Free Rock Killer by S. Evan Townsend Page A

peasants; plus, having them as victims of Israel served a useful purpose. The United States would decry every aggression by Israel, reported faithfully by their media, while the persecution of Syria’s Alawite minority was virtually ignored.
    “The Mossad,” he continued, “cannot know the location of our silos. The Chinese have supplied us with accurate and powerful nuclear weapons. If we strike first we can destroy their missiles in their bunkers before they can retaliate. With the destruction of the Zionist leadership we will be able to walk in unopposed.”
    “Unless,” the president added, “the Americans come to their aid.”
    “The Americans,” Zuabi said, “cannot threaten the United Baath Arab States. They are a degenerate country. If they were going to stop us they would have long ago.”
    “I don’t know if the Americans would stand for a nuclear attack on Tel Aviv,” Sa’ud said. “We have reports the Americans have assured the Zionists that they will retaliate in kind for a first strike against them.”
“Where do these reports come from?” Zuabi asked.
“I cannot reveal their source.”
“Without knowing the source,” Faruq said speaking for the first time, “it is hard to give them credence.”
    “Nevertheless,” Sa’ud retorted, “they are accurate. The United States’ limited space-based anti-ballistic missile screen only protects their territory. They’d have no alternative other than to use nuclear force against us.”
    “Or do nothing,” Faruq said.
    “We will wait,” the president concluded. “We are making progress diplomatically and our client revolutionary groups continue to hurt the Zionists and the West.” As if that reminded him, the president asked, “Faruq, how are your dealings with this Gaia Alliance?”
    Faruq was surprised. The president had hardly acknowledged Faruq’s activities before.
    “Fine,” he said quickly. “They have already struck a blow and will soon strike another.”
    “The expenses,” the president retorted almost angrily, “have been very high: the space-to-space missiles, diverting the Ath-Thawra Baathiya .”
    “And so will be the rewards,” Faruq assured the president.
    “ In sha’allah ,” the president said almost automatically–if God is willing.

Chapter Five
     
     
    “Do you have the missiles, aqid ?”
     
     
    Karen never thought she’d be so glad to see Tel Aviv. When, working in New York, it was suggested she go to Israel, she thought the idea was crazy. But she made more money here than ever back in the States. And now, SRI was going to pay her a handsome sum.
    For some reason the Syrians insisted she not fly back. She suspected that her presence in the Arab Baathist Republic would embarrass somebody and they were afraid she’d be picked up at the airport.
    So, she was loaded in an army truck and driven to the Mediterranean coast at Tyre. It was hard for her to believe that the little, dirty town, full of defeated Lebanese doomed to live under Syrian occupation, had spawned the city of Carthage 30 centuries ago.
    In Tyre she boarded a small, black rubber boat. They’d shoved her pink bag down into the bottom of the craft. She heard water sloshing and hoped her things weren’t getting wet, especially the data chips.
    The electrically powered boat moved with eerie quiet down the coast. An Israeli patrol boat passed near enough they could make it out on the horizon and hear the engines. But the Syrian craft went unnoticed, being barely higher than the waves.
    During the trip Karen changed into a swimming suit, ignoring the leers from the Syrians.
    The boat pulled close to shore and Karen climbed out into waist deep water. They handed her bag to her and moved silently away.
    Karen walked toward the beach. She could hear music somewhere. If a patrol found her now it wouldn’t be totally incongruous. They might wonder why she took her bag swimming, though. They wouldn’t if they found the thousands of euros in