3:45 a.m.

She could hear the soldiers talking to each in the darkness.

3:52 a.m.

Across the Dead Sea, atop the jagged summits of the Edom Mountains, a pink glow appeared. Dawn was about to break, which would make a surprise attack impossible.

A moment later, the colonel jumped out and kneeled behind a large rock, the megaphone to his mouth. “This is the Israeli army. You must surrender now. Come out with your hands in the air.”

The reply came immediately. “Our demands are reasonable. Negotiate, or we kill a hostage!”

“You must surrender now.”

“We ask only for what’s ours,” the Arab yelled. “Your children’s lives are at stake!”

“I repeat, come out with your hands-”

Masada tore the megaphone from his hand and yelled into it. “You have ten seconds to give up, or we’re coming in!”

Abu Faddah was stunned. Had the Israelis gone mad, allowing a woman to take command? He heard a cheer and looked over his shoulder. The Israeli boy at the edge clapped his hands. Abu Faddah shuddered. Would the Jews risk soiling Mount Masada with fresh blood? Would they?

He put his mouth to the crack in the barricade. “Don’t ignore our ultimatum!” There was a deficiency in his plan, and he needed time to figure it out. “We would extend the deadline if you provide assurance-”

“Papa!”

He turned to see the Israeli knock the gun from Faddah’s hand and punch him in the face. Faddah swung blindly, his fist missing his opponent, who dropped to search the dirt floor. The other hostages tried to get up, tripping over the strings that tied their arms and legs.

“Papa,” Faddah yelled, “help me!”

The teenage Jew found the pistol.

Abu Faddah lunged forward, crossing the distance between them with strides that felt like slow motion. The Israeli stood up, lifting the gun. Abu Faddah flew by his cowed son and rammed the Israeli, who groaned and stumbled back. His ankle caught on the remnant of the wall at the edge. He tried to grab the empty air and fell backwards into the void, yelling, “Masada!”