by D S Kane
The next morning, as they sat around the kitchen table, the team reviewed the plan. Avram remembered the plans that Yigdal Ben-Levy had designed for his teams and how so many of them failed. The plan Rachel had devised was not much better. Avram said a prayer that none of his team would die today.
Rachel had called their Munich sayanim and asked him to deliver a full breakfast for six. When they had eaten, she called housekeeping and ordered them to scrub the apartment later that afternoon, to eliminate any trace they had ever been there.
No lunch before the mission. Avram had found that battle soldiers were more efficient on empty stomachs.
Before housekeeping could arrive, all the operatives dressed for the op in business attire, albeit with “liquid armor” protection. Each had a role and all were armed. One by one, they left the apartment and headed for the location that the plan called for them to occupy.
According to William’s remote hack of FLC’s servers, Carlsbad would be leaving for his trip during the early evening rush hour, along with five of his bodyguards. They would be traveling to Munich International Airport in two cars, arriving at the private aircraft section, and boarding his private aircraft, a Cessna.
Avram and his team had recognized that the forty-kilometer trip included a total of three possible routes and therefore decided that they needed to arrange their ambush in downtown before the alternate routes split off, close to FLC’s offices. The primary route was on the A9, while the first alternate route cut north from the A9 onto the B301. It was longer and slower but contained less traffic during the rush hour. The remaining alternative cut off from the A9 north and took the A92 the rest of the way.
Since starting from the office onto the A9 was the commonality for all three routes, Rachel had them mount their op before the two alternates forked either northeast or southwest at the Englischer Garten park, along the river. They would have the added advantage of construction on the roadway.
Rachel said, “When he approaches the fork, we’ll have a clear view of his entire entourage. We’ll need to position the mini-EMP in a car that we’ll pull over, off to the side of the road, and have it flash its disabled lights. We’ll turn off the electrical system and run the mini-EMP as he nears the site. Its range is fifty feet. They’ll be disabled and we can run the op despite any surrounding traffic.”
The plan was to have most of the team on either side of the A9 by one of the construction sites. They had shipped an electromagnetic pulse device to the safe house and tested it on the safe house’s toaster oven. Rachel giggled when it worked to spec, turning off the toaster and frying the circuits inside it.
Miriam asked, “What’s the potential for collateral casualties?”
Rachel shrugged. “Low. But that depends on how alert the rush-hour drivers are.”
Miriam asked, “Who scouted out the location?”
Miriam said, “Morris was here yesterday. He left this video.” She pointed to the television screen by the fireplace and pressed a button on her cellphone.
They all watched the street scenes as Morris spoke to illustrate the features of the spot. When it ended, Avram asked, “Any other questions?”
No one spoke. Avram said, “Okay, then. It’s time. We leave now. You all know where you must be and what is required of you.”
The team member picked up backpacks with their first names on them and headed out the safe house door. They took the elevator to the garage and got into their respective vehicles.
Miriam and Avram took a panel truck, with Avram driving and Miriam holding the mini-EMP.
The team drove three cars to the Englischer Garten and parked there. From there, each walked to the Maxvorstadt and the team formed up with Shlomo Sanders on the northwest side of the B29 underpass and Michael Rostoff and Ruth Samek on the southwest side. Each of the four was armed with Jericho 9mm handguns.
Gabriel Mostov and Samuel Tobolov walked to the top of the underpass and waited with their disassembled sniper rifles disassembled carried in canvas bags.
According to William and Betsy’s hack of the FLC servers, Carlsbad’s caravan would arrive just after the peak of rush hour, assuming they were driving at almost exactly the speed limit.
Carlsbad’s jet would be ready for boarding at 6 p.m. That meant he’d be leaving the office at 5:15. The team wouldn’t have to wait very long.
A thin fog started dissolving into an overcast morning sky. Avram thought, the fog of war. From the van, he rose from his seat and told Miriam, “Take the wheel.”
She nodded and as Avram walked to the back of the van, she got into the driver’s seat.
Avram saw the entourage approach, two black sedans close together at the exact speed limit, sixty kilometers per hour. Typically German, he thought.
He spoke into his earbud mike. “Gabriel and Samuel, when they’re fifty feet away, take out each car’s driver. I’ll trigger the mini-EMP exactly one second later when they’re both within range.”
He waited. Two seconds later, he heard two nearly simultaneous pops. Both limos slowed and lurched to the edges of their lanes. Avram said, “Miriam, turn off our van’s engine right now.” He didn’t wait for a response and pressed the button on the mini-EMP. Each limo coasted to a stop.
From the left side of the roadway, Shlomo Sanders fell prone and took aim with his sniper rifle. From the right side, Michael Rostoff and Ruth Samek moved toward the first limo, firing constantly into the windows. The left rear door opened and one of the bodyguards darted out. From his prone position, Shlomo fired four shots, two of which hit the bodyguard, one into his chest and the other into his forehead. Michael and Ruth jogged to the rear limo and shot the final bodyguard as he tried to open the driver’s side door. Michael opened the rear door and pulled Friedrich Luther Carlsbad from the back seat. He and Ruth dragged Carlsbad while he screamed all the way to the van.
As soon as the team was all inside the van, they drove off to the Englischer Garten’s parking lot. Carlsbad sported plastic cuffs around his wrists and duct tape over his mouth.
They carried Carlsbad to the back of a truck the Munich sayanim had procured and parked there earlier.
Miriam drove the truck along the Koniginstrasse to the next entrance into the park where they found another nearly empty parking lot. They parked in the center of the lot and Avram pulled the duct tape from Carlsbad’s mouth.
“What is the meaning of this? I’ll have you all arrested!”
Avram smiled grimly at Carlsbad. “Maybe. But first we will have a conversation. I know you don’t want to tell me the truth, so I have brought with me a chemical inducement. Of course, one of its side effects is to destroy a large section of your brain. So sorry.” He opened a small case that Lester Dushoff of the Ness Ziona had prepared and shipped to the safe house at Avram’s request. Lester developed poisons and potions for the Mossad.
Avram filled a syringe with the liquid. “Would you like to save your life? Tell me the truth and I might just let you live.”
Carlsbad’s eyes grew so large that Avram wondered if they would explode.
“Your answer?”
Carlsbad nodded. “Yes! What do you want to know?”
Avram moved his face within inches of Carlsbad’s. He pointed to Miriam. “Record this on your cellphone. Full video.” Then he faced Carlsbad. “We know FLC is responsible for the explosion at Michael Ashmel’s home a few weeks ago. Who was your client?”
Carlsbad seemed to be thinking. “You are Mossad? I, we… we had no client. We didn’t have any role in that disaster.”
Avram plunged the syringe into the vein pulsing within Carlsbad’s elbow. “If I press the plunger, you will tell us what we want to know and your brain will fry. Once more, tell me who your client is.”
“I don’t know! It was all arranged anonymously over secure telephone.”
Avram pressed the plunger all the way down to its end. “Wrong answer. In about a minute I will ask you again.” Avram looked at his wrist watch and coun
ted down the seconds. “Tell me who the client was for the Ashmel bombing.”
Carlsbad’s eyes grew dim. His voice was just above a whisper. “We think it was Iran. The Ministry of Intelligence of the Islamic Republic of Iran. The language and the terms fit the profile we have for them. The voice appears to be that of Husro Mansuri.”
Avram asked, “What was their objective?”
“Two objectives. One was to eliminate the Israeli government’s effectiveness so that Iran could wage war against Israel. The other was to obtain a copy of the blueprints for some new kind of military weapon. I don’t know anything about the weapon but the blueprints were going to be exchanged somewhere in Scotland. I think on one of the remote islands off the southwest coast. Jura or Islay.”
Avram nodded. He turned and faced the team. “We’re done here. You all know what to do. I’ll see you all back at the office. Miriam and I will take care of clean up.”
The other team members each left the back of the truck, one by one, with two minutes between each departure. They all walked in different directions away from the park into the city.
Miriam and Avram wiped down the truck and then set charges above the gas tank. The explosive would be powerful enough to reduce the truck and all it contained to smoldering ash in under three minutes. “Time to go. See you back at the office. Enjoy your flight.”
She nodded and left. Avram waited two minutes and said, “One of the human beings whose life you took was my wife. Shula Ries says goodbye.” Carlsbad blinked as his mouth fell open. He uttered no reply and his eyes began to glaze.
After exiting the van. Avram closed its door and walked about twenty feet away. Then he pressed the remote trigger. The van disappeared in a flash of bright light as he continued toward downtown.
CHAPTER 17
11 Cadogan Gardens,
London, England
May 5, 4:54 p.m.
After one more day of touring London, Jon and Ann woke the next morning to Jon’s cell buzzing on their nightstand.
Jon looked at its screen. “Avram? What’s happened that you’re calling me?” He placed the phone against his ear.
Avram’s voice sounded rushed. “I know this is your honeymoon, but I need you to do a bit of work for me. Right now.”
Jon listened to Avram for nearly a minute without saying anything. Then: “You have no one else?”
Once more Jon remained silent while Avram spoke. Jon sighed. “If Ann agrees, we’ll do it.”
Avram terminated the call and Jon turned to Ann. “If you agree to this, we’ll have a change of plans for the next four days.”
“Agree to what? What does he want? It’s our fucking honeymoon!”
“Avram asked us to travel to Islay on the Whisky Tour. There’s a dead drop the Mossad wants us to stop.”
Ann frowned. “I’m not happy about this.”
“But, will you do it? Remember, they’ve offered you a job.”
“Crap. Okay. But you’ll owe me. Owe me plenty.”
Jon nodded. “Yes, and Avram will owe us both.
Jon left the bed and rushed to the bathroom. “C’mon.”
Ann followed,
They rushed through their morning.
As they finished washing, Jon said, “C’mon, honey. Rush. Avram said we have reservations on the 10:30 train to Edinburgh.”
He helped her pack and took both their suitcases to the lift. “I’ve paid the bill on the telly and had the hotel fetch us a taxi.” He pointed to the lift as it rose to their floor. “In. Hurry.”
The taxi took them on a trip through the city to a building that was ageless chrome and glass covering the countless retail stores that formed its outside walls. Jon pushed a wad of bills through the slot in the cab’s interior window, thanked the driver and grabbed the suitcases. He led Ann through one of the doors and up to a payment terminal. Jon pressed buttons until their tickets printed. Then he scanned the train station’s electronic bulletin board.
Ann looked around and saw the iconic sign for Platform 9 ¾ from the Harry Potter novels. Jon tapped her shoulder. “Maybe on the way back. We have just enough time to get to the train.”
They trotted to the platform for the train they were ticketed for. As they entered the train, Jon glanced at their tickets and led them to the first-class car. He found their seats and pushed their suitcases onto the rail above them.
Jon sighed and sat. “We’ll be treated as guests in this coach. Brunch will arrive as soon as the train starts moving.”
Ann remained breathless from their trek. She sat and tried to smile at Jon. He could tell she couldn’t quite make the smile work.
“I know. This wasn’t what you wanted, and I rushed you. You seemed to be deep inside a dream when Avram called.”
“Wow, Jon. Give me a chance to recover.” Her eyes squinted. “So, what is the dead drop designed to do? And what are we trespassing into? Will this be safe and routine? What has Avram asked you to do?” She sat very still and took several deep breaths.
“He asked us to visit Islay and take the Whisky Tour. Two days of nonstop drinking. I’d wanted to do that for almost like forever, and this gives us a great reason. I’m sure we’ll both enjoy this little adventure.”
“Jon, I’m not much of a drinker. Don’t know if I’m ready for a whisky tour.”
Jon took time in thought. Then: “He’d like us to do a scavenger hunt for a thumb drive. If I’m correct, this is connected to a mission I sent William and Betsy on in Beijing just a few weeks ago. We have no further information about what we’re looking for, but Avram said it was important.”
The train lurched a bit, then began moving slowly along the tunnel until it emerged into bright sunlight. The door to the coach opened and an old woman pushed a cart into the coach. She stopped at the first group of seats. “What can I get you?”
The passengers stated their selections and the woman pushing the cart moved to the next group. When she reached Jon and Ann’s seats, Jon said, “Scotch, coffee, and biscuits for me.” He looked at Ann.
Ann said, “I’ll have the same.”
The old woman nodded and handed them their food and drink. “Next round will have a complete hot breakfast for you two.” She handed them menus.
When the woman rolled her cart past them, Ann smiled and handed Jon her tiny bottle of scotch. “Too early in the morning for me.” She sipped coffee and looked at the countryside outside as the train sped past rural farms. “I didn’t know so much of England was sparsely populated.”
Jon nodded. “Still virtually unspoiled. Not quite a virgin countryside. But, almost everywhere you see farms now, there was once not even that. The entire country is an ancient battlefield.”
Ann watched the ocean out their right window, barns and rundown homes out their left. Sun gradually gave way to dappled white-and-gray clouds. As they crested a bridge, the conductor came over the intercom and said, “We’re crossing from England into Scotland. Prepare to show your passports to the train’s staff.”
Jon smiled once more. “For you, this passage is a piece of life transition. It’s only your third time entering a new country. Now, you’re a world traveler and a spy on a mission.”
Ann counted her border crossings. Jon was wrong. She’d done more than three crossings. Into and out of Russia, then into and out of Turkey. She smiled back. “Yup. A world traveler.”
The train stopped at Edinburgh’s train station and Jon said, “Avram booked us into a bed and breakfast. They took a taxi to Hanover 71 Suites, a bed and breakfast on the fringe of the Royal Mile, with its upscale shopping.
As the staff booked their arrival, Jon whispered to Ann, “This place had space for us. For the most part, it’s a place to sleep.”
She nodded back. “Can’t wait to go shopping.”
Their room was colored white, gray, and dark blue. Ann saw the king bed and tentatively lay down. “Soft.”
Jon said, “The Whisky Tour doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
They unpacked and left to tour the city.
As they walked the Royal Mile, Jon told Ann, “Nearly twenty years ago, when my parents took their vacation here with me, most of the stores you see weren’t even here. So we’re both here exploring it together for the first time.”
Just after noon, they walked across an overpass that passed by the rail station. Jon bought a tour guide and found a restaurant, Angels with Bagpipes, “This one has been highly rated. Hungry?”
They had walked over a mile. Ann nodded. She examined the inside of the place. “Looks good.”
The restaurant looked like an upscale tavern. Ann noticed the locked glass door leading to racks upon racks of bottles of single-malt scotch in the entryway. After they were seated, they waited while they watched food delivered to nearby tables.
She could see Jon’s hand, tapping on the tray table, but he stopped as the old woman who was their waitress delivered their menus. Ann scanned her menu and decided it contained what she thought might be adventures for foodies. She ordered crema de champiñones. Jon ordered duck and foie gras, and offered to share his appetizer. Ann reciprocated.
Jon asked for their single-malt scotch menu and the old woman smiled as she handed it to him.
When Jon had viewed it, he handed it to Ann. Jon shrugged. “It’s a book. Look at the number of pages. Sheesh. There’s so many.”
Ann recognized that “sheesh” was something Jon had picked up from Lee. She giggled. “They’re sorted by region. What do you think we should try?”
Jon examined the list. It took him a while before his head bobbed back up. “The question is, since we’ll be leaving for the Islay Whisky Tour the day after tomorrow, would you like to preview one of the ones we’ll be visiting, or one of the others in Scotland?”