The Third Target: A J. B. Collins Novel
Joel C. Rosenberg
Language: English
Pages: 448
ISBN: 1414336284
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
2016 Christian Book Award finalist (Fiction category)
When New York Times foreign correspondent J. B. Collins hears rumors that an al-Qaeda splinter cell―ISIS―has captured a cache of chemical weapons inside Syria, he knows this is a story he must pursue at all costs. Does the commander of the jihadist faction really have weapons of mass destruction? If so, who is the intended target? The U.S.? Israel? Or someone else? With tensions already high, the impending visit of the American president to the region could prove to be the spark that sets off an explosion of horrendous proportions. Knowing that terrorist forces are already trying to bring down two Arab governments in the region―Iraq and Syria―can Collins uncover the truth before it’s too late? Or will the terrorists succeed in setting their sights on the third target and achieving genocide?
River. What a blessing that would be for Christians, as well as for all the people of the region. It is not widely known in the West, but we have in Jordan a small but thriving Christian community that is perhaps the oldest in the world. The place where Jesus was baptized is Jordan’s most important Christian site. It is here on the east bank of the Jordan River. This is where Jesus’ mission started. This is where Christianity began. Jordan is also where Moses lived and died. This is where Elijah
sorry.” “Yeah, well, what can you do?” “Have you had any contact with your brother since Istanbul? He’s here in Amman, isn’t he?” “He was, but he left with his family when Abu Khalif threatened to use them against me.” “So you talked with him?” “Yeah, we actually had a nice visit. It had been a while.” “And Laura?” “Oh, well, let’s not go there.” “No longer the marrying type?” “Couldn’t we talk about something else?” “Like what, sarin gas?” “That would be less painful.” “Ouch.”
possible. “The mortars and artillery shells that were fired here must have all been filled with it,” she continued. I wanted to believe she was wrong. But as I slowly drove through the fire and smoke, it became clear that the Jordanian troops who had fought here had not died of bullet or shrapnel wounds. As we got a closer look at the bodies —hundreds of them —we could see the vacant eyes and twisted, contorted faces. I had seen such horrors before. I had seen them in Mosul just days earlier.
written anything of the sort. But suddenly, standing alone on this street, seeing what I had just seen, I realized I had absolutely no idea what would become of Syria. Perhaps Hezbollah and the Iranian Revolutionary Guards would take it over and turn it into another province of the mullahs in Tehran. Or maybe al Qaeda and the other Sunni rebels would win the day and create a new Afghanistan or Somalia on the borders of Israel, Lebanon, and Jordan. Either way, I couldn’t see President Assad and
to take forever to correct. I was as annoyed as I was confused. I leaned forward and told the driver he was making a mistake. “I have my orders,” he replied. “What orders?” I asked. “What are you talking about?” But the driver didn’t answer. The car accelerated. The doors of the car abruptly locked as the Plexiglas screen between the front and back seats suddenly closed. “What in the world are you doing?” I yelled, but still the driver did not answer. I demanded he turn the car around, but