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

forward ever so slightly, Qassam added maliciously. “He also possesses a great hatred for all United States Marines. You see, some years ago his brother was killed by a Marine in Beirut. Unfortunately for you, I happened to inform him of your previous service in that organization. By the way, your last name does not help you in this regard, either.”

Qassam’s attention swiveled to Ezekiel. “Speaking of last names, I believe there are two Templars present today. One is already accounted for. So that would make you Ezekiel Templar, retired colonel, United States Air Force. You are a widower and your only son was killed in a bombing mission over North Vietnam. You are also the owner and chief executive officer of Templar Aerospace Industries, as well as the owner and pilot of that magnificent aircraft behind you.” The terrorist leader pointed at the four engine heavy bomber and smiled thinly.

“I am,” responded the elder Templar in a calm, even voice.

“May I say, colonel, it is a pleasure to meet someone with so many achievements in so many different fields of endeavor,” Qassam said with apparent sincerity. “Your list of accomplishments speaks of a highly intelligent man with foresight and determination. In fact, there are those who would say we have much in common. I hope that we have some opportunity to visit before parting.”

“And how long will that be, Qassam?” questioned Ezekiel in understated fashion.

For a moment the Hezbollah leader seemed a bit surprised. Then he tilted back his head and began laughing, showing a row of perfectly white, even teeth.

“Always the curious intelligence officer, aren’t we colonel?” Qassam still smiled but his facial expression held no real mirth. “I have an interesting dossier on you, including your escapades against the Communists after the Second World War. Very impressive. We will certainly have to find some time to have a meaningful conversation.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” dead panned Ezekiel in return.

“As am I, colonel, as am I.” Qassam lowered his voice to a semi-conspiratory tone. “But the same warning applies to you as to your nephew and Herr Grephardt. Be very careful. Your continued well-being is a plus to us all, but not entirely essential.”

Ezekiel Templar cut his eye over to the coiled and ready Mustafa. The second-in-command gave every indication of being primed to strike at the slightest provocation.

Choosing his words prudently, the retired colonel replied. “Believe me, Qassam. You have made your expectations clear.”

CHAPTER THREE

The three captives sat in a small room, in the rear of what was once an operations shack for the emergency airfield. The door leading to the main room was partially open, and one of the Arabs stood just outside that door with an AK at the ready. They had been in the room for some time now, the sun had disappeared below the horizon and dusk was turning into night.

Inside the main room a steady stream of activity never seemed to let up, men came and went and one could hear vehicles being moved around outside. There was almost constant talking going on, and Micah tried hard to listen in for anything he could make of their conversations. But it was all in Arabic, and he could determine little beyond the changing inflections used to differentiate between orders, serious discussions and light banter.

All three men sat on the concrete floor, hands bound behind their backs in some manner or another. Micah had been secured with his own handcuffs from his Sam Browne belt, Uncle Zeke and Max were restrained by zip ties. No one had spoken a word since they had been placed in the room. Their captors had not specifically stated they could not talk among themselves, but Micah’s bruised left temple was a reminder of how their captors often told you about the rules after you paid for breaking them.

However, that did not mean there was not any communication going on inside the room where they were held. Facial expressions, nods, shrugs and other types of body language were being used to talk in pantomime fashion between one another. Micah picked up early on that his uncle and Max were quite adept at this, and he was left quickly behind in their mute mode of conversation.

Interestingly enough, Tio Zeke seemed to be following quite a bit of the Arabic spoken in the main room. As he listened, he also appeared to become more and more concerned. Over the past few hours, Micah had learned some things about his uncle he had never really been fully aware of before. In such a dire situation and still with that real concern showing, Ezekiel Templar appeared remarkably calm. It was as if the man never stopped thinking in a critical manner, or considering available options.

Of course, Micah had heard a few stories about his uncle and had been aware of his personal reputation through the eyes of others. Micah’s own father, Jeremiah Templar, had said that his younger brother was one of the most intelligent and naturally gifted men he had ever known.

His father regaled the son with exploits of when Jeremiah and Ezekiel were teenagers along the Nueces River, and how his brother never seemed to be at a loss for words, or contemplations, or a continuing fancy for adventure. In the many years to follow, Tio Zeke had disciplined those youthful attributes and lived the kind of life that most others could only dream of.

Ezekiel J. Templar was someone who, as the old timers used to say, had been up the creek and over the mountain, and had gone to see the elephant on many an occasion. That much was plainly evident during the first chaotic moments of their capture, as he appeared almost nonplussed while dealing with the precarious uncertainties swirling about him.

When the retired colonel spoke to the one who called himself Qassam, he seemed to know