The Lance

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The team watched the explosion in disbelief.

"Oh, my God!" Selena put her hand to her mouth.

They watched the stage lift, the people flying into the air. They watched the Mosque collapse in a deep rumble of falling stone. The camera shook and swayed. The sound of the detonation died away. Screams came from the television speakers.

"Holy shit!" Ronnie said. "The President! And the Mosque! It's gone!"

Elizabeth put her hand out, gripped Stephanie's shoulder. "There's Nick!"

On screen, the camera steadied. They watched Nick scramble to his feet and run to the edge of the pit. He disappeared into the hole. Fragmented, shaky images of the destruction filled the screen as the cameraman ran forward. The picture steadied. The camera looked over the edge of the pit.

Nick was helping the President sit up. The camera zoomed in on their faces. Rice was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. Nick's sunglasses were gone and his suit was torn and dirty. The camera swung toward a man in the uniform of the Muslim honor guard. He was standing on the edge of the pit and brandishing a pistol.

He was screaming, distraught. He began firing into the pit. The camera moved again and the team watched Nick cover the President with his body, draw and fire. His face was closed and angry. He kept firing while the shooter rolled down into the hole. The camera followed him down. They watched the slide lock back on Nick's .45.

"The whole magazine," Ronnie said. "He gave him the whole magazine."

The camera swung round to a jittery shot of running Israeli soldiers. The screen went black. A few seconds later a studio shot with a famous anchor appeared. The live feed from Jerusalem was down. Ronnie went to the set and turned off the sound.

They looked at each other. No one knew what to say.

Stephanie took a deep breath. "What shall we do, Director?"

"This will start a war. We've got to get evidence to take Dysart down. So far we've got nothing. For all we know Valkyrie and Parsifal are part of a school play for his teen age daughter."

"Sure they are," said Ronnie. "That bastard is in this all the way. Can he find out where we are?"

"I don't know. We'll stand watch. Four hour shifts in front of the monitors. Ronnie, you and Selena take the first one. You got a little sleep earlier. Steph and I are beat. We're too tired to do much good. Wake us in four and Steph and I will get back on the computers."

In her room, Elizabeth stripped off her crumpled clothes and headed for the shower. She stood for a long time with the hot water streaming down the front of her body. It washed away some of the stress and tiredness of the day, but she was exhausted. She turned around and let the water soak her hair and back, feeling some of the tightness go out of her shoulders.

She dried off and pulled an old shirt and pair of jeans from the closet. She dressed and lay down on the bed. She was drifting off when the phone signaled. It was Nick.

"Director. You know about the bomb?"

"We watched it live. Good work with the President."

"They broadcast it all?"

"Yes. You've got your fifteen minutes of fame."

"Director, Rice wants you to find out who did this. He told me to 'get her on it'. I'm flying back with him today."

"We're already doing that. Tell the President he'll be first to know if I find something to nail Dysart or anyone else."

"What happens when I get to Washington?"

"That's up to Rice. Assume you'll be watched. Use the email protocol or the sat link to keep me up to speed."

"Roger that, Director."

"Good luck, Nick." But he was already gone.

Elizabeth set the phone down on the nightstand and lay back on the bed. Her eyes closed and she slept.

She dreamed she was being buried alive and woke gasping for breath.

The Grand Master watched a rerun of the explosion for the fourth time. For the fourth time he smiled as the Mosque crumbled into ruin. But then came the part where the President was rescued by that woman's operative. It was irritating. Now he'd have to find another way to get rid of Rice. Harker and her agents were proving to be an obstacle that needed to be eliminated.

Perhaps he could turn things to an advantage. Rice would have to be killed here in America. It could add fuel to the fire he had started. Proof could be found of Iranian involvement.

Yes, that would fit nicely. He knew just the person for the job. Nothing would stop PARSIFAL.

Nothing.