by J. C. Fields
“You realize, Uri, he poses a threat to Israel and the United States?”
“I am aware of this. What do you propose we do?”
“I don’t know what to propose to my president, let alone to Israel.”
“Thought that was in your job description.”
Joseph smiled despite the pointed criticism. “It is. I’ll think of something before I tell him.”
“I feel your pain. I have to speak to my Prime Minister in an hour. I too, do not know what to recommend.”
After a sigh, Joseph said, “Can you give me twenty-four hours before you speak to your prime minister?”
“It is not a good career decision to miss an appointment with him.”
Chuckling, Joseph replied. “Blame it on me.”
“Now that, he would believe.” There was a five-second pause. “Okay, you’ve got twenty-four hours.”
“Thanks, Uri.”
“Make sure I am not going to regret this, Joseph.”
“You won’t.”
Ending the call, Joseph closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Under his breath, he murmured, “I’m getting too old for this shit.” Realizing he had just summarized his feelings with a cliché, he smiled slightly and dialed another number.
“Michael, have you ever heard the name Omar Said?”
“There’s a slight familiarity to it, Joseph. Why?”
“It’s the name of the man in the photograph.”
“Huh.”
“He’s also known as El Sombra.”
“The Shadow, yeah, I’ve heard that name.”
“In what context?”
“During my time in Israel. He was rumored to be the person responsible for several Mossad agents going missing.”
“I was told that as well.”
“Did Ben-David tell you anything about his background?”
“I didn’t say I spoke to Uri.”
“Whatever. What’s the man’s background?”
Joseph told him. Michael did not respond right away. “That’s not much to go on.”
“No, but it’s more than we had before Nadia took the photo.”
Both men were quiet as each gathered their thoughts. Finally, Joseph said. “Have you been to the house?”
“I flew over it on the way back from the east coast.”
“And?”
“It looked intact. I’d have to survey it from ground level before I can make a better assessment.”
“Do you want me to send a neutral party to check it out?”
“Probably not. I know the area and can tell if anything is amiss. What happened to the man Reid sent there?”
“Not sure, I’ll find out.”
More silence.
“Joseph?”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Asa Gerlis is not someone who is going to leave loose ends lying around. I’m sure Reid tried to convince him that Nadia and I are alive. If Gerlis has any doubt whatsoever we aren’t dead, he’ll send El Sombra to find us.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because if the situation was reversed, I would.”
“But we know about Omar.”
“Gerlis doesn’t know we know. Let’s keep it that way.”
Wolfe ended the call. He sat at his desk, looking out the window of the condo bedroom he had converted into an office. He scratched the five-day-old stubble on his chin as he watched a hawk soar over the trees across the cove.
He did not hear Nadia lean against the doorframe until she spoke. “What did Joseph say?”
“They identified the man in the picture.”
“Am I to guess his name, Michael?”
Smiling, Wolfe glanced at her and then returned his attention to the hawk. “Omar Said, the offspring of an Iraqi father and a Spanish mother.”
“The name is unfamiliar to me.”
“What about the name El Sombra.”
She straightened and raised her eyebrows. “Are they sure?”
He nodded.
She walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Uh, oh.”
“I would agree. Uh, oh.”
“What do we do now?”
The hawk flew out of Michael’s line of sight as he stood and faced her. “As long as Gerlis is alive, we will never be able to stop looking over our shoulder. As I’ve told you before, I’m personally tired of running from the past. It’s time to make a stand.”
“Where? Spain? We would be at a disadvantage.”
He shook his head. “No, on our land.”
She crossed her arms and glared at Wolfe, tapping her foot. “We could be waiting a long time. How do we know Gerlis will know where we are?”
“We tell him.”
Her stern look dissipated as she chuckled. “How do you propose we do that? Call his cell phone and invite him for tea?”
Wolfe’s mouth twitched. “I hadn’t thought about doing it that way, but it’s a pretty damn good idea.” He turned, picked up his cell phone and redialed Joseph’s number.
Using the VoIP program installed on Nadia’s laptop two years ago by JR, they waited until 1 a.m. to call the number provided by Joseph. Nadia set it up and, before pressing the connect icon, she looked up at Michael. “How do they know this is Gerlis’ number.”
“Joseph said our Israeli friends discovered it when they were monitoring Gerald Reid’s phone calls.”
“He could have thrown the phone away by now.”
“He could have, but I doubt it. There’s no reason for him to suspect the Israelis are listening to his conversations. Until we call him.”
She smiled. “Yes, Asa Gerlis is an overconfident prick.” She paused. “Will not Uri Ben-David be upset we are about to burn this number for them?”
Wolfe shook his head. “They would have expected him to anyway. I’m sure they are monitoring all calls from Spain right now for a voice match.”
“Are you ready?” She stood and he sat in front of the computer.
He nodded. “What do I do?”
“Use the mouse to click on that icon.” She pointed to a red symbol of an old fashion phone handset.
He did. It took several seconds before they heard the distinct sound of a phone ringing. After five rings, Wolfe looked up at Nadia. She smiled and put her finger to her lips. “Just wait.”
On the eighth ring, they heard a cautious voice say, “Hola.”
Wolfe glanced at Nadia who smiled, nodded and said in a whisper, “It is him.”
“Buenos dias, Senor Gerlis. This is Michael Wolfe.”
The response was a long silence, then, “You must have the wrong number.” The voice spoke English with a slight Israeli accent.
Smiling, Wolfe realized Gerlis had not disconnected the call, which meant he was curious. “No, I am sure I am talking to the supposedly dead Asa Gerlis.”
“You too, are supposed to be dead.”
“Yes, I suppose I am. I guess that makes us ghosts.”
“Is Nadia with you?”
Wolfe answered with a growl, “No, thanks to you, she is not. God rest her soul. That’s why I called. You owe me a life, Gerlis. I plan on making it yours.”
“You will never find me.”
“Think about it. I found your cell phone number.” Wolfe ended the call with a smile. He turned to Nadia. “Wonder how long it will take him to freak out and get in contact with the sniper.”
“I would say he is destroying the phone right now and trying to figure out how you found him.”
Wolfe frowned. “He can’t trace the phone call, can he?”
“No. If he has the means, and I doubt he does, it will appear to have been made from a small pastry café in Paris.”
“Good. Then the only way to find us will be to send El Sombra to talk to Reid’s man, Simpson or Kendra Burges.”
Nadia frowned. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“No, it’s a horrible idea, but I don’t know any other way.”
She put her arm around h
im. “Mossad will now know you are alive.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“They will assume I am too.”
“Probably.”
She hugged him and he returned the embrace.
Chapter 35
Spain
A sa Gerlis stared wide eyed at the now silent cell phone in his hand. The only sound he heard came from his pounding heart. With a bit of panic and practiced efficiency, he removed the phone’s back cover, disconnected the battery and extracted the SIM card. He then placed the small phone on the floor and smashed it with the heel of his shoe. After gathering the pieces of the now destroyed phone, he placed them in a small sack retrieved from the wastebasket in the bathroom.
He tossed the sack onto the bed next to the open suitcase and began packing. The sound of separating Velcro echoed in the quiet room as he separated the lining on the left side of the suitcase. He extracted a well-used passport and placed it on the bed next to the sack with the smashed phone.
He walked to the nightstand, retrieved a different passport and placed it in the now-empty space. After pressing the long strip of Velcro together, he checked to make sure the seam was once again unnoticeable.
Gerlis gathered his few remaining clothing items and threw them into the open suitcase. With a quick look around the room, he determined everything was packed. Placing the passport in his back pocket, he lifted the luggage off the bed and grabbed the sack. Once he settled the hotel bill, he practically ran toward his car in the hotel parking lot, stopping only long enough to deposit the sack containing the shattered phone in a sidewalk trash receptacle.
Two hours later, Gerlis sat in front of a branch vice president of Deutsche Bank in Zaragoza, Spain.
“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Senor Reid. How may I help you today?”
With a smile, Gerlis handed the man his passport and a folded piece of paper. “I need to open a new account and consolidate the funds from the accounts listed on that page. Those accounts are currently in one of your banks in Zurich. I wish for them to be transferred to the new account here.”
“I see. May I ask why, Senor?” Juan Martinez studied the passport carefully for several minutes. When he was done, he handed it back to Gerlis and noticed a thick white envelope on his desk. With a casual motion, he covered the envelope and it disappeared into his top desk drawer. “I would be happy to accomplish your request, Senor Reid.”
An hour later, Gerlis walked out of the bank with all that remained of Gerald Reid’s money safely deposited into new, readily accessible accounts. The passport given to the banker would be discarded and in less than a day, Gerald Reid’s money would be gone from this bank along with his own.
He glanced at his watch and noticed he had plenty of time before his next appointment.
Omar Said watched from across the street as Asa Gerlis entered the small café. He saw no one following the man, but waited another ten minutes before entering himself. As he sat across from Gerlis, he narrowed his eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You’ve shaved your beard.” Gerlis sipped his espresso.
“I thought it wise after the incident in Barcelona.”
Nodding, he handed the Iraqi sniper a folded piece of paper.
Said unfolded it, his eyes scanning the page. “What is this?”
“Your final payment.”
“It is just numbers.”
Taking another sip, Gerlis smiled as he studied the man. “Yes, the top one is an account number at Deutsche Bank. The next number is the user ID. The third number is the password and the bottom number is the amount in the account.”
“Euros or dollars?”
“Euros.”
“Very generous. Why is it my last payment?”
“Because you are going to find Michael Wolfe and, this time, make sure he is dead. Then you are going to disappear. Considering the sum of money in that account, you can retire.”
Said studied the bottom number on the sheet. “What about expenses?”
“There is plenty there to cover expenses.”
He looked up. “And how am I going to find Wolfe?”
“A woman by the name of Kendra Burges.”
“Where is this woman?”
“New Zealand. She works at the US Embassy in Wellington. She is CIA.”
A small smile appeared on Said’s lips. “What do I do with her once I know Wolfe’s location?”
Gerlis smiled also. “Use your imagination.”
“What if I just take the money and never find Wolfe?”
“He will find you.”
The sniper laughed out loud. “He would never find me.”
“Ever hear the name William Little?”
“No, why?”
“At one time Little was a general in the US military. He stole antiquities from your county during Operation Desert Freedom.”
El Sombra frowned and silently kept his focused on Gerlis.
“He disappeared one day and later surfaced in Madagascar as a strong man using another name. He was untouchable by the US government due to the lack of an extradition treaty. He lived there for twenty years without incident until 2014.”
“What happened in 2014?”
“Before I answer that, let me ask you how hard is it to make a 1600-meter headshot along a windy coastal beach?”
“I would say impossible.”
“Little died when a .50 caliber bullet struck him in the head. The sniper who made the shot was Wolfe.”
Said remained quiet.
“It took him twenty years to find Little, but he did.”
“How do you know this story about Wolfe is true?”
Gerlis leaned forward, his forehead furrowed. “Gerald Reid and I were standing ten feet away when Little’s head exploded. I helped his security guards find the sniper hide. Wolfe is relentless and he will not forget. He will find you if you do not find him first.”
“Ahh—better to be the hunter than the hunted.”
“Something like that.”
“How does he know about me?”
“The fool in Barcelona.”
El Sombra nodded slightly and stood. “You will know our association is over when Wolfe is dead. I will have fulfilled my contract and you must never contact me again.” Without another word, he left the café.
Gerlis remained seated and finished his espresso. “Yes, when Wolfe is dead.”
Kendra Burges returned to her small apartment after another boring and embarrassing day at the American embassy in Wellington, New Zealand. She was a highly trained CIA analyst who was now being punished by performing secretarial duties for the Deputy Chief of Mission. All because of her association with Gerald Reid.
Her frustration level increased daily amid regular thoughts of resignation interspersed with thinking of ways to jump start her stalled career. She paused before opening her apartment door and contemplated returning to the embassy to discuss it with her boss. The thought was quickly dismissed as unwise, so she unlocked the door and entered.
Before she could turn on a light, a strong masculine hand clamped over her mouth. Before thinking to utilize self-defense techniques—learned many years prior but never practiced—she felt a small prick on her neck. A feeling of well-being ensued and she stopped struggling as blackness engulfed her.
Lying on her bed she felt a sensation of cold air blowing across her body. The realization she was nude also crossed her mind. After trying to move her arms and legs, she discovered they were bound. Unable to open her eyes, she smelled the distinct odor of duct-tape. Her heart raced as she realized the gravity of her situation. She tugged her arms again, but they remained immobile.
“I see you’re conscious.”
The voice was male with a slight Boston accent. She turned her head toward it. “What do you want?”
“Information.”
She felt fingers moving up the inside of her left leg toward her knee. “What information?”
“Where is Mic
hael Wolfe?”
The hand progressed past her knee up her thigh. “How would I know? He’s dead.”
“Your old boss didn’t think so. Oh, by the way, did you know he is dead?”
The hand was now at her crotch. She gasped. Shaking her head rapidly, she pleaded, “Please don’t.”
The hand remained there for a few moments before moving toward her stomach. “Where is Michael Wolfe? That is the last time I am going to ask nicely.”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure, you do. Your boss sent someone to find him.”
The hand massaged her breasts and then moved to her neck where it clamped around her throat and squeezed.
“Where is Wolfe?”
She managed to say as she gasped for air, “He never told me.”
The pressure increased. “I think you’re lying.”
“No… Not lying…”
The pressure relaxed. “Who was the individual Reid sent?”
“Gregg Simpson.”
“Where is he?”
“How would I know?”
The hand clamped around her neck again and squeezed. She managed to say, “I really don’t know.” She tried to breathe as she gasped. “I—was sent here—before—I could—talk to him.”
The pressure relaxed again. “Is he CIA?”
She nodded.
All of a sudden, tape was placed over her mouth and she felt the bed sag as a heavy weight climbed on.
Fear engulfed her as she heard, “You are a very attractive woman, Kendra.”
Three hours later, Omar Said closed the door to Kendra Burges’ apartment. If found in time, the woman would survive. Even if she did, she would be unable to identify her attacker. If asked what he wanted, she would babble about him wanting to know where a dead person was.
He smiled to himself. No one would believe her.
Chapter 36
Somewhere in Southern Missouri
A s the sun peeked above the horizon, Wolfe watched Nadia drive the Jeep west away from where he stood at the northern border of his property. He pulled the hood of his 3D forest camouflage Ghillie Suit over his green watch cap. After making sure his Remington 700 was securely strapped against his back, he entered the densely wooded area that was a half mile from the rutted turnoff to his house.