by L. Todd Wood
Peter and Natasha scanned the area with their goggles for the intruders, ready to relay any sightings to Reshma’s phone. The Mossad agents fanned out across the property. Their headsets included a small night vision device for one eye and communication capability to the whole team.
The larger of the two hired guns watched one agent cross the back lawn. The agent was staying in the darkness as much as possible. When the agent moved into the dim moonlight, the gangster rose up from his hiding place and moved his gun sights to the advancing agent’s head. He tightened his finger on the trigger but was a millisecond too late. Two pistol shots rang out in the semi-darkness. The hired gun’s head exploded. The agent firing the deadly shots leaned back into the shadow of a large bush and surveyed the darkness, searching for other killers, conserving his ammunition.
Reshma slowly made her way along the side of the main house. Stepping carefully around a corner, she kept her weapon extended in front of her. To her surprise, the second killer was six feet in front of her, crouched at the steps leading into the rear entrance of the house.
“Freeze!”
The killer whirled around, his gun moving in Reshma’s direction. She fired four quick shots. The first bullet hit him between the eyes. The others tore into his upper body.
“Team, check in.”
“Unit one, bad guy down.
“Unit two, second down.”
Reshma spoke quietly. “There’s at least one more. Find him!”
She called Conner. “Two down plus the one you said was in the back yard. Stay where you are until we clear the area.”
“Yeah. We’re staying put.”
Sergei was not stupid. He was outclassed and he knew it. The gangsters were not serious warriors. His targets were obviously trained to some level. He had not expected his prey to be so vigilant and so well armed. He heard the other shots ring out in the night. These were professionals, using short, targeted bursts. There were multiple weapons involved. It was obvious they knew what they were doing. This was not going to go down well with his superiors. He crawled behind the wall back towards the front of the house. Once he was away from the area, he broke into a sprint towards his vehicle parked in the trees a quarter mile from where Natasha’s vehicle was located. He noticed two more vehicles in the front that were not there before. Reshma had made it to the front of the main house as well. The Mossad agent watched Sergei as he ran. From her position in front of the main door of the house, she had an easy shot. She fired a volley of rounds, but the distance was too great with only a handgun. Sergei dove into his car, started the engine, and sped towards town.
The Mossad searched the entire compound. If there had been any more assassins, they were long gone. An hour later, the agents declared an “all clear.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They sat at the old farm table in the main dining room of the house in Bahia. Peter, Connor, and Natasha were in shock and not speaking, the evening’s events still fresh in their minds. Now that they had time to think, reality was setting in. Natasha could not believe they found her so easily. She felt vulnerable and rightly so. Reshma and one of her team members were there at the table as well. The rest of the Mossad agents were guarding the property as they had been ordered to do in the first place upon arrival. There was an air of disbelief among the three new friends.
Reshma spoke authoritatively. “You were lucky this time, next time you won’t be. They will come with much more force and much more firepower. And they will find you—their resources are too vast. You are no longer safe on your own. They will find you, no matter where you are. And they will kill you. All of you.” There was a prolonged silence.
Peter finally spoke, “Well that’s depressing. What do you suggest we do?”
Reshma looked the three of them in the eyes and pondered what she was about to say for a moment. Then she spoke. “I have been authorized to escort you back to Israel. You will start a new life there. We will protect you. We will grant you protection until you, in conjunction with my government, decide what your next move will be. But, you will never be who you are now. Your identities will totally change. Contact with your friends and relatives will cease to exist. At some point, you will be able to speak to them but not anytime in the near future.” She let the words sink in. “But I need your buy in on this before we proceed.” There was a long silence as the three friends looked down at the table and said nothing.
Peter finally spoke. “That sounds good to me. I’d like to be able to relax and not be looking over my shoulder all of the time. This is all getting a little too intense,” Connor and Natasha shook their heads in silent agreement.
“We don’t really have a choice,” added Connor.
“So it’s settled,” said Reshma.
Reshma motioned to her the agent at the table with her eyes. Her colleague got up, left the room, and went to retrieve something from one of their vehicles. He returned to the dining room table and put a type of electronic device on the empty space in front of them. “This is a satellite transmitter,” said Reshma. “We have programmed the transmission to be delivered from our server to a large list of media outlets globally. Your little project will have maximum exposure. We want the exposure to be overwhelming. Mr. Quinn are you ready to transmit your video and other evidence?”
“Yes, I am,” he firmly replied.
Peter reached into his pocket and handed a flash drive to Reshma. She loaded it into the attached laptop and pulled up the files to be released. “I’ll let you do the honors Mr. Quinn.” She pointed to the keyboard and backed away.
Peter walked over and looked at the computer. He reached down and hit the return button to transmit. “Done,” he said. “Good,” I’m glad we’ve finished this – we’ve helped the human race.”
“There’s no going back now,” added Connor. “I guess I really am going to be Moshe Goldberg going forward.” Natasha stared at the table in sadness. She missed her mother.
Miniature nuclear weapons were not new. They were developed during the Cold War by both sides to attack specific targets and be assured of their destruction. For the Americans, they were ideally suited to deny passage of Soviet armor through the Fulda Gap in Germany. By making the passageway impenetrable via radiation, they could prevent a blitzkrieg of Western Europe by Soviet tanks. There were also nuclear artillery shells developed for the same purpose. This was the age of mutually assured destruction. Tens of thousands of nuclear weapons of all types were developed by both sides.
The Russians stated categorically that backpack nuclear weapons were planned to be used against targets in the United States. Targets identified were power plants, dams, and other strategic assets. There were even assertions by Russian defectors that hundreds of nuclear weapons had been already buried in America, although none were ever discovered. All the Kremlin had to do was push the button and destruction of the American economy would follow.
The sultan had acquired several of the old Soviet weapons from the black market. It was no secret that many Russian weapons had gone missing during the collapse of the Soviet Union. They had been refurbished under the sultan’s ownership and refitted with new timing and remote detonation devices. Everything had its price, and money was the one thing the sultan had plenty of. Enough money can buy you anything, he thought as he gave instructions to his staff where to place the bombs. At a yield of just over one kiloton, the devices would have enough firepower to destroy a small target. Yes, they will do the job just fine. The nuclear weapons were smuggled into Jaffa on several container ships and into the West Bank and Gaza via U.N. relief supply convoys. Although the weapons were not large enough to completely destroy the country, the radiation would make parts of Israel unlivable and their economy would be devastated. This would also weaken their military and industrial might so that Arab armies could invade and finally wipe Israel off the map. It was a perfect storm. This had been a dream of the Arab world for decades.
He looked at the painting of the si
ege of Jerusalem once again. The time was nigh. Soon the dreams of Islam would be realized. I will kill many more of the infidel than were killed in Jerusalem a long time ago. Their deaths will be avenged. Allah Akbar!
The Mossad team and their new friends left the house in Bahia early the next morning. The ride down to the port city of Salvador was tense as the memories of the prior night were fresh in their minds. Natasha slept on Connor’s shoulder most of the ride back to the city. The trip seemed a lot longer than the last time as everyone was on edge. A car backfired behind them during the entry into the metropolis and everyone in the SUV jumped and grabbed their weapons. They had a convoy of three vehicles filled with the team members and their precious cargo: Connor, Natasha, and Peter. Brazil had wide swaths of lawless no-man’s-land where anything could happen. The team was alert. Connor appreciated that the Mossad operatives were considered among the best in the world. Their agents had proved themselves many times over. He felt safe in their hands.
After almost an eight-hour drive, they arrived at the docks late in the afternoon. The demonstrations against the water contamination were still going on and had gotten larger. The crowds of protesters had swelled in numbers. The chants were becoming provocative and violent. The noise was deafening. Many demonstrators carried placards condemning the companies reportedly responsible for the pollution. It seemed that the demonstrations were becoming more organized and targeted. One of the protests was directed against an oil shipping company that had offices at the port in Salvador. Connor’s party had to cross this line of people as they made their way to their destination on the pier. Reshma searched the crowds, her trained eye looking for anyone who appeared out of place, more an organizer than a protestor. Finally Reshma escorted them aboard a large tanker that was bringing refined fuel to Israel. The Mossad team boarded as well to provide protection en route. They prevented anyone else from boarding besides the crew listed on the official manifest. The tanker was owned by a wealthy Israeli who frequently helped his government with such favors. They were well cared for on the trip to the Mediterranean, although the mood among the team and their new friends was somber.
Upon arrival several weeks later, Connor, Natasha, and Peter were taken to a safe house in the center of Tel Aviv and welcomed into their new country. The house was functional but not luxurious. All of their needs were provided for. Reshma came by to check on them often. They didn’t leave the house for some time as all of their supplies were brought in. Their security was intense and effective as they adjusted to their new surroundings. The three were attempting to reconcile how their lives had taken a drastically new direction. One door closes, another opens, thought Connor as he looked out over the Mediterranean.
Several weeks later, once settled, Reshma gathered them for a debriefing. They met at a secure facility in the center of the city. Connor, Natasha, and Peter were firmly ensconced in their new Jewish identities. Everyone relived their memories of the evening in Bahia, and the agents collectively shared their observations. Their comments were brief but spot on. Then the three new friends each supplied their versions of the previous evening’s deadly skirmishes. None of them had identified the ringleader, who had escaped. Nobody cared about the individuals who died on the property. It was assumed they were under lords of Brazil’s criminal factions. The dead were not important.
Connor had one question. “What about the police in the area of the house? Won’t they be looking for us – for someone?”
Reshma assured him the police, weak as they were, would not prove to be a problem. “Our people have been there and have removed and disposed of the bodies. The blood and other evidence was also taken care of. We’ve had experience in this kind of episode. We know how to deal with what is left behind.”
Connor nodded, confident in Reshma’s assessment and even more confident of the Mossad’s operations.
The sultan was anxious. He had seen the reports popping up in the press about the manipulation of the environmental movement and other activities. This was not good. Someone was out to sabotage his entire operation. He was also curious how the information had been obtained.
“Where did this come from?” he asked one of his associates who brought him reports on the ongoing situation.
“Well we know who made the video, but we are not sure who distributed it. We are attempting to find out, but we are not getting much information. It seems this was done professionally. Obviously Murray and Quinn had help, but we don’t know who disseminated the files. They went global, very quickly.”
“Find out who helped them,” ordered the sultan.
“Yes, sir.” The aide left the room.
The sultan picked up the phone to call the Russians to find out what happened. Obviously he still had to deal with his little trio. They were becoming quite an irritant. This will delay my timetable but will not alter the final outcome. I will have to redouble my efforts.
Several weeks later, Connor, Peter, and Natasha sat at the very restaurant where Connor had met Reshma months before. They noticed the armed security, which followed them everywhere, had taken up a position at the entrance of the outdoor courtyard where they were engaged in deep conversation over the release of the video.
“I have to say I’m frustrated. The demonstrations have only increased. It is as if the people just don’t care about the issue. I mean shale oil could literally take the entire planet to a whole different level of prosperity, and we are throwing it all away on junk science. It just doesn’t make sense,” offered Peter.
The sun had set, but the moon was full and bathed the entire port of Jaffa in a white glow. The reflection off the calm Mediterranean was mesmerizing.
“Well, we’ve done our part to impact the debate. That’s really all we can do,” replied Connor. “I for one am enjoying being with the woman I love and my best friend. We’ve made some good friends, the Israelis have put your talents to work, Peter, and Natasha is finishing her novel. And we are well protected. I’m very thankful.”
“As am I,” added Natasha. Although, there was a large Russian Diaspora here in Israel, and she had to be careful. She slipped her arm inside Conner’s and squeezed his forearm. Her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. “I’m going to leave my two favorite men and the one I truly love to decide what we do next. I know what I’m going to do – soak for a long time in a hot bath. Excuse me, gentlemen.” She kissed Conner on the cheek and turned toward the ramp leading to the entrance of the ancient port, walking slowly away.
Connor watched her as she disappeared into the crowd and turned to eye the Mossad agent standing near the restaurant entrance. The agent bowed slightly, spoke briefly into his lapel mike, and moved toward the ramp to follow her down. Conner breathed deeply, sighed, and for the first time in days, relaxed. He turned to Peter, lifted his glass, and said, “To my best friend. Tonight we rest at ease. Tomorrow we make decisions, okay?”
Peter smiled. “You are a lucky man – thrice lucky.”
Chapter Thirty
The sultan’s anxiety had melted away. The release of the video and corresponding evidence had a fleeting effect on the debate regarding hydraulic fracturing in the United States and across the globe. He had personally overseen a ramping up of the media bombardment against the procedure as well as funded a step-up in the frequency and ferocity of the associated street protests. The demonstrations were precisely targeted at politicians in positions of power who could cast deciding votes for legislation aimed at curbing hydraulic fracturing. His efforts were effective. The sultan had also been successful in preventing the flow of Canadian oil produced from fracking from entering the United States’ supply chain. The pipelines had not been approved due to the media pressure applied against the permitting process. His plan was working. The American people were like sheep and didn’t have the fortitude to do their own research on the issue. They just accepted what the media told them. I have won, he said to himself.
The Speaker of the Assembly of the California state legislat
ure stood before the podium to address the body. “We must as a community reject the idea that we can send millions of gallons of hazardous chemicals underground in search for dirty hydrocarbons that feed our addiction to carbon dioxide—spewing vehicles. We are poisoning the very water we need to provide life for human beings in our state, as well as all living creatures. We are sending pollutants into the atmosphere while burning these fossil fuels, which change our climate and will lead to devastating effects on our children’s quality of life after most of us are gone. It is immoral to allow hydraulic fracturing techniques in our state! I call on the assembly to legislate a moratorium on this type of drilling until we can study the effects of fracking on the state of California further.” California sat on more oil and gas than any other region in the United States. They banned the fracking process and destroyed the opportunity to create a half a million jobs across the state.
Reshma and Connor walked along the beach in Tel Aviv, their shoes in their hands, as the warm waters of the Mediterranean splashed over their naked feet. They had met at a beach restaurant south of Tel Aviv in a suburb called Bat Yam. The area was known for its immigrant population who lived in Bat Yam and typically worked in service positions in the luxury hotels of Tel Aviv. The stretch of beach had a more local feel, and Connor and Reshma would not be noticed walking among the people of all types that tended to congregate in the area.