Bennett froze for a moment.
"Shamiel? Squid Prime Minister?"
"Yes. The one cursed as 'SZ' by three thousand rabbis. I want to talk to him. Now."
4 A.M., Jerusalem, Prime Minister's office.
Shamiel stood by the window, watching the silhouette of Temple Mount slowly emerge in the morning light.
He hadn't slept for thirty-six hours.
On the desk behind him lay three war reports. The first: Northern Gaza was now under control, at least two hundred targets destroyed, two high-level commanders of the HMS confirmed dead. The second: Arafat was still under surgery, his fate unknown, the BLST Authority was in chaos. The third: The Mexican Embassy was bombed, seven Mexicans dead, Victor's call was waiting on the line.
He turned around and picked up the receiver.
"Prime Minister Shamiel."
The voice on the other end was calm, but Shamiel could sense the volcano beneath that calmness.
"Mr. Victor."
"Your people bombed my embassy."
Shamiel paused for a second.
