Free Covenant by Dean Crawford Page A

consular section in the nearby Migdalor Building, the embassy was home to Ambassador Jeb Cutler, a buoyant Arkansan with a long history of diplomatic wrangling who welcomed them into the conference room as though it were his own living room.
    “Ms. Morgan, welcome to Tel Aviv.”
    Cutler was middle-aged, his features creased by the years of worry that marked the career politician, but his brown eyes danced with genuine delight.
    “Thank you for seeing us, ambassador,” Rachel said.
    “It’s Jeb,” he insisted. “I’m glad that you’re here, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”
    Cutler turned and gestured to a wiry little man in a neatly pressed suit who stood behind a table dominating the room. Ethan looked on as Rachel was introduced to Shiloh Rok, a representative from Israel’s Foreign Ministry.
    “Welcome, Miss Morgan,” Rok murmured, then glanced over Rachel’s shoulder at Ethan. “I believed that you were traveling alone.”
    “This is Ethan Warner,” Rachel said. “He has come to help me here in Israel.”
    Cutler’s handshake was firm and dry, but Ethan saw an undercurrent of unease rippling like a cloud shadow behind Rok’s eyes as he watched them. The Israeli reminded him of a bird of prey, hawkish and alert.
    “Come,” Cutler said, “let me pour you a drink. Iced tea? Cola? We’ve much to discuss.”
    Rachel wasted no time, speaking as soon as Cutler had handed her a glistening glass of Coke and ice as they sat down around the table.
    “Has there been any word at all from Lucy?”
    “Alas, no,” the ambassador admitted as he handed Ethan a glass and sat down. “We have contacts across the government and security services working on this but so far there hasn’t been a lead.”
    Rachel’s face fell, and Ethan realized that she had placed too much hope in this meeting with the ambassador. Cutler caught the look on her face and leaned forward in his chair.
    “Don’t worry. We’ll find your daughter no matter how difficult it might be. I apologize for Israel’s inability to act more decisively at this time.”
    “The Knesset dare not take the chance of broadcasting your daughter’s disappearance for fear of upsetting the delicate balance achieved with the Palestinians in the current peace negotiations,” Rok said. “I know how much this must distress you.”
    “Media attention could increase our chances of finding Lucy,” Ethan pointed out, “either through word of mouth, the bait of a ransom, or even terrorist abductors seeking media sympathy by releasing Lucy.”
    Rok shook his head. “That is not a chance that I would like to take with my family, Mr. Warner.”
    “And if Lucy’s abductors are trying to influence the peace process?” Ethan challenged. “If you ignore them, and the process goes ahead, they’ll have no further use for her.”
    “Again,” Rok said, “an assumption, not an analysis, Mr. Warner.”
    “We don’t have the time for indecision or analysis,” Rachel snapped. “Right now we don’t even know if Lucy’s still alive.”
    “She is alive,” Cutler said. “This was an organized abduction. In Israel there is always a motive, always a statement to be made.”
    Ethan saw Rachel take a breath, controlling herself.
    “I understand that it’s quite unusual for there to be no word from abductors regarding a Western captive,” she said.
    “It’s downright unlikely,” Ethan chipped in. “Abductions achieve nothing if there’s no political or financial gain.”
    Cutler took a thoughtful sip of his drink before replying.
    “It’s a problem, all right, but insurgent groups have no illusions as to the ability of Israel’s intelligence services and special forces to liberate Lucy if she is found. They may be laying low.”
    “I agree that Israel’s security forces are capable,” Ethan said, “but Israel is a large country and much of it remains sparsely populated. There are thousands of square kilometers of terrain and Lucy