The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

“That would be quite understandable, Colonel Templar, if you were the one who was flying it. As I alluded to before, the mark of a successful organization is for each man to know his job and do it well.” The Hezbollah commander leaned a bit forward, arms folded smugly. “You see, I already have a pilot and he is quite proficient.”

“Flying a B-17 is not like crawling into a Cessna 172, Qassam. Your man may be a good pilot, but there are very few these days who happen to have much experience at the controls of a Flying Fortress.” Templar glanced to both sides and then again to the large window as the young members of Qassam’s team went about their duties. “Frankly, I don’t see anyone around here who likely has that kind of experience.”

“Do not equate age with the experience needed to fly your airplane, Colonel,” warned Qassam. “Think about it this way: how old were you when you first flew the B-17 during your own war? Twenty-one, perhaps twenty-two years of age?”

The terrorist leader peered intently at the older man, as if relishing the thought of staying one step ahead of him. “I have the right man for the task. He is outside now, supervising the loading of your aircraft.”

Ezekiel Templar turned and faced the Hezbollah leader. “Qassam, I don’t know how much you know about a B-17, but that bird sitting outside is nearly a half century old. It does well enough to get itself off the ground these days running empty. I see several fifty gallon drums underneath and every indication that you plan to load them on that airplane. If you do, your pilot is liable to kill himself and everybody else on board before anyone realizes he’s in trouble.”

“Your concern for the safety of my men is touching, colonel,” rejoined the Hezbollah leader. “But I do believe you are overstating your case, including the alleged frailty of your aircraft. In truth your B-17 was specifically selected for several reasons, including how well it has been cared for over the years. Some of my more knowledgeable sources claim your airplane is better than new in some respects.”

Qassam gestured to the large sofa behind the three men. “Please, sit down. There is much I want to talk with you about before being forced to devote myself in other matters.” The tone was still cordial yet there was also an obvious element of control in it. Whatever else Yahla al-Qassam might be, he was someone used to being in charge and in getting his own way.

The three hostages backed up and sat carefully on the overstuffed couch placed to their rear. Each positioned themselves on the lip of the cushions to avoid stressing their bound wrists any further, as well as the accompanying dose of added discomfort. Ezekiel Templar continued to study the scene of activity through the plate glass window, his curiosity mixed with a rising dread in what he reasoned was occurring. Qassam was quick to pick up on it.

“Your anxiety for your aircraft is understandable, Colonel Templar. I think I know how you must feel, and why. Yet believe me when I say no real harm will come to it by our hands if all goes well. We just plan on borrowing it for a day or so.”

“Borrowing is an interesting term, Qassam, considering the circumstances,” Ezekiel replied evenly. “But aside from that, I am actually more curious about what you plan to use the airplane for.”

“And I told you before, Colonel, we are preparing it for jihad” said Yahla al-Qassam. “You would disappoint me mightily by not knowing the meaning of that word.”

“I am familiar with the meaning” responded Ezkiel. “But what does it have to do with The Uvalde Raider, or with us? Are you just ‘borrowing’ the three of us as cavalierly as you are doing my property?

Qassam again smiled widely and nodded his head in shrewd fashion. “In regards to hostages I never thought of it in terms such as borrowing. However, we can call it that too. As I said before, no real harm will come to your aircraft or to you if all goes well. The same can be said for Herr Grepardt as well as your Marine Corps nephew.”

The terrorist leader paused for a moment and then added for emphasis. “That is, if I can keep Mustafa from snapping his neck as if it were a twig.” With that last remark the powerfully built Mustafa fixed his cold, intimidating eyes squarely upon the highway patrolman. Micah stared back hard in return, the two of them locked in a silent war of wills.

Qassam observed both for a long moment, taking in the muted conflict with a certain amount of obvious amusement. “Do not seek to antagonize him, Officer Templar. Like your uncle and his friend, at present you are worth more to me alive than you are dead.”

Seeking to interrupt the silently building crescendo of mutual enmity, Ezekiel casually commented, “Evidently your concern for our continued well-being is as touching as my own for the safety of your men, Qassam.”

Successfully distracted, the Hezbollah leader looked back to the retired colonel, another smile forming on his lips. He enjoyed a play on words as much as the next man, and somewhat begrudgingly found Ezekiel Templar as intriguing as what his lengthy dossier had led him to expect.

“Then we understand each other, Colonel.”

“Well, I must admit to only being able to try to understand you, Qassam. You still haven’t told me what this is all about.” Changing his tact, Ezekiel Templar continued on. “I can see that a great deal of time and effort have been invested, and the planner had to have been a very intelligent as well