Blindsided (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 4)

by JT Sawyer

  The phone on the teak table beside him rang, jolting his mind back to the present. He knew from the number that it was Cavel. The former Polish special ops leader was on schedule as always.

  “Go ahead, I’m in a secure location,” said Uri.

  “Everything is in place at the estate. We have cleared the building and grounds of any signs of our passage and will be pulling out in an hour.”

  “Good, then head back to Israel. You have one more person to retrieve.”

  “That big guy—it’s going to take a few of us to bring him down. It might be easier doing it here.”

  “No, you need to wait until they’ve returned to Tel Aviv. Just make sure his face isn’t permanently marred. I may need him to do a taped confession later for leverage.”

  “Very well—we’ll put the finishing touches on things here and then I’ll contact you again when our boots are on home turf.”

  “So, you are finally calling Tel Aviv home, eh?”

  “It’s not Warsaw, that’s for sure, but any place is better than that rathole.”

  Uri chuckled, remembering his visits to that weathered city.

  “Anything else, boss?”

  “Yes, bring me back some Tuica—that white whiskey from the Carpathian Mountains has such a pleasant bite to it.”

  Uri hung up and tossed the phone on the couch. There was a sense of satisfaction dealing with a well-trained mercenary like Cavel. Though the man was a high-functioning sociopath he was also unflinching in his fulfillment of Uri’s orders and could always be relied on to get the job done, no matter how brutal or lengthy the task. The two men, both former special operations, spoke the same language and understood the tempo involved in a well-refined plan like the one that was about to unfold.

  Uri had kept his personal syndicate of henchmen intentionally small, which allowed for complete oversight. He had two twelve-man teams composed of former elite commandos that adhered to the same principles he did: making a difference in the world should also mean making a fortune. He chose his cadre from a thoroughly researched pool of discharged veterans who were disenfranchised by the same political systems Uri was bent on eradicating. These men no longer had any loyalty to king and country but had skills that demanded a high figure.

  He took a long sip of whiskey then flicked his finger at the picture frame, toppling it over and sending it crashing to the floor.

  Chapter 7

  Constanta, Romania, Near the Black Sea

  The Gideon team’s arrival in Romania went without a hitch. They flew in from the north, taking in the scenery of the Carpathian Mountains near Transylvania that dotted the central part of the country. The spruce highlands eventually gave way to the edge between forest and ocean where the small city of Constanta was located.

  Ari, the pilot, had landed at a small airfield twenty minutes from the hostage hand-off site and Dev and the others had driven their rented SUV to the three-story estate tucked in the countryside. The only thing that concerned Dev upon debarking from their vehicle was the fact that the sprawling grounds appeared derelict and there appeared to be no movement in the area.

  “Why aren’t there any other vehicles here or the supposed welcoming committee that I was told about?” said Dev.

  “What the hell is going on?” said Mitch into his mic as he crept along a row of low lilac bushes outside the left side of the mansion.

  Petra was on overwatch with his binoculars, concealed fifty yards away near a grassy berm. “No signs of people inside by any of the windows.”

  “This whole thing is fucked—something is way off,” said David, his voice betraying a nervous note as it came through Mitch’s earpiece.

  Mitch tapped Dev on the shoulder and pointed to the damp ground where a faint set of bootprints was etched in the soil. The tread detail had eroded away from the rain pock marks that were present and an ant trail meandered across the heel section. “Those look to be at least a day old.”

  Dev glanced down at the areal image of the grounds on her micro-tablet. “This is the place.” She looked up at the surrounding woods and remote countryside. “It’s not like we mistook it for another house in the area.”

  She tucked the tablet into her backpack then removed the Springfield XD pistol from the concealed holster under her jacket.

  “David, you follow Mitch and me up to the side door and wait down below. We’re going inside to check things out.”

  Mitch looked at her 9mm pistol then back at her while removing his Glock. “We didn’t exactly come prepared for a major firefight.”

  “Agreed; we’ll recon the interior and then get the hell out of here.” She tapped on her earpiece. “Petra, inform Ari back at the airfield that we’ll be needing a hasty flight out of here, within the hour.”

  The three of them crept along a row of unkempt shrubs until they were at the weathered oak door on the east side of the house. A cool saltwater breeze was carrying the scent of recently split poplar logs that were stacked neatly against the porch of the tawny-colored brick estate. As Dev crested the edge of the waist-high rock retaining wall, she gazed in either direction then jumped down onto the narrow walkway that led to the side door.

  It was unlocked and she snaked in down the hallway as both of them hastily performed room sweeps before reconvening at the stairs. Dev led the way up, her pistol held high, clearing each corner until they were at the landing on the second floor.

  “Nobody’s been on this level,” Mitch said, pointing to the heavy layer of undisturbed dust on the wooden floor in either direction.

  Proceeding to the third level, they saw a well-worn path in the dust, all of the tracks leading to the back room, which was closed. Just to be certain, they cleared each of the five rooms leading down the hallway. Standing at the last door, Dev felt the handle and found it locked. She motioned to Mitch to stand to the side while she counted down to three with her fingers. Then she smashed the door open with her boot and rushed inside, her pistol levelled straight. She proceeded forward as Mitch swept in behind her.

  “Clear,” he said, followed by her repeating the same command but in a rattled tone. Her gaze was transfixed on the bullet-riddled body of a young man who was slumped in a leather chair, his glassy eyes staring at the stuccoed ceiling. She moved up and studied his waxy complexion then lifted his arm to feel how rigid it was. Mitch slid up beside her, glancing at the deceased figure then around at the contents of the room.

  “What happened here?” she said. “This isn’t the ransom victim at all.”

  Mitch tapped her on the shoulder and motioned with his chin to the right corner of the room above a bookcase. “There are seven other cameras in this room, covering every angle including the doorway, and the wiring on ’em all is connected to a computer router in the corner, so that can only mean that someone is receiving the footage.” He moved back a few feet to the left by a red-and-yellow stained glass window. Kneeling down, he picked up three brass rounds with his gloved fingers. After inspecting the back of the cartridge by the dimpled primer, he held it up to her. “This is from a 9mm pistol.”

  Dev glanced down at her own weapon then at the dead man. “Same damn caliber as our weapons.”

  They heard Petra’s voice crackle in their earpiece. “I can hear distant sirens heading this way. And Ari informed me that he heard a local news report on the radio about the kidnapped son of a prominent labor leader who went missing yesterday outside of Constanta.”

  Mitch and Dev gave each other concerned looks. He grabbed her and they ran to the door. “Last I heard, the Romanian court of law is a little medieval and their prisons even more so.”

  “We didn’t do anything though,” said Dev as they hurried down to the ground level. “If we run then we’ll be in violation of Interpol laws and get burned for sure.”

  “The cameras and spent shells, the victim riddled with the same rounds we carry—this whole thing was an elaborate set up. Someone wanted us to walk onto their stage. And now they’ve got the fo
otage of us storming through the door with our weapons drawn and standing over the body.”

  “Is that what this whole damn thing was about—luring us here like this to get our footprint at the scene?” She looked back up the stairs. “I don’t think that was a random victim either—that poor boy. He must have been enticed to come here somehow. I didn’t see any signs of physical restraints on his wrists.”

  Mitch let out a raspy exhale. “Someone wants us or Gideon to take the fall for killing the son of a labor party leader—that’s how it’s going to look.”

  She paused at the outside entrance as David moved up to their location. Dev reflected on the Skype meetings she’d had with the company rep that had requested Gideon’s services along with her meticulous probing of the individual they were slated to rescue. The details of the mission and the present implications kept swirling in her cluttered brain. She knew they weren’t going to solve this riddle sitting in a Romanian jail cell.

  Dev ran down the sidewalk, leading the way. “You’re right. We need to get the hell out of here while we can.”

  They sprinted down the pebble-strewn driveway to their vehicle then sped off down the road, picking up Petra along the way as the blare of sirens in the nearby valley increased.

  Chapter 8

  The phone beside Jill Albright’s bed started crabbing across the table as it began vibrating. The sun had just stabbed through the blackout shades in her two-bedroom apartment as she sat up and reached for the annoying device that controlled her daily routine.

  “Albright, it’s four-thirty. Get up and get your ass moving,” said the raspy voice of her executive editor, Donald Bradley. “I’ve got a breaking story that we just got an exclusive on and I need my number one girl downtown to cover it.”

  Though she was thirty-one, her boss still referred to her as girl and missy when addressing her. Bradley’s father owned the i12 News station and female employees often had to endure his barrage of old-school slogans.

  She ran to the bathroom and began running a brush through her tangled brown hair, setting the phone down on speaker as she rushed through a multitude of tasks. “What’s this about?”

  “You remember that company Gideon that you did a feature on last year for our women-in-business special?”

  “Yeah, that lady Devorah—the CEO—she was the real deal. A modern-day Joan of Arc type. I was really impressed by her and the work she does.”

  “That’s the one. Her company is going down in flames. Appears she was involved in some serious shit in Eastern Europe, murdered some kid—shot him in the chest three times while he was sitting in a chair. I saw the freaking footage. The Romanian government said Gideon is responsible for the assassination of the son of one of the country’s main labor party leaders.”

  “A kid—they killed a kid!”

  “Sorry, he was nineteen, but sweet Jesus, he had a baby face.”

  Jill paused as she slid on a white button-up shirt over her bra. “You sure we’re talking about the same company? That’s not the woman I recall interviewing—she seemed like someone who went by the book on everything.”

  “It’s her, Jill. Now get down to the Gideon headquarters. I want you there with the camera crew front and center when the feds take the place apart. See what else you can dig up on her and her little mission.”

  “Be there in thirty minutes,” she said, wriggling a black skirt up to her waist and hastily stepping into some matching high heels. She dabbed a quick application of lipstick then grabbed her laptop bag and a bagel off the counter before heading out the door. On the elevator ride down to the lobby, she pondered Bradley’s words while mulling over the many luncheons she had with Devorah Leitner during her interviews. Devorah struck me as someone in the corporate world who actually had a sense of morality that she ran her company by. Why would she nail some helpless guy like that? And where did this footage come from?

  The elevator doors opened and Jill trotted outside to the curb, flagging down a taxi as she tried to piece together the jumble of information racing through her caffeine-deprived brain.

  Chapter 9

  Dev had returned from harrowing missions before and always welcomed the sight of the private airstrip used by Gideon an hour away from Tel Aviv. This time, however, the cluster of law enforcement vehicles that were parked outside the arrival area made her stomach churn. A half-dozen men in black suits and sunglasses were milling around the front of the diminutive air-traffic control tower while several more were standing at the entrance to the hangar where the Gideon helicopters were stationed.

  “What are they all doing here—how could they have gotten word on any of our doings abroad? We got out of Romania without incident,” she said, peering out the egg-shaped window at the approaching airfield. She knew the answer had to be connected with this mission though she was uncertain how details could have possibly trickled back to Israel on such an undisclosed operation. The gray SUVs bore the familiar markings of the Shin Bet, which was Israel’s internal security agency, equivalent to the United States FBI.

  Petra flipped up his laptop and tried to pull up the Gideon server network but a message kept flashing that the company website was inaccessible. He scrolled over to several local newsfeeds, studying the headlines, then spun the screen around towards Dev.

  A live streaming video clip showed a news reporter standing on the sidewalk in front of Gideon as dozens of company employees were being walked out of the building by law-enforcement officers. Another group of agents were carrying out confiscated laptops and boxes of files past a crowd of onlookers by the curb.

  Dev thrust her head forward, her eyes narrowing at the familiar face of Jill Albright, the news reporter. “What’s going on? How come we never got any calls from our staff or from i12 News about this?”

  Mitch examined the image and pointed at several of the employees. “Look at their expressions—they’re as puzzled as we are. This must have happened fast without any warning.”

  The voice of the pilot came over the ceiling speakers. “Ms. Leitner, I have orders from the commander of the Shin Bet team to continue onto the farthest hangar upon landing and to immediately disembark with our hands raised in the air.”

  She looked up with her mouth agape while the others cast perplexed glances at each other. Dev seethed out a long breath then reached over the seat to a phone built into the arm rest. She cut in on the radio transmission from the ground.

  “This is Devorah Leitner, CEO of Gideon. With whom am I speaking?”

  There was a brief pause followed by the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. “Ms. Leitner, this is Agent Benjamin Abadi. I’ve instructed your pilot where to land and I have orders to take you and your staff in for questioning.” The last few words sounded like they were stuck in the man’s throat as he spoke.

  Dev put a bearded face to the name. She knew Ben Abadi from her days in the Israeli Defence Forces. He was one year ahead of her and an incredibly gifted marksman. In addition to growing up in the same neighborhood, both of their fathers were decorated veterans of many foreign wars. Dev had briefly dated him after their military service, before Ben accepted a position with the Shin Bet. She had run into him and his wife two years earlier and heard the news about his advancement up the ranks of the agency but never thought she’d be having this conversation with him.

  “Ben, what is this about?” she said, putting the phone on speaker.

  She heard him clear his throat. “Your company and all of its staff are under investigation for international criminal charges. It seems like you and your immediate team are suspects central to a recent homicide in Romania. You and your employees will be interviewed to determine the full extent of Gideon’s involvement in this incident. I’ll explain more after you disembark. Instruct your team on board to stand down. And Ms. Leitner, walking off the plane with your hands raised will certainly help put my other colleagues at ease.”

  “We’ll be on the ground shortly and then maybe you can explain to me, f
ace to face, what this is all about.” She turned off the speaker and slid back in her seat, needling her finger into her chin.

  “What the hell is this?” said David. “This mission was by the book—we haven’t done anything criminal to warrant this treatment.”

  “Those cameras in the estate may have presented another version of what happened,” said Mitch. “They weren’t just recording our actions—the footage was being transmitted somewhere else. And how did the Romanian authorities get tipped off to the location of the estate right at the same time we were there?”

  “I concur on the latter but all the camera footage would show is that we busted into the room,” said Dev. “We didn’t kill that poor lad.”

  “You know better than I that video images can be doctored up—that’s the only reason to have a routing device there. Otherwise, showing a couple of armed people kicking in a door isn’t going to turn too many heads in that country,” said Petra. “The whole mission from our arrival at the estate was off.”