First Strike by Ben Coes Read Free Book Online

were pure!
    But Raditz’s inner voice—the only ally he had left—was fading.
    In his left hand, he held a glass of red wine. In his right, Raditz clutched a Smith & Wesson .45. For months now, it had been his nightly ritual. A bottle of wine, sometimes more, and his gun, which he held like a talisman, moving it inevitably to his mouth, to his nostril, to the side of his head, always with his finger on the trigger. Sometimes, in the darkest moments, he felt his finger pressing against the trigger. But he couldn’t do it.
    A soft chime came from one of four cell phones on the table in front of the sofa. He leaned forward and picked up the phone. He stared at the screen.
    ::   UNKNOWN ID   ::
    He pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear “Raditz,” he said.
    He leaned back and took a sip of wine, waiting to see who it was, assuming it would be his boss, Harry Black, the secretary of defense, or Josh Brubaker, the White House national security advisor. He waited for someone to say something. All he heard was silence.
    â€œMark Raditz,” he repeated, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Who is it? If someone’s there, I can’t hear you.”
    â€œYou can hear me, Mark,” said Nazir.
    Raditz paused for a very long time, as he debated whether or not to hang up.
    â€œWhat the hell do you want?” he said. “You have some nerve calling me.”
    â€œI think we both know I have plenty of nerve,” said Nazir.
    Raditz’s nostrils flared.
    â€œFuck you! What do you want?”
    â€œWe need ammunition. Guns and ammo. Shoulder-fired missiles. Nothing fancy. But I need a lot of it.”
    Raditz let out a cackle.
    â€œI wouldn’t send you a fucking cap gun,” he said. “You lied to me. You lied to the United States of America. Right now, I have at least a dozen UAVs scouring Syria and Iraq for your scrawny little one-eyed cadaver. When I find you, I’m going to fuck you in the ass with a Hellfire missile.”
    â€œSounds like fun,” said Nazir. “The problem is, I have evidence that I think would prove rather embarrassing for you and for your country. Until you do kill me, that evidence could easily find its way into the hands of a reporter.”
    â€œYou have as much to lose in that equation as we do.”
    â€œYou yourself said America wants out of the Middle East. ISIS is your way out. I never lied to you. I just refuse to do things the way you want me to.”
    â€œCutting people’s heads off? Destroying antiquities? You’re no better than Hitler. In fact, you’re worse. At least he kept the art after he stole it from the Jews.”
    Raditz’s voice was rising as his face flushed crimson. He pointed at his laptop, despite the fact that Nazir couldn’t see it.
    â€œAnd now … now … burning people alive? You’re a sick fuck.”
    Nazir said nothing for several seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You need to let go.”
    â€œYou invaded Iraq,” said Raditz. “Weapons that we paid for have been used to kill American soldiers. We had a deal: we give you arms, you leave us alone, you leave Israel alone, you leave Jordan and Saudi Arabia alone. You leave us the hell alone. You broke that deal, not to mention the atrocities your men are committing. You really think that’s how you build a movement?”
    â€œNot a movement, a country,” said Nazir. “It might not be the way you would do it, Mark, but it is the way I am doing it.”
    â€œBeheading reporters? Burning them alive?”
    â€œEvery time we air the tape, recruitment goes through the roof.”
    â€œWhich just shows how fucked-up you Muslims are.”
    â€œWhat can I say? Yes, I lied to you. But that was then. This is now. I need guns and ammunition. Missiles. One more shipment. If you do this, you have my word—”
    â€œStop,” said