by D S Kane
Shimon Tennenbaum stood still. “Listen! Are you sure it’s just one?”
JD shrugged. “Not sure. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs to this floor.” He pulled a 9mm Beretta from the back of his pants belt and moved to the door. “Time to move.”
Shimon followed with his own weapon drawn. “Ready?”
JD nodded and pulled the door open.
A single pop was followed by a spray of plaster from the door jamb. JD closed the door. “We’re fucked.” He pointed to Lester and then at the other side of the door near where he stood. Lester nodded and moved opposite him as he chambered a round into his 9mm Beretta Nano.
When JD pulled the door open a second time, Lester pushed the barrel of his Beretta through it and pulled the trigger. Several rounds of return fire erupted from outside, some from the hallway and several from the stairwell doorway.
Lester took a deep breath. “We can’t make a stand here. Sooner or later, we’ll all be slaughtered. To clear a path out of here, we need to have two of us, one left and one right.”
Yigdal nodded. He stared at Lester. “Do it.”
JD touched Lester’s shoulder. “Ready?”
JD nodded and positioned himself for the hallway shot. Lester moved to the other side of the doorway and took another breath. “On my count. Three. Two. One.” He pushed the door open, aimed and fired.
Lester fired at almost the same time. “No one on my side. Just wasted a round. Shit!”
JD shrugged. “I got mine. So that’s one down.” He nodded and Lester pulled the door open a bit more. “Clear.”
They all emerged into the hallway, hugging the white plaster walls and wedging together within the scant cover of two small side tables covered with flowers in crystal vases.
Each of the Israelis, including Ben-Levy, was armed with a 9mm Beretta. The hands of the hostile gunman’s corpse held an AK-74. JD took it from him, searched his pockets, and found three additional clips. He pocketed these. He found no ID but there was a note.
JD held up the note. “Cyrillic. He’s Russian. Wait. Listen, I hear more, at least two downstairs.” He motioned toward the ornate staircase.
Lester and Shimon each rushed down the stairs while JD used the automatic weapon to cover them.
In two seconds a hail of plaster and bullets pushed them back up.
Ben-Levy muttered. “The guards. They must all be dead.”
JD nodded back. “I’d bet on that. Is there any other way to reach the ground floor?”
Ben-Levy nodded back. “Follow me. We built a hidden door at the bottom of the fire exit stairwell. It leads to a tunnel out under the street, through the basement.”
They retreated down the hall to the fire exit. JD and Lester took their places on either side of the door.
When Lester started turning the door knob, a bullet blasted through the door near the knob. He pulled his hand back. “Fuck.” The tip of his ring finger was bloodied. “We’re trapped up here and since they’ve covered both sets of stairs, we’ll have no alternative but to fight our way down.”
They all nodded.
JD reached out again for the doorknob. “Our best tactical move is still this fire exit, since its staircase is narrower and they can’t fit more than two abreast, four if they have two in front kneeling. Agreed?” Each of them nodded.
Shimon pulled JD’s hand from the doorknob. “Wait a second.” He pulled a pen from his pocket. “Open the door a tiny bit.” When JD did, Shimon threw the pen through the crack and raised his head to see through the door’s window. As the pen hit the stairs, he saw muzzle flashes. “Two on the landing above, two on the landing below.”
JD turned to the others. “Bad odds, but we’ll have to work them anyway. I’ll take the landing above, with Lester. Shimon, you and Ari take the landing below. Michael, you go last, with Yigdal.”
Without warning, he slammed the door all the way open and dived to the concrete, his gun aimed up and bullets flying. Right behind him, Shimon flew through the door and bounced against the floor, shooting at the landing below. While the pair crawled, looking for cover, Lester and Ari darted out, one aiming high, the other low.
Michael and Yigdal waited until the gunfire slowed and stopped.
Yigdal asked, “Anyone hurt?” All said no.
They took the stairs down, step by step.
The small group fought their way to the lobby. Two hostiles now lay dead beside the lobby exit door. The group collected the guns and ammo from the dead hostiles. As they passed the door’s tiny window, JD looked through. “I see six guards down, probably dead.”
They continued one floor downstairs, into the basement. Yigdal pointed to a bookcase. He tried to push a button on the side of the case, but found himself too weak to do even that. He pointed again. “Here. Push this button and move the bookcase to the left.”
Ari nodded and the bookcase glided about three feet, exposing a tunnel. All six entered and Yigdal pointed to another button on the back of the bookcase. Ari touched it, and it rolled back into place.
Yigdal said, “I didn’t bring a flashlight, so walk slowly. It’s about three hundred feet to the other side of the street.”
When they approached the door at the tunnel’s end, Yigdal faced the others. “We’re in an alleyway behind the buildings on the opposite side of the street from the embassy. We have access to the street one block away.” He reached to the doorknob, but JD stopped him.
“Wait. Which way does the alleyway face?”
“It faces the front of the embassy building. It’s the only way out.”
JD shook his head. “What if they left men on the street as backup?”
Yigdal said, “We must leave now. Soon they’ll find the hidden passageway. If that happens, we’ll be squeezed between the exit to the street and the front of the building.” He pointed to the door.
Lester shrugged, then pushed through them. “He’s right. We have to walk through. It’ll be safest if we cling to the cover of the building wall. Once we know what’s on the street, we can plan our next move.” Meeting no objection, he opened the door far enough to let each pass single-file into the alleyway. They huddled against the building’s wall and moved through the night in half-steps through the alleyway.
Ben-Levy pointed to a gray van parked next to the embassy’s entrance. JD pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialed 911. “There’s been shooting at the Israeli embassy. At least six wounded and in need of immediate medical attention. Several dead. Looks like they crashed the gate with a gray van. Some of the shooters may still be in the van. It’s parked outside the building’s entrance.” He listened for a few seconds. “I’m the janitor. I was returning from my dinner break when it happened. Please hurry.” He terminated the call. “That should work. Let’s wait and watch.”
Less than three minutes later, three police cars and a SWAT wagon screeched to a halt at the shattered gates of the embassy.
“We leave now.” JD led the way through the alleyway to the street one block away. “Yigdal, where can we go? What’s your plan?” He faced Yigdal.
The old spymaster glowered. “Manhattan. The United Nations.”
CHAPTER 15
American National Bank,
351 Park Avenue, New York, New York
February 22, 3:43 p.m.
Susan Rubin had just returned from her meeting with the bank’s president when her cellphone chirped. “It’s Jon Sommers. I returned from Singapore, to JFK, but now, I’m in Washington with William Wing and Elizabeth Brown.”
She said, “So?”
“William and Betsy send their regards. I was at JFK when I got a call from Yigdal Ben-Levy. A bunch of hitters entered the Israeli embassy in Washington and tried wiping out everyone there. So I took a flight from JFK and called Wing and Betsy. We’ve remained in Washington.”
Her mouth went agape. “You can’t be serious?”
“The old Mossad crew, Sashakovich’s bodyguards were there and saved him. Drapoff, Dush
ov, Westheim, Weinstein, and Tennenbaum are all with him now. They’re in downtown Washington, somewhere safe, and trying to plan their next move. What can we do to help them?”
She leaned on one of her canes. “I’d be no good to them in the field. You help them. If you need me to send money or track the hitters from their cash flow, I can do that without getting in the way.”
“Okay. Soon, then.”
* * *
As he realized what he’d just committed to, Jon stood frozen in fear. It had been over four years since he’d been part of a black op. He turned to William and Betsy, opened his mouth and couldn’t speak. After waiting, William shrugged. “Me too. It’s just too much. Right?”
Jon recovered and said, “I need to call Ben-Levy and Avram and tell them that Susan Rubin will act as the communications center.”
He led the other two past baggage claim and punched in Avram’s cell number as they walked.
* * *
From the window of a restaurant on the third floor of an office building a block away from the Israeli embassy in Washington, the five former Mossad operatives and Yigdal Ben-Levy watched ambulance attendants tend to the injured Aman soldiers from the embassy. JD looked at his watch. “We should stay here for at least another hour, until it quiets down at the embassy.”
Ben-Levy shook his head. “No. We must move now. Time is our biggest enemy. It’s quiet enough. We leave right now!”
Dushov faced Ben-Levy. “Not without a plan. We’re running blind. First we need to be sure of why this is happening. I think it’s only you they are hunting.”
Ben-Levy shrugged. “Of course I’m their primary target.”
Dushov said, “Mother, is it really worth it?”
Yigdal’s body shook. He struggled to control his visible rage. “I’m going to die soon. My death has to be worth something.”
Dushov sighed. “I think it will take far more than all of us to help you. In order for this mission to be successful, we’ll need enough covert operatives to complete several simultaneous objectives. Let’s try to formulate that plan.”
Everyone nodded except Yigdal. “I have a plan,” he said in a hiss just above a whisper.
The others all stared at him. “Sommers called and left a message.”
He played the voicemail:
“Yigdal, you were right. Be careful, if they know you are in possession of their plans, they’ll try to terminate you. I’m in Washington at Reagan International with William Wing and Elizabeth Brown. We’re available to help, and I’ve contacted Avram. He and his mercs can assist. Contact me when you have an operable plan.”
Yigdal scanned their faces. “Here’s my plan.” He spoke for several minutes.
CHAPTER 16
Cassandra Sashakovich’s home,
1805 Wilson Lane, McLean, Virginia
February 23, 4:06 p.m.
Cassandra Sashakovich sat on an overstuffed red couch, before a roaring fireplace in the family room, her infant son Evan cradled in her arms. She’d wrapped him in a blue plaid flannel blanket, and he suckled at her breast. It had been difficult for her to find a comfortable position since she was rail thin, having lost weight in the two months since he was born.
Outside the house, mercenaries patrolled within the fence of the compound.
Her mind was nearly blank, a Zen trick she’d learned while she was pregnant. The entire house was silent. She focused on the tip of her nose and her rhythmic breathing. When a car’s horn shattered her concentration, she sighed and adjusted Evan’s position.
Her cell beeped, and she reached one hand into her bathrobe pocket and pulled it out. She scanned the screen and smiled. It must be important for her boss to call her during maternity leave. “Avram! What’s on your mind?”
Through the phone she heard vehicles moving and men shouting in the background. His voice seemed distant. “We have an urgent problem and need all hands on board. Can you help?”
“What about Evan?”
“I’ve asked Judy Hernandez to visit your home and take care of him. We’ll also need Lee.” Lee Ainsley was her husband. “I’ve asked him to take urgent family leave from the NSA.”
She considered the situation before asking what was so critical for Avram to want all hands on board. It would have to be a crushing emergency. She sighed. “Where do we report?”
Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. She rose and saw Judy standing outside the door.
In an instant, Cassandra Sashakovich’s life had changed.
* * *
Lee Ainsley ended the call and wrote a short note to his boss stating his need for urgent personal time off due to a family crisis. He called three of his subordinates to his office and reassigned their security chores. The NSA would survive just fine without him. He brushed away the locks of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes while he’d spoken on the landline.
As he walked out past the security guard in the lobby, he picked his cell from the storage container and called their adopted daughter, Ann. If he was correct, right now, she’d be home, packing to leave for summer school at Stanford University. “Ann, we have a family emergency. Pick up.” He waited. She would be useful to this mission. She was one of the best white-hat hackers he’d ever known.
“Daddy?”
“Listen carefully. Avram called. He’s rousting everyone who can work. Don’t yet know what the fuss is, but we’re all on call. I’d like you to help out. When we know what he wants, if we need tech support, you’ll be one of those we call. Is that okay?”
“Cool. Lemme know. I’ll be ready.”
Lee headed off to his car.
* * *
Cassie pulled her brown Lexus CT 200h out of the garage and nodded at one of the security guards. “I’ll be gone for an extended period. Judy Hernandez has my permission to come and go. And she’ll be here to watch over Ann.”
The guard nodded and Cassie drove off toward the highway. Her mind flooded with possible reasons for Avram’s urgent call. As she merged into the steady flow of traffic, she used the car’s Bluetooth voice access to call Avram back. “I’m en route to the office. What’s so important?”
“Do you remember us talking about Bob Gault?” Without waiting, he continued. “Your uncle Misha suggested we send him to Istanbul as a courier. So, after you vetted him for me, Bob traveled there to pick up some intel. He ended up in the morgue. I’ve seen the autopsy file. There was a tiny inflammation on his left calf muscle.”
She slowed the car back to the speed limit while she thought. “That’s SVR assassin technology. Russian intelligence. Are the Russians involved?”
She heard him sigh. “According to Yigdal, the Russians are gearing up for a military confrontation with the Americans. An invasion. Worse, they’re working with the Chinese.”
She changed lanes and hit the accelerator. “How good is your intel? Who told you about Bob’s death? Was it Ben-Levy?”
“No, it was Misha’s contact in Istanbul who owed me a favor. As for Ben-Levy, remember he used to be ‘Mother’ at the Mossad. His intel is usually spot-on and it fits perfectly with what we know now, though his plans are almost always worse than the nightmares Jon Sommers used to create.”
She thought for a few seconds. “What did Gault find in Istanbul?”
“No idea. He died right outside the meeting location. But the man who requested a courier also sent the information to several others. It contains plans of the electric grids for all of the United States and also China.”
She thought while she shifted to the left lane. “When I reach the office, what do you need us to do?”
The silence went on for a longer time. “I’m not sure. I have Sommers waiting at Reagan airport with William and Betsy while we wait to hear from Mother. He’s traveling with your bodyguards, After they were attacked at the Israeli embassy in Washington, they’ve all gone dark. Get here fast.” The line went dead.
Cassie thought for a second. Dark? Holy shit on a marshmallow stic
k. It must be really bad. She looked in the rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. Gonna get dangerous. She felt the car drift and her eyes caught the speedometer. Eighty-five. She floored the accelerator. More speed, go faster!
CHAPTER 17
Downtown Washington, DC
February 23, 4:24 p.m.
Cassie found her car boxed in with heavy rush-hour traffic crawling slow through the dusk as she neared downtown. She could see it was worse about a quarter-mile in front of her, a total standstill.
She edged her car into the rightmost lane and exited the highway onto K Street. She cursed when she saw the downtown streets were almost as crowded. I should have known it would be bad.
When she made the turn onto K Street, she was met by a protest march. The protesters carried signs, but they also carried looted goods from stores as they passed. Some of them pointed to her car and approached fast, shaking their fists and yelling. She barreled toward them, and as they scattered, she turned onto a less crowded cross street.
There, she saw a black Chevy Suburban swing fast to gain position alongside her. She saw the front-seat passenger window glide open and an automatic pistol raised toward her head. They’d probably been following her for miles and she’d been too preoccupied to notice. My tradecraft’s rusty. Damn!
She pounded the brake as the shooter pulled the trigger. Her windshield exploded and she was splattered with shattered glass. She lost control of the car and—helpless—watched it swing hard into the shooter’s vehicle.
Both cars veered off the road and crashed into the front of an office building. She felt heat from outside. The last thing she saw was the other car, smashed into her own, burning, its flames nearing her.
* * *
Yigdal Ben-Levy found it difficult to walk. He stood at the foot of the bed, his weight against its foot. “How is she?” He could hear his heartbeat, weak inside his chest. He coughed blood into a tissue.
Lester stood by Cassie’s bed in the hospital, reading the chart. “I think she’ll be okay.”