Destroyer 027 by The Last Temple

Author:The Last Temple
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

The dark shape moved silently across the Israeli night sky. From Jordan it came, low and deadly. Not like a

jet, which sent out sound warnings even before it crossed the border. Not like a Phantom fighter, which

would be shot down immediately by the Israeli border defense.

No, it came like the silent wind, because it was a transport glider. Soundless, flying too

low for radar, painted black to merge with the night desert sky, it moved invisibly into

the Negev.

Abulicta Moroka Bashmar paced before his men, dressed in an antiradar plasticene

scuba suit with specially made antiradar plasticene medals affixed on his chest.

"This is the moment," he said in English to the three men lined up by the door of the glider in their scuba suits

and parachutes. "So far the Israeli patrols have not detected us. We will parachute into their Dead Sea, kill as

many of them

and parachutes. "So far the Israeli patrols have not detected us. We will parachute into their Dead Sea, kill as

many of them

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as possible, then swim back into Jordan and return to our own lands."

The three men smiled, secure in the knowledge of Bashmar's reputation for bravery, a reputation that he had

acquired after leading fifty Libyan terrorists into an unguarded Israeli schoolhouse and massacring the eighty-

three students and thirty-seven teachers Within. The men were sure that this mission would be as satisfying. One

of the men was black, a special commando recruited from Uganda.

Bashmar raised his hand. "Drop our equipment . . . now." His hand chopped the air, and the black

commando, nearest the open door, nudged the plasticene carrier with its underwater gear out.

"Now, we go," cried Bashmar as he fell out of the glider door, clutching a plastic-

enclosed machine gun to his plastic-enclosed chest. The three others followed, and soon

four dark figures and one dark thing were plummeting through the Israeli night sky.

First, the dark silk parachute for the equipment opened, and then each man pulled

his rip cord. Each man's mind was filled with the visions of the violence they would

create and the rewards they would receive on returning home to Libya and to Uganda.

Bashmar's brain thought of the honoring military welcome and promotion he would

receive. The hard part was over. They had infiltrated Jordan, crossed into Israel, now all

they had to do was massacre and leave.

Zhava Fifer was dozing in the jeep when she heard the explosion coming from the Dead

Sea.

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The commandos' underwater equipment hit the highest-density water in the world from

a height of three thousand feet, and the resulting sound clap rivaled that of a grenade.

The first explosion woke her. The next four sen t h er scramb lin g fo r th e car k ey s

an d wheeling the jeep in the direction of the shore.

Bashmar and his troops were bobbing like corks on the surface of the salt-thickened

water.

When Zhava arrived at the Dead Sea, a dark figure was slapping two other dark figures

with a dark rubber flipper.

"Idiots! Fools!" the figure was saying in accented English. "You are useless. Why did

you not tell me that we could not swim in this? We will have to float back to Jordan.

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