The Last Jihad (Political Thrillers Series #1)
Joel C. Rosenberg
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Jon Bennett and Erin McCoy are two of the shrewdest strategists on Wall Street and close friends of the president of the United States. Their secret project: a billion-dollar oil deal off the coast of Tel Aviv and Gaza that could form the basis of a historic peace treaty and bring enormous wealth to every Israeli and Palestinian. But nothing has prepared Jon or Erin for the terror that lies ahead.
The book that started it all, The Last Jihad is the first of Joel C. Rosenberg's New York Times best-selling series, with 500,000 in print. The first page puts readers in the cockpit of a hijacked jet on a kamikaze mission into an American city―but it was written nine months before 9/11/01. As the plot unfolds, White House advisors Jon Bennett and Erin McCoy are under attack in Jerusalem as the U.S. goes to war with Iraq over weapons of mass destruction―but The Last Jihad was published four months before the actual Iraq war began.
dripping down his face and he suddenly realized his shirt was almost completely soaked. The agent held the syringes in front of Bennett's eyes for ten or fifteen seconds. "You have a choice, Mr. Bennett," the man with the jagged scar began. Bennett tried to swallow, but his mouth was completely dry. "Life, or death." Bennett's mind reeled. This could not be happening. There had to be something he could say, something he could do. "Needle one, the green needle? Sodium Pentothal."
She'd sent him all the details on his charter flight, including tail number, two phone numbers for the Signature operations desk, the cell numbers of his flight crew and even direct numbers for the tower, followed by a little reminder: "Don't panic. :)" Black made a mental note to have that flight canceled, then scrolled through the AP updates. SOURCES: PRESIDENT ALIVE; LOCATION UNKNOWN VP TAKES COMMAND AT WHITE HOUSE QUEEN SAFE DESPITE LONDON ATTACKS CANADIAN PRIME MINISTER WOUNDED
plane was halfway across the Atlantic. Oakland came over the intercom and told Black he had a secure call from Washington. Black quickly rubbed his eyes, took a swig of cold coffee, grabbed the air phone beside him and punched line one. "Black." "Do it." "Now?" "Now." "Roger that." And the line went dead. Black gathered his thoughts for a moment, got up, walked over to the table of drinks, opened up a tiny bottle of springwater, poured some on his hands and splashed it on
In warmer weather, in genuinely lovely, tree-lined parks, babushkas play with their grandchildren. Young mothers stroll their infants. Old men play chess and dominoes. There is a sense of family and faith that have been the glue holding this seven-century-old society together. But the fashions are drab and colorless and seem right out of the American '30s. The cars and trucks are old and styleless, like a black-and-white scene from Mayberry. The storefronts are simple and unattractive—no neon,
the conference table with their laptops and coffee. McCoy helped Bennett log onto the secure, satellite-enabled CIA computer network, allowing him—and all of them—to access files and share them with one another during their discussion. "I've gotten to know him fairly well over the years I've been in Israel," Black told them. "He's been somewhat of a mentor of mine." "What can you tell us about him?" McCoy continued. Black opened up a top-secret FBI computer file called "DEMTRACK" and