Counter Terror (A Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series Book 13)

by Trevor Scott

  Professor Baroni reacted with shock this time. He couldn’t hide it.

  “I know. Every good plan can be defeated,” Jake said. “We’re going to take you in now.”

  Recovering now, the professor said, “Do you think I would let myself be exposed like this without a significant force protecting me?”

  “Maybe you don’t have a choice,” Jake said. “We have already collected your intermediaries. We are rounding up your cells in Rome as we speak.” This was possibly a little lie. Jake had no idea how long it would take the Italian authorities to react with his intel.

  “I have the Malavita on my side,” Professor Baroni said.

  Elisa shot Jake a quick glance. Had the local Mafia double-crossed them?

  “That’s bullshit,” Russo said over the comm.

  “Nice try,” Jake said. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why is that so far-fetched?” the professor asked.

  “First of all,” Jake said, “the local boys despise this invasion of their country by foreigners. And second, they’re on our side.”

  The sound of gunfire broke the silence, and both Jake and Elisa drew their weapons.

  33

  As Jake and Elisa went in the front door of the estate, Alexandra observed shadows of men coming from the back of the building, one particularly close to her position. So close, in fact, that she could not speak into her comm unit.

  She wasn’t sure who fired the first shot, but she thought it had to be somewhere out near the front of the estate. Perhaps even over the wall on the street.

  Fast Italian came over her comm ear piece. Although she was relatively fluent in the language, she was having a hard time understanding this garbled yelling.

  By now, the man roving the area near her was almost upon her position. And she had made one error. She had not given herself an easy retreat. At least not without being seen by this man.

  She glanced at her hand with the gun and saw that it shook slightly. Then her mind reeled back to her baby girl at her home on the Calabrian coast. Emma should have been the last thing on her mind right now. Push it back, Alexandra.

  The man stepped closer, now within just a few feet.

  More gunfire at the perimeter of the estate, which startled the man with the gun.

  She was pinned down here. Shifting her body slightly, she snapped a twig beneath her right foot.

  The man stopped and cast his gaze and his submachine gun toward her.

  With one motion, she dove and shot three times. The man reacted by firing off a long burst from his rifle, the bullets spraying the olive tree in front of Alexandra and flying over her position. But her three shots had hit their mark, dropping the man into a bundle in the wet soil.

  She rolled over and got to a crouched position, her eyes shifting toward the front of the house. The shooting had alerted another man, who ran toward her location.

  Alexandra got up and ran around the side of the house toward the back door. As she rounded a corner, she came face to face with another man, who startled before reacting. She was quicker, shooting the man once in the chest and once in the face. Then she shoved her body against the corner of the house, knowing she was being chased.

  With a quick look around the corner, she saw one man, who had his gun pointed toward her from the other end of the building. But she was able to scoot back around the edge just as the first bullets hit the building near her head.

  Think, Alexandra. If they sent someone around the other side of the building, she would be pinned down in the crossfire—a sitting duck. She didn’t wait for that to happen. Instead, she swiftly pointed around the corner and shot three times. Then, immediately after her shots, she ran toward the back of the house, entering the unlocked door.

  Inside now, out of breath, she said into her comm, “Coming in the back door.”

  •

  When the first gunshots went off, Jake’s mind immediately thought about Alexandra and that she must have been discovered out in the perimeter. But the shots were coming from too many areas, and some of them seemed to be coming from beyond the estate.

  Then Jake heard the Italian over his comm, where Russo and his main lieutenant Pepe directed his men. They were under attack. At first they had no idea who they were shooting at, but then it became more clear to Russo. The gunfire was coming from two sources—from the perimeter wall on one side, and from behind them down the block. The Polizia. Russo had obviously miscalculated the response of the local police.

  Based on the smile on Professor Baroni’s smug face, Jake guessed that the man had alerted the local Polizia as soon as Jake and Elisa had gotten to the front gate. Baroni must have said that his estate was under attack by some unknown force. If the professor had said it was the Malavita, they might not have responded.

  Elisa was at the door with her gun, waiting for Jake to make a move. “What now?” she asked.

  “Our friends are under attack,” Jake said. Then he pointed his Glock at the professor’s head. “Tell your men to stand down.”

  “Why should I?” the professor asked. “This is private property and we are just trying to protect ourselves from some rogue agents and Malavita thugs.”

  Jake noticed that the man had put the electronic device back in his pocket. Obviously the professor had sent his men to attack with a simple signal from that remote control.

  Moving closer to the professor, Jake switched his gun to his left hand. Then with one quick snap of his right hand, he struck the professor in the nose, breaking it and sending blood flowing everywhere.

  Baroni staggered backwards, both hands covering his nose and the man screaming in pain.

  Jake sent a quick front kick, catching the professor in the nuts and dropping him to his knees. At that very moment, with gunfire having just come from outside the side of the house, he heard Alexandra say over the comm that she was coming in the back door.

  Twisting to his side, Jake snapped a kick into the head of the professor, sending him careening backwards and knocking over a smaller whiteboard.

  “We need him alive,” Elisa said.

  “Then you need to subdue him,” Jake said. “I’m heading out.”

  Elisa nodded as she put her gun back into its holster under her arm. She dragged the professor from under the whiteboard, shoved him back to ground onto his face, and shoved her knee into the man’s lower back. Then she pulled a long zip tie from one of her coat pockets and lashed the professor’s hands behind his back. With the man tied like a hog, Elisa gave Jake a thumbs up.

  Jake nodded and went to the door. Before going out, he hesitated. Then with one fluid motion, he opened the door, his gun leading his way, and rushed out.

  Gunshots immediately traced his path, slamming first against the door and then along the wall, until Jake could scoot behind one of the thick marble columns. It was the professor’s young assistant shooting from near the front door.

  Now against a marble column, Jake tried to keep his body from the constant gunfire. The young man had a submachine gun and Jake just had his Glock. He was definitely at a disadvantage.

  Suddenly, from behind Jake, came a salvo of gunfire. He turned and saw Alexandra at the end of the long corridor, crouched against the right side.

  The gunfire stopped, but smoke and the smell of powder filled the air.

  “Can you see him?” Jake said into his comm.

  “He might have gone outside when I shot,” Alexandra responded.

  Jake waved her forward while he kept his gun trained toward the front of the house.

  She got up to him and nudged her body against his. “What’s going on? I lost my comm for a while.”

  He told her Elisa was behind the double doors holding onto Professor Baroni. Then he said, “What’s going on outside? It sounds like a war zone.”

  “It is. What now?”

  “Now we get the professor out of here. Russo and his friends are shooting it up with the local Polizia and the professor’s men.”


  She nodded agreement. “What about the rest of the house?”

  “I’m guessing we got what we need,” Jake said. He stepped out from behind the column and nobody shot at him, so he guessed the guy had gone out the front door.

  Jake went to the double doors leading to the professor’s office, and slowly opened it. Elisa was on the other end pointing her gun at Jake. She quickly lowered her weapon once she realized it was Jake.

  “Let’s get that asshole out of here,” Jake said.

  By now the professor had recovered from his little nap and was sitting up dejected, his nose almost twice the size of normal. Jake and Elisa lifted the man to his feet.

  “Did you check him for weapons?” Jake asked.

  Elisa showed him the clicker. She had already removed the battery. “Just this.”

  They hauled the man outside to their car, with Alexandra and Elisa covering Jake while he manhandled the professor. Jake thought he had blocked the Audi in front of their car, but someone the driver had simply ran over a large shrub and gone around through the wet grass. Probably the same man who had just been shooting at Jake.

  Gunfire continued at two corners of the property, where the Malavita had set up their road blocks.

  Jake shoved the professor into the back seat. Alexandra got back there on one side of him, while Elisa took a position on the other side.

  Getting behind the wheel, Jake started the car and backed around far enough to make a turn toward the front gate. Then he slowly started to drive down the road, his eyes open for any trouble.

  Into his comm, Jake said, “On our way out in the Fiat Tipo.”

  “It’s still hot out here,” came a man’s voice. It was Russo.

  “Understand. Polizia?”

  “They backed off once they realized it was us. Now it’s just the men from the compound. Do we need any to live?”

  “No. They’re all collateral. Fire away.”

  “You got that shit right,” Russo said.

  Seconds later, the gunfire intensified on both sides. When Jake got to the gate, it failed to open.

  “Hang on, people,” Jake said.

  He gunned the engine and dropped the clutch. The car lurched forward and he hit the gate just as he punched it into second gear. The gate buckled and burst out into the street. Jake twisted the wheel to the left as he hit the road, the tires squealing against the pavement.

  Then Jake hit the brakes and the clutch simultaneously, bringing the car to a halt. Looking ahead, he could see and hear gunfire. Behind him, looking in the rearview mirror, he also saw flashes of gunfire down the road.

  He turned back to Elisa and asked, “Where is your partner?”

  She looked confused. “He was supposed to monitor our communications and stay with the car.”

  Jake looked ahead again and saw that the VW Passat that Elisa and Vito had driven to Crotone was not where they had left it. Without looking back, Jake said, “Try to get him on the phone. See where the hell he went.”

  While she checked her phone, Jake pulled out his phone and called Kurt Jenkins.

  “Yeah,” Kurt said.

  “Could you track that GPS from the man?”

  “The one from Athens?”

  “Yep.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  As Jake waited, he glanced back at Elisa. “Anything?”

  Elisa shook her head. “And I tracked his phone. It says it’s just up the road about fifty meters.”

  Jake let out the clutch and drove slowly up the road until he got to the spot where they had left Vito in the car. He put the car in neutral, pulled up the hand brake, and got out. The young AISI officer’s phone sat in a small grassy spot alongside the sidewalk. Next to that was Vito’s communications ear piece. Jake picked both up and turned back to their car, showing Elisa he had found the phone.

  Kurt Jenkins came back on the line. “Jake. We got the GPS moving about sixty-five miles an hour to the southwest by Catanzaro.”

  Damn it. That meant the Iraqi bomb builder from Athens had to have left in one of those two cars just before they moved in on the compound. Jake asked Kurt to keep track of the car. They had Professor Baroni, and would bring him to Rome.

  “Are the Italians ready to take out the cells in Rome?” Jake asked.

  Kurt cleared his throat. “They’re hesitating. But they have all of the locations under surveillance.”

  “You tell them that the strikes will happen soon.” Jake glanced back at the professor in their car. “I’ll find out when. But if I had to guess, I would say Sunday.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. I better get going. We need to get to Rome.”

  34

  Jake turned the driving duties over to Alexandra, so he could continue to work the phone with Kurt Jenkins. He also placed Elisa in the front passenger seat and told her not to observe what he was doing in the back seat with Professor Baroni.

  The car with the bomber had about an hour head start on them, so they were pushing it hard to catch up. But that time difference also gave Jake some time to have a frank discussion with Pythagornuts.

  “So,” Jake said, “Let me get this straight. You use Pythagoras and his theorem to justify your actions?”

  The professor predictably huffed at Jake’s oversimplification, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no, no. Pythagoras himself was a brilliant man. He could see patterns in everyday life that could be explained by mathematics and physics. Some believe that he must have been a time traveler, sent to his time to forward society. Perhaps all of the great thinkers were similarly placed—from Copernicus to Galileo to Di Vinci. It was no coincidence these people came to Italy.”

  “Copernicus was Polish,” Jake said. “And technically Pythagoras was a Greek. Same with Archimedes.”

  “Copernicus was born in modern-day Poland, but his first language was German. The city in Silesia where he was born was Germanic, or more specifically Prussian. But that’s not important to my thesis.”

  “What is important?” Jake asked. He needed to let the professor talk his way into his own funeral. Jake could tell the man had narcissistic tendencies.

  Professor Baroni explained his own theory in great detail, until Jake’s eyes glazed over or until his bullshit meter spiked. Then Jake would redirect the conversation. This went on for hundreds of kilometers. Jake was building a rapport, trying his best to understand the man. The conclusion? The man wasn’t exactly Pythagornuts like Jake thought. The professor was a true believer that anarchy was the only way to destroy the corrupt governments of Europe. Then they could start anew, building a new society based on Marx and Engels. Turns out the professor was more of a Friedrich Engels fan than a follower of Karl Marx.

  Finally, Jake said, “Okay, I think I understand. But tell me one society that has benefited from Communism or Marxism?”

  The professor shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I see. You’re one of those Capitalist purists who thinks that all of society’s ills can be cured by striving for money.”

  Okay, now Jake had the guy right where he wanted him. “Well, money hasn’t cured cancer.”

  Baroni laughed. “We could have cured cancer decades ago. But the big pharmaceutical companies make too much money off of those afflictions to allow a cure to reach the people.”

  Jake slapped the seat in front of him near Alexandra’s shoulder. “See, that’s what I’ve been saying for years. Those bastards in power would rather have millions of people die from prolonged painful deaths just so they can make money.”

  “Are you mocking me?” the professor asked.

  “Hell no. I’m pissed. My parents both died from cancer.” A total lie. But it fit Jake’s current narrative.

  “I’m sorry,” Baroni said. “We have all lost too many people.”

  Time to move in for the kill. “Why do you think we don’t work for the government?”

  Baroni looked confused. “But you are all agents of the government.”

  Jake shook his
head. “Not even close. Do you really think we’re bringing you for prosecution?”

  The professor’s eyes shifted with uncertainty. “Yes?”

  “No. We work for a loosely formed group of altruistic philanthropists. I know that’s kind of redundant. But that’s how they think of themselves. Anyway, they are concerned with the governments of Europe also. But mostly they are worried about innocent people. They’re like the Catholic church without all the pedophilia.”

  “That’s an overblown generalization,” Baroni said.

  “I agree. But that’s my point. You see, if you blow up a bunch of historical sites in Rome who do you hurt?”

  The professor said, “The government of Italy.”

  “To some extent, yes,” Jake said. “But really you hurt the people of the world. Those people who come to Rome to see the ancient civilized world. You also hurt the little shop keeper selling goods to tourists. You hurt the baristas and pizza makers.” He pushed forward, thinking he might have the professor turning toward him. “Also, by doing so, you taint another religion.”

  “The Muslims do this to themselves by not cleaning their own house,” Professor Baroni protested.

  “True. But by striking on Sunday in Rome, you could start a religious war.”

  “We need a revolution in this world. The meek are the anarchists. And they shall inherit the Earth.”

  “Matthew is important,” Jake said. “But so is Peter.” Of course, Jake was fishing for St. Peter’s Square as a potential target.

  The professor said nothing.

  “You have not denied that you plan to strike Rome on Sunday,” Jake said. “We know this to be true.”

  Baroni licked his dry lips, his tongue touching the caked blood that had flowed from his broken nose. “If you don’t work for the government, then why do you care what happens in Rome. Just stay away.”

  Perfect. “We have a better plan. It’s easy to send young suicide bombers out into a crowd of people and blow themselves up. You just guarantee them a bunch of virgins upon their death, along with martyrdom. They’re easily swayed. So, since you’re so willing to let others do your dirty work, we thought we might give you an opportunity to participate in the action. I won’t say you’ll get a bunch of virgins, but you don’t want them anyway. Most virgins are that way for a reason. They’re probably ugly and nobody wants to have sex with them. I could offer you a dozen or so hot porn stars willing to do anything. Admit it. That’s a deal.”