Covert Assassin

by Ethan Jones

  Justin sighed and shook his head. He could not help but blame himself for the failure to see through Ying’s and Suen’s lies. Am I losing my edge? he asked himself more than once. Am I trusting too much? He knew full well that background checks, more often than not, did not reveal everything about the target. But we should have learned this about Ying. We should have.

  “Justin, what’s going through your mind?” Carrie asked.

  They were standing in the courtyard, near the porch. Stephan and two gunmen were smoking on the other side of the courtyard, beyond earshot.

  Justin shrugged. “Nothing important. The past, which should stay in the past. Now that we know Ying played us, it’s time to pay her back.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t want Ying or her boss to know we’re aware of their trickery. I want them to still believe we’re in Iraq, looking for her.”

  “The phone signals?”

  “Yes, exactly. We’ll leave our phones with Isaac’s men. As they roam the area, if the Chinese are tracking our phones, the signals will indicate we’re still here.”

  “And if they call us, we can still pick up, thanks to the forwarding system.” Carrie smiled.

  Justin nodded. “Yes, before we go, let’s call HQ and ask for a TE.”

  That meant a total erase. The CIS’s information and communications team would remotely delete all data stored on the phones and restore them to factory settings. Whoever possessed the phones would still be able to make and receive calls, but that was about all they could do.

  “And Isaac, do you think we’ll get any help from him?”

  “I don’t think so, but then, I wasn’t expecting much. As long as he stays out of our way, I’m happy with that.”

  “Let’s ask him to take care of al-Rawi’s funeral. It doesn’t have to be in Rutbah, if that’s not possible.”

  Al-Rawi had succumbed to his wounds shortly before the team had arrived in Saloya. The news had first reached Isaac, who had then informed Justin.

  “Yes, Isaac should be able to arrange that.”

  “Will he let us take Thames with us?”

  “He promised, so he’d better keep his word. As soon as he’s finished with Stephan, we’ll get in the truck and head back to Jordan.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll have better luck at the border.”

  “We’ll call ahead this time. The Brits would be happy to give us a hand, considering we’re bringing back one of their own.”

  “Yes. We should call Mandy, inform her, so she can tell Mary.”

  “Good idea.”

  “And the Russians? We need to give them the heads-up.”

  “Right, but after I’ve talked to Flavio. Once I’ve briefed him on the situation, we’ll know what course of action he will authorize.”

  “We need to go after Ying and Lim.”

  “Yes, but once we are absolutely certain about the details of the assassination plot. We don’t know where Ying and Lim might be, but we know where they’ll strike. And we’ll be there to stop them.”

  Carrie turned her head just as Isaac stepped out on the porch. Stephan and the other gunmen raced to him. Isaac exchanged a few quick words, which started as whispers and ended in shouts. “No, it’s done. And that’s my decision,” Isaac shouted to Stephan.

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Yes, you do, and if you disobey them—”

  “I’m not letting their blood be spilled in vain.”

  “It’s not. The detainee gave us valuable intel.”

  “About what?”

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  Stephan shook his head and spat on the ground. “This is crazy.”

  “Whatever it is, your order is to stand down. If you don’t, you’ll be sorry.”

  Stephan cursed in German and cast a menacing glance at Justin. “One day, I will have your head.” He cursed again and walked out of the courtyard.

  Isaac drew in a deep breath and dismissed the gunmen. Then he made his way to Justin and Carrie. “Take your man and leave, before Stephan does something stupid.”

  “Thanks, Isaac.”

  “Don’t mention it. And forget everything that happened here. Everything you saw or heard.”

  Justin nodded. “I gave you my word. But will you tell Mossad everything Thames said?”

  “Of course. I have to. But don’t worry, we will not intervene.”

  “Is it in Mossad’s interest that the Russian president is killed?”

  Isaac shrugged. “People higher up the ladder than me decide on Israel’s interest. As far as I’m concerned, the Russians have helped and are continuing to help our sworn enemy, Syria. The Russians think they’re invincible. Perhaps it’s time for them to learn a lesson.”

  “That’s a pricey lesson,” Carrie said.

  “Not my choice, but again, I don’t make those decisions.”

  “All right,” Justin said. “I’ll bring Thames. Carrie, get the truck ready.”

  “Right away.” She headed toward the gate.

  “I’ll give you a hand. He can barely walk.” Isaac followed Justin inside the house.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Fifteen miles southwest of Saloya

  Iraq

  Justin waited until they had driven a considerable distance from Saloya before slowing down and deciding to call his boss. No one was following their dark blue Toyota truck, but Justin could not be certain Stephan was not coming for his pound of flesh. He had uttered threats, and even if he or his men were not giving chase, a simple phone call could set up an ambush. Life was cheap in these lawless lands, where jihadists were a dime a dozen.

  Carrie parked on the side of a road when they were between two villages. She turned off all lights, and darkness surrounded them. The bright stars blinked so close that they could touch them. The night was cold, and Justin drew in a deep breath. He filled his lungs with fresh air and became full of hope that they would make it alive out of Iraq and stop the assassination plot.

  He walked a few steps and glanced back at Carrie, who was right behind him. “This should be good enough.” He looked at the truck. “Thames won’t be able to hear anything.”

  Carrie nodded.

  Justin pulled out one of the two phones he had received in exchange for his and dialed Flavio’s cellphone number. He answered after the third ring. “Who is this?”

  “This is Justin. I have to use a different phone.”

  “Justin, for heaven’s sake! I just fell asleep after a thirty-six-hour day.” Flavio cursed loudly and let out a yawn.

  “Sorry, sir. I’ll call back in—”

  “No, no, I’m already awake. Just ... just give me a moment.”

  Shuffling of feet, then the creak of a door opening and closing. “Yes, now we can talk. How’s the Iraq op going?”

  “Eh, not good. A lot has happened since we last talked.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “Sure, I’ll activate the speakerphone, so that Carrie is a part of the conversation.”

  “Hello, Carrie. How are you doing?”

  “Pretty good, sir. Sorry to wake you up.”

  “Eh, it’s all right. Go on, Justin.”

  Justin gave Flavio a detailed account of what had taken place since their last conversation shortly after Justin and Carrie had arrived in Saloya. As usual, Flavio listened carefully and patiently, asking questions for clarification and requesting confirmation of specific facts. Near the end, Justin said, “Unfortunately, there’s more bad news.”

  “What can be worse than Ying deceiving us about who she is?”

  “Deceiving us about Lim’s location. He wasn’t in Rutbah.”

  “The MSS had the wrong place?”

  “No, Ying tricked us again. She faked talking to Lim, to draw us into Rutbah. The truth was she was going after another target.”

  “Let me guess: Thames.”

  “Yes. The good news is we have him. He’s badly beaten and bruised, bu
t alive. And he’ll be back to full health if we can get out of Iraq.”

  “Where are you?”

  “About an hour from the border. Before calling you, I talked to Suen of MSS.”

  “Yeah, and what did he say?”

  Justin gave Flavio a brief account of the conversation with Ying’s boss and how Suen had strongly rejected any claim that Ying was a double agent. After hearing about Ying’s turning against the team, Flavio was not surprised by Suen’s reaction. “He’s defending her, of course, and will continue to do so. What about Thames, what does he know?”

  “He confirmed what we suspected. The Chinese tried to recruit him for the hit. He refused, repeatedly. When he was approached by his teammate, a fight broke out and Thames shot his teammate, in self-defense, according to Thames.”

  “Why did Thames disappear? Fear of the investigation?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. He claimed his teammate threatened his girlfriend, so he vanished in order to protect her.”

  “How so?”

  “If he was beyond their reach, they would leave her alone.”

  Flavio seemed to think about it for a moment. “Maybe the Chinese had something on him, dirt from his past.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “Yes, probably the most powerful threat.”

  “It could be. We’ll ask Mandy to look into that angle.”

  “On the topic of working with partner agencies, we need to let the Russians know about the assassination plot.”

  “Are we giving them everything we know, including the Chinese deception?”

  “No. MSS will deny it, as they did when you talked to Suen. Tell the Russians about the plot but leave out all sensitive details.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “All right, Justin. Let me know what they say.”

  “Sure. Will you talk to the Chinese?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow morning—well, today in a few hours. I’ll assure them that you’re still looking for Ying and that we fully trust them.”

  “Do we need to contact Six?”

  “No, I’ll handle them as well. Get safely to Jordan, then London.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “All right. Anything else?”

  Justin glanced at Carrie, who returned a headshake.

  “No, we’re good, sir.”

  “Okay, then be safe, both of you.”

  “Will do.”

  He ended the call and glanced at Carrie. “I’ll call Markov and give her a heads-up.”

  “I’ll check on Thames.”

  “You should be a part of the call.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Markov doesn’t like speakerphones. And she has a thing for you.”

  Justin cocked his head. “I already have a girlfriend.”

  “Yes, but that won’t stop Markov.”

  “I think you’re imagining things, Carrie.”

  “You can believe what you want, Justin. I’m telling you what I see.” She walked back to the truck.

  Justin thought about Carrie’s words. Was she joking, or am I not seeing it? Carrie had a more acute sense of reading and understanding people’s personalities and motives than Justin. Sometimes, it seemed she could read their thoughts. That is why they made such a great team.

  He shrugged. He thought of the last time he had worked with Yuliya Markov, the GRU special operative. GRU stood for Glavnoye Razvedovatel’noye Upravlenie—which meant the Main Intelligence Directorate—and was the Russian foreign military intelligence agency. Their last operation had taken Justin and Markov to Moscow, as they hunted a disgraced covert operative working for the FSB, the Russian internal security intelligence service.

  While the other Russian internal and foreign intelligence services received much more attention, especially in the foreign media, the GRU was arguably the best in intelligence-gathering operations inside and outside Russia. The agency had survived the collapse of the Soviet Union and the turbulent years that had followed. The GRU’s chief was the highest-ranking intelligence official in the country, as well as the main confidant of Russia’s Minister of Defense and the Chief of Staff. The GRU’s chief answered directly to the President of Russia.

  Justin shrugged again. Markov had always been flirtatious, but he had never thought she was serious. Even if Markov has ideas, I don’t. Justin dialed her office number. As expected, there was no answer, and he left no message. Too early for her to be in. Justin tried Markov’s cellphone. She answered in Russian after the second ring in a curious, yet measured tone. “Yes, who’s calling?”

  “Yuliya, this is Justin, Justin Hall.”

  “Yes, my dear Justin. I don’t need your last name, as you’re my only Justin.” Markov’s voice rang with a soft, sensual tone.

  Justin frowned and thought of Carrie’s words. Before he could say anything, Markov continued, “What are you doing in Iraq?”

  “I found a great seat sale, so...”

  “And you didn’t invite me? You know I love terrorist-filled deserts.”

  “Sorry, it skipped my mind. But I do have an invitation to London.”

  “England?”

  “Yes, where else?”

  “Isn’t there another London, I think in Canada?”

  “Yes, Ontario. And several in the States. But the Russian president is visiting none of those.”

  “The president?” Markov’s voice turned serious. “So, this is work?”

  “Yes, sorry, I misled you.”

  “You’re such a tease, Justin. I thought you were asking me out to dinner or something along those lines.”

  “Well, perhaps we can do dinner in London, after we’ve taken care of business.”

  “All right, tell me what it is.”

  “There’s a plot to assassinate the Russian president during his visit to London.”

  “How credible is your intel?”

  “As credible as it gets. Intel officials.”

  “Who?”

  “I’d rather we talk face-to-face.”

  “When can we meet?”

  “I’ll be in London tomorrow evening.”

  “Not sure I can make it in the evening. Early the next day?”

  “Sure, ten o’clock.”

  “Let’s make it eleven.”

  “All right. You know the Trafalgar Café, a block off the square with the same name?”

  “I do, yes. Lovely place.”

  “We’ll meet there.”

  “Done deal. Anything else you can tell me?”

  “This will be a well-organized hit, possibly state-sponsored.”

  “Really?” Surprise was clear in Markov’s voice.

  “Yes. It’ll take lots of hard work to thwart it, if they decide to go forward with the attempt.”

  “Let’s make sure they don’t.”

  “That’s why I called you, Yuliya.”

  “I appreciate it, Justin. Before you go, I missed you.” Her voice resumed the initial warmth.

  “I ... I missed you too, Yuliya.” He was not sure if it was the right thing to say, but he said it anyway.

  “See you, Justin. Get out of Iraq alive.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  He ended the call and shrugged. Yes, maybe there is something to what Carrie said about Markov. I’ll get it all straightened out. But first, let’s get safely to Jordan.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Turzamid, Jordan

  Two miles west of the Iraqi border

  Thankfully, Justin’s team was able to navigate the treacherous terrain without running into any checkpoints or border patrols. Carrie drove south, away from the place they had initially crossed into Iraq the previous night, which now felt like a lifetime ago. When they came near the agreed-upon meeting point with Justin’s Jordanian contacts, Carrie turned the truck westward.

  They had barely entered Jordan when a silver SUV and a tan-colored border patrol truck appeared in the distance. Carrie sat up straight and said, “Justin.”

  “Yes, that mu
st be al-Mahrama.” Justin peered through the windshield. “We’ll be all right.”

  Carrie nodded. “I thought he was coming alone.”

  “He was supposed to. But perhaps he couldn’t convince the patrol to stay behind. Perhaps that was part of the deal.”

  “Not the deal he made with us.”

  “Right. Let’s make sure everyone is friendly.”

  Carrie reached for the M4 rifle next to her.

  Justin glanced at Thames, who seemed to be dozing in the backseat. “We’re getting out soon.”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Wake up. We’re in Jordan,” Carrie said.

  “Not a word about who you really are,” Justin said.

  “Of course, I’m not stupid.”

  “In case you’re thinking about it.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “We’re good then.”

  Carrie drove to the side of the dirt trail and stopped when they were about a hundred yards away from the SUV. Two men were standing next to it. Their silhouettes showed them to be armed with assault rifles.

  “Which one is al-Mahrama?” Carrie asked.

  “I can’t tell.” He pushed open the door.

  Carrie stepped outside as well. They both carried their rucksacks with all their belongings and their weapons. Carrie removed the keys from the ignition. Thames had promised not to cause any trouble, but Justin had seen people he considered honorable go back on their word.

  When Justin and Carrie were about twenty yards away from the SUV, someone turned on the headlights. Justin raised his hand to protect his eyes from the bright beams, which indirectly lit the faces of the two men. The one on the right with the long beard and glasses was al-Mahrama. “Salam alaikum,” Justin said. “Thanks for coming out to meet us.”

  “Alaikum wa salam,” al-Mahrama said in a strong, yet edgy voice. “There’s a problem.”

  Justin frowned and stopped. His hands gripped the M4, and he raised it up a few inches almost instinctively. “What problem?”