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  The young Arab, she realized, fitted the description of Ahmed Hameed, a young man tipped as future leader of Al Qassam and possibly of Hammas itself. He waited nervously but not for long. Another two Arabs joined, one with a distinct limp and the other with a badly pock-marked face. Both fitted descriptions of Al Qassam commanders. Rebecca strained to control herself. At least another three scumbags would soon be meeting their maker.

  “Assalamu Alaikum” could be heard clearly through Rebecca’s headphones. ‘Peace be upon you’ was the standard Arab greeting followed by an embrace.

  “Are we early?” asked the young Arab.

  “No but The Sheikh will not show himself until we are all here,” replied Pock-Mark.

  Rebecca struggled not to respond visibly to the reference to ‘The Sheikh’, the mastermind behind all major atrocities and the most likely candidate for the nuclear explosion in Texas. Not since Osama Bin Laden, had a terrorist been as sought after as the mysterious ‘Sheikh’. Initially, references to ‘The Sheikh’ were believed to be references to Osama. However, it soon became apparent that the two were not one and the same. The Sheikh, unlike Osama, was keen to keep his identity a secret and after five years had remained, much to the world’s intelligence agencies’ embarrassment, nothing more than an urban myth. Rebecca was going to confirm his existence and extinguish it, in one fell swoop.

  Before she could fully consider what to do, five more men approached the table. However, only one took a seat and greeted the waiting three. Mohammed Deif, the leader of Al Qassam took his seat. The other four, his bodyguards, stationed themselves carefully, covering all angles. Rebecca heard the words again. In her mind, Pock-Mark had definitely referred to The Sheikh and then Deif had joined them. The mysterious Sheikh was Deif? Surely that connection would have been made already. Rebecca opened her eyes a little more and found herself looking directly into the eyes of one of Deif’s bodyguards who gave her an appraising wink and affirmative smile. Rebecca closed her eyes again and replayed the image in her mind. Two seats remained vacant at the table and other than greetings, conversation was negligible. They were still waiting.

  Rebecca did not have long to wait. Less than a minute after Deif arrived, the pool area was swamped by a number of heavily armed and traditionally dressed Arabs who immediately took up strategic positions around the pool area. Deif’s bodyguards were frisked and weapons removed by the significantly more professional and powerful force. Whoever was coming was making it very clear they were in charge. Rebecca struggled to keep her eyes closed under the scrutiny of the Arab guards. Their eyes missed nothing as they scanned continuously. Rebecca thanked God for her skimpy bikini. The eyes of the guards scanned beyond her quickly as the guards desperately tried to avoid being caught looking at the brazen woman. No matter how enthralling the view, none of the fundamentalist guards wanted their Sheikh to believe they were being tempted or weakened by a mere woman. Rebecca also posed little threat, 8 square inches of fabric and an i-pod hardly threatened 12 men with AK47s.

  Rebecca heard the chair scrape and slowly lifted her eyelids a fraction. The seat directly facing her had been filled. An average-sized man faced her, head on, but unfortunately was covered, like his guards, from head to toe. His scarf was pulled across his face, allowing only his eyes to be seen. The eyes moved quickly, scanning the area and resting for a brief second on Rebecca’s body, a hint of interest registering before the eyes quickly moved on.

  Rebecca listened with interest as the introductions were made around the table. Her listening device was picking up every word loud and clear. Deif was apologizing profusely for the failure of his man to complete the Sheikh’s American Project.

  The American Project, Rebecca assumed, must have been the failed nuclear bombing of America. Of course ‘failure’ being detonating the bomb in the middle of nowhere in Texas rather than at the heart of Washington. However, detonating a nuclear bomb and clearing a huge swathe of Texas was hardly a failure. The Americans had replaced 9-11 with the now more infamous 1-11, the day a nuclear device changed the face of America, quite literally, forever. It had obliterated a significant proportion of American real estate and created a no-go zone to the south of the new, more Northerly, US border. It had been decided that the US would rather not have a nuclear waste zone within her borders and as a result, the land was abandoned and Corpus Christi was now the most Southerly Texan city. Nine counties had been entirely evacuated while another three had lost their southern most portions. Laredo, within Webb County, was the most northern city to be evacuated. In all, over 1.3 million Americans had been relocated from an area the size of Belgium and accommodated within the sparsely populated southern Texan states. Texas had lost just over 4 % of her mass, while America had reduced her landmass by an almost negligible 0.29 %. Had it not been for the predominantly Hispanic heritage of the local inhabitants, the furor over the move may have lasted longer. However, with significant relocation allowances, new cities and homes being built and jobs for all, more than a few of those affected by the blast were thanking God for their good fortune.

  Rebecca reached down and patted the small bag at her side. She had come prepared for most eventualities but almost twenty heavily armed men were stretching her capabilities to the limit. Underneath her frothy literature, she could feel the steel of her weapons: two fragment grenades, a compact Sig Sauer P229 handgun, a micro Uzi sub machine gun, both with spare magazines, totaling 76 rounds and a knife. Rebecca knew she’d never live through an attack. However, between Deif and the Sheikh, she was guaranteed to avenge her son’s death, a trade she was more than willing to make. She watched the guards carefully as her hand moved towards her Uzi. Nudging the beauty magazine aside, her fingers closed around the grip. Her thumb flicked the safety and she waited. One guard whose Ak47 stood poised was facing her way. All she needed was a second. One sweep of the table would take out The Al Qassam commanders and the Sheikh. Twenty five bullets in one sweep. One second and the scum would be spending eternity in hell. She would probably join them a fraction of a second later as the sixteen bodyguards took aim. Rebecca had considered the grenade but if she didn’t time it right, they may be able to toss it away and she would die in vain. It wasn’t the dying that got to her, it was knowing she hadn’t avenged her son. Rebecca had died the day Joshua had but it was just that they weren’t quite ready to meet up yet.

  Rebecca positioned her legs. She was going to have to move quickly but unthreateningly to ensure her window of opportunity was maximized. As the guard moved his head to the side, Rebecca saw her chance. Her hand began to move and the Uzi began to rise.

  Rebecca’s hand emerged from the bag. The guards who had watched her move, flinched as the full horror was displayed before them and more importantly their Sheikh.

  Rebecca sensed the panic rise and quickly folded her magazine to hide the cover photo of the naked woman. Rebecca listened intently as the Sheikh repeated the words again that had just saved his life and doomed millions of others. I am sending you five nuclear warheads which you must use against Israel.

  Part Two

  Chapter 8

  Present day

  September 2011

  Sam looked down and smiled as the almost empty ferry docked far below him. A throng of cars waited eagerly, hoping that there’d just be enough room to squeeze them on. Summer season was coming to a close and the island paradise that he had first ventured upon two years earlier would soon be returned to normality. The four months of mayhem were over. Well, mayhem North Haven style that was.

  Sam watched as the single car leaving the ferry paused at the ferry crew before driving on towards the main street. A shiver ran down his spine. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the car. Something wasn’t right.

  “Sir?”

  Sam ignored the voice as he followed the car with his eyes. Only when it dropped from sight, did he register the student.

  “Yes Miller, what is it?”

  “Sir, where to now?”

 
In the three years since the explosion and his retirement Sam had become a sports coach. He had initially assumed the identity of his assassin and fled, taking Yuri’s seat to New York. Months of wandering aimlessly had ended the day he stumbled upon North Haven, the small island in Maine where nobody knew nor cared who or what he was. Sam had found a new life, one that made him happy, happier than he had ever thought possible.

  He looked at the wheezing and gasping group that lay before him. Summer had obviously made them lazy. Before the vacation, they would have bounded up the hill with ease. He had some work to do. He should have taken them another mile or so but the car was playing on his mind. Something was wrong. He thought his past was behind him, why would they come now, he tried to think rationally, it didn’t make sense, after three years there would be no reason to come for him. He considered going on but the car worried him.

  “We’ll head back now.”

  A small cheer went through the group. They had all expected the worst. Sam was tough. He hadn’t produced two state cross-country champions by being soft.

  “It’s only half a mile, so we’ll run back. Now GO!”

  Sam took off on the word ‘go’ and left them all in his wake. At 45, he was still as fit as he had ever been. It was just the aches and pains that were more noticeable. He had always been fanatical about fitness and thanks to that, he still passed for a man ten years younger. That was perhaps the only reason the beautiful twenty-eight year-old ninth grade teacher had ever fallen for him and made him the happiest man alive with the birth of his son, Sam Junior, only ten months earlier.

  Sam’s breathing began to quicken, his heart rate raced, it wasn’t just himself he had to worry about any more. The game had changed, if he made a mistake in the past he would pay the price but that had changed with the birth of his son. Sam quickened his pace as the vision of the car played in his mind. Something was wrong.

  Sam was way ahead of the nearest student and raced past the school. He sprinted down Main Street and stopped in his tracks as he spotted the car parked opposite the town’s main harbor. The Virginia plates brought back memories he had hoped to bury forever. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Did you see who was driving this car?” he asked one of the local fishermen who stood nearby, forgetting the normal pleasantries.

  “Good Morning, Sam. Can’t say I did but I did notice some fellas hiring one of those fancy speedboats from Jim.”

  Without a word, Sam ran to the end of the pier, just in time to see the speedboat disappear into the distance. The blood drained from Sam’s face as the realization of the danger his family faced hit him. A wave of nausea was quelled as his training kicked in, he had to be strong, he had to protect his family. Sam ran back to the small booth covered in posters advertising everything from small sailing dinghies to whale spotting cruises.

  “Jim, where are they going?” Sam pointed to where the speedboat had been.

  “Morning Sam, sorry no idea. They just wanted to tour the island, I think. Why?”

  “How many and what did they look like?” he asked firmly.

  “Four big fellas. Come to think of it, they weren’t really dressed for the weather. You know that wind’s a bit nippy this time of year. Is everything OK Sam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Have you got another speed boat?”

  “’Fraid not, that’s the only one. The rest are all up at the yard being serviced, end of season and all.” Seeing the look of desperation on Sam’s face, he added “I’ve got a small launch, only 10hp but it’s faster than rowing.”

  “That’ll do!”

  Two minutes later, Sam was in the launch and turning the throttle as far as it would go. Three years earlier, Sam had stumbled across a small rundown shack on Goat Island and for the first time in almost 25 years, he had somewhere he could call home. Goat Island lay just a mile off the far end of the island and was one of the reasons Sam had maintained his fitness. Every day, he rowed to the main island and then ran the length of the island to school and back again in the evening which was a ten mile round trip. By boat from the harbor, it was seven miles and, at twelve knots, was going to take him just over half an hour. The speedboat could do twenty-five knots and already had a five minute head start. They were going to arrive at least twenty minutes ahead of him.

  ***

  The speedboat cut its engines long before it arrived at Goat Island. The four men were taking no chances as they rowed the final half-mile to the small island. They saw the tell-tale smoke sign telling them someone was home. They approached from the rear and already had their guns out and ready as they rowed the final few yards. As two stood guard, the other two pulled the small craft onto the shingle beach. The chimney of the house was just visible above the small hill that lay between the beach and the house.

  Before they could secure the boat, a large golden retriever came bounding over the hill, tail wagging as it rushed towards the new visitors. Without hesitation, the first man raised a silenced pistol and as the dog bounded toward him, shot it once in the head. The dog fell silently, a look of shock on its frozen face.

  “What the hell did you do that for, Alex?” whispered the second man standing guard.

  “If it barked, we’d be dead. You have no fucking idea who we’re dealing with, do you?” replied Alex angrily.

  “I know he used to be something.”

  Alex just shook his head and ensuring the boat was secure, waved the other men on, fanning out as they neared the brow of the hill. On reaching the top, the view below revealed a small wooden cabin and a shadow passing by the window told them all they needed to know. He was in.

  The four men took aim and unleashed a brutal wave of bullets from their assault weapons. Glass and wood splintered and shattered everywhere as the bullets tore through the flimsy wooden structure. As one magazine emptied, another was loaded, until over 400 rounds had been pumped into the small cabin. Even a mouse would have struggled to hide from the onslaught. The noise was deafening. Although, with no landmass within a mile, it was as though nothing had happened.

  An eerie silence fell as each of the four guns halted. Shards of glass dropped and shattered every few seconds as the house settled into its new state. Alex was the first to move, tentatively making his way towards the front door which hung awkwardly as one hinge struggled to hold its weight. One kick sent it crashing to the ground. The small lounge was a sea of feathers, floating aimlessly as the air blew through the aerated room. He walked across the lounge and entered the kitchen at the rear of the house and spotted the young and beautiful woman sitting on the floor holding a baby in her arms, her lifeless face looking longingly into the shattered bloodied body of her child.

  A scream from outside told him instantly this wasn’t the only mistake they had made.

  Chapter 9

  Sam’s launch rounded the headland of North Haven Island and almost came to stop as he left the relative shelter of the North Haven and Vinalhaven Islands and out into the main bay. The waves battered the small launch and Sam could only pull the throttle harder in a vain attempt to close the mile and a half distance to home. After what seemed like hours, the outline of the speedboat came into view just as the deafening sound of gunfire ripped through the air. Sam twisted the throttle further. The knot in his stomach released. His worst fears had come true. They had found him.

  As each shot rang out, adrenalin pumped through his veins and with each bullet, the feeling of impotence flowed through him. His wife and child needed him and he was failing them. As the launch mounted the beach next to the speedboat, the gunfire stopped and silence fell. Sam bounded out of the launch and almost stumbled over his dog, its blank eyes staring up at him. Tears streamed down his face, Sam loved three things more than life itself and Goldie was on that list. Until ten months earlier, she had been top of the list but now she sat firmly at number two.

  Sam hardly missed a beat as he stormed to the top of the hill. Three men stood watchin
g the house as another made his way towards the front door. Sam ignored the state of the house as his only focus was overcoming the men and ensuring his family were safe. He ran around the hill and approached from the rear, sprinting down the hill out of the sight of the three guards and grabbed his wood axe as he ran past his firewood stockpile. With three heavily armed men on the other side of the house, he had only one advantage, surprise.

  As the front door crashed to the ground, Sam ran round the side of the house and at full sprint, ran at the first guard, the axe swinging in a powerful arc. Sam leapt up and using all of his 6’ 2” frame to maximize the force at which the axe fell, the razor sharp blade sliced through the man’s neck at a forty five degree angle and removed not only his head but right arm in one fluid motion. As the axe cleared the man’s torso, Sam spun round and sent the axe flying end over end into the second guard standing directly in front of the door. A short scream was instantly silenced as the axe embedded itself into the man’s stunned face, killing him instantly. Sam was rolling back towards the head and right arm of the first guard and his XM8 assault rifle even before the axe had landed.

  By the time the third guard had managed to react to the deaths of his colleagues, it was too late. Sam already had him in his sights and was squeezing the trigger. A three round burst ended the encounter and dropped the last guard where he stood.

  Sam didn’t hesitate. He ran and dived through the front door and into the lounge just as Alex rushed towards him and the butt of his gun. Alex’s face hit the immovable force and stopped dead despite the momentum. His cheek and nose bore the full brunt of the collision while his body continued its forward motion, crumpled to the floor and landed at Sam’s feet.