“Well, perhaps a more sensible approach is in order.”
A waiter in a starched white shirt and a red vest arrived with a second menu, and after glancing at it, Rudi ordered for them both. When the man had departed, Rudi smiled easily and studied Maya as if memorizing every detail of her.
“You look well. How was your trip?” he asked.
“As expected. No surprises.”
“Excellent. I hope you’re looking forward to discovering the wonders of Jordan. It’s a miraculous place.”
“Of course. I can’t wait to get started.”
They made small talk, outwardly innocent to any eavesdropper, and bantered over their lunch, which was indifferently prepared but edible. When the check came, Rudi paid, and then they made their way out the door, arm in arm like lovers.
“Where to?” she asked.
“I’m parked in the lot a block down. Let’s make sure you didn’t pick up a tail, and assuming you’re clean, we’ll get out of here.”
“What about the others?”
“Don’t worry about them. Just worry about yourself for now.”
Rudi stopped abruptly to tie his shoe, and Maya checked the sidewalk behind them for signs of surveillance, but saw nothing. Rudi glanced around, and his eyes roved over the cars parked on the far side of the street. When he stood, he looked satisfied. “I don’t see anything odd.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Couldn’t be better. Not that I’m expecting a welcoming committee, but you can never be too careful.”
They resumed their stroll. The heat radiating off the sidewalk was almost unbearable, and Maya exhaled a sigh of relief when they arrived at the lot, where a white GMC Yukon was parked near the exit. Five minutes later they were in downtown traffic, Rudi’s gaze moving from the side mirror to the rearview mirror as he navigated through the unruly snarl. He followed the stream of vehicles until they were on the highway north, headed toward Irbid on a modern four-lane road.
“Are you going to fill me in on what we’re doing?” Maya asked when he finally relaxed.
“Sure. The others are in place. I’ve got a safe house one of our contacts leased out in the country, where we won’t be bothered. The target is, as of yesterday, at a farm between Neaime and Al Hosn. I had hoped to have more time, but I don’t trust the local intel, so I want to grab him tonight.”
“Fine. What do you need me to do?”
“You and Peter, whom you’ll meet shortly, will watch the road to ensure we aren’t interrupted while we go in. I’ll take Saul, whom I’ve worked with before. It should be easy – according to the surveillance report, it’s only the target and the people who work the farm in the house, so I don’t anticipate any problems.”
“How will you neutralize them?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“I see. And weapons?”
“At the house. Beretta 92 9mm pistols. Locally sourced – I have a feeling they disappeared from the army here. I want nothing that could hint at Israel if something goes wrong.”
She looked through the window at the Zarqa River as they crossed over the rushing water. “So you snatch him while we act as lookouts? That’s it?” Maya couldn’t keep the hint of disappointment out of her voice.
“Look. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t afford to have anything go sideways on us. I understand from Lev that you’re more than capable, but Saul has years of experience, and so do I, so we’ll handle the heavy lifting. Hopefully this will be a nice, boring surveillance operation, and you’ll be on your way home in a day or two, no worse for wear.”
“I like the sound of that. But if you don’t mind me saying so, you seem on edge. Are you expecting trouble?”
“I’m always expecting trouble. Especially when the information we’re acting on comes from locals. There’s a constant problem of reliability – our informants work for money, not love, so we can never be a hundred percent sure that they aren’t playing both sides to maximize their payday.”
She nodded. “You have any reason to believe that’s the case?”
“None, other than a lifetime of doing this.” They sat in silence for the rest of the drive. Rudi turned off the main road and took a smaller tributary toward the Nu’aymeh hills. Two kilometers off the highway he pulled into the driveway of a two-story beige stone house. The adjacent field was plowed with neat rows of furrows in the rich alluvial soil. Rudi shut off the engine and turned to her.
“Here we are. Home sweet home. I’ll call the others in a little while. They’re watching the farm access road. Thank God there’s cell service here.”
They entered the modest house, and she set her backpack down on one of the hardwood dining room chairs – rustically crafted, as was all the furniture she could see.
“There are three bedrooms,” Rudi said. “You can have the smallest one upstairs. We’ll take the other two.”
“Great. What’s our timing look like?”
He checked his watch. “Figure eight hours. Call it midnight. Everyone should be asleep by then on the surrounding farms.”
“What do you want me to do in the meantime?”
He retrieved a cell phone from his shirt pocket and gave her an uninterested glance. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”
Maya tried to nap, but her thoughts intruded. Here she was, doing the job she had trained so hard for, and all Rudi wanted her to do was be a lookout. She supposed she could see his point – but still, it felt dismissive, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he really didn’t want her there.
The sound of the front door closing roused her from her semi-slumber, and she returned downstairs, where a whippet-thin man with weasel eyes and a gleaming shaved head was cleaning a pistol. He gave her a flat look and returned to his task as Rudi paced in the other room.
“Hi. I’m Theresa,” she said, taking the seat across from him.
“Saul,” the man said, as if the single syllable explained everything.
“Nice to meet you,” Maya tried.
Rudi entered carrying two more pistols and placed one in front of her. “Might want to clean it. Doesn’t look like it’s in particularly good shape, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
She fieldstripped it with efficiency and frowned. “It’s certainly seen its share of abuse. How many spare magazines?”
“Only one each. We were lucky to even get that. Let’s hope we don’t have to use them. I gather you met Saul?”
Maya nodded.
Rudi explained that Peter was still in place, hiding in a grove of trees by the road that led to the farmhouse. They hadn’t seen any traffic going to the dwelling since they’d taken up watch that morning, and their contact had assured them that their target had been inside all night.
“Who is he?” Maya asked.
Saul gave her his dead stare. “A bad guy.”
Rudi shrugged. “Sorry. It’s all about need to know. But Saul here is right – he’s a bad one.”
Maya finished her cleaning project, checking each bullet as she reloaded the magazine, and then slid it into place, taking care to chamber a round before setting the safety and decocking the gun. Saul watched her without comment as Rudi did the same with his weapon and slid it into his belt, pocketing the extra magazine. Rudi went into the dimly lit living room and returned with a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun that looked like it had been dragged behind a car all the way from Jerusalem. Breaking it down and cleaning it only took him a matter of minutes, and when he was done, he stood, checked the time, and nodded.
“Let’s get to it. I want to be in position within ten minutes.”
Saul scowled and gave a curt grunt before walking to the door. Rudi looked at Maya. “You ride with me. I don’t want Saul to talk your ear off.”
Saul made for a dented Suzuki SUV, and Maya and Rudi got into the big Yukon. “When we get there, your only job is to stay out of sight and keep watch, all right? Peter has a phone, and if you see
anyone coming, you’re to call me, not engage. Am I clear?”
“I got it. Smile and look pretty and let the men do all the work.”
“I’d say it’s more like you should let the experienced agents do the work, rookie.”
“Right.”
The farmhouse was on a rural road, and Saul and Rudi both killed their lights before nearing it, using the moonlight to guide them the rest of the way. Rudi pulled to a halt fifty yards before a gravel road veered off to the right, and Saul pulled past it and used his emergency brake to stop without illuminating his taillights. When they got out, she could barely make out what she presumed was Peter standing by a copse of scraggly trees. Rudi and Maya crept over to him, and he made a murmured introduction.
“Peter. Theresa. Any signs of life?”
Peter shook his head. “Negative. Lights went off almost three hours ago. It’s been dark since.”
“Traffic?”
“Only a few cars on the road. Nothing for the last half hour.”
“Okay. You know the drill. Stay put, and only call if someone shows up. Saul and I are going in.”
Saul approached from down the road, his steps nearly silent even on the gravel, and after checking to verify that his phone was on vibrate, he and Rudi slipped into the night, leaving Peter and Maya alone, only the sound of an occasional distant car on the highway marring the tranquility. Maya slid her pistol out and fingered the trigger guard as Peter eyed the farmhouse.
“How long have you been here?” she murmured.
“Too long,” he said, his voice tense.
They waited wordlessly from that point. Maya had gotten the message that she was viewed as a nuisance loud and clear, and was about to say something when gunfire erupted from the house, the boom of a shotgun followed by the popping of a pistol, and then the rapid-fire bark of a machine gun. Another shotgun blast exploded from the building, and then silence settled again.
Peter’s eyes were wide, his sneer replaced by an alarmed expression. Maya leapt to her feet. “Whatever just happened wasn’t part of the program. What do you want to do? Leave or go in?”
“Rudi told us to stay here,” Peter stammered.
“That was before World War Three started in there. I’m going in. Watch the road.”
“No. He said–”
Maya cut him off. “Keep an eye out. I’ll be back,” she said and vanished down the drive.
Her breathing sounded like a bellows to her as she moved in a crouch, Beretta gripped two-handed as she approached the house. She heard a noise from the rear and was taking aim when she saw Rudi stagger out, the submachine gun in one hand, the other clutching his abdomen. She rushed to him and saw his shirt was soaked through with blood.
“Anyone else alive?” she whispered.
“Saul’s dead. Let’s get out of here,” Rudi hissed, and coughed – an ugly wet sound.
“What happened?”
“They must have…some kind of motion detector outside. They were…ready for us when we…came through the door.”
“Did you finish everyone?”
He nodded.
“Can you make it to the truck?”
“I…don’t…know.” Rudi took three steps, and his knees buckled. She tried to break his fall, but he crumpled to the ground. “Get…out…” he ordered.
“I’ll be right back.”
She took off at a flat-out run and, when she reached Peter, told him what she was going to do.
He shook his head. “No. We have to leave.”
“Fine. Go. I’m not leaving a wounded man to get picked up by the Jordanian secret police.”
Maya bolted for the Yukon, leaving Peter to battle his demons alone. She slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine and then pointed the big vehicle toward the drive, not caring about stealth any longer. She roared down the gravel and was almost to the house when she saw a man with a rifle move from the rear and crouch down, drawing a bead on her. She slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel, sending the SUV into a sideways drift before it lurched to a stop.
The first rifle shot punched a hole through the passenger side window with a spray of glass, and she ducked as she reached for her door handle. It swung open, and she threw herself onto the ground as another shot pounded through the passenger door and thumped into the seat. Rudi’s MP5 rattled as he fired and then stopped, presumably empty. She ducked around the hood, using the bulk of the motor as effective cover, and tried to make out the shooter in the darkness.
There. She could just see the glint of gunmetal in the moonlight. At sixty meters it was pushing the effective accuracy range for the pistol, but she emptied the magazine’s fifteen rounds at the shooter, running to Rudi after the first nine shots and continuing to fire as she neared. The rifle blasted but missed her, and she tucked and rolled as she ejected the spent magazine before driving the new one home.
She saw movement by a stack of wood. A man’s head.
Now she was only forty meters from him, and she’d practiced enough on the range to be confident in her abilities. Six flashes from her gun in quick succession lit the night, and she was rewarded by the shooter falling backward, his rifle firing harmlessly into the air as his finger spasmed on the trigger. She didn’t wait but ran directly at him, the Beretta steady in her grip. When she reached his position, the man sprawled amidst chunks of shattered ceramic, obviously dead, his brains leaking out in a pool of black blood. Hearing nothing more from the house, she returned to where Rudi was struggling to sit up.
Maya got her arm around him and heaved him to his feet. She struggled to support him as she led him to the GMC, his feet shuffling like a geriatric. Maya groped for the handle and swung the passenger door open, and he collapsed onto the seat, his hand leaving a red smear on the door. She slammed it closed and rushed to slip behind the wheel, her heart hammering in her chest as she put the vehicle in gear and tromped on the gas.
Lights were switching on in the surrounding farms, and she could see headlights bouncing down the road from town. She swung hard left and juiced the accelerator, leaving any pursuers behind her, knowing she was only minutes from being fully exposed to the inevitable roadblocks the authorities would put into place. The Suzuki was gone, so at least Peter had gotten clear, she thought, risking a glance at Rudi. The blood was everywhere, but he was still breathing, and if she could get him to the safe house alive, she would get a chance to put the battlefield triage techniques she’d learned to use and try her damnedest to save him, orders or no orders.
Chapter 25
Pulau Numbing, Indonesia
Nahir sat by the pool in the shade of an oversized umbrella, speaking into his satellite phone. His gaze absently traced the glistening bronze curves of a young Thai woman lounging nearby, the elaborate snake tattoo on her upper back coming to life when she shifted and her shoulder muscles rippled.
“No, I don’t want a bunch of end-of-life RPGs and some tired assault rifles that the Russians couldn’t give away through their ordinary channels. I appreciate you thinking of me, but my clientele is more discerning,” he said and then listened for a long time, blinking rapidly and holding the handset away from his ear. “Yes, I completely understand what a special price this is. Tell you what. I’ll make a couple of calls and see if there’s anyone in Africa looking for a bargain. No promises, but it sounds like you’re in a bind, and anything to help a friend…”
The discussion went on for another few minutes, and then Nahir stabbed the end call button and sighed as he placed the phone on the table next to him. A frost-covered champagne bucket sat beside it, for which one of the stewards attentively replenished the ice every half hour, and he took another sip of the Perrier Jouët he had flown in by the container load.
His manservant, Utari, padded across the deck, accompanied by a handsome woman in an expensive safari-themed outfit, the reflection of the sun off the diamond rings that studded her fingers nearly blinding. Nahir smiled and rose, extending his arms in welcome.
“Carla, lovely to see you again. Is it already that time?”
“Every year, same day. But it’s not every day that it’s your fiftieth birthday, is it? This one must be special, my dear. And I will do whatever it takes to make it so.”
“You tease me with your promises. Please, have a seat. Champagne?”
“I suppose a little won’t hurt.”
Nahir snapped his fingers and pointed to his crystal flute, and a white-clad servant arrived a few moments later with another, carefully pouring it three-quarters full before disappearing behind the small building that housed the outdoor bar, from which the soft melody of Spanish guitar music drifted.
They toasted, and then Carla withdrew a file folder from her purse and handed it to Nahir.
“These are the very best currently on the international scene. As you requested. Each of them fitting your preference.”
Nahir opened it and studied the color headshot of a beautiful young woman before flipping it over and studying her swimsuit and formalwear photos. He considered her flawless face again with discriminating eyes and moved to the next.
“Ah. This looks interesting. She has an air about her, does she not?” Nahir asked, tapping the second photograph. He continued sorting through the photos and selected seven. “These will do. Make the arrangements.” He took another glance at the top photograph. “I like your taste. You know me well, don’t you? What’s her story?”
“Ah, yes. She’s new. From France. Very exotic, no?” Carla asked.
“Indeed. She has an intriguing aura. A certain fire that comes through the camera, no?”
“I thought the same thing when I saw her. Really remarkable. Especially the eyes.”
“You think those are lenses?”
Carla studied the photo. “No, I think that’s completely natural. Every bit of her, I’d be willing to bet,” she said, taking the photographs back and sliding them into the file. She took a last look at Maya’s headshot and nodded. “Now, dear, let’s discuss the rest of the arrangements. I have spared no expense. This will be the most lavish fête ever held here.”
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