CHAPTER 5
General Agnon sat slumped at a pine desk in his bedroom, shoulders slumped, face buried in his hands. He had hung his jacket on a coat rack in his office, then trudged to his quarters. His shirt hung dirty and rumpled on his body; his tie looked askew. He took deep breaths, trying to take control of his emotions. He had left Andrew in the Operations Room, to watch things; when he had left, Andrew had perched on a swiveling stool, to keep an eye on the mainframe computer spanning the wall.
Amos couldn’t shake off the deep-seated feeling of shame churning within his gut. He had let his men down! How could he have failed to take the proper precautions to minimize the danger of death and injury? How could he have grouped them so close together, instead of ordering them to spread out as he would normally do? He had been so confident of Puccini’s immediate assistance that he had failed to do what he, as a general, would have normally done to protect his men. Because of his carelessness, his only son could be dead now!
“And I’m the one who put him in that position,” he muttered. “If he’s dead, it’s my fault.” He shook his head. “I was so sure Puccini would immediately send his troops—he did not!”
A knock on the door penetrated his fog of guilt and misery; he slowly raised his head. “Come in.” He swiveled in his desk chair to face the doorway.
The door swung open; Tess framed the doorway, a serious expression etched on her ebony face. “Forgive me, General Agnon, but I’ve got bad news,” she said slowly. She stepped forward and clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “Your son and Rafael have been captured. They’ve been transported to a prisoner-of-war camp the Arabs have constructed.” She paused as the general’s mouth dropped open in horror. “You have a visitor waiting in your office with some more news you need to hear.”
With a sigh, Agnon rose to his feet and led the way toward his office, his boots clicking on the stone floor. Upon entering, he found another woman seated in a chair facing his desk. She wore a brown suit dress and carried a clipboard. Reddish-brown hair hung down to her shoulders, and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. She rose to her feet and turned to face him.
“General Agnon?” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she spoke. “My name is Gloria. I come with news regarding the attack by the Arabs.”
“Yes?” The general stood silently, an uneasy feeling welling up in his stomach.
Gloria glanced at Tess, then turned back to Amos. “I’m so sorry to be the bearer of more bad news, on top of what you’ve already learned. But the Russians have decided to help the Arabs drive you and your people out of Israel.”
She paused to glance down at her clipboard. “I have just received this news from a spy who infiltrated the Russian ranks. The Russian prime minister has territorial ambitions, it seems, and he’s been wanting to take over the Middle East since he was elected to power. He’s decided to take this opportunity to do so now. Now that Israel has finally been made wealthy by its newly-discovered oil fields, he covets your wealth and wants to take it for his own nation."
She paused. "With the help of the countries that used to be behind the Iron Curtain, he’s going to start off by helping the Arabs conquer your country; in the process, he’s going to double-cross his allies.”
“Double-cross?” The general held his breath.
Gloria nodded. She paused to brush her hair out of her eyes. “He’s going to take over the Arab and African countries, including Egypt. Puccini has only just learned of their plans, so he’s had no opportunity, yet, to muster his own armed forces. They were able to successfully jam his satellites and planes, as they did yours.”
This was too much! Amos clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Get out!” he screamed. “Leave me alone—just leave me alone! Now!”
Exchanging sorrowful glances, Tess and Gloria left. The door clicked shut behind them. The general pounded his fist on the desk; his hand throbbed.
“Why, Jehovah?” he hollered, clutching his hand. “Why now? How could this happen? Why didn’t You stop it?!”
He slumped into his chair, then took several slow, deep breaths. He squeezed his eyes to shut out the overhead light’s harsh glare. “Jehovah,” he prayed, “I am faced with a situation I don’t know how to deal with. The Arabs and the Russians are massing together to attack my nation; my son and his comrade have been taken prisoners of war.”
He pressed his fingertips against the desk’s smooth, polished surface. “Please save them both. Please bring them back safely.” He swallowed. “Amen.”
Opening his eyes, he shook his head. “I wonder if He even heard me,” he mumbled.
“Of course He did.”
END OF CHAPTER 5