The Farm Hideout

At exactly 2:00 p.m., James arrived at our table in the restaurant amid leaps, spins and punches to the air.

"EUREKA! I think we have it!" he said. Other diners enjoying their lunch looked across at us.

"He's getting married," Sean said. The diners clapped and voiced congratulations.

James hurriedly moved plates, dishes and cups to one side. Coffee spilled onto the impeccable white tablecloth. Joseph dabbed at the dark stain with a napkin. As we gathered around his laptop, James showed his thrilled audience the images that a cyber-friend had sent.

"See this image?" he said excitedly although in a lowered tone. "A bit blurred, I know...but it's a blue van. Google flippin' Earth came through! The farmhouse is in an apple orchard, and get this...the owner is on holiday."

The Mossad agent continued to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the activities of James' and Aly's cyber friends. He called his colonel and his team, making his way upstairs to his room, two steps at a time, Sean following at his heels. Five minutes later, he and Sean returned, both armed and ready.

Outside the hotel forecourt, Josh extracted from the BMW four lightweight protective vests.

"What? Is it 'buy one get one free' from Tesco?" Sean said, pulling one over his head and fastening it.

"They'll not stop a bullet but they'll lessen the impact," Josh said. "The vests will protect against sharp implements, however." Joseph looked at Joshua and then at his stomach, before Joseph and I struggled into the vests.

Sean said, "Don't worry about John's head, it's as hard as a brick, and his balls are made of iron." Turning to me with a stern countenance, he said, "Stay behind and for God's sake, just remember to duck!"
I smiled, because his reference to my testes was a subtle reminder of the treatment I'd undergone for prostate cancer. I took his hint.

Panoramic views of the swirling blue sea with crashing waves passed us as we hurriedly snaked along the coastal road. As we passed the Maccabiah Stadium on our right, I knew we were not far away. While we travelled, Josh gave clear instructions about the operation.

"Sean and I will enter the building first. John, you and Joseph follow. Booby-traps are possible and intruder alarms, so keep back." Sean checked that I understood and I nodded, moistening my lips.

The BMW turned right through broken gates and we bumped along past apple groves. Slowing the car to a crawl, Josh looked nervous as we parked. The sun was hot on my back when we left the car. The BMW doors closed noiselessly. Following Sean and Josh, my heart beat faster when they pushed open the farm door. Indicating by hand signals that Joseph and I should stay well back, they pushed open the lounge and kitchen doors, pointing their pistols. My body felt detached.

In the corners of rooms were signs of occupancy. The armed duo gingerly ascended a wooden staircase. Sean waved us forwards, his finger on his lips. On tiptoe, we reached the landing and Josh pointed to his left, signalling to Sean to go right. Gently prising open the first bedroom door, Sean tapped his ear and pointed to a room ahead. Josh joined him and they both held outstretched pistols. With a solid kick, the door smashed open.
Josh shouted in Jewish and English, "POLICE! FREEZE OR WE WILL FIRE!"

Through the broken doorframe, I saw Simeon tied to a chair in the corner of the room, naked apart from white cotton underpants. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His two kidnappers jumped up. The menacing one lit a Molotov cocktail with a cigarette lighter and threw it at Simeon, and then threw himself through the bedroom window, shattering the wooden slats.

"Josh, window! I'll get the other one!" Sean shouted.

The man at the far door spun, fired, and ran onto the landing. The bullet ricocheted off the wall amidst white cascading plaster clouds and bounced off the floor near to the door where I was standing, breathing hard.

Time froze and eye-stinging fumes filled the room as I watched Sean pursue the kidnapper onto the landing, and then crouch and fire. The kidnapper's skull exploded and he fell to the floor with a dull thud. A coagulated pool of dark blood grew around him. Seeing the congealing sticky mess, I felt sick and turned my face away to dry-retch.

Josh threw himself headfirst through the broken window slats to pursue the escaping man, while Joseph and I raced to dampen Simeon's flames. Choking black flames engulfed us, along with the smell of burning flesh. Joseph beat at the flames with his jacket.

"Simeon...Simeon, it's me," Joseph sobbed. The smoking raging inferno took a few minutes to dampen. Flames extinguished, Joseph wrapped a discarded blanket around him.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bad idea. The blanket fibres attached to Simeon's burnt skin, pulling when he moved and causing inflammations to erupt all over Simeon's body. He was shaking violently.

Sean and Joseph assisted Simeon down the stairs as screaming sirens and flashing strobe lights came towards us at breakneck speed. Blue-uniformed paramedics with green crosses on their chest pockets and epaulettes checked Simeon over, placed him on a stretcher, and administered a clear liquid intravenously. Within minutes, the ambulance raced away with Joseph accompanying Simeon.

Outside the farm, Josh and the local police held the other kidnapper: the ex Weitz employee. Pushing him into a police car, Josh called his colonel.

Afterwards, Josh congratulated the rescue team. "Well done!" The local police stretched blue and white SOCO tape around the farm. Forensics staff in white boiler suits and plastic-covered shoes entered the building with carry cases.

Following the ambulance, with Josh at the wheel, we careered at breakneck speed along the country road and as I pulled off the body armour, I called James.

"Well done, son," I said. "Tell Aly and your friends that we've rescued Simeon and arrested a kidnapper."

"WOW! That's ace, Dad." I had mental images of his Twitter feed going viral.

"I just hope the old bugger pulls through," Sean said, expressing my fear.

Skidding the BMW to a halt, Josh dropped Sean and me at the emergency assessment unit entrance and left to meet with his colonel. We raced through the door.
Esther, Simeon's daughter, approached us looking crestfallen, her eyes red and puffy. Joseph placed his arms around her as she informed us, sobbing, that the burns and injuries were horrific.

"The surgical team are doing all they can to soothe his pain while they're removing the blanket fibres as gently as possible." Joseph shook at that last statement and Esther placed an arm around him.

"They've explained to us that with third-degree burns, his skin will become like leather," she said. "Severe burns tighten the skin and the capillaries in deeper tissues leak and cause swelling. Within two days, patients need surgery to remove dead skin and have skin grafts. Dead skin causes a massive toxic load on the body. Bacteria and severe infection will increase. Dad's circulation may collapse. If a patient's age and the percentage of burns to their body add up to more than 100, the chances of survival are slim, virtually nil. My dad is 56 and he has burns to 70% of his body. The score is 126."

Esther looked sad but resigned to her father's fate. Her dad was now in the hands of God.

I felt the bag in my jacket pocket and had an idea.