"Brad Thor - Harvath 02 - Path of the Assassin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thor Brad)

heavily attended. The timing of the attack insured maximum carnage. With a Do Not
Disturb sign hung on the doors of both rooms, the terrorist would be resting
comfortably on a first-class flight to Cairo by the time the missile launched. From
Cairo, a clandestine transport network would round out the journey home just as
todayтАЩs events were being broadcast on the evening news.
As the digital fuse began its devastating countdown, the terrorist spray-painted a
large hand cradling the Star of David on the wall.
For a moment, scenes of a happier time flashed through the terroristтАЩs mind. A time
before the hatred was so deeply entrenched. Two young lovers from different walks
of life, two different sides of the struggle, walked together along a river in fall. Bells
rang in the distance and they cherished the good fortune that had brought them
together. Though each had been raised to hate the other, love had blossomed
between them. But, there were influences at work greater than their love. It was those
influences that would change their lives, and the world, forever.
The terroristтАЩs eyes, normally silver in color, now flashed coal black with hate as the
final letters were painted beneath the hand. It was a simple, yet chilling three-word
message, тАЬTerror For Terror.тАЭ


Two hours later, a stream of worshippers hurried themselves along, late for the
sunset prayer. As they entered the ProphetтАЩs Mosque, right leg first as custom
dictated, each supplicated, saying, тАЬI seek refuge with the Mighty Allah. I seek
protection in His Generous Countenance and His Everlasting AuthorityтАж. O Allah!
Forgive my sins, and open the gates of Your mercy to me.тАЭ
They fanned out deeper into the mosque, searching for empty spaces to kneel
among the other thousands of worshippers. As was the custom, the women were
directed into a separate area closed off by large panels of fabric, so as not to distract
the men from their prayers. The younger children stayed with their mothers, while
older sons, well behaved enough not to disrupt the service, were allowed to sit
among the rows of adult men. Most of the families in the ProphetтАЩs Mosque were
divided this way when a great rumbling erupted overhead and a massive
double-detonating warhead crashed through the roof, exploding in a fiery hail of
instant death.
By noon the next day, rescue workers were giving up any hope of finding victims
alive beneath the wreckage of the ProphetтАЩs Mosque. As throngs of MedinaтАЩs
citizens gathered behind emergency-services barricades asking why, a broadcast fax
went simultaneously to newspapers and news agencies around the globe. It read:

For decades, the Arab world has supported and encouraged terrorism against Israel.
Publicly, terrorists are denounced, while privately they continue to be trained and
financed by Arab nations. The nation of Israel will no longer tolerate acts of violence
upon our soil, or against our people. Henceforward we will speak to the Arab world
in the language they have given birth to, the language they have spat bitterly into our
mouths, the only language they understand тАФ the language of terrorism.

As it says in Job тАФ тАЬThey that plow iniquity and sow mischief shall reap the same.тАЭ

The fax was signed on behalf of an organization calling itself the Hand of God.
Beneath the groupтАЩs name was the same pictogram the Medina police found on the
wall of room 611 of the Dar Al Taqwa Inter-Continental, a large hand holding the