He saw the recognition on their faces, the woman turning around and shouting something in Hebrew. The uniformed security men began backing up, but the predator remained where he was, his pistol as solid as if part of a granite statue.
The Ghost turned to his captives and said, “Move, but do not let go,” and the three shuffled to the stairs on the right, going down them to the path leading to the bulletproof entrance. The predator matched his stride, the pistol still aimed at his head. Two security men at the personnel entrance backed away, getting clear of the door.
The predator said, “Let them go and you can still get out of here alive.”
The Ghost smiled and said, “It should be patently obvious I’m fullywilling to die. You and I both know if I let them go, you’ll put a bullet in my head. Better to take them with me.”
He kept moving to the door, the predator following. He reached it and said, “This is where you stay. If you follow, the inside of that bulletproof area will have to be cleaned with a mop.”
To the woman, he said, “Pull the door.”
She swung it open and they shuffled inside. He let it close, leaving the predator inside the courtyard. He searched for the man behind the counter, looking for a threat, but he was standing at the back of his cubicle, his hands in the air, slowly shaking his head, silently asking to be left alive.
The Ghost reached the final door and repeated the process of opening it using the woman, and they shuffled to the street. Outside was a gaggle of men, all holding rifles pointed at him. He held up the detonator and they backed away. He searched for Omar but didn’t see him. He cursed under his breath, thinking the coward had fled.
He looked up the block, finding nothing but more security and barricades. He saw a sedan parked just inside the barricades, one of the sawhorses overturned and the vehicle cockeyed, like it had been parked in a hurry. For a split second, he thought it was Omar, but then realized it was a different make of vehicle.
He turned behind him, and beyond another line of barricades, at the corner of the block, he saw the front end of what he believed might be their vehicle.
He turned the entire group around, all of them shuffling awkwardly, and began dragging them down the block, the phalanx of security parting like Moses splitting the Red Sea.
He passed the final barricades and reached the end of the block, seeing Omar behind the wheel of the car, his face red and full of fear.
He said, “Female in the front. Male in the back.”
They entered the car first, and he followed, sitting in the rear. Omar turned around, and with a trembling voice said, “What are we going to do?”
The Ghost said, “Drive to the airport.”
Chapter 67
Shoshana tried to go past me to the bulletproof door and I grabbed her arm. She whirled around, her face a mask of rage, and I said, “Don’t enter. He’s serious about turning everyone into human stew.”
She said, “He orderedyounot to follow. Not me.”
I said, “I’m pretty sure he was speaking about anyone at all when he mentioned me. Wait until someone from the outside says it’s clear.”
The courtyard had calmed down somewhat, with the guests having been rushed into the multistoried building behind the stage like they were evading a tornado. The only thing remaining in the courtyard were the shattered bodies of the dead and the security personnel, and their response was chaotic, to say the least.
The men and women designated to protect the ceremony—some in uniform and others in suits—were all rushing about shouting orders and talking on radios. Each element—from the diplomatic security service for the secretary of state to the prime minister’s personal security to the hired guns for the Jewish center itself—were frantically informing their higher command, but they were working independently of each other. I could tell there would be no immediate coordinated response.
A guy in a security uniform smashed the Ghost’s camera on the ground next to us, exposing the limbs of a crossbow. I looked at it and said, “I told you the Ghost didn’t do any amateur-hour shit. There’s your ‘robo-taxi.’?”
She said, “He’s getting away and you seem content to let him.”
“He might be right outside this wall surrounded by guns in a standoff. I’m not going to exit now and spook him into setting off his vest.”
“What if he’s not? What if they all let him go just like we did?”
“We still have his cell. He’s holding a beacon and doesn’t realize it, but we need a little bit more finesse. We need a scalpel here, not a sledgehammer. If he’s gone, I don’t want to give the location to some local yokels like we saw raid the hotel. Where is the vaunted Kidon team?”
She shook her head and said, “They stood down once the ceremony started. They’re patrolling the exfiltration route to the airport in separate vehicles. Even if we called them, they wouldn’t be able to form a coherent response immediately.”
The bulletproof door opened and four men in uniform toting rifles came barreling through. Shoshana grabbed one and began speaking in Hebrew.
I called Jennifer, saying, “Are you guys still in the hotel?”
“Yes. There’s something on the news about a suicide bomber at the Jewish center. What happened?”
