The Solomon Key by Shawn Hopkins Page B

seeing that the door would swing in at him. He flattened himself against the wall, and chills ran up his bare back.
    The door swung open right at his face, hiding him between it and the wall.
    The person entered the room, passing him, and paused when he noticed the empty table.
    Scott leaned his shoulder into the door, ramming it shut and knocking backwards a few men just about to enter. The man in the room with him was too stunned to react in time, and Scott took the gun out of his hand the same moment it appeared. Scott had the man from behind, the pistol against his temple, before the man even knew what happened. It took all of his self-control not to pull the trigger. It was too much like last time, like Iran, and he felt himself begin to lose it, his sense of reality slipping.
    When the door opened again, there were four men with semi-automatic pistols standing before him.
    “Drop them,” Scott ordered, jamming the point of the gun into the man’s head.
    The four men hesitated.
    “Now!”
    One of them, a bearded man, spoke in English. “And what will you do if we do not? Shoot him?” He stepped closer. “I do not think so.”
    “Back off.”
    “I’ll tell you what,” he responded. “I’ll make you a deal.”
    Scott quickly swept his gaze over the other three. “What kind of deal?” he slurred. As fast as he was, he knew nothing about these men. If they were Jewish, then it was quite possible they were Mossad, and if that was the case, he’d stand little chance against four of them. Though what reason the Mossad would have for being here was far beyond anything he could imagine.
    “You let him go, and we will forget about this whole incident.”
    Scott laughed. “Forget it happened? Forget you killed my friend?”
    The man lowered his pistol, a twinge of sympathy flashing across his face. “We did not kill your friend.”
    In that split second, Scott swung the pistol up and fired, dropping to a knee while pulling the man down on top of him, using him as a shield, and shooting the other three. Or at least that was what he was trying very hard to keep from doing.
    He blinked, looked around the room. “Where am I?”
    “Please, I can see that you are upset and understandably so. Why don’t you lower the gun, and we will have a civilized conversation.”
    “We do not have time for that,” one of the others spat.
    The bearded man ignored him. “Perhaps you would like some pants.”
    Scott could feel the knot in the blanket begin to loosen. “Pants would be nice,” he said, teeth clenched.
    “Then please, put down the gun.”
    The man Scott was holding at gunpoint joined in. “It is okay. We are men of our word.”
    His world spinning upside down, the effect of the drug they used still prominent in his system, he realized that he had little choice.
    The bearded Jew sighed. “Please, I am begging you. We’re pressed for time here, and we will shoot you if you force us to. There are more significant things that require our attention.”
    Scott figured he’d be dead already if they meant to kill him. He stepped away from the man, though he kept the gun trained on him. And then, with a deep breath, he lowered the pistol. He could feel himself shaking.
    Turning to face him, the one he had held hostage said, “It was a wise decision.”
    Scott only stared at him, warning him that it better have been.
    One of them walked back out the door, hopefully to get his pants, while the others came closer. “Can we please have the gun back?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    He nodded, acknowledging the unspoken terms, and everyone lowered their guns. “So, who are you?”
    “Who are you ?” Scott retaliated.
    After a second of musing, the man answered, “You can call me Daniel.”
    “Okay, Daniel.” He leaned against the table, fatigue almost causing him to collapse. “You can call me Matt.”
    “Are you a soldier?”
    “No.” His head was getting heavier.
    “You handle yourself like one. You have