CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
2:15 p.m. Israel Time (7:15 a.m. Eastern Standard Time)
Masada Air Base
Negev Desert, Israel
“Amazing,” Luke said.
The desert was like the surface of the moon.
He gazed out at it from the tarmac of the airstrip runway. The bleak land went on as far as the eye could see—mostly pale shades of yellow, red, and orange, undulating hillsides, craggy promontories, high plateaus, all of it seemingly lifeless, except for some scrub brush that dotted the ground and clung to vertical cliff faces.
With nothing to stop it, the wind howled across the vast landscape. It blew fine sandy grit into Luke’s face—his aviator sunglasses blocked it from getting in his eyes. A black bandana covered his nose and mouth.
“It’s nice to look at,” Ed said. “But I’ll take the sand at Miami Beach
