Operation Snowdrop

by Michelle Medhat

  Come on, Jim and Greg. Where are you?

  Without indication, Sabena leapt up and bent forward, snatching Summanus.

  Behind her, Al Nadir thugs pointed their machine guns at everyone in the room, giving Sabena time to take the grey box. As she turned toward the French windows, the sound of heavy gunfire emanated to the right of Sam, causing everybody to grab their own weapons. They all started to fire.

  Instinctively, Sam hit the floor and rolled behind a sofa as the bullets flew. He heard a dull thud and the room filled with smoke. Jim and Greg, toting M4 Carbines on auto, flooded the room with bullets.

  Sam heard the sound of a bag sliding along the floor. Jim had clocked Sam beside the sofa and slid the weapons bag to him. Sam opened the bag, pulled out the HK 416, slapped it on auto, and popped up from behind the sofa. He peppered Ilya and Leka and their respective bodyguards with rapid fire, and then, just as quickly, ducked back down.

  Leka dropped to the floor, crimson spots looming across his body.

  Beside Sam, Hui’s head exploded, spattering him with blood, bone and brain as Leka’s Spetnaz-trained bodyguards unleashed their AK’s on Hui and his ex-MSS chums. Amongst the flying bullets, Sam noticed Sabena huddled behind the adjacent sofa, holding Summanus against her chest.

  Before he could consider her odd behavior, the French windows blew open, spraying glass everywhere. FSB Agents stormed in, firing. Behind them, bullets flew and FSB Agents dropped. Sam could hear automatic fire. Dan, thankfully, was ‘sticking to the knitting’ just as he’d been told.

  From the patio, Dan laid down rapid fire, mowing down FSB, MSS and Al Nadir thugs. With his gun spent in seconds, he reverted to his Glock 37 and picked off more Al Nadir types as they entered into the fray.

  Sam looked at Sabena, still crouching in the corner, grasping Summanus. She hadn’t tried to pick up a gun or join the fight as he’d expected, and as her psyche profile dictated. It seemed Sabena was more circumspect about using her gun than he’d believed. The need to protect and stay alive was stronger than her crazy sadistic side.

  Sam advanced on Sabena and she stood up against the wall. Her eyes were bold and determined, but Sam could see a minute tremble in her lips.

  “Give me Summanus. Nothing will happen to you.”

  Her dark eyes stared out, resolute and steadfast. She looked across the room. Sam followed her gaze. Everyone was dead. No way out.

  Sam pulled at her arms and grabbed Summanus out of her hands.

  She couldn’t stop staring at Sam, and something was different. He’d expected her to fight. Or had those accounts of her being a fearless warrior like psychopathic Boadicea been all a complete pack of lies?

  Sam looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Got Summanus! Let’s clear out!”

  Jim stood up. He’d had a few scrapes with bullets and was bleeding badly, but nothing serious. Greg had cuts on his legs, but Sam could see none were life-threatening.

  Despite Kinley not appearing, they’d got Summanus and none of them had died. They’d got through it unscathed. Sam headed to the French windows.

  “OK, only one more thing.”

  Sam heard Dan’s voice. He flipped around and knew what Dan was going to do. He screamed, “No,” and tried to grab Dan from behind, but he had already started shooting.

  “Die, you fucking bitch!” yelled Dan, smiling as bullets drilled into Sabena.

  “Enough,” said Sam roughly, pulling Dan back.

  Dan fumed back at Sam, “What the hell’s wrong with you? It’s Sabena. The wicked witch of Al Nadir.”

  Greg yelled out in Dan’s defense, “Sam, it was always an A2 mission.”

  Sam didn’t answer Greg. He looked back toward the French windows and decided the exit in the bedroom was closer to the extraction point at Via Gina Capponi.

  He growled, “Time to go.”

  Operation Snowdrop was officially fucked!

  Kinley, a no-show, was probably dead. He hadn’t been here to step in. Now, Sabena was chewed-up by Dan’s impetuous actions. All hell would fall on the UK. Every terrorist hit would be in retribution for this moment.

  His head spun.

  How could such a well-laid plan go so wrong?

  “Come on guys,” yelled Sam, pissed at his team’s failure to move. Greg and Jim seemed to be having a party over Sabena’s body, and Dan was even swigging a bottle of something that had been blasted to buggery.

  Sam turned away, disgusted, and screamed again, “Move it, guys. We gotta fucking go!”

  “Something’s happening to her. I think she’s melting,” shouted Greg, almost standing on top of Sabena’s body.

  Sam froze.

  Melting?

  He stopped in the threshold between the lounge and bedroom and swung a glance back. Immediately, he saw the red laser lights of snipers trained on Jim, Greg and Dan through the shot-up French windows. He was lucky, shielded by the wall.

  “Down!” screamed Sam, but a succession of high-velocity bullets hit Greg and Jim in the head in parallel and they fell on impact. Dan, realizing what was happening ducked down and tried to run, but the sniper came in low and cut him down in a stream of powerful bullets that chomped through his legs and hit his lower body.

  Sam wrenched his head away from his fallen colleagues. He knew Jim and Greg were dead and it was a matter of minutes before Dan went the same way. He rationalized in a split second his decision to leave and get out with Summanus. With his Glock 37 .45 semi-automatic in his hand, Sam hit the lights off in the bedroom and patio, and edged out of the door, keeping to the side of the wall.

  As he looked to his right, a line of heavily-armed guys tore into the Garden Suite. Al Nadir or FSB? Sam was inclined to tilt toward the former. Some game was being played still and he knew they’d been sitting ducks.

  Sam stayed down behind a bush until they’d disappeared inside. Then, Sam ran, still crouching down, and slipped out of the gate on Via Gina Capponi. The SUV was waiting as planned.

  Giocomo sat in the driving seat.

  “Any more?” he asked, but he read Sam’s face.

  Wordlessly, he slammed his foot on the accelerator and raced down Via Gina Capponi, in the direction of the SS67, and out of Florence.

  In the darkness, Sam tried to piece together the jigsaw.

  Melting, Greg had said.

  Sam wished he’d gotten a look at her, but there’d been no time.

  He recalled Sabena giving up so easily. She hadn’t picked up a gun or tried to fight at all. Nothing seemed like the Sabena he’d read about in the intel briefs.

  Only her face.

  Her melting face.

  It all became clear. Sabena never had been Sabena, but some poor sod she’d gotten to take her place. If Sabena was still alive, and she probably was, there was a similar chance that Kinley was as well.

  Maybe Snowdrop was still in play.

  Sam stared into the night. Just pawns. That’s all his team had ever been designed to be.

  Goodbye guys, thought Sam. I’ll never forget you. I’ll make sure your deaths really mean something.

  None of tonight will be in vain.

  Chapter 30

  I watch on the screen as Sabena walks into the Garden Suite.

  “You’re there!” I say.

  Sabena smirks. “Yeah, we’ve perfected cloning.”

  “Stein-Muller’s cream,” I say.

  “Yeah, that stuff really is a little tub of wonder.”

  Sabena snuggles up to me, and then scowls, sensing something’s missing.

  “You! Get me some popcorn,” yells Sabena at an Al Nadir operative hovering with his HK pointed toward me. He looks between me and Sabena, mystified. But she growls, “Now!”

  The bemused operative walks out the door, and I can just about hear him shouting to his subordinate, “Get some popcorn immediately.”

  As twisted as all of this is, I find this particular scene just farcical.

  Sabena leans in, kissing my cheek and licking behin
d my ear. Her tongue hits my erogenous zone and my attention slips from the screen to respond to her advances. My life and the success of Snowdrop depends upon me keeping her happy and satisfied.

  Sabena smiles and turns my face to the screen. I’m aware of a sense of uneasiness, and I can’t help that feeling ripple through me.

  Ilya kicks off the auction. Bidding starts. Suddenly, fake Sabena jumps up and grabs Summanus, changing the dynamic of the room. Within minutes, a firestorm of bullets descends as everyone starts shooting. Smoke fills the Garden Suite. MI6 operatives, Jim and Greg, enter, blasting all the bodyguards of the respective bidding groups. Sam acquires a weapon and pops up, shooting. The French windows blast inward as FSB types enter into the suite, shooting up everyone. Behind them, Dan enters and takes down the FSB operatives in front of him with a single blast from his machine gun.

  Fake Sabena huddles behind a sofa in the corner of the room. All the opposition are dead. Sabena looks around, realizing that Jim, Greg and Dan are still alive, as is she.

  Just at that moment, the Al Nadir operative Sabena requested popcorn from enters with a big bowl and places it on the seventeenth-century coffee table.

  “Great!” exclaims Sabena, grabbing the bowl and bringing it between her and me. She digs in, grabs a fistful of corn and stuffs it into her wide mouth.

  I follow suit and try to ignore the craziness and sickness of the whole situation.

  “Look! The best bits are coming up,” says Sabena, adding, “Sorry, spoilers!”

  With some hesitation, I turn back to the screen, not knowing what I’ll see next.

  Sam snatches Summanus from fake Sabena’s hands and runs away. Dan aims his gun and, although Sam tries to stop him, he carves fake Sabena apart with his high velocity .45 GAP.

  Sabena leans forward, shoving more popcorn into her smiling mouth. I’m not sure how screwed-up her mind is, but it must be quite a twisted tangle for her to enjoy watching someone blast her own face to pieces.

  “Love a good thriller! Getting interesting, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say. But I can’t look at her. My eyes are glued to the screen.

  Sam is yelling at his team to leave, but they’re all caught up in a moment of glory at having killed Al Nadir’s deputy commander in chief. Sam appears to be pissed off, turning and walking fast, heading toward the exit in the adjoining bedroom.

  I see laser lines from the snipers stream in through the broken windows. Sam screams to warn his team, but the snipers are a fraction faster. My fellow agents are taken out with efficiency. Greg and Jim are hit in the head with clear shots straight into their foreheads, followed by shots to their chest. I watch as Dan ducks down and attempts to run, but the sniper’s bullets slap into the backs of his legs, splitting his tibia. He falls, screaming.

  Sam is shielded from the attack by the wall between the lounge and bedroom. Clutching his Glock, he kills the lights and leaves fast.

  “Wow! What a movie. And it’s not finished yet, Mr. Kinley, my darling.”

  Sabena touches my cheek. I force myself to touch her hand and kiss it. I really want to throttle her. But as I say, I’m acting for the Oscar of my life.

  “The ending is up to you,” says Sabena mysteriously.

  Sabena stands up and clasps my hands, pulling me up too. Instantly, her guards flank us with their guns pointed at me. We leave through the Royal Suite’s private entrance and head across the lawn to the Garden Suite. I’m trying desperately to figure out her game. Everyone is dead. Summanus is gone. So why return to the Garden Suite?

  Hand in hand, Sabena walks with me, stepping gingerly in her Loboutins over broken glass, and together, like a couple, we enter the Garden Suite.

  As I stare at the chair in the center of the room, it all becomes horrendously obvious.

  Dan Carter sits in the chair.

  His legs are mashed up. He’s bleeding out. His face is pale. He hasn’t got long. The Al Nadir guards know this. They haven’t bothered to tie him down. The agony of his wounds already hold him captive.

  Sabena is smiling. She takes my hand and kisses it. Dan just stares at me, abhorrence personified in his look.

  “Okay, now for a little game,” says Sabena, and she lets go of my hand and signals for me to take the ornate chair opposite Dan.

  Sabena drops her head and kisses me, but her gaze is fixed on Dan.

  I know Dan recognizes me as MI6. We worked a mission together just three months ago in Turkey.

  He glares at me. His eyes are confused and frightened.

  Hate surfaces.

  Sabena notices.

  She pulls out a scalpel from inside her jacket. Dan squirms back in his seat. Heavy hands from behind hold him firmly. As I watch, I push to become totally emotionless. I wear my poker face, leaving no tells that anyone could find. Not even Sam. And that’s saying something.

  Sabena trips sedately in her six-inch heels over to Dan and grasps his chin with her left hand. The scalpel gleams in her right hand.

  “Mr. Kinley, did I ever tell you about my little stint with a Russian dermatologist?”

  I shake my head. I’m having to try hard to focus on maintaining my emotionless demeanor. Speaking may just break that concentration.

  “He wasn’t much of a clinician, but boy, did he know about skin. Did you know skin is our largest organ? If we were stretched out, the average adult’s skin would take up about two square meters’ worth.”

  Dan is frantic now. He’s breathing hard. I can see he’s keeping in the pain. Instead of looking at scalpel-wielding Sabena, he’s staring at me. In his eyes, I feel the curse. He sees me as a traitor. He sees I’m not cuffed. His vitriol is open and if his legs weren’t mashed up into bits of blood, bone and muscle, he would walk over and spit on me.

  I said I’d prepare myself for this, but no matter how hard you train and manipulate your psyche to accept something terrible, your prepared mind and cold reality simply don’t align.

  My first instinct is always to help, but now I have to obliterate that instinct and just sit back and show Sabena that I’m enjoying the horror of being Al Nadir.

  Sabena continues with her dermatology class, and I sit there watching impassively. My disposition nudges into slight interest. She looks in my direction and clocks my intrigue, and grins, licking her lips.

  “Skin has three layers. The epidermis comes first, which is what we see externally. Then the next layer is the dermis. And the lowest level is the subcutis. Now, I’m going to ask you a question, Mr. Daniel Carter, and if I don’t like the answer or you chose not to answer, I’m going to reveal one of your skin layers. It’s a process known as onioning and, Mr. Carter, I’m really rather good at it.”

  I stare, pushing that deadpan expression, but inside I’m cracking up. Ashton, Maide, Sam and me, we’re holding that scalpel, not Sabena. I feel sick to the core of my being. If I move or try to stop Sabena, I’m dead, Dan’s dead and Snowdrop is blown.

  I try to imagine the future lives I’m saving by being in with these sadistic motherfucking bastards. It always comes down to that greater good.

  But, seeing Dan, his eyes bloodshot, pain thundering through his body, his face hating every part of me, I have to wonder, how much greater does that good have to be to warrant something like this?

  “Okay, Mr. Carter, your question. Who is this man and why is he here?”

  Sabena points at me with her hand carrying the scalpel. Dan glares at me but doesn’t answer.

  Come on, mate. Say something. I’m not worth your silence.

  “Oh, I see you want a practical biology lesson.”

  Sabena arches her eyebrow, glancing at me with her seductive eyes. I send a sexy wink and give Sabena a blast of my baby-blues.

  Inside, my soul is tearing apart.

  “Mr. Carter, again, who is this man and why is he here?”

  Dan stays silent. For fuck’s sake, Dan. Speak, you stupid loyal bugger!

  Sabena indicates to the heavy. He grips Dan’s hea
d to keep it straight and locked into position. Massive hands hold the sides of Dan’s temples. His eyes follow the scalpel.

  “So, here we have the epidermis.”

  Sabena angles the scalpel carefully against Dan’s cheek. She tilts the blade, cutting with delicate precision.

  Dan screams.

  I stay immobile. To react is to die.

  Sabena slides the scalpel further underneath and slowly pulls a slither of skin down his face. I watch Dan. His eyes screw up and his breathing accelerates. He’s hyperventilating, and he tries to move, but the thug behind him holds his head tight.

  “Mr. Carter, who is this man and why is he here?”

  Dan is now in the zone of defiance. He knows he’s going to die. Speaking now is pointless. It’s what we all learn on those last days of training. It’s the make or break exercise that determines our courage and stamina for field operations.

  Please, Dan, say something. I’m screaming in my mind, so loud, I’m dizzy with internal sound. But outside, I’m showing that I’m bored and wanting to get back to screwing Sabena rather than watch some tosser being tortured.

  Maybe I should take up acting. I’d sure as hell win an Oscar for this performance.

  “You’re really getting under my skin, Mr. Carter. So I’ll get under yours.”

  Sabena angles the scalpel again, cuts in a fraction higher, and slips the blade beneath the skin folds.

  Dan howls.

  With precision, despite blood dripping onto her fingers, Sabena peels down the next layer of skin.

  “And this is the dermis.”

  Dan grips his thighs, desperately controlling the agony wracking his body. His legs are bleeding heavily, and I know he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

  “Now, shall we go that bit deeper to the subcutis? Or are you going to answer my question?”

  Dan stares at me.

  Sabena looks at Dan.

  The heavies have their eyes on Dan.

  None of the Al Nadir team are looking at me.

  I stare at Dan, piercing into his eyes the need for him to break. I issue an almost imperceptible nod. Trained to pick up on the smallest signal, Dan notices. His eyes widen.