Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Jerusalem
Tuesday, November 10
4:00 a.m., Local Time

When Ben suggested that Ty Dempsey call him back when a decision was made, no matter the hour, he hadn’t expected the phone to ring at four in the morning. But there it was. Incredibly, the young American pastor sensed God’s hand in the arrangement. Gracing it all was Ty’s announcement that the stay in Haifa would also serve as an impromptu honeymoon. The guy was getting married. How appropriate. It matched the other crazy aspects to the last few days. He only hoped Hannah Lira would be as open to a pre-dawn rattle of the phone.
Ben rousted himself out of the dorm room bunk and walked to a small window that overlooked the southern reaches of the Kidron Valley. Most of the view was blocked by a stand of cedars. But high up on the hillside, lights marked the outskirts of Bethany. Another day was beginning, and people were getting an early start. He found it amazing that he was looking at the very hilltop upon which Jesus had raised his friend Lazerus from the dead. Nearly two millennia had gone by since that day, but Messiah was still doing the impossible. The thought formed a morning devotional all by itself.
He picked up Hannah’s business card and dialed her number. Surprisingly, the archaeologist answered after the first ring.
“Hello Ben. You’ve heard from your friend. What’s the news?” Hannah asked.
“He agrees. The whole thing is God-ordained,” Ben stated.
“Good. I’ve been praying about it, too. It feels right. Now, I need his full name and where he is located.
Unbeknownst to Ben, two hundred feet into the stand of cedars, a small parabolic dish captured every word he shared with Hannah Lira. When the conversation terminated, another commenced.

Paris, France
Tuesday, November 10
6:30 a.m., Local Time

Andre D’Tiene sat with his elbows perched on the etched glass of his breakfast table. Though it was early and he was still wearing a royal blue house coat and leather slippers, his gray hair was already gelled into place and his face was shaved. Everything about the man portrayed an air of professionalism. He was politician ready to do business with his underlings.
He swirled a crusty piece of toast around the rim of a cup of thick, black coffee making sure the point of saturation had softened the bread. Something about the way butter meshed with the hot liquid made his mouth water. He had no preference for the bread, one way or the other. It was the taste of the mixture that he was after. But that wasn’t all that occupied the president of France and erstwhile leader of the Mediterranean Union. Though not fully dressed, his mind had already planned for the day and was full at work.
D’Tiene looked up from his cup and drilled his longtime personal assistant, Reginald Tipry, with a set of intense, brown eyes.“Polkov’s pawns are moving, eh?”
“So it seems,” nodded the tall, skinny Frenchman. He wasn’t a model of physical prowess, but possessed an uncanny ability to read the thoughts of his boss, something D’Tiene appreciated. Intensity bothered the man not in the least. “A battalion of Sudanese infantry crossed into Eretria about two hours ago.”
“What are their chances of reaching the objective before we do?” D’Tiene asked.
“That is not yet determined. The Eretrians are putting up more of a roadblock than the Sudanese expected. The battalion is not heavily mechanized, consisting mainly of armed thugs sitting in the beds of light trucks. My suspicion is that if they make it to Aksum at all, it will take them two weeks, possibly more,” Reginald surmised.
“Are we certain there are no Russian forces ready to move should the Sudanese fail?” D’Tiene asked. His concern in this particular game of global chess was the avoidance of armed conflict with Russia. Strategy and timing must be his allies, not brute strength. As of yet, the MU had developed no military might whatsoever. It remained a ragtag collection of nations that still held great suspicion of one another, not a unified force that might affect any sort of strategic transformation in the region. But that would all change, and it would be sooner than most in the world could fathom.
“Sir, our people on the ground assure me the Russians have nothing more than a few military advisers in Sudan, and they are occupied with ordering the Sudanese deployment along the southern border of Israel,” Reginald answered.
“I cannot emphasize to you the absolute necessity of being watchful of the Russians. A Spetznaz unit has the most rapid deployment capabilities I have ever heard of. You must be vigilant.” D’Tiene did not want to lecture his friend and aide, but too much was at stake.
“We are aware of every move the Russians are making. I will not tell you how, but it is true none-the-less.”
“Very well,” D’Tiene was satisfied. He quickly shifted gears. “What is the progress of your strike team?”
“The team remains in training, but it will be ready when you give the word to go.”
“Excellent. It will happen quickly, so be prepared.”
“We shall be,” Reginald replied. “Naftali believes he can salvage his position, even though all odds are against him. He believes the recovery of the Jewish Ark will consolidate his power and unite his people.”
“And it would, Reginald, if Naftali can get hold of it.” D’Tiene took a sip of coffee before he continued. “But if I get there first, the peace and safety of Israel will rest in my hands alone. Naftali will be forced to bow to my will, or be removed. But I believe he will see that I have only the good of Israel, and the stability of the entire region at heart. It will be in his best interest to get with my program, especially since I have given him the preliminary go ahead to build the Third Temple.”
“Where do the Americans fit in? Will they not intercede on behalf of Israel?” Reginald asked.
“Pah,” D’Tiene mocked sarcastically. “Yangton is a frightened child, arrogant yes, but frightened. He is out of his league and he knows it. No, the President will be content to allow others to fight for peace in the Middle East. As long as oil continues to flow to America, he will say and do nothing.”
“Then the plan should work, yes?”
“Yes, my friend, it should. The unknown element is Israel. It is important that they believe success is possible. We must avoid any direct involvement or confrontation with them until the very last moment. Now, tell me about the composition of this group in Jerusalem.”
D’Tiene’s assistant spent the next thirty minutes describing the archaeological exploits of Dr. Hannah Lira. Six members of her team had been identified, mostly men connected with Israel’s military hierarchy. However, the others remained a mystery, an unknown, and that bothered D’Tiene.
“You’ve got more work to do, Reginald. Find out the identity of those men,” D’Tiene commanded.

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