in whatever information it held the rest of the flight. Tassie felt the strange sleep lift as they touched down in Damascus. She had heard every word and actually watched though she appeared asleep to her captors.