Blood Of The Falcon

Начало книги

One hot morning in early June, the Melina rode at anchor a mile out from the Israeli coast. The freighter was a floating bomb manned by a crew of killers.

The prospect of getting off the ship failed to cheer veteran terrorist Bassam Abu-Bakir. The only way to leave was by boat, and the thirty-two-year-old Palestinian, a born landlubber, loathed all things nautical. Throughout this trip he'd suffered from seasickness. Even now, he felt poorly.

Soon he'd feel worse. Much worse.

Hasim teased him. "Abu-Bakir, why so glum? The great day is here at last. Your heart should rejoice in gladness!"

"My heart will rejoice when it's safely back on dry land, and not before. Inshallah," Abu-Bakir added, "if God wills it."

Hasim nodded. "Our fate rests in the hands of Allah. If we are destined to die at sea, so be it. If not, then nothing can harm us. In any case, whatever is written shall come to pass."

"What a comfort you are." Abu-Bakir spat over the rail, into the sea.

Читать дальше →