Deadly Payload. Don Pendleton

enemies, this region had seen countless acts of terrorism and posturing, from rocket artillery attacks from Lebanon to massed troops on the border with Syria. On the Israeli side of the equation, angry settlers engaged in brutal vigilante violence against native Arabs, murdering and intimidating countless people.

      Kovak had engaged in copious amounts of such intimidating violence until the cowardly government gave in to “peaceful concessions” and gave the land back to the Arabs. Settlers were wrestled and hijacked from their homes. Kovak then realized that the Promised Land had fallen to the forces of evil. He wasn’t the only one, and together, they had formed an unofficial wing of the Mossad called Abraham’s Dagger. Made up of current and former Mossad agents, they took the actions that the government was too weak to commit. Now, hunted by their former comrades, Kovak and his allies were out in the cold.

      Their future involved either jail or a shallow, unmarked grave.

      Kovak’s loyalty to Israel burned away like gasoline under a blowtorch.

      It was time to start over.

      That meant forming an alliance with South American Nazis and anti-communist Chinese rebels, among dozens of other splintered cells, disillusioned and rejected. Alone, none of them could have made much of a difference, just a few minutes of carnage-bloodied footage on the evening news.

      Together, they were the Engineers of the New Tomorrow.

      The world would bathe in blood, and be washed clean by the tide of war.

      Kovak looked at Cortez and nodded grimly. The future would involve strange bedmates, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter. The past was up for execution, and after the chaos, he could see the Dagger and the Nazis as allies. Old hatreds had no place when there was a world to rebuild.

      They would be too busy trying to fight off mutual enemies.

      T HERE WERE TWO GROUPS meeting in the cave when Phoenix Force arrived at their rendezvous. But that was to be expected. Though Israel and Egypt were locked in a “cold peace,” each side watching the other in response to enemy actions, they were at peace, not war. There was a healthy measure of distrust, but there was also a camaraderie between the two nations when it came to fighting terrorism. The same ultraradical Islamic groups that swore to destroy Israel also sought to overthrow the government in Cairo because it was not vehemently Muslim enough, nor willing to crush the tiny nation of Jews to its northeast. Peace talks and diplomacy was a wide-open avenue between the two, and such openness was an anathema to terrorists who wanted nothing less than extermination of a foreign presence in the Arab world.

      In the minds of the Mossad and Egypt’s General Intelligence Directorate, the ancient history that tied Cairo and Jerusalem together was just that—ancient history. A new era called for new responses and allegiances. While the GID had been formed to respond to the Mossad’s attempts to undermine Egypt’s fighting ability against Israel, the threat of terrorists often threw them together as allies.

      “Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?” David McCarter said in greeting at the mouth of the cave. The muzzles of automatic weapons swung in his direction, but the black-and-white checkered keffiyeh dangling in his left hand was the indicator he was an ally. While the keffiyeh was traditional head garb of violent terrorists, holding it like a limp flag in his left hand showed disdain for the cloth in Arab cultural mores. The left was the unclean hand, and primarily holding such a sacred item in a left hand while the right was free was an insult to the PLO and the Fatah movements.

      The muzzles pointed to the dirt.

      “Bring your people in, King,” the Egyptian leader said. “You can call me Mahmoud.”

      McCarter nodded to the Egyptian.

      “I’m Reiser,” the Israeli offered.

      McCarter made a hand gesture to the rest of Phoenix Force. Encizo and James remained just outside the cave entrance, along with pairs of Egyptians and Israelis who served as perimeter guards, and to keep the others inside polite.

      There was tension, but the real concern was an outsider stumbling onto this situation. Considering that most outsiders in the Lebanese countryside were armed members of one of several militia groups, the noise and violence would be considerable, drawing unwanted attention if the alliance didn’t take them down swiftly and silently.

      “Have you heard about the latest situations?” Mahmoud asked.

      “Pakistan and India?” McCarter inquired.

      “Border crossing with troops and air support from these damned drones,” Reiser explained.

      “Troops,” McCarter noted with some surprise. “Any positive identification?”

      “Most likely insurgents who found Iraq too hot to handle,” Mahmoud stated. “Not much was left for identification. They grabbed their wounded when the Indian fire base they assaulted hit back hard. Drones packed with napalm crashed into the Indian compound, killed the troops and destroyed most of the remains of the fallen assault force.”

      “India would love for Pakistan to have made an offensive move,” McCarter commented. “Kashmir has been a sore point between those two for years. It would be the perfect excuse to close it down once and for all.”

      “Trouble is, both sides have nuclear missiles,” Reiser reminded him. “With a billion noncombatants in the subcontinent, that solution might be all too final.”

      “There’s trouble between Georgia and Azerbaijan,” Mahmoud noted. “Venezuela was also attacked. Maracaibo is in flames, literally.”

      “This is much bigger than we thought,” McCarter said. He filled in the Egyptians and the Israelis about the aborted drone attack on Israel.

      “Ex-Syrian paratroopers turned mercenary,” Reiser mused. “Deniable, but that wouldn’t matter much to our government if it had succeeded. Every insult must be answered in kind, which would involve firing a nuclear warhead into a Syrian city.”

      “Even if they were not guilty of this particular offense,” McCarter added. “Because the world has seen that Syria is anything but innocent of malice toward the Israelis.”

      “Just like Colombia and Venezuela are hardly the sweetest of friends, or Pakistan and India, or Georgia and Azerbaijan,” Mahmoud rattled off. “Someone’s taking advantage of deep-seated hostility to start a war or five.”

      “Who and why?” Manning asked.

      “Someone with ambition.” One of the Israelis spoke up. “Couldn’t help with the other option.”

      “Doesn’t narrow the field down much, does it?” T.J. Hawkins quipped.

      “That’s why we’re here,” Mahmoud said. “If we figure this out, perhaps we can head off the main insanity.”

      “Which means China might be next,” another Egyptian said. “It doesn’t seem like there’s a situation that might lead to a nuclear exchange than something involving Taiwan. The Taiwanese don’t have the bond, but the U.S. and Britain do, and they’d need to have that kind of power to take on Communist China.”

      “We’ll keep our eyes peeled in that direction,” McCarter replied. “Good thinking.”

      The Briton’s brow furrowed as he remembered a report from Able Team’s Hermann Schwarz, about cheap knock off electronics from China. He hoped the cyberteam at the Farm would figure out that possible connection in the near future. Otherwise, he’d bring it up at their next scheduled teleconference.

      That was, if this odd alliance survived long enough to report in.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      Barbara Price stared at the screen, not believing what she saw—a submarine from the People’s Republic of China floating, belly-up, like a slaughtered whale, flame and smoke bleeding into the sky.

      “For too long, we have dealt with the hostile ring that the Communists