Crescent Dawn

A minute later, her cell phone vibrated, and she answered, speaking animatedly in Hebrew.

“It was Sam,” she said after hanging up. “He was in an auto accident.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yes. Apparently a van filled with Christian pilgrims missed a turn and drove into him. He’s okay, but his car is wrecked. He thinks a few elderly tourists might be injured, so it’s going to take a while to clean up. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to get here for another hour.”

“Then I guess we better start without him,” Dirk replied, opening the door and climbing out of the car. Sophie followed him, opening the trunk and removing a pair of night vision binoculars, which she strung around her neck. Then she leaned over and opened a large leather case that was lying flat in the trunk. Inside was a weathered, government-issue Tavor TAR-21 assault rifle. Sophie slid in a fully loaded clip and chambered the first round, then slid the weapon over her shoulder.

“Armed for bear this time, I see,” Dirk remarked.

“After Caesarea, I will always be better armed,” she said, her voice filled with resolve.

“Why not let the Shin Bet handle the stakeout if you suspect the Lebanese smugglers are involved?”

“I considered that,” she replied, “but the tip was rather flimsy. We’re most likely dealing with some ragtag teenage pothunters who probably won’t even show up.”

“That would be all right with me,” Dirk said with a wink as he grabbed her hand.

They crossed the road and hiked down the embankment that spilled into the cemetery. Sophie stopped and sca

“We need to move farther down,” she said quietly.

They hiked another dozen yards down the slope, stopping at a low rise that offered an unobstructed view of nearly the entire cemetery. Around them, the Muslim flat stone graves glimmered white under the moonlight like an array of displaced teeth scattered about a sand-colored blanket. Sophie took a seat on a stone ledge and carefully surveyed the lower grounds with her night vision glasses. She spotted a few kids playing a late-night game of soccer on the other side of the Western Wall, but the cemetery itself appeared deserted. She was sca

“You are distracting me from my work,” she protested lightly, then placed a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him passionately.

They embraced for several minutes until a faint shuffling sound disrupted their intimacy. Sophie quickly gazed down the hill again.

“Three men with large backpacks,” she whispered. “Two of them appear to be carrying shovels or possibly weapons, I can’t tell.”

She put down the binoculars and looked up the hill. “We need Sam,” she said with frustration.

“He’s still a half hour away,” Dirk said, glancing at his watch.

The sound of the three men’s steps grew louder as they trudged up the center of the cemetery. Sophie unholstered her Glock pistol and handed it to Dirk.

“We’ll make the arrest,” she whispered. “Then I’ll call the Jerusalem police to take them in.”

Dirk nodded in agreement as he took the pistol, checking to see that it was loaded. They crept from their spot, moving slowly down the hill. They followed the larger grave markers for cover, which gradually carried them to their right. Approaching a raised tomb that offered concealment, they inched along its high back side, then kneeled down and waited.

The minutes ticked by slowly as the three purported grave robbers worked their way closer. Sophie quietly clipped her flashlight to the barrel of the Tavor, then held perfectly still as the men trudged by a few feet away. She nodded to Dirk, then suddenly sprang to her feet. Leaping behind the men, she clicked on the flashlight, then shouted in Arabic, “Stop! Hands in the air!”

The three men turned and froze at the sudden ambush, squinting as Sophie played the light’s beam on their faces. Two of the men, each holding an AK-74 pointed at the ground, glared at her with menace. One of them was short, shabbily dressed, with droopy eyes, who Sophie recognized as Hassan Akais, the subject of the tip. The second was equally dirty, distinguished by a prominently bent nose. It was the third man, however, who sent a shiver down Sophie’s spine. Clearly the leader of the trio, he calmly stared back at her with probing eyes that danced above a deep scar on the right side of his jaw. It was the same face that had glared at her in Caesarea, leading the assault that killed detective Holder.

Sophie’s hands trembled in recognition, causing the flashlight’s beam to flicker about the terrorist’s face. Sensing her hesitation, Akais quickly and silently swung his weapon up to bear on Sophie. As his finger reached for the trigger, a loud shot echoed through the cemetery. A splotch of red materialized on the gunman’s wrist as a 9mm slug tore through his forearm.

The man winced in pain, letting go of the trigger while grabbing his bloodied arm with his free hand. He looked up blankly at Sophie before spotting Dirk standing a few steps to her side, an automatic pistol extended in his hands at arms’ length.

“Throw down your weapons or I shall aim a bit higher next time,” Dirk commanded.

The other Arab, who wore a long, straggly beard, quickly shed his AK-74, but the wounded man didn’t move. He stared at Dirk with hatred in his eyes. Then suddenly his face softened, and he gritted his teeth in a defiant smirk as his gaze shifted past Dirk’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid it is you who shall throw down your weapons,” came a hardened female voice from the darkness. “Place your hands in the air where I can see them.”

Dirk turned toward the voice to find a short-haired woman standing directly behind Sophie with a pistol pointed to the back of her skull. He saw she was dressed in dark, casual clothes, but had her own night vision goggles perched on her forehead. Dirk felt another presence, and he craned his neck slightly to see the shadow of another man in the darkness with a raised gun aimed at his own head.

Sophie gave him an apologetic look as she lowered her Tavor to the ground. With little choice, Dirk smiled i

46

Dirk and Sophie were marched at gunpoint up the side of the hill and into the narrow passageway. Like the Arab terrorists that followed them, they were startled at the sight of the huge quarry that awaited on the other side, now illuminated by the pale glow of several lanterns. Sophie had visited Zedekiah’s Cave on several occasions and was astonished to find another, equally expansive quarry situated beneath the Temple Mount. Her awe turned to fear when she spotted the bloodstained body of al-Khatib lying facedown beside one of the lanterns. Her fear was only enhanced at her recognition of the Arab terrorist leader.

“The tall one… he led the attack at Caesarea,” she whispered to Dirk.

Dirk nodded, already aware that the well-armed contingent was after something more important than an old grave or two. The Janissary prodded them to a low stone ledge, where they took a seat, under gunpoint, near the dead Palestinian. Maria ignored them as she gathered the heavy backpacks from the three Arabs.

“This is the entire quantity?” she asked Zakkar.

“Yes, all twenty-five kilos are there, with fuzes and detonators,” the Arab replied. He gazed up at the high ceiling. “Do you aim to blow up the Dome of the Rock?”

Maria looked at him coldly. “Yes, and the al-Aqsa Mosque. Do you have a problem with that?”

The Arab shook his head. “You will cause great anger in our lands. But perhaps it will result in the greater good of Allah.”

“There will be a greater good,” Maria replied sharply.