Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut by Eric Meyer
Authors: Eric Meyer
Tags: thriller, Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, War
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made me stop. I was about to be married, a beautiful girl from Be'er Sheva. Rebecca came to Tel Aviv to visit me and caught a bus into the city to go shopping. A bomber, what the Arabs call a Shaheed, detonated his suicide vest, and I was never able to bury my fiancée. Only a few body parts were left to go into the ground. It was then I decided to join the fight against the Muslims, those who wish to create a second Holocaust for the Jews. So far, I've been able to consign many would-be Shaheeds to wherever it is they think they go in the afterlife."
Talley was silent as the VW chugged through the chaotic battle-torn streets. There was no way he could comment on a story like that. Goldstein had decided to fight for justice in his own way, and had clearly succeeded, so far. But it would never bring back his beloved fiancée, and his life had become a constant quest for vengeance.
No matter what they say, if the act of vengeance clears a few would-be murderers off the streets, that’s no bad thing .
He suddenly realized they weren't heading in the direction of the football stadium. Why not? And how had Guy suddenly appeared with the rest of the men like a visiting soccer team? He turned to Goldstein and asked him what was going on.
The Mossad man chuckled. "I suspected you were in trouble. I called Sergeant Welland when the shooting started, to let him know what was going on. As for returning to the stadium, when your men arrived in the team bus, it shouted to everyone in Beirut where you came from. I told Sergeant Welland of an old quarry several miles outside the city, to the south. It is a place I have used in the past to hide our Israeli troops. We're going there now."
"So you won't be able to return to your work?"
Goldstein broke into a smile. "To the stadium? No, thank God. It would be impossible. All of Beirut knows by now that I am connected to your unit."
"I'm sorry."
"It's no problem for me. I've had a long and successful run here. It was time I thought about going home to Israel. No doubt Mossad can find me alternative employment. But I think you may have other problems."
Talley grinned. "Yeah, we seem to stir up trouble wherever we go."
"I meant what I saw in the shopping arcade, when you had difficulties firing your weapon. Are you sure you're not injured?"
"No." He cursed as he said it. He could have just explained it away as a hard blow to his shoulder.
"In that case, you may have a disorder of the central nervous system."
"I doubt it. I'm okay."
Goldstein ignored him. "I'd speak to a doctor if I were you. You need a checkup."
He didn't reply. There was nothing he could say that would make it any better, and plenty that would make it a whole lot worse.
Chapter Four
The Lebanon, east of Beirut.
The agony was worse, much worse. Outside the hot sun climbed higher in the sky. She only knew of its position because of the intense heat that turned the inside of her prison into an oven. Once again, her bound limbs were numb, as her blood flow almost stopped completely to her limbs. The steel floor and sides were even hotter, too hot to touch. Every time the truck jolted over potholes and broken masonry, she was thrown against the searing metal, which caused her skin to burn and blister. The air was heavy too, it was hard to breathe, and she felt a relief when at last the truck stopped.
It was another checkpoint. Once again, the rear doors opened, the brightness of the sun flared, and a different bunch of Arab fighters stared in at her. When she focused, she could see them grinning at her pain, and as much as she longed to be freed from the torture, her overwhelming urge was once more for revenge. Revenge on these Hezbollah animals, for they were not men. Real men did not derive enjoyment from gazing on helpless, agonized women, and these sadistic animals were more than happy to enjoy the show. When their sadism was satisfied, the doors slammed shut, and the truck continued on again. They'd given
Talley was silent as the VW chugged through the chaotic battle-torn streets. There was no way he could comment on a story like that. Goldstein had decided to fight for justice in his own way, and had clearly succeeded, so far. But it would never bring back his beloved fiancée, and his life had become a constant quest for vengeance.
No matter what they say, if the act of vengeance clears a few would-be murderers off the streets, that’s no bad thing .
He suddenly realized they weren't heading in the direction of the football stadium. Why not? And how had Guy suddenly appeared with the rest of the men like a visiting soccer team? He turned to Goldstein and asked him what was going on.
The Mossad man chuckled. "I suspected you were in trouble. I called Sergeant Welland when the shooting started, to let him know what was going on. As for returning to the stadium, when your men arrived in the team bus, it shouted to everyone in Beirut where you came from. I told Sergeant Welland of an old quarry several miles outside the city, to the south. It is a place I have used in the past to hide our Israeli troops. We're going there now."
"So you won't be able to return to your work?"
Goldstein broke into a smile. "To the stadium? No, thank God. It would be impossible. All of Beirut knows by now that I am connected to your unit."
"I'm sorry."
"It's no problem for me. I've had a long and successful run here. It was time I thought about going home to Israel. No doubt Mossad can find me alternative employment. But I think you may have other problems."
Talley grinned. "Yeah, we seem to stir up trouble wherever we go."
"I meant what I saw in the shopping arcade, when you had difficulties firing your weapon. Are you sure you're not injured?"
"No." He cursed as he said it. He could have just explained it away as a hard blow to his shoulder.
"In that case, you may have a disorder of the central nervous system."
"I doubt it. I'm okay."
Goldstein ignored him. "I'd speak to a doctor if I were you. You need a checkup."
He didn't reply. There was nothing he could say that would make it any better, and plenty that would make it a whole lot worse.
Chapter Four
The Lebanon, east of Beirut.
The agony was worse, much worse. Outside the hot sun climbed higher in the sky. She only knew of its position because of the intense heat that turned the inside of her prison into an oven. Once again, her bound limbs were numb, as her blood flow almost stopped completely to her limbs. The steel floor and sides were even hotter, too hot to touch. Every time the truck jolted over potholes and broken masonry, she was thrown against the searing metal, which caused her skin to burn and blister. The air was heavy too, it was hard to breathe, and she felt a relief when at last the truck stopped.
It was another checkpoint. Once again, the rear doors opened, the brightness of the sun flared, and a different bunch of Arab fighters stared in at her. When she focused, she could see them grinning at her pain, and as much as she longed to be freed from the torture, her overwhelming urge was once more for revenge. Revenge on these Hezbollah animals, for they were not men. Real men did not derive enjoyment from gazing on helpless, agonized women, and these sadistic animals were more than happy to enjoy the show. When their sadism was satisfied, the doors slammed shut, and the truck continued on again. They'd given
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