Judgment at Alcatraz by Dave Edlund (carter reed .txt) 📕

protect innocent civilians. But not always. She was expected to act without question. To follow orders without subjecting those orders to moral scrutiny. As she recounted every mission, she could not say her track record was perfect. That those less guilty, or even totally innocent, were not dispatched by her hands.

“These men didn’t have to die,” she said. “What were they protecting?”

Sacheen tilted her head, and her mouth turned downward in a frown.

“The mission we set out to complete yesterday was interrupted. By you. Had you not interfered, we would have succeeded. All the hostages, everyone, would have been released by now. Unharmed. No one had to die. There, or here.”

“You planned to sprinkle radioactive pixie dust all over the Bay Area. Thousands would have died slow, lingering deaths.”

“No. My plan was to threaten to do just that. We delivered a drone with a sample of the powder. And I brought the FBI’s top man to Alcatraz to witness our fleet of drones. Within hours, they would have conceded to our demands. But you interfered. You started shooting my warriors.”

“Don’t pretend to be innocent. Your men opened fire on the police boat and the Coast Guard cutter. I saw it. You drew first blood, not them.”

Sacheen pulled her shoulders back and worked her jaw. She returned Danya’s glare for several seconds.

“It was necessary,” she said. “They would have tried to place soldiers on the island.”

“Save it.” Danya held up a hand, palm out. “The ends don’t justify the means. They never do.”

For a moment, the fire appeared to leave Sacheen’s eyes, and they looked like black, innocuous marbles. But after she blinked, the blaze had regained strength.

What is she hiding?

Sacheen said, “Spoken like someone who knows from experience.”

“I won’t deny it.”

Sacheen twisted her wrist and checked the time.

Danya said, “Anxious about something? Someone to meet, maybe?”

“Leonard will be here soon. Then we will complete our mission. You’ve only caused some minor delays, that’s all.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m certain of the contrary.”

Sacheen’s eyes conveyed a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You’ve only caused us to change our target. But the plan remains. We will achieve our goals and see our rights as Native Americans restored.”

“Leonard won’t meet you here, or anywhere. He’s dead.”

This news hit Sacheen like a sucker punch. Her legs buckled, and her grip on the weapon slackened. One hand dropped to her belly, where she seemed to intuit something unseen by Danya and Toby.

A mother’s sense? Is that her secret?

Sacheen’s eyes glistened as tears welled up. Danya saw her opening and took a step forward.

“Stop.” Sacheen had regained her composure, and with it a firm hold on the pistol.

Her brows were pinched, and etched across her face Danya saw both sadness and remorse—feelings she knew all too well.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you,” she said.

Sacheen drew in a sharp breath. “Yes. We were going to have a family once this was over.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was more she could have said—how the path she and Leonard had chosen was incompatible with raising a family. But there was no point in lecturing the obvious. Oddly, she felt sorrow for Sacheen, knowing she’d sacrificed her future to realize a lofty goal, a greater good. The tragedy was the abominable method employed by Leonard and her. Their tactics had doomed not only their future together, but also would forever overshadow the objective of equal rights for indigenous people, as well as reparations for past treaties that were broken and lands that were illegally taken.

Instead, she offered the only hope Sacheen had left.

“Put the gun down. You can still walk away.”

“Walk away?” Anger had replaced remorse. “To what? To live in poverty? To raise my child in a society that will fail to recognize him or her on an equal basis? A society that will fail to provide access to a decent education? Is that what you think I should do?”

“I know something of what you feel. What you are fighting for. Millenia ago, my tribal ancestors were embroiled in warfare with neighboring tribes. That history has locked us into constant internecine conflict. I know the face of desperation, of hopelessness.”

Sacheen nodded as if in response to an unspoken thought.

“You are Hebrew?”

“I am.”

“Then you know the bitter heartache of persecution, as my people do.”

“What I know is that violence won’t solve the problem.”

“Really?” Sacheen said. “The Israeli government has never shied from use of violence to enforce its will, or to retain an iron grip on conquered lands.”

There was nothing more Danya could say. She recognized the truth in the accusation. But even more, she knew very well the sense of hopelessness that had driven Sacheen and Leonard to do the unthinkable. As a Mossad agent, she’d witnessed it firsthand. She’d fought against dozens of young Palestinians turned into martyrs by injustice, poverty, and despair.

Sacheen pointed at Danya. “The rifle. Slide it off your shoulder. One hand only. The other one in the air. Lay it gently on the floor and slide it over to me. Use your foot.”

Danya did as she was told. Then Sacheen ordered both women to lay on the concrete, face down and arms behind their backs. With little choice, Danya and Toby complied.

Both the Kukri machete and the combat axe were out of reach and of no concern. Sacheen grabbed the rifle, one-handed, and placed it on the workbench, keeping the pistol aimed at her prostrate prisoners. On the bench, she laid her hand on a spool of wire and a pair of cutters.

After returning to Danya, she pressed her knee into Danya’s back and then wrapped wire around her wrists before cutting and twisting it off. It was snug, but not so tight as to cut the flesh. She bound Toby’s hands in a similar fashion.

“Now stay there.” She returned the cutters and wire to the bench.

“Or what?” Danya said. “You’re going to kill us anyway.”

Sacheen stood over the two women and aimed her Beretta. Toby’s eyes were wide. Danya knew what was coming. Knew that any second