Moses hadn't slept all night. He stood at the command console, staring at the giant screen. The red arrows on the Golan Heights had halted, the Iranians at Safed had retreated, the Syrians near Lake Tiberias had dispersed, and outside the Haifa Port, the Mexican fleet remained.
The communications officer ran over, his hair a tangled mess.
"Chief, intelligence from Jordan. The Iranian 5th Brigade hasn't moved, it's stopped north of the Rukban Refugee Camp. Maybe waiting for daylight, maybe waiting for orders."
Moses didn't turn around. "And the Syrians?"
"Still retreating. Remnants of the First Division have crossed Lake Tiberias, heading toward Damascus. The 4th Division is in North Damascus fighting the Iranian 12th Division, pretty much exhausted."
Moses closed his eyes.
Three seconds later, he opened them.
