Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

North Central Lebanon
Monday, November 16
5:30 a.m., Local Time

“What is he doing?” General Telnikov growled, though not at the aide standing beside him. The Lieutenant was simply the delivery boy for the daily situation report and experienced enough to keep his thoughts to himself.
The general leaned back in his chair and tried to sort it out. Tariq Kazimi, President of the Islamic Republic of Persia, and erstwhile commander of the Iranian Pasdaran Army was acting more unpredictably than normal. At some point during the night, Kazimi had changed course. His passage had previously cut through the Kurdish territory of northern Iraq and appeared headed across the upper reaches of Syria. As Damascus was a smoldering wasteland, boiling with radiation fallout from an Israeli nuclear attack, the only sensible move for the Iranians was to join up with Russian forces encamped in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon. But the little man had pulled a fast one. After crossing into Syria, Kazimi was beating a path southward right through the heart of the desert. His aim was now clear. Iran had decided to push its way into Jordan.
What the man was thinking was beyond Telnikov’s comprehension, and perplexity was a discomfort to the general. Jordan had shown no indication that it wanted any part of the fight, either for or against Israel. The King seemed content to patiently wait until the dust settled before he staked any claim to Palestinian territory within Israel. After all, the Palestinians were his people. If he could reap the rewards of seeing the Jews driven into the sea without having to take a risk, then all the better. He had no fear of an Israeli reprisal. The King felt he could straddle the fence and enjoy the best of both worlds, at least until the direction of the Middle East was decided at some later date.
So what was Kazimi’s gambit? Telnikov hadn’t considered the man an idiot, though he certainly looked the part. The coalition’s mission, designed by Field Marshall Velniak, called for a three-pronged thrust into Israel from the north. The Libyans would drive southward along the coast from Tyre. The Russians and Turks would attack through central Lebanon. The Sudanese army would come upward through the Red Sea to strike through the Negev. If they faltered, it was almost certain that Egypt would throw its tanks and infantry into the fight. How could they not? Islam had arisen, and no presumed Pharaoh could allow any outsider the ultimate glory of annihilating the Jews. That left the Golan Heights to Iran and the Central Asian armies. They were supposed to complete the downward thrust from the north. The designated location of Iran’s attack was almost a gift. Why wasn’t Kazimi obeying his masters and taking it?
“Lieutenant, when was this report issued?” demanded the general.
“Sir, it came in less than fifteen minutes ago. I do not know when the report actually arrived in Moscow,” he answered.
“Track down the time the report was made. I must know the time frame we are looking at.”
“Yes Sir. Here are your morning situation reports and today’s edition of Pravda.” The lieutenant laid a file jacket and the newspaper on the general’s desk and headed for the door.
“I will also require a map of the region. Bring it to me when you return.”
“Da, General.”
Telnikov reached for the reports, but a headline on the lower half of the folded newspaper caught his attention.
AYATOLLAH ISSUES FATWAH: ALL ISLAM MUST UNITE!
Understanding dawned as he read. The spiritual leader of Islam had issued a decree that left no doubt. Any Islamic nation that refused to join the Iranian’s cause in administering retribution against Israel would be considered less than an infidel. Jordan, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia were suddenly bound by the fetters of their radical religion.

Ramat David Airbase
Monday, 7:00 a.m. Local Time

Moshe sensed her gaze long before he turned his head and opened his eyes. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been subconsciously aware of her, but he was certain it had been a while. For one, he’d been utterly exhausted when his head had hit the pillow. He and Tasha had gone to bed well after midnight, but his fatigue from duty had been offset by the joy provided by Ty Dempsey’s revelation. Exuberance might be a better word, for now he knew God had been working all along to bring him to salvation. It was clear and undeniable. No physical exhaustion could overcome that level of spiritual excitement.
“What are you staring at my love?” he asked without opening his eyes.
“Oh, just your handsome face.” She reached over and traced the outline of his ear with her finger.
He smiled and turned to his side to return her attention. “And why are you looking at my handsome face when you could be sleeping like I was a minute ago?”
“I don’t know. I’m just thankful that you are here.”
“Where else would I be?” Moshe was puzzled.
“That is not what I meant. I mean spiritually.”
Moshe tried to stifle a yawn, but couldn’t. “Well, I’m here now. Amazing isn’t it?”
“I was thinking more in terms of the miraculous,” Tasha said. “I could hardly believe what Ty and Blake told us last night. But it makes sense.”
“How so?”
“Because there was so much going on. There you were, flying from danger to danger, and I was caught up in Husifa not knowing what was happening. The Lord knew we needed some outside help to get through it all. I didn’t know if I was going to survive. On top of that was my worry for you,” she sighed. “It just makes sense that the Lord would step in with an intercessor when we needed one the most. And now, that same person is right here in Israel.”
Moshe was startled by the statement. She was right.
“What?” she asked.
“Does God always do things so mysteriously?”
The whole idea that God was truly concerned about the day to day aspects of human life was still beyond his ability to absorb. What puzzled him most was how God had everything so interconnected.
“Not always. Sometimes he does things that are as clear as daylight. We’re just too thick-headed to see it.” She thought for a moment, and then continued. “Some time ago, Pastor Ben shared a message from one of King David’s Psalms. I can’t quite quote it, but the idea has stuck with me.”
“What was it?”
“Ben read a verse about God knowing our coming in and our going out, meaning he knows everything about us.”
“That’s a bit scary!”
“Why?”
“If he knows that much about us, how can he still love us?” Moshe rolled back to his original position and fixed his eyes on the low ceiling above the bed. “It’s really kind of embarrassing.”
Tasha couldn’t help but giggle at Moshe’s newfound innocence.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m not laughing at you. It is just funny how you are suddenly worried about what God thinks. You were always ten thousand feet above caring.” She caressed his bare shoulder.
“Getting shot down and seeing a nuclear bomb go off has a way of waking a guy up,” he said. “Still, everything seems so clear, so transparent. Religion was a stone wall for me. It was the way misguided people tried to make themselves better, only to get frustrated when it didn’t work. At least that’s how I pictured the Wailing Wall and the heads bobbing up and down in front of it.”
“Honey, that is what religion does,” Tasha explained. “It either leaves a person empty, or kills them with a holier-than-thou attitude. That’s not what God intended. He is more concerned about bringing us into a relationship than he is with all the religious ritual. What happened to you was a demonstration of God’s pure love, not giving you something you think you deserved.”
“Well, I don’t deserve anything. I still can’t believe I was so blind. I should have seen this a long time ago.” He turned back to her realizing how distant he’d been to her spiritual beliefs and the trauma it had caused. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”
She snuggled close to her man, thankful that Yeshua had done a work of divine love in his soul. She’d always adored Moshe, but now, her love went deeper than ever before.
Just then Moshe’s cell phone rang. Ramat David was calling.


Central Israel
The Fields of Nazir Training Facility
Same Time

The burning had started in his calves and had worked its way into his thighs. Now, his forearms and biceps joined in to become a full chorus of screaming muscles. Try as he might, Ben could not remember ever being forced to climb a wall of netted rope while in combat. In fact, he’d never crawled through stagnant mud six inches under live gunfire during a combat mission either. Running twenty miles in boots and carrying a backpack? It never happened, at least outside of basic training. But here he was doing them all, and his body was violently protesting the injustice.
Ben cleared the top of the wall. Actually it was just a log that spanned two pillars and had a thick net draped over it. He glanced at his training mates to see their progress. Most had already slithered to the ground some twenty feet below. Only two others seemed to be suffering the same physical rebellion as he. He wondered what might be the point of it all if they were simply the prospective pole bearers for the Ark. After all, how much could the thing actually weigh? Ben thought as his feet finally touched the ground.
Before he could catch a breath or relax his knotted muscles, a measly drill instructor appeared in his face and began screaming for him to buck up and move on. A live fire drill awaited a quarter of a mile up the wadi. That would be followed by a five mile run, and it was all happening before breakfast.
As he plodded onward he realized he was angry inside, angry that he’d left his ministry. Angry that he hadn’t been warned this would happen. Angry at the pain his body was experiencing. He was even angry at the drill instructor running beside him, a guy who was at least ten years his junior. Then another thought entered into his mind and he laughed. The drill sergeant took notice.
“What is so funny, mister? Not sweating hard enough?” He barked.
“No, Sergeant,” Ben returned. “Just laughing at the irony.”
“And what irony would that be?”
“That wars are fought by young bulls like you, Sarge,” Ben said as he flicked the sweat off his forehead.
“And what of it?”
“War should be fought by men my age.”
“All right, hold it right there,” ordered the sergeant. “Are you having a heat stroke this early in the morning?”
Ben stopped and put his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath. His muscles desperately needed a break. After a few intakes of air, he looked up into the face of a man that was too young to have much facial hair. “No, sir. I’m okay. It’s just that the bad guys would have no chance if older guys did the fighting. I mean, we’ve already experienced life, so there’s not much more to live for beyond arthritis, constipation, and dying taste buds. That means we’re already mad. There’s no point in making us climb walls. Just give us something to blow up. We’ll get it done, and it will make us happy all at the same time.”
The sergeant looked at him for nearly a minute trying to decide if he was serious. He finally laughed. “Got your rest in, didn’t you Mr. Sherett?”
“Yes sir, I sure did.”
The sergeant lifted his arm and pointed toward the live-fire range on top of the next hill. “Time to move on.”
“On my way, Sarge,” Ben chuckled. With a deep breath he stood upright and resumed his jog toward the range.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
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Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
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is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
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Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Central Israel
The Fields of Nazir Training Facility
Sunday, November 15
11:00 p.m. Local Time

The group of twelve sat around a single, rustic conference table, watching and listening as Hannah Lira explained the satellite image of Aksum, Ethiopia. The high resolution photo was impressive. Ben could easily see the target objects.
“This picture has much better detail than the one I showed you at my home.” Hannah used a laser pointing device as she spoke. She rotated a red dot around each feature as she described how it fit into the plan. “As you can see, the two main buildings of the compound are moderately guarded. The reason is simple. The newer church is used for daily worship, making entrance into the entire facility somewhat simple. The old Church of Zion of Saint Mary has been converted into an historic site. However, the Mass is celebrated on the front portico of the old sanctuary on the first Sunday of each month.”
She pointed the laser between the two main structures. “This is a thick, rod-iron fence manned by guards twenty-four hours a day. As we zoom in, you can actually see the stationary post for each watchman, as well as his assigned duty path along the perimeter.” As the operator zoomed in on the photo, Ben could see the military caps of the guards. Though no other physical features stood out, the weapons carried by each were clearly seen.
“What type of weapons?” Ben asked.
“Those are standard AK-47, skeleton-stocked, automatic assault weapons,” answered Zev Tolberg. “We also know that all personnel carry either 40 caliber or 9 millimeter semi-automatic hand guns. They are serious about security.”
“Gentlemen, notice the tight stands of trees located at the four corners of the security area,” Hannah continued. “These are more than pretty Junipers. They each hide one 7.62 millimeter PKJ coaxial machine gun at each location. The weapons are Russian-made and deadly. They provide overlapping zones of fire and offer one hundred percent coverage inside the secured area. They also cover all fence lines.”
“They are serious!” Gilad Belfer exclaimed with a low whistle. “I didn’t realize the Ethiopian Government possessed such firepower for the protecting of their churches.”
“This security setup is not from the Ethiopian government,” Ari Goins explained, “nor is it from Tigre Province. What you see is owned and operated by the Church of Zion. The weapons were obtained on the international arms market through various networks of middlemen. And yes, they are serious, deadly serious.”
“This, as you remember, is the objective,” Hannah continued. She highlighted a small copula roughly thirty feet in diameter. “This is the Chapel of the Ark of the covenant. Rather, it is the surface entrance to a chapel situated five stories below ground. It too is heavily guarded. As far as we know, the bottom level can only be reached by a steep, winding stairwell. How you will tackle the logistics of the incursion will be dealt with during your training this week. Suffice to say, this will be no picnic, as the American’s say,” Hannah winked at Ben.
The operator panned the picture out to include a five mile circumference around Aksum. On the northeast extreme of the circle there appeared a long runway stretching from northwest to southeast.
“You are now looking at Aksum Regional Airport, finished in 2007, completely functional and accessible, and rarely used by either military or civilian aircraft. Ethiopia is nearly bankrupt, so only nominal military air activity exists. It is manned by a small contingent of military police. They are poorly armed and extremely unmotivated. We plan to exploit that fact to the fullest.”
Ben was humored by the way such a small woman could speak with such machismo, and do it with extreme confidence. She noticed his smile before he could hide it away.
“And why are you smiling, my good Ben?”
“Nothing, Doctor Lira,” Ben re-adjusted himself in the chair. “I just like the way you talk.” The men laughed, but they too were impressed with Hannah’s leadership style. Ben was reminded of Deborah in the Book of Judges and how God had used her to deliver Israel.
After the chatter died, Hannah looked at Ari and nodded. “Ben has brought up a good point. Some of you may be thinking a woman has no place here, especially a little gal like me. Give them my resume, Ari.”
At that point, Ari Goins was the only man in the room that wasn’t smiling. “Yes ma’am,” he began. “Hannah Lira is not just an expert in archeology. She has served as an agent of both the Shin Bet secret service and the Mos’sad. Don’t let her small stature fool you. Trained in the personal fighting style known as Krav Maga, she could easily snap my neck if I let my guard down,” he raised his eyebrows at Hannah as if letting her know she probably couldn’t. Her eyes brightened at the challenge. “She is fully trained in the use of every known hand gun on the planet, the Negev light machine gun, the 1W1 Jericho sniper rifle, as well as mortars and RPGs. Hannah can kill you with a knife, a piano wire, or a Bible.” Laughter returned as Ari let everyone know that Hannah was not to be feared except by an enemy. Her love for Yeshua went deeper than her loyalty to the defense of Israel. However, in this instance, both love and loyalty were folded into one purpose.

The Road to Haifa
Same Time Local

“That was you?” Ty asked in awe. Attack aircraft and their pilots had always been held in his highest esteem. That esteem was increasing at the moment. “I thought we were going for a swim for sure. What happened?”
Tasha and Blake were engaged in a conversation in the back seat as Moshe traversed the switchbacks leading to the top of Mount Carmel. They were on their way to the borrowed apartment Ty and Blake would be using.
“Your plane was targeted by an enemy missile. The pilot was scissoring and diving in an attempt to dodge the thing. Some very bad people wanted you dead.”
“Why?” Ty asked.
“I’m not sure. The attacking aircraft were Turkish. It’s the first time Turkey has made an aggressive move beyond trying to run our blockade of Gaza, especially knowing we could easily shoot them from the sky in their inferior planes. The more I think about it, none of this can be a coincidence.”
Ty looked at Moshe as the pilot kept his eyes focused on the highway. He couldn’t help the feeling that he’d somehow seen this man before, but he just couldn’t think of where or when.
Moshe noticed the silence and felt the stare. “What’s wrong?”
“Besides being shot at?”
“Well yes,” Moshe grinned. “You seem to be puzzled about something beyond that.”
Ty stared even harder. “Oh, man!”
“What, oh man? What do you mean?” Moshe could feel the tension within his new friend.
“I don’t know. It’s like I’m stuck in some sort of déjà vu and I don’t even know what it’s about.” Ty forced the strange feeling aside and returned to the subject at hand. “You mentioned how strange it was that the Turks attacked us. Wouldn’t they have known the plane was civilian? I guess I’m asking, why us? We’re only here because Pastor Ben has some pretty powerful connections, and everything about it happened quickly.”
“That bothers me as well. I had no knowledge that he had any connections at all, let alone with the higher-ups in Jerusalem. The jet that transported you is from a fleet used only by elite members of the government. By that I mean the prime minister, the president, or the foreign minister.”
“Whoa! What’s going on?”
“I do not know. It was just yesterday that Ben informed Tasha and me of your arrival. That is also when he told us of his departure.”
“Is that strange behavior for him?” Ty asked.
“That, I do not know. I have only known him for a few weeks. But in that short time I have come to understand he is fully committed to whatever Yeshua tells him to do. However, my wife has known him for well over a year, and she says this behavior is out of character.”
“Again, Moshe, this still begs the question. Why us? Why now? Why attack our plane when I’m sure other aircraft could have been targeted?”
Moshe’s lifted his brows and shrugged his shoulders. He kept his suspicions to himself.
Ty saw he was not going to get an answer, so he changed the subject. “Tell me about Pastor Ben and his ministry.”
Moshe instantly lit up. “The man is amazing. I still cannot believe he gave up his life in the United States just to work with the poorest of our people in Haifa. That includes Arabs,” Moshe exclaimed. “He’s Jewish, but that hasn’t kept him from helping the very people who consider Israel an abomination.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Through Tasha. She dragged me to church one Sunday to listen to a special prophecy teaching. At first I thought they were all addle brained, but the more I heard, the more plausible it became. Then, everything they preached began to happen. I was right in the middle of it when my Barak was shot down.”
“Barak? Is that the name of your plane?” Ty had never heard the Israeli designation of the F-16.
“Yes. In English it means lightning. We were ambushed by a pair of Russian MiG 29s. I was able to shoot both bogies, but I was hit by a shoulder-fired missile. My wingman was killed.” Moshe paused as the pain of Levi’s loss began to resurface. A moment passed before he could gather himself. “Pardon me.”
Again, Ty was astonished. He’d watched the immediate aftermath of Russia’s incursion into Israeli airspace from the comfort of his living room. Fox News had been right on top of it all. This pilot had been right there in the fight and the still carried the weight of his loss. Ty had seen this type of reaction many times, almost always when someone was experiencing an acute sense of guilt. “You didn’t get to him in time to save him and you feel guilty about it, don’t you?”
Moshe’s head whipped around. “How do you know? That sounds like something Ben would say.”
“I’ve seen it before. Listen, none of that was your fault. Bad people are doing bad things and good folks get caught in the crossfire. You should let it go. Grieve, but don’t let guilt eat you up.”
“Thanks.” Again Moshe paused before continuing the account. “Anyway, after I was shot down things really got interesting. Before I could be rescued, I discovered a hidden Iranian missile. A nuclear warhead was riding it.”
“Oh man!” Ty exclaimed.
“I had to evade capture and get back across our lines to sound the warning and try to stop the terrorists. But we were too late. I got a shot at the thing, but when I saw the nuclear flash over Haifa, my world came crashing down. I was sure I’d lost Tasha.”
“I bet you were scared to death,” Ty coaxed. He knew the best thing for Moshe’s long-term emotional health was to talk through the trauma. Things had evidently been happening so fast, that opportunity had not presented itself.
“I have never felt fear at that intensity. Not in a dogfight, not on a mission. Never! When I landed my Lightning that night, the only thing I could think of was finding Tasha. In fact, in the process of searching, it was the first real prayer I ever said to Yeshua.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, you can imagine the chaos of a nuclear explosion and how people are rushing to flee the area,” Moshe said.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Moshe suddenly realized the commonality he had with Tyler Dempsey. They had both been subjected to a nuclear nightmare. They’d both experienced the chaos of fleeing refugees and traffic tie-ups. “That’s right. You know. Well, I got stuck in traffic and had no way to get to Tasha, even if I had known where she was. In my frustration, all I could do was cry out before I lost my mind.”
Ty’s déjà vu ended. He was stunned. He couldn’t help it. “You were stuck in your car in the early morning hours on that Thursday. All you could do was slam your fists on the steering wheel and scream. Am I right?”
Moshe’s mouth nearly fell into his lap. “How did you know?”
“There was a reporter with a camera right beside your vehicle, wasn’t there?” Ty continued, now smiling. “Then you put your forehead on the wheel and prayed, right?”
“Please tell me how you know this,” Moshe demanded.
“Man, we saw it on television right from my mother’s living room,” laughed Ty. “In fact, we felt your pain so much that we stopped what we were doing and prayed right along with you.”
A floodgate opened and tears poured from Moshe’s eyes. Tasha and Blake, now listening from the back seat clasped hands. Yeshua had proven his love again and none of them would ever forget it.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
(add $5.00 for shipping)
MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN


North Central Lebanon
Sunday, November 15
10:30 p.m. Local Time

Major General Telnikov sat in the cramped work space of his command trailer and read the latest situational report. Developments over the last few days were ominous, as if each player in this high-stakes chess match were maneuvering into positions offering the greatest advantage. All appeared to be preparing for war to break out. Though the entire gambit was designated as a peacekeeping mission, practically everyone involved had some ulterior motive in participating with the Russians. That the Russians had a more grandiose purpose in descending upon Israel had not entered the thinking of its coalition partners. Telnikov guessed that few, even within the Kremlin’s hierarchy actually understood Polkov’s intent. The man was a master of intrigue.
Telnikov took note of the movement of the Iranians. When the UN Security Council had first given mission affirmation to the coalition, the Iranians had committed only two divisions of infantry and armor. Since then, at least six divisions, three being highly mechanized, were on the move. The Iranian President was reported to be commanding the lead column.
Telnikov would have considered that development odd except for the fact that all were aware that radical Islam had no boundaries when it came to insane acts. There was no doubt that Kazimi fit description of a madman and would act on the insanity—religious or otherwise.
Reconnaissance operatives reported that three of Iran’s columns had taken a southern track. Rather than traversing the Kurdish region of Iraq into Syria, they were now within a three day’s push of reaching the Jordanian border. Naturally, the Jordanians were crying foul. It had been their intention to station its forces alone on the eastern side of the Jordan River just outside of Israeli territory. Not technically a member of the coalition, the King of Jordan was at least willing to appear cooperative. They were still convinced that walking a narrow line of disaffiliation was the safest way to escape a possible holocaust. The guise of standing against Israel was being maintained, but backchannel communication with IDF command would assure the Israelis that Jordan had no intention of joining an actual attack. All in all, they felt they could survive through duplicity. But once again, Iran’s unpredictability was fouling everyone’s plans.
In Telnikov’s estimation, the Iranians were playing a game that was beyond their skill. Their advance looked to link them with elements of the Turkish Army just south of the destroyed city of Damascus. The map was clear. The intent was to hem the Russian 7th Division into a fixed position just north of the Lebanese border. The reason seemed rather obvious. In the eyes of radical Islam, the Russians were infidels just like the Jews and the Americans. Telnikov was convinced that Kazimi would attempt to rid the region of all non-believers.
With that thought in mind he scanned the reports relating to the southern front. The Sudanese were fully deployed in the Sinai Peninsula with a minimum of ninety-five thousand men in combat readiness. Though Sudan’s mechanized forces were lacking any real fire power they would serve as a sufficient distraction for the Israelis. Intel experts suggested that the steady stream of ships moving from the Port of Sudan and Massawa, Eritrea was delivering enough supplies to sustain an extended siege of the Holy Land. Sudan was submissively playing its part in the coalition.
Telnikov scratched the back of his head as he considered how the Israelis had exacerbated the situation by sinking a Turkish surveillance ship in the Mediterranean. Until that point, the Turks vibrato had only been a chest-thumping demonstration. But now the anger of the nation’s populace was overflowing. They wanted Israeli blood, and Turkey’s ideological move toward Iran gave evidence that they were willing to sidestep coalition responsibilities in order to attack Israel. Peace was certainly not at the forefront of anyone’s mind.
Uzbeki and Turkmenistani divisions were still several days from being on station, leaving the Russian 7th Airborne Division with the bulk of leadership responsibilities. That could prove impossible if Israel decided to take matters into its own hands and attack the Iranians. Then all hell would break loose.
If the Iranians really are attempting to cut the 7th away from its support divisions, how should I react? Telnikov thought to himself. After several moments of consideration Telnikov became resolute. He would not allow the Iranians to out flank and out maneuver him.
Nagging in the back of his mind was the strange vision he’d experienced while parachuting out of the back of his plane and into Lebanon. A massive, flaming sword had pointed at him and a voice had ordered him to bless the nation of Israel. The more it nagged at him the more he thought he was losing his mind. Perhaps the years of command, and all the stresses that came with it, were finally beginning to catch up with him. But long ago Telnikov had decided there was no such thing as coincidence. There had to be a connection between the dots, as weird as they were.
The sat/phone on his desk buzzed loudly, proclaiming an incoming call from someone higher up the food chain.
“Da.”
“Anatoly, we have news.” The voice of Field Marshal Velniak was curt. “The Israelis are at it again.”
“What now, Comrade?”
“The Turks must have decided to repay the Jews for their actions,” answered Velniak. “A flight of F-4 interceptors attacked a passenger jet belonging to the Israeli government. Two F-16s were on hand to respond. The Turks have lost another asset.”
“That means the Muslim element of the coalition has decided to make decisions on its own, am I correct, Sir?” Telnikov suggested.
“Da! Correct my friend. I am calling to update and advise you to be alert. The Prime Minister is unhappy with the way the plan of battle is developing.”
“I have guessed this from my end as well. Might you use your masterful authority to speed up the arrival of the 9th armored division to the port of Tripoli, Lebanon?” Telnikov petitioned. “I could use the increased firepower of those big guns.”
Something about the request must have irritated the Field Marshall. Telnikov could hear it in the tone of his response. “Da, da, Anatoly. It is done and you will have your guns. Make sure you are not caught with your boots off, understood?”
The connection was terminated before Telnikov could respond.

Ramat David Air Base
Same Time Local

Ty held Blake’s hand as they descended the narrow steps of the plane and onto the tarmac. Both suffered from shaky knees, the aftereffect of what had just happened in flight. Ty stole a quick glance at his wife in an attempt to gauge what she might be feeling. Neither had ever experienced that depth of panic. Her face told him nothing, but the tightness of her grip said she still had plenty of adrenaline flowing through her veins.
A short, serious man, dressed in khaki and toting a beret met them beside the plane. His hand extended as Ty approached.
“It is my pleasure to welcome you to Israel. My name is Colonel Natansky, Commander of Ramat David Air Base,” the colonel greeted the Americans. Though his accent was distinctive, Ty was pleased by his English. His grip was strong, and his eyes exuded authority. But he also had a curious glint. “We have been informed of your arrival, though the reason for such a visit has been withheld on a need-to-know basis. I assume it is to remain unspoken.”
The insinuation of a secret purpose behind their being in Israel surprised Ty, though as he thought about it, why would the Israeli government take such in interest in their transportation unless something deeper were going on behind the scene.
“Glad to meet you, Colonel. I think it’s wise to set our purpose aside for now,” Ty offered. “However, I was led to believe arrangements had been made for someone to meet us here, and then transport us into Haifa.
The Colonel pointed eastward into the clear, night sky. Two sets of bright landing lights were approaching the end of the runway. By the high pitched whine of the engines Ty could tell that two fighter jets were about to touch down. “Your escort is arriving now,” said the colonel. He then chuckled at the look of astonishment on Ty’s face.
Blake held tightly to Ty’s arm. “You never told me we’d be flying in a fighter jet.”
“Don’t think they’re for us, babe.”
The F-16’s touched down, rolled out to the nearest taxiway, and then made a beeline directly toward Ty and Blake. The fighter’s canopies began extending into the air almost simultaneously. The lead plane came to a stop not twenty feet in front of them. Ground crewmen poured out of a nearby bunker and prepared to service the jet. Everything turned into a bustle of activity. The second plane continued on toward the bunker where large doors were already opening to receive it.
The Americans watched with a sense of excitement as a crewman attached a ladder to the side of the F-16. They could see the pilot remove his helmet and flight gloves while the crewman unbuckled the harness that held him in the seat. The pilot then stood in the cockpit seat, threw a leg over the side, and quickly descended to the ground.
Ty felt the colonel touch his arm and nudge him toward the approaching pilot. “This is the man who has been waiting to receive you. He would have been here earlier, but he insisted on escorting your aircraft to the base. May I present Wing Commander, Captain Moshe Eldan.”

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
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MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Off the Coast of Northern Israel
Sunday, November 15
10:00 p.m. Local Time

“Dagger One—Dog Pound, the package is approaching from the northeast, four hundred knots, and descending from angels thirty-one. It is ninety miles from feet dry. Repeat, ninety miles off the coast. Be advised, six F-4 Terminators are moving toward the package, bearing 170 degrees at four hundred knots. Looks like the Turks are sniffing around.”
“Roger—Dog Pound— the package will be visible in five minutes,” Moshe responded to the traffic controller’s advisement of the approaching Avocet Projet.
He and Rueben had been on the alert for nearly half an hour to assure that the unarmed government-owned jet would have a safe descent into Ramat David. Until the last few minutes no other activity had appeared over the area. But the Turks had had obviously been keeping watch from long distance.
“Frisbee,” Moshe called to his wingman, “Let’s pick of the pace. Afterburner on my mark.”
After a Turkish spy ship’s ticket to the bottom of the sea had been punched on Thursday, tensions had been increasing. That tension was now being exhibited by inordinate attention being given to the incoming Israeli airplane. Knowing who the jet was carrying added an extra element of urgency to Moshe’s mission. He’d made a promise to Ben. The couple who’d be stepping in to care for Celebration Center in the Pastor’s absence would be protected.
“Copy—Dagger—I’m right beside you,” Rueben acknowledged the order.
_____
Ty stared out the Avocet’s window into the dark night sky and imagined what may be waiting for them at Haifa. He was certain Israel’s recovery efforts would mirror what he’d left in Kansas City. The only difference would be in scale. But human suffering was human suffering. The needs were the same, meaning the assistance he could offer was the same in either place.
Blake had questioned what difficulties with the language and the cultural would be encountered. She’d been worrying about their ability to fit into the situation, let along their taking of the lead in Pastor Ben’s absence. Ty had broached the same question by phone to Ben a few days earlier, and he’d been assured that almost all Israelis held at least an elementary grasp of English. A large percentage could speak it well enough to hold a conversation, and many others were fluent. Ben’s words had encouraged him, but the unknown still loomed.
Now that they were nearing the Israeli coast Ty’s thoughts were filled with wonder at how the Lord had directed the last few days. The savviest of fiction authors could not have made this stuff up. Not only had it been an adventure, they were experiencing a certain twist of destiny, plenty of romance, and the fulfillment of Biblical prophecies.
Blake, who’d been visiting the galley for a fresh cup of coffee, returned to sit beside. “What’ya thinking about?”
“I don’t know. I guess my thoughts are in overdrive. I’m amazed at how God has blessed me, mainly with you.”
Blake wrapped her arm through his and snuggled as close as she possibly. She sighed with deep contentment. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Ty looked out the window again, lost in his thoughts. He noticed four bright dots moving in the distance, but his mind didn’t register what they could be.
“It feels like we’re descending a little too quickly,” said Blake.
Ty turned and kissed her on the forehead. “More than a little, we’re dropping like a rock. I don’t think we’re too far from Haifa.”
She saw a smile form on his face. She didn’t know it was in anticipation.
“What?”
“Our real honeymoon is about to begin, babe,” he whispered.
Blake seemed to purr. “Good thing we slept so much on the flight.”
______
Alarms sounded in the cockpits of both F-16 Lightning fighters. Moshe’s HSD revealed that F-4s had just engaged their radar. “Dagger—Dog Pound, an air-to-air IRSAT has just locked onto the Avocet,” transmitted the combat air controller. “Things are about to get serious.”
“Copy—Dog Pound. Dagger Flight is going in hot,” radioed Moshe. “Light’em up Frisbee. Separate west by two miles and let’s shadow the civilians before the Turks get stupid.”
“Roger, Frisbee going west.”
Moshe knew that Turkish attack aircraft carried practically the same weaponry as the IAF, namely AIM 120C AMRAAM long distance missiles, and close-in AIM 9 Sidewinders. But these were not F-16s bearing in on the civilian plane. They were F-4s, modified, but F-4s just the same. The jets were Vietnam era vintage platforms that had been upgraded in avionics and radar technology. Oddly, the upgrades had been done for Turkey by the Israelis. Still, he had no lack of confidence in superiority of his aircraft.
Suddenly, the animated voice of the missile warning system sounded out, “Missile in the air, missile in the air.”

______

“Buckle your seatbelts folks,” the pilot’s accented voice shouted on the intercom.
They had just obeyed when plane’s right wingtip dropped straight down and the nose of the aircraft pitched forward. The side of Ty’s head hit the window with a thud.
“What’s happening,” shouted Blake in fear.
“I don’t know, but hold on!”
Ty heard his wife’s voice switch from terror to prayer. “Help us Jesus”

_______

“Take it down, Avocet, all the way to the waves,” Moshe ordered the Projet pilot.
The AMRAAM had been fired at the outer limits of its range, roughly thirty miles, meaning there was time for Moshe to pull a solution out of his hat. “Go high, Frisbee. Get a shot at the lead Terminator. I’ll punch through the Avocet’s wake and shield it.”
“Frisbee going high. Be careful Dagger. Those are our missiles.”
Moshe saw flaming plumes shooting from the Projet as it spiraled toward the surface of the Mediterranean. All Israeli pilots were practiced in the art of breaking the radar lock of an incoming missile, but most of that had involved evading Soviet-made technology. The AMRAAM Slammer now heading his way was American. The technology was deadlier.
Moshe nudged his stick forward and slightly to the left bringing his nose into alignment with the oncoming missile. The AMRAAM was a fire-and-forget weapon with the ability to hold radar lock until its prey was destroyed. Knowing the civilian Projet had no ability to outrun the missile, Moshe’s only option was to shoot the thing out of the sky.
He thumbed the switch on the side of his stick and engaged the radar of his twenty millimeter Vulcan cannon. Once a steady note rang in his earpiece, he gently depressed the trigger. With each second-long pull, hundreds of rounds were disgorged from the cannon. Bright tracers showed where the bullets were drilling through the black sky.
“Frisbee, Fox Three, Fox Three.” Rueben’s voice sounded in the background. Moshe paid no attention. His mind was fully engaged in knocking out the killer that was moving rapidly toward him. He kept his eyes tagged to the crosshair of the Heads Up Display and continued to pull the trigger.
The AMRAAM Slammer picked up speed and began nosing downward toward the fleeing Projet.
“Come on, come on,” Moshe urged his cannon. But the missile continued its pursuit unabated.
“Yeshua, these are your people. I’m almost out of ammo.” As if on cue, the cannon emptied with a final burst. The last tracer scooted off in the distance.
Suddenly, a bright flash plumed in front of the Lightning as the missile exploded. The force of the concussion coursed through the framework of the plane and into Moshe’s body. No damage was done to either.
Moshe checked his HSD and saw that the only other missile in the air was an AMRAAM fired by his wingman. The Turkish fighters had turned and were bugging back toward home, but one of them wasn’t going to make it.

________

The slow, spiraling dive of the aircraft ended, but by the way Ty felt his body being driven into the seat, the ascent they were was just as severe as the descent they’d just experienced. As the sinking feeling of g-forces began to subside, Ty glanced out his window. A large explosion swelled in the distance then dissipated into nothingness. He leaned his head back on the seat and expelled a lung-full of air.
Blake too was shaken. “What was that?” she asked as she too peered out into the night. Curiosity had replaced whatever fear she had.
“I think we just dodged a missile.”
“Look,” she pointed out the window, “we’ve got company.”
Ty felt a leap in his chest. An F-16 with a Star of David lit brightly on its tail was flying less than twenty yards off the Projet’s wing. He scanned forward to see that the cockpit of the fighter was also lit by a dim glow. Strangely, the helmeted head of the pilot turned his way and offered a smart salute.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
(add $5.00 for shipping)
MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Paris, France
Sunday, November 15
1:00 p.m., Local Time

Andre D’Tiene sat on the leather couch of his tenth story Paris penthouse and looked out over the Champs De Elysees. Beautifully manicured trees lined the lanes of the avenue. Cyclists filled the streets, scores of Sunday pedestrians traversed the broad walks in an orderly flow. Everyone moved toward, or flowed away from the distant Arc de Triomphe standing backlit by the noonday sun. He’d never grown beyond a profound awe at the vista. It saddened him to think that he was just days away from tendering his resignation as the President of the Republic of France. However, in order to take the reigns of the Mediterranean Union, the resignation was demanded. The immense power he would be gaining was worth the exchange, even though he would miss Paris immensely.
The Union was growing in strength at an astonishing rate, far beyond his original projections when the idea first materialized in his mind six months earlier. The calamitous events in America and Israel were the primer to that surge. Every economy of the world had been uniquely tied to the dollar, with only the Euro having given it a run for its proverbial money. But with the collapse of the American financial system the dollar had lost most of his historic impetus. In fact, it had contracted so much it would soon be unsustainable in value. Inflation in the United States was soaring into the stratosphere. With an unimaginable national debt, America had lost complete control over its currency. In effect, the United States had ceased to exist as a world power, and its weak President did not have the knowledge or backbone to halt the downward spiral.
America had become the epicenter of a domino effect. The next to teeter were the Asian markets, those that held the bulk of American debt in their greed-dripping hands. Their fall was imminent simply because the United States could no longer keep pace with even the interest accrued on trillions of dollars worth of IOUs. Since the gold standard had been removed in the early 1970’s, all that America had was the almighty dollar, and real estate. The dollar was spent and dying! Five nuclear detonations, with the threat of further terrorist attacks, had effectively eliminated real estate as a foundation of wealth.
The European Union was also suffering. Simply put, Europe no longer had a basis for competition. With few natural commodities such as oil, natural gas, and fossil fuels, no ability to barter beyond the Euro remained. It would not be long before the current financial crises converted the EU into fractured segments. Unity would never again be achieved.
Russia had maintained itself through two decades of internal economic strife, only to reemerge economically with a new czarist, totalitarian-style government. Finally learning to exploit its own vast resources, Russia now controlled two-thirds of the world’s supply of energy. Soviet-styled world domination was back in its sights. Having mastered the ability to manipulate the Arabs, the Russians were again a force to be reckoned with.
D’Tiene’s trump card was Israel. The entire world was focused on that narrow strip of land. It seemed everyone desired to possess it. Why? D’Tiene thought to himself.
He had no clear answer, but taking possession of the world’s epicenter was quickly becoming his obsession as well. Maybe it was the Jewish genes dangling from his DNA. Maybe it was an innate knowledge that the key to controlling the world began by taming the religions birthed on Temple Mount. This grasp for control would be consummated by whoever possessed the ultimate artifact, the Ark of the Covenant. Winning the race to uncover the Ark’s whereabouts would be his ticket to global domination and peace.
So far, he’d played his hand brilliantly. Creating an international consortium that was patterned after the long-dead Roman Empire had been his first achievement. Uniting nations that had been snubbed by the world with those which held historic prestige had been a stroke of genius. For the first time in a millennium, Italy, Spain, and France were working in equal partnership with the nations of North Africa. Turkey was on the verge of stepping fully into the union, even though they were in a quasi military partnership with the Russian coalition. All that remained was the consolidation of the splintered Balkan states and the eventual inclusion of the remnants of Syria. The Union would soon have eleven nations that encompassed the Mediterranean Sea. Israel would have no choice but to accept the MU’s offer to become its overlord.
That inevitability stemmed from another of D’Tiene’s many achievements. He’d forged of a relationship with Yosef Naftali, the hard-nosed Israeli Prime Minister. Naftali had come to power in the wake of the dividing of Israel to the Palestinians, and although the man had no desire to overturn what had been done, he would stand for no more ceding of territory to terrorists.
The hook that D’tiene had used to snag Naftali was the offer to rebuild the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. Work remained to be done, but D’tiene was absolutely confident that he would find a way for the Temple Mount to be shared by both Muslims and Jews. Perhaps it would be something as simple as constructing a wall between the Dome of the Rock and a rebuilt Temple. It would probably require a certain amount of sabotage, something he was prepared to instigate. Time would tell. One thing was certain, with the Temple as his trump D’tiene could pull Naftali’s strings just as a puppeteer works a marionette.
The intangible in all his plans for Israel was the Ark. If he could find it before the Israelis, the world would see him as the ultimate broker of peace. He would be the savior of worldwide Judaism by simply returning it to its rightful owner. His desired position of benevolent mediator between the religions would be sealed. All that was required was that he be the discoverer of the Ark’s location. For this purpose, a man had been keeping tight surveillance upon Israel’s best hope in the race, Doctor Hannah Lira. Her face now filled D’Tiene’s thoughts. She was the counterpart in the race that he must win.
Just then, the phone jarred D’tiene from his musings. He answered on the before the third ring.
“One moment,” he said, and then punched a series of numbers that engaged a scrambler device. “Go ahead, we are secure.”
“Sir, all participants are in place.”
“Where?”
“Between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv in an area known as the Nazir Fields,” a low voice reported.
“Can you breach the security and get a look at what is happening?”
“That remains to be seen, but I believe we have a few days to make an attempt. I want to do it right and avoid every risk of discovery. We lost a man at Jerusalem University and I wish not to lose another.”
“Very well. When you become aware of the target location, call me.”
“Understood, Mister President.”
The line went dead and D’tiene went back to his thoughts. Naftali had set the ball in motion. A commando team had been established to recover the Ark, meaning the Israeli leader had a strong indication of its whereabouts. The game was fast approaching the pivotal moment. It was a game that D’tiene was determined to win.

Israel
The Fields of Nazir Training Grounds
Sunday, 2:00 p.m. Local Time

Ben leaned forward with his hands resting on his knees and wretched. His body was being taxed to the limit and had finally reacted with violence. He was also somewhat embarrassed. He hadn’t lost a lunch since his days of basic training as a teenager. It made little difference that two other members of the team had done the same over the course of the last hour.
As sweat dripped from his forehead, Ben focused on the ache in his heart. He was missing his wife and his ministry. By now, they would have enjoyed a time of worship and be breaking bread together. If he’d only said no to Ari Goins, Zev Tolberg, and their quest to find the Ark, he could be eating with his people instead of trying to keep his food in his stomach.
Finally, Ben was able stand and recover. As he did he looked into the sky. A pair of vultures soared high above the hilly terrain. He wondered if they might be waiting for the demise of an old soldier gone soft. The second day of mission training was confirming that he was half the man he used to be, at least in stamina. It also shouted that his was twice the man in volume.
He looked ahead to where the rest of the team were beginning to climb a wall of netting and mumbled. “Lord, what have I gotten myself into?”
Just then, Ben felt the weight of a huge hand on his back. He was suddenly being propelled forward. “Come on, preacher, we have a wall to climb.” Ari Goins was fully engaged in the workout while wearing a sadistic grin. “Think about it this way, you have more room in your belly for the evening meal.”
Ben didn’t have enough air in his lungs to offer an appropriate response. All he could do was gasp. One thing was certain, though he wished he were back with the people he loved so dearly, not an ounce of quit would ever be found in his character. His body may be screaming for relief, but his heart was big enough to drive him forward, at least until he stopped at the next obstacle.
He watched for a moment as Ari reached the base of the twenty foot wall and grabbed a handful of rope to begin his ascent. The big man made it seem so easy. Wiping the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve, Ben asserted his will and pressed forward. Knowing his team had a race to win before time ran out provided at least momentary motivation to drive him through the pain of the day.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
(add $5.00 for shipping)
MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Off the Eastern Coast of the USA
Sunday Morning, November 15
1:00 a.m., Local Time

The twin-engines of the sleek, white, Avocet Projet whistled a steady note, telling Ty they’d once again achieved cruising altitude. They were now over the Atlantic Ocean after having landed to refuel at John F. Kennedy International in New York City. There next stop would be Paris, then on to Haifa. He and his wife were the only passengers on the jet, and she was sleeping in total contentment with her head resting sweetly on his lap.
It had been a whale of a day, starting very early. It wasn’t over yet, at least as far as the working of his mind was concerned. The ceremony held in the rustic setting of a large striped tent had been absolutely wonderful; chilly, but wonderful. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d be married at the front of a makeshift church, let alone during the waning days of a Missouri November. That no wedding night would be experienced until their arrival in Israel made no difference to him. The woman next to him made everything about the day, and the trip, perfect. He knew Blake felt the same about him.
For the last two days, Ty had wrestled with his understanding of the will of God. Though the thought of beginning their marriage in the Holy Land was new and exciting, reality said they were heading toward great danger. Not only had Haifa been nuked, all the evidence pointed to the fact that the hordes mentioned in Ezekiel thirty-eight were converging on Israel. By the time they touched down in Haifa, the leading formations of the Russian Coalition would be in place along Israel’s inland borders, from Lebanon to the Negev.
Ty had no clue how long those armies would delay in attacking Israel. Maybe the actual hook of Ezekiel had not yet been set. Perhaps there was still some time remaining before God got royally ticked and let loose his fury.
Before they’d departed from Kansas City International, news reports indicated that the Libyans were arriving at the ports of Lebanon and the Iranians were crossing the Syrian borders and turning south toward Jordan. The Jordanians had protested, but their small forces would never serve as a deterrent. The presence of the radical President of Iran, Tariq Kazimi, would only drive the jihadist elements in Jordan to join in the parade against the hated Jews. There would be no option for Jordan but to join with Iran.
Ty reached for his Bible and opened its pages to the thirty-ninth chapter of Ezekiel. “Thus says the Lord God: Behold, I am against you, O Gog, chief prince of Meshech and Tubal. And I will turn you about and drive you forward, and bring you up from the uttermost parts of the north, and lead you against the mountains of Israel. Then I will strike your bow from your left hand, and make your arrows drop out of your right hand. You shall fall upon the mountains of Israel, you and all your hordes and the people who are with you.”
He read the passage over and over, trying to discern some clue that might reveal the timing of the event. Many times through the years the Arabs had formed coalitions to attack Israel. Each time, the enemy had been defeated, pushed back, and subdued. Was the current crises just another in a long string of actions? Or was it the final attack of Ishmael against Isaac? The two sons of Abraham had been at odds for five thousand years, ever since their separation as brothers. But the Word of God was clear. A final war would come between the two, and God would put an end to the long enmity with an unprecedented judgment against Ishmael and his sons. Israel would be miraculously saved, and the whole world would know who achieved the victory.
Ty shook himself. He could only hope their service in Haifa would be ended by the time God’s judgment was meted out. What part he was to play, beyond stepping in for Pastor Ben Sherett to care for the people of Celebration Center, escaped him. But one thing was certain, he had a deep conviction that he and Blake were doing the right thing and that God would be honored in however they were used.
He sat the Bible aside and readjusted himself on the seat without disturbing his bride. For now, it was enough to know that he would never be alone. That contentment sent him into a refreshing sleep.

Haifa, Israel
Sunday, 10:00 a.m., Local Time

Moshe couldn’t wait for the music to start. His level of anticipation and done a complete turn around since his first visit to Celebration Center three weeks earlier. On that day, he’d attended only out of surrender to Tasha’s spiritual enthusiasm, not really wanting to be counted as part of a group of religious fanatics. But three trying weeks of tragedy and combat had brought him to the realization of the only truth that mattered. Things had changed, not with the church of Messianic believers, but within the confines of his soul. Now, the pre-worship fellowship was as sweet as the cream-covered bagel he’d just finished. He now had a family with whom to spiritually connect to for the first time in his life.
The thumping rhythm of a conga drum brought a quick end to conversation as everyone stood to their feet. A tambourine joined in with the beat, then a guitar and keyboard, and before Moshe could resist the urge, his hands shot into the air. Praise bubbled forth from his heart, though he had no idea what words might be appropriate. All that mattered was that something inside his soul was now wide open and ready for the presence of Yeshua.
He glanced at Tasha standing by his side. A smile outlined every aspect of her beautiful face, from the corners of her mouth to the tightly closed lids of her eyes. The song flowed sweetly from her lips, no effort, no hesitation, and hearing it deepened his happiness. His spiritual vision was now open, simply because he’d become a part of what she’d experienced with the savior. He was now fully alive, and the electricity of spiritual life seemed to quicken every molecule inside his body. Though it was all totally new, he couldn’t help but feel completely at ease.
For nearly an hour the worship pulsated within the hotel conference room, the meeting place of Celebration Church. The space was packed with longtime members as well as new faces who had received ministry help in the aftermath of Haifa’s nuclear tragedy. As the final notes of praise sounded from the instruments, Moshe scanned the group and witnessed something he would have never dreamed possible. Jews were worshipping with Arabs. In this room there were no divisions between Israeli and Palestinian. They were of the same blood, the blood of Yeshua that had been shed for them all.
The congregation finally sat down and a special speaker slipped to the front with a Bible in hand. The time had come to hear the Word. Tasha snuggled close to Moshe. As he draped his arm around her shoulders she stretched upward to whisper something in his ear.
“His name is Kareem. He is a Palestinian believer that has visited from time to time.”
Moshe nodded, amazed that the old feelings of hatred toward his enemy were no longer present. He listened intently as Kareem began to speak.
“My friends in Jesu, I stand humbly before you with great joy in my heart,” he said, with his eyes inclined to his Bible in true humility. “That you have always welcomed me to share has blessed me beyond measure. That you listen and take to heart the Word of God, whether spoken by your amazing Pastor Ben, or by a stray Palestinian, is nothing short of miraculous. This is especially true after having experienced such horror at the hands of my kindred.”
Tears eased from Kareem’s eyes as a deep sorrow for the actions of his fellow sons of Ishmael spilled from his heart. Moshe watched as a young Israeli man left his seat and approached Kareem with genuine affection. The two embraced as only brothers could do. A lump formed in the back of Moshe’s throat as his body fought an urge to cry.
When Kareem had gathered himself, he opened his Bible and cleared his throat to share. “I do not pretend to be the preacher you have become accustomed to, but I do have a choice prophetic word to share from the scriptures. Please open to a portion in the Old Testament book of Zechariah, chapter nine and verse five.”
The sound of turning pages filled the room. Tasha slid her Bible onto Moshe’s knee and placed her finger beside the appropriate paragraph. They read the text together.
“Ashkelon shall see it, and be afraid; Gaza too, and shall writhe in anguish; Ekron also, because its hopes are confounded. The king shall perish from Gaza; Ashkelon shall be uninhabited; a mixed people shall dwell in Ashdod, and I will cut off the pride of Philistia. I will take away its blood from its mouth and its abominations from between its teeth; it too shall be a remnant for our God; it shall be like a clan of Judah, and Ekron shall be like the Jebusites. Then I will encamp at my house as a guard, so that none shall march to and fro; no oppressor shall again march over them, for now I see with my own eyes.”
Every city the passage cited was well known to Moshe. They were the seat of the Palestinian population on along the coast of the Israel. All but Ashkelon had been recently divided to form part of a Palestinian state. Since the nuclear attack on Haifa, both the West Bank and Gaza had been in a state of upheaval. Infighting for political control between Hamas and Fatah was only exacerbated by a new incursion by Israeli Defense Forces.
Kareem lifted his head to address the crowd. “Though I am deeply troubled by the events taking place among my people, I have been convinced that Jehovah-God has a master plan that is soon to come to fruition. The Lord has opened my eyes to the wonderful depth of his mercy, a depth that will overwhelm the Palestinian people and bring them to the throne of Yeshua.”
“As you know, the Palestinians are a people formed from many different roots. We have Arab blood flowing through our veins, but we also have the blood of Moab, Syria, and Babylon intermingled with it. We are a mixed race, unlike those who claim to be true sons of Ishmael.
“Although many have attached to my people the label of the Philistines, it is only at heart that the Palestinians bear any resemblance to the ancient foe of the Israelites. Even though we are not of the race of Philistia, the cold hatred we hold against the Jews has its roots in the same spiritual darkness. The source of that darkness is pure evil.” Kareem lowered his head to collect his next thoughts. His hands shook as they held the Bible in place upon the podium.
“To claim we are an oppressed people, or to claim racial discrimination, can only be justified by closing our eyes to our own acts of violence. As with every nation that refuses to obey the precepts of God, the seeds that are sown will return with a harvest of violence and death. That can be said of both Palestine and Israel. The nations cannot separate themselves by claiming superior justification in bringing harm to the other. Both are without God, and that has led us all to these troubled times.
“However, just as Jehovah has featured Israel in his great, end-time equation, so he has remembered the mixed people of Palestine.”
Moshe’s eyes widened as he reread the passage. He was holding his breath, though he didn’t realize it. He hadn’t entered his mind that God actually had a plan for the Palestinians, but there it was, written in black and white. Was there no end to the mysteries of Bible prophecy? He no longer questioned its validity, but the massive scope of current events and how it was pre-ordained was blowing his mind.
“Friends, I speak to you this morning from the abundance of joy in my heart. Although Palestine is in shambles and appears to be crumbling, God is stirring the hearts of individuals across its length and breadth. He is calling them to rethink the claims of Islam, and they are seeing the emptiness of its deceptions. Many are coming to the feet of Yeshua, who we call Jesu. This will only continue. As the great calamitous events prophesied in the Book of Ezekiel come true, we will begin to see a great turning to Messiah. It will be so complete, so powerful, so impacting, that God says he will embrace the Palestinian people as if they were a clan of Judah.”
Now, as Moshe focused on Kareem and listened to his words, his mouth was opened as wide as his eyes.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
(add $5.00 for shipping)
MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Plattsville, Missouri
Thursday, November 12
8:00 a.m., Local Time

A full minute passed before Blake relaxed the bear hug she had around Ty’s neck.
“I can’t believe it. This is so amazing!” She squealed.
Ty was pleasantly surprised that such a petite, beautiful woman could exert so much strength. There was raw power hidden behind that blond hair, blue eyes, and sweet figure. She’d overcome his height advantage in a single bound.
“Yes it is,” he said, and then took the opportunity to offer a long, tender kiss. When he opened his eyes he saw pure joy.
“We’ve got a ton of work to do, don’t we?” The reality of it all had just hit her.
“Unless you want to occupy separate beds on this trip, this wedding has to happen in the next two days. Exactly how big and fancy of a ceremony are you looking for?” Ty smiled as he lowered her to the floor.
“Big and fancy has never been my dream. Anyway, it would be out of the question under the current circumstances.” said Blake. “My main concern has been in finding the right guy. You’re it pal!”
“I’m glad to be tagged. As far as fancy, you’re right. That would be inappropriate. Big is another issue. My guess is everyone in the congregation will be there, plus all the folks that are occupying the church. The tent will be filled to the ropes.”
“What about licenses? Are the county offices even open?” Blake asked with a bit of alarm.
“You know, at this point, having God’s approval is going to trump a license from the State of Missouri. I ran it by the Deacons and they feel the same.”
Blake’s forehead crinkled a bit. “Ty, are you sure of that? I don’t want us to be anywhere close to an unholy situation.”
“Neither do I,” Ty shrugged. “Really, my heart tells me it is the right thing to do. You know, ‘seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness?’ God knows our hearts, and getting married with all our people as witnesses will seal the deal. When state licenses are available, we’ll finish the job. We might even get one in Israel.”
She thought about it for a minute, and then smiled again. “Okay, you need to call your preacher friend. He may be up to his knees in refugees too.”
“I did, and he is. I talked to him on the phone right after I got the call from the State Department. He’s cool with it. In fact, he was pretty happy. Says we’ll finally be on an equal playing field.” Ty chuckled.
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s been a running joke between us since we met. He’s married and has three kids. He says I haven’t learned the true meaning of humility. He thinks I’m about to find out.”
Blake’s eyes twinkled, but she gave no reply beyond an ornery grin. Ty loved the way her face lit up when she smiled. It was as if life blew into his heart whenever he saw it. The more of that kind of breeze, the better.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Pastor Jim said he had people to attend to in the morning, but he would be here with bells on at one o’clock. That means we’ve got to be packed and ready to fly before the ceremony.”
“What’s going to happen when we get to Israel?” Blake asked as she headed for the pantry and a box of cereal.
“You mean accommodations?”
“Uh-huh.”
Ty could see that breakfast was about to be served. No milk was available, so it would be a crunchy one. It didn’t matter. It was the company that made it all work. She poured him a bowl and pulled a spoon out of a drawer. She then filled a bowl for herself.
“Ben Sherett said we’d have full use of the apartment he’s been using. His wife will move in with some people in their church. That way we can have a place to ourselves, and she can be occupied in recovery efforts in Haifa without being all alone.”
Blake nodded her head. “That makes sense. Too bad he didn’t tell you what he’s up to.”
“Well, he did, at least part of it. Can’t tell you though…”
“I know. If you told me you’d have to play spy and bring about my demise,” she laughed. “Eat up! We’ve got work to do to make this all happen.”
“Amen to that,” said Ty with a sigh. Somehow, he perceived that another whirlwind was just beginning to blow.

Husifa, Israel
Thursday 4:30 p.m., Local Time

Ingrid’s forehead rested on the Ben’s firm chest. She cried softly, fighting to keep from falling into an emotional display that would make things more difficult than they already were. Ben stroked her long brown hair, allowing tears to escape from his own eyes.
The moment required few words. Everything had been spoken. Both were aware of the danger surrounding the mission. Both knew the possible consequences of his involvement, and neither wanted to dwell on them. As it stood, Ingrid would continue with the work of ministering to broken lives in desperate need of Yeshua. Ben would immerse himself in saving Israel from the gathering storm that was building beyond the mountains of Israel. All that remained was this tender embrace, a consummate touch of tenderness that could be the last they’d experience this side of the Kingdom of God.
Ingrid lifted her head and wiped away her tears as she looked into Ben’s eyes. He used his finger to separate a few strands of hair that had become tangled on her forehead.
“Father,” he whispered, “watch after the love of my life.”
Another tear escaped as Ingrid smiled ever so slightly. “And may the Almighty keep my man from harm and bring him success.”
The kiss that followed was not long or passionate, but it sealed a love that was as deep as any human union on earth. Ben then reached for the strap of his small duffle, brushed by his wife, and left her standing alone inside the apartment.
No one noticed the man hidden in the alcove of an apartment across the street. He quickly raised a cell phone and dialed a preset number. The connection was made on the first ring, and then was followed by a random series of clicks indicating security measures had been activated.
“Report,” a low voice sounded.
“The subject is moving.”
“Very well. We have confirmation that eight of the twelve have departed. Proceed to observation point delta and report back in six hours.”
The man slapped the phone shut and inserted it into the pocket of his grey jacket. Checking to make sure he’d attracted no attention, he stepped into the street and made his way up a shallow hill toward his car.
Ben sank low into the seat of the non-descript, slightly dented sedan. He needed to think. So many things had happened in the last few days, he was still trying to absorb it all. To top off, he’d just left his wife under the protective wing of a fighter pilot, and his church in the hands of an American he’d never met. Still, there was a peace deep in his heart that he was doing the will of God.
“Are you alright?” Ari Goins sat directly in front of Ben in the driver’s seat and observed his charge through the rearview mirror. They were making their way down the eastern slope of Mount Carmel, dodging in and around both pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Ben had said nothing since climbing into the car ten minutes earlier.
“No, I’m not.” Ben ran the palm of his hand across his chin with a gesture that he hoped would somehow shift his mind into another gear, one from the distress he felt a leaving his wife, to that of engaging with the mission at hand. “Ari, are you married?”
Ari smiled, “Yes, with six children in tow.”
“How do you do it?” Ben asked.
Ari laughed freely, though it took Ben a moment to realize how his question had sounded to the big man driving the car. Ben’s spirit lifted as he joined in with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“That is not what I meant,” Ben quickly added.
“I understand what you mean,” Ari nodded as he dodged a group of people standing out from the curb. “It is never easy, but we’ve learned to cope. My wife is strong spirited and has a tremendous faith that Yeshua will shelter us. The children occupy enough of her time to keep her steady.”
“Where do you live? Are you apart much?”
“Our home is near the University, and my two oldest are students of Doctor Lira. They understand, to some extent, what I do for the government. But, they choose to pursue the archeological opportunities that have come with the assignment in spite the danger that surrounds me.”
“What exactly do you do?” Ben’s question seemed natural.
“Presently, I am assigned to Doctor Lira. Beyond that, I must not say,” Ari caught Ben’s eye in the mirror and winked.
“Got ya. I’m not supposed to ask, am I?”
“Ask all you want. Answers you will not receive.”
Several minutes passed without conversation as Ari directed the sedan down the mountain, zipping around switchbacks filled with people. The cedar-dotted draws and ravines were being utilized by refugees. Haifa, on the other side of the mountain, offered the multitudes of displaced people nothing but death.
When they arrived at the mountain’s foot Ari turned onto the highway and headed south. Traffic eased considerably, and Ben felt at liberty to continue the conversation.
“How did you meet Yeshua?”
“Ah, now that is a story,” the big man answered. “I found Messiah twelve years ago. Shimon Perez was Prime Minister, and I was serving in his Shin Bet cadre. One Tuesday, I was on duty as his personal escort when a visitor from America came to his home seeking an appointment. He was some evangelical preacher.”
“Who was he?”
“I cannot remember his name, only that he was a very large, boisterous sounding man. Oddly, the Prime Minister had knowledge of the man’s ministry, especially his strong support for Israel and our plight. If you remember, the Syrians were giving us trouble after they occupied the Bekaa Valley.”
“I remember,” Ben nodded.
“Perez granted the man’s request, and I remained in the office as they spoke. The Prime Minister thanked him for his long support, and in a moment in which he seemed genuinely puzzled, asked the man why he worked so diligently for a people not his own. His answer stunned me. He said that Israel was his people. Perez asked if there was Jewish blood flowing in his veins, but he denied any blood connection.”
“What did he mean?”
“He calmly explained how he counted the people of his Lord as his own family, that if God thought it important enough to re-gather them in the ancient lands, then it was his duty to make sure they remained. Perez asked why that should occupy such a steadfast commitment from a non-Jew. The preacher’s answer was simple: ‘If Yeshua counted a non-Jew important enough to bleed and die for, how much more significant must be the people of Abraham?’ He told the entire story of Yeshua, how he was born in the line of David, how he fulfilled the ancient prophecies, his death on a Roman cross according to Isaiah fifty-three, and his resurrection from a borrowed tomb.”
“How did the Prime Minister respond?” Ben asked.
“At the mention of Yeshua, Perez’ mind shut down. I, however, was transfixed. It is not customary for security personnel to make eye contact with guests, but I could not help myself. I was transfixed.” Ari seemed to be reliving the experience, relating it all with animated gestures.
Ben kept his eyes on the road from the back seat hoping Ari wouldn’t drive off into a ditch or run into oncoming traffic. “What did you think?”
“It wasn’t what I thought, but what happened when I directed the man out of the house after the meeting ended,” answered Ari. “I was leading him down a hall toward the door when I heard my name. It was spoken firmly as if it were a command. I turned and asked the preacher how he knew my name. He looked at me with a strange expression, but did not answer. We proceeded toward the door and my name was spoken again, but this time I had turned just before it happened.” Ari paused.
“And,” Ben nudged. He had a feeling which way the story was about to go.
“The preacher had said not a word.”
“Wow!”
“Yes, wow! I don’t know how, but he perceived my dilemma. ‘Yeshua is speaking to you, sir,’ he whispered. ‘You need to respond and listen.’ After I showed him out I slipped into a cloak room and did what he advised. That is when I met my King.”
“What did he tell you?” Ben asked.
“I swear I heard him clearly. A voice said, “What the preacher told you is true. If you take it to heart, you will be forever transformed.’” Ari paused, and Ben felt no inclination to interrupt his new friend’s thoughts. When he finally spoke, it was with a twinkle in his eyes and a laugh that emanated from his heart. “All I can tell you is that I believed. Three days later, I met Hannah Lira and my life has never been the same.”
Forty-five minutes later, and with no further conversation between them, Ari pulled the car off the highway and onto a road that followed a low wadi into the hills. They were in the Shafela of Israel. Within three kilometers they arrived at a military check point. The words “Fields of Nazir” were painted over the gates.

Jimmy Root Jr
Author: DISTANT THUNDER and the AWARD WINNING MAGOG RISING
Books One and Two of the Lightning Chronicles
$15 per Copy...SIGNED!
Buy several for the same shipping rate as ONE! Give them as gifts.
OR
Send a check to Jimmy Root Jr PO Box 112, Smithville, MO 64089
(add $5.00 for shipping)
MAGOG RISING
is the READERS FAVORITE 2010 National Writing Competition SILVER MEDALIST in the Christian Fiction Genre
ORDER NOW
Visit:
http://www.lightningchronicles.com/
Toll Free at 1866 909-2665
Or use the above address to send a check for $18.00 (includes shipping) and ask for Magog Rising...or get both books....SIGNED!
Distant Thunder, Gog and Magog, Israel, Iran, Radical Islam, Ezekiel 38 and 39, Jimmy Root Jr, Rapture, Nuclear Weapons, Bible Prophecy, Russia, European Union, Lightning Chronicles, Terrorism, Ahmadinijad,