Fuse of Armageddon by Sigmund Brouwer, Hank Hanegraaff Page B

ships had been brief and raised questions for Patterson because the southbound ship had transferred this heifer to their northbound ship. The platoon’s ship had resumed its journey north toward the Suez Canal, with the heifer placidly eating hay.
    The heifer’s presence was another reminder to Patterson that this new phase of the platoon’s operation was highly planned and equally mysterious. To get such a large group of American soldiers this far and this invisibly into the heart of the Middle East was one thing, but to stop two ships just to transfer a small cow? Every detail had been handled with precision and forethought by whoever had planned it—right down to the shipping container with a hitching ring welded to the front of the interior.
    Just before dawn, in the final hours before reaching the Suez, the heifer had been led into the container—forty feet long, nearly eight feet wide, and eight feet high—and roped to the ring. The rear of the container was stacked with Soviet-issue weapons. Saxon had told them that part of the cover for this mission was an arms deal with Hamas in the Gaza Strip.
    The platoon had followed the heifer inside, with the container door sealed behind them, becoming completely hidden among the hundreds of shipping containers on the cargo ship. Although they were de facto prisoners in the box that would smuggle them into Egypt, there were no fears of a double cross. The container door could be opened immediately from the inside, tiny air holes gave the soldiers a decent view of what was happening outside the container, and the shipper would not receive the last installment of a substantial payment from the arms dealer unless the container safely reached its destination.
    It hadn’t taken long for the heifer to dirty the straw on the floor of the container, and Joe had found the reactions from the platoon amusing. Joe had not minded the smell of manure at all; in fact, he’d felt a degree of comfort with something so familiar from his boyhood days on the farm. Riding a shipping container with an illegal weapons cache with the purpose of entering the Gaza Strip seemed surreal.
    More so now, in the first moments out of sleep. Through the small holes, Patterson saw that the shipping container was dangling from the crane high above the ship, swinging over the water to be loaded onto a truck. The heifer’s panic at this movement added extra movement to the container, and a couple of the other men inside were reacting with fear.
    Enough sunlight filtered through the air holes for Joe to witness one soldier on the floor, groaning from the pain of where the hoof had struck him. Others tried to move in on the heifer, then scattered at its frantic movements. The animal weighed hundreds of pounds, and the stomping of its hooves on the floor was unnerving.
    All of the soldiers knew what was at stake. If the heifer kept bucking, the workers on the ground would immediately notice the sound and the movement. If customs officials opened the container here, they all faced long terms in prison. Whatever their mission was, it would be ended before it had truly begun.
    One of the soldiers had drawn a pistol and was trying to get a bead on the heifer’s skull.
    Lieutenant Del Saxon stepped in and slapped the man’s forearm downward. “Idiot,” he snapped. “This animal is worth more alive than all of us put together!”
    Joe was standing now, watching quietly.
    “Patterson,” Saxon told him. “Do something! It can’t be injured!”
    Joe calmly moved to the side of the container, then slid down the wall toward the ring. Unless the animal swung around completely, he was safe from the hooves.
    The heifer saw him too late. It tried to kick but only managed to sandwich Joe between its ribs and the wall. Joe had seen it coming and braced for it. When the animal bounced away again, Joe slid further down the wall toward the rope and the ring.
    Joe slid his hand down the rope toward the heifer’s face.