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Daraa was where the first slaughter occurred, and where the civil war began, the city itself now reduced to rubble, but the fight against the regime continued. In 2018, Russia engendered a cease-fire in the province, the crux of it being that Assad’s men wouldn’t come in, but the rebels had to leave.

The Russians literally bussed the rebel fighters out of the city to other areas in the country, only to have them continue the fight. In the vacuum that was created, Hezbollah, a stalwart defender of Assad, took control. The land now belonged to Iran, even if it wasn’t overtly said out loud. The Americans and the Russians just wanted the shooting to stop, and if that meant Hezbollah seizing terrain, then so be it. The immediate fighting inside the Daraa province was done. The future fight against Israel didn’t factor into the equation.

Until now.

Track suit said, “Did you fight then?”

“Yes, I did. I killed many, many infidels, and I’m here to kill more. My guide Tariq can speak to that.”

Track suit waved his hand and said, “Originally, you were supposed to just train us on the drones. Things have changed. We have orders to prepare to strike the heart of the little Satan, and we don’t know how to get them in the air.”

Surprised, Leonardo said, “Israel? Why? What’s going on there?”

Track suit said, “Haven’t you seen the news? Israel and America are preparing for war against Iran. They’ve created a precondition to destroy the country, and we’ll retaliate from here.”

Leonardo looked at Raphael, who said, “What precondition?”

“They’re blaming our sister militia in Iraq of killing people. Diplomats and others affiliated with the Great Satan. We’ve talked to the men in charge, and they say it’s all a lie. Basically, America and Israel have tried to eliminate the Islamic Republic of Iran for decades, and haven’t been able to do so, so they’re creating conditions to attack through force. We’ll respond from here.”

Raphael heard the words and thought,This is going to work.

Chapter 61

We landed in Beirut, a place where being Israeli wasn’t an asset. Lebanon gave a rat’s ass about the virus, but took a dim view of anyone with an Israeli passport. They weren’t the best-loved members of the neighborhood, COVID be damned. We taxied to the FBO hard stand and I said, “Okay, sorry about this, but you’re going to be flight crew here. Staying with the plane.”

Shoshana said, “Pike, I know what you said on the flight over, but you want me there. Youneedme there.”

I looked at Aaron, who understood where I was coming from. He said, “Shoshana, let it go. Soon we’ll be back in Israel, and it will be Pike asking to continue.”

Which wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but he was speaking the truth. My being in charge of our little team had always been based on consensus, and that had been bent at every moment. Aaron and Shoshana followed me out of deference, not command. Israel, which is where we where going next, would break it. No way would I be able to claim team leader when we hit the ground in Israel, where the Mossad was paying for the hunt. I wasn’t sure what to do about that yet, since I also answered to the Taskforce.

One bridge at a time. Right now, I had to become the undercover diplomat for the United States of America, having received a back-channel message from the president of the United States. It was short and sweet, basically saying, “We don’t think it’s you. Don’t cause a war.” And now I was supposed to pass that along.

The pilot opened the door, letting the stairs down, and I leanedforward, pecking Shoshana on the cheek. I said, “If I could take you, I would. Because I trust you.”

Her eyes went wide at the gesture. Aaron smiled and she looked up at me in a new light, saying, “Okay, Nephilim. I trustyou. We’ll see you soon.”

Jennifer grinned at the exchange, and Shoshana flicked her head to Knuckles, saying, “So you’ll take him instead?”

I started walking to the front of the aircraft, saying, “Yeah, might be meeting a female. You never know.”

Jennifer, Brett, Knuckles, and I exited the aircraft, went through customs and immigration, and were let loose in the city. I gave instructions for the team to get some rental cars and dialed my phone, waiting with a little trepidation.

Samir al-Atrash was a member of the Druze sect in Lebanon. I’d trained him and his men a long, long time ago as a member of the Lebanese Defense Force’s special operations component. Since then, he’d drifted a little bit, becoming bitter after the 2006 war with Israel, to the point that he’d become disillusioned with the LAF and had left the service.

A few years ago, I’d contacted him for some help tracking down a terrorist threat, and he’d helped out—but not before I’d been captured by Hezbollah and had one of my fingers cut off.

Jennifer had saved me from a much worse fate, using him and his men, and when I’d seen him, I was sure he’d set me up. I’d almost killed him then in a blind rage. At that moment in time, I wanted to beat him to death, but Jennifer had convinced me that it wasn’t a betrayal from Samir. I’d spared his life, but it hadn’t been pleasant. And now I was going to ask for his help.

The phone rang through and I heard his voice. I said, “Samir? It’s Pike Logan.”

He said, “The last time I heard from you, we almost had a civilwar here in Lebanon. And now, it looks like we’re headed for the same thing, only this time it’s war with Israel.”

I chuckled and said, “The last time I was here, I prevented a civil war. I’m trying to do the same now. Did you get the information I asked for?”

“I did, but it’s not as easy as you think.”

“All I need to know is where that guy is. He’s got some killers with him who are about to turn your world upside down.”