103

The van barreled out of Mar Maroun, then took 51 south toward the airport.

They were careful to keep their speed just under the legal limit. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over. But when they reached the Salim Salam Mosque, they suddenly veered off the highway and into the parking lot and circled for a moment. The sunrise prayers had taken place at 5:45 that morning, and most of the faithful were gone. There were not many vehicles in the lot, but one of them was ideal. A Toyota HiAce utility van. White but filthy. At least a decade old but still looked dependable. And no windows in the rear or sides.

As they pulled to a stop next to it, Marcus unleashed. “Get off of me—now.”

As everyone else bolted out the front and side doors, Geoff Stone climbed off Marcus’s back. Then he cut the plastic restraints from Marcus’s wrists and ankles. The moment he did, Marcus ripped off the hood. His head and face were drenched with sweat. He was breathing heavy and fighting mad. But he was alive. And astonishingly, he was free.

“Good grief, Ryker, you look terrible,” Jenny Morris said as she looked into the back of the Mazda Bongo at her severely wounded friend.

Marcus couldn’t believe his eyes. “You? I thought . . . How did you . . . ?”

“You left a message at the safe house, remember? You didn’t think we would come get you?”

“I thought someone would, eventually, but how . . . ?” Marcus was having trouble reconciling the sight of his friends with the fear and rage he had felt moments before.

“We were in the neighborhood,” Jenny said. “We figured it was time you stopped playing hostage and started doing some actual work for a change.”

Marcus shook his head. “Then why the attack? I could have killed someone. I tried to, in fact. You stuck a needle in my neck. What . . . ?”

“Relax,” said Stone. “Just saline. We had to make it look authentic, didn’t we? It’s no good if the locals think you were rescued by friendlies.”

“Honestly, we didn’t expect you to put up such a fight,” Jenny said. “Are you all right?”

Marcus was finally starting to put the pieces together. “Just a few flesh wounds,” he said. “Now quit your gawking.”

She smiled. “Good to see you, too. And you’re welcome.”

She tossed him a burnt, ripped, and bloodstained Hezbollah uniform they had taken off one of the bodies back at the compound.

“These the latest fashions?” he asked.

“You got it—all the kids are wearing them.”

Jenny looked away as Marcus stripped to his briefs and gave the orange monstrosity to Geoff, who tossed it aside.

“The jumpsuit was a nice touch if you were going for authenticity,” Marcus said. “But isn’t that al Qaeda’s MO—ISIS, too—not Hezbollah?”

“Shut up, ingrate,” said Jenny, her back to him.

Geoff gave Marcus a package of disinfectant wipes, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a bunch of gauze and bandages. As Marcus patched himself up, Geoff proceeded to give him a series of shots to boost his immunity and stave off infection.

“I suppose it must have added to the spectacle,” Marcus said.

“Certainly did,” Jenny assured him. “You should have seen the look on that priest’s face. Not to mention yours.”

“And those homeless guys,” said Noah as he smashed the driver’s-side window of the Toyota parked right next to them, then set about hot-wiring the engine. “They were in total shock.”

Callaghan, meanwhile, began rubbing dirt on Marcus’s face and slathering blood from a plastic bag over his hands and feet and face.

“Is that real?” Marcus asked.

“’Course it’s real,” said Callaghan.

“It smells real.”

“Because it is.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“It’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah—Jenny drew it while we were coming to get you.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Shut it, Ryker, and let me finish.”

Noah couldn’t suppress his laughter. Nor could Jenny.

Now it was Tomer’s time to weigh in. “Hey, I just got off the phone with the Kirya. They had a drone over the church. Watched the whole thing, and you won’t believe it.”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“Six minutes after we pulled out, two dozen Hezbollah commandos stormed the church.”

“Why?” asked Noah, coming back over to them now that the Toyota’s engine was purring.

“They have no idea,” Tomer said.

“Do you?” Marcus asked.

“Maybe the priest reported to the police what happened,” said the Israeli.

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” said Marcus. “Could one of the homeless guys have—?”

But Jenny, glancing at her watch, cut them off. “Enough of the chitchat, gentlemen—everybody finish up, and let’s hit the road. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

The men did as they were told. Noah smashed out the window on the passenger’s side, to give his work on the driver’s side a little symmetry. Fewer questions that way. Then he brushed out all the glass from both sides into the parking lot, taking care not to leave a single shard inside the Toyota.

Meanwhile, Callaghan, Tomer, and Geoff transferred all their weapons and gear into the Toyota. Marcus put on the camouflage shirt Jenny had given him, then climbed into the back of the Toyota and into a fresh body bag Geoff had laid out for him. Noah gave him a small radio receiver to put in his ear and attached a tiny microphone under his collar. Jenny handed him a loaded Glock 9mm pistol, and Geoff gave him his bowie survival knife.

“Just in case,” Stone deadpanned.

Marcus smiled, then poked several small, discreet air holes into the bag—just along the zipper line and near his neck. Once this was done, he disappeared into the bag. Geoff zipped it up over his face, then worked with the others to position the bag toward the side and back of the Toyota. Next, they proceeded to transfer all the rest of the body bags from the Mazda to the Toyota, positioning them on and around Marcus so that he would be the last bag anyone would be able to check.

Finally Geoff checked on Abdel Rahman and the other live prisoner. Like Ryker, they were potential liabilities as the team tried to clear security at the airport, and it certainly would not do to have them wake up in the middle of an inspection. Geoff unzipped their bags and was relieved to see they were unconscious yet still breathing. He checked their pulses and other vital signs. Then, with Jenny’s approval, he gave them each an additional injection of narcotics, not enough to kill them—not quite—just enough to keep them comatose for another six hours.

When he was done, he slammed the back doors of the Toyota shut, they all piled in the front, and they got on their way.