Mystery: The Sam Prichard Series - Books 5-8

by David Archer

  That call came at four forty, and the three of them readied themselves. One of the watchers confirmed that Chandler was in the car when it pulled up in front of the restaurant, and that he did get out and enter the place. Harry held up a hand to keep Sam from moving too quickly, and then he motioned for them to go.

  They came around the north side of the entrance just as Ken came around from the south, and all three of them saw the group of men that was sitting at the table in the back. Chandler looked up at them, and his face registered shock at the site of Ken and Sam, and then Sam raised his gun and began firing. Chandler and his own men began shooting back, and Sam saw Chandler drop to the floor, and then Harry came around him, and everything was happening fast.

  There were several other people in the place, and they all began screaming and trying to run, and Sam was shoved aside by a man who was holding a child. He caught his balance, and leveled his gun once more, but then another man ran into him and he fell to one side. He hit a table, and slid off of it to the floor, and for a split second he was looking Chandler in the eye, but before he could even react, there was a foot coming down on his face. He pushed it off, and a man fell beside him, but Sam was fighting his way back to his feet. He tried to move forward, to get to Chandler, but a burst of gunfire came at him out of nowhere, and he ducked instinctively.

  Something hit him again, and he fell onto another table, but by the time he could get up and see what was going on, the place where Chandler had been was empty. Four of his men were down, including David Glenn, but Chandler was gone. Sam spun around, looking for Ken, and saw him on the floor, his shirt covered in blood. He started toward him, but stepped on something, and when he looked down, he saw that he was stepping on Harry.

  There was a bloody spot on Harry's face, and as Sam looked at him, he saw that blood was oozing out of it. Harry's mouth was working, but there was an odd look in his eyes, and Sam suddenly forgot about Chandler, forgot about Ken. He dropped to his knees and pulled the old man up to himself, and listened to see what Harry was saying, but it was too faint.

  He looked down at the old man, and as he did, a blankness came over his eyes, and Sam stared at him.

  He looked up and saw Ken, who was trying to get to a sitting position, and then he heard the sirens. He looked back down at Harry's lifeless face, and suddenly wondered if maybe Chandler really was the Beast.

  And then he began to cry.

  BOOK VIII

  Prologue

  Harry came walking into the restaurant, and Sam waved to show him where they were sitting. He waved back and made his way through the tightly packed tables to get to theirs, and sat down. He looked at Sam's empty dishes and blinked.

  “Tell me they have steaks here,” he said, and Sam laughed.

  “Get the fillet of beef, Harry. I had it last night and it's incredible.”

  Harry placed the order when the waiter appeared, and then Sam and Ken began filling him in on the plan to hit Chandler that afternoon. Harry asked a few questions, nodded at the right places, and finally said, “Sounds to me like the best way to go about it. When you call Natasha, tell her we need a third machine pistol, though.”

  Ken scowled. “Harry, I'm going in alone, I already explained that to you.”

  Harry looked at him. “Did I say anything different? I simply want to be armed, in case the bastard gets past you and comes running my way. Do you blame me?”

  They took Harry's bag up to their room when he'd finished eating, and he took the chance to lie down for a short nap on the couch. They were scheduled to meet with Natasha there at the room at two, so Sam and Ken went and shared the bed for a couple of hours themselves. When they rose at one thirty, they found Harry up and using a laptop computer to study the area around the restaurant.

  “I've got it all figured out,” he said. “I see how you want to handle this, Ken, and I think it could work, but look at this: here, right to the north of the restaurant, there's this little narrow alley. It's just about wide enough for us to hide in single file, and it's invisible from the street. I'm thinking that if Sam and I were in there, then when you go in from the south end, we could strike from the opposite side. They wouldn't know for at least a few seconds what hit them, so we'd have a good chance of making the hit and coming out of it with all of us alive.”

  Ken stared at him. “You're not gonna let me do this my way, are you, you old bastard?”

  Harry grinned at him. “I've been in this business a lot longer than you, son, remember that? Besides, there are times when you just have to do something, and I'm having one of those times. I need to be in on this, Ken. Just deal with an old man's stubbornness, okay?”

  Sam laughed. “You can't beat him, Ken, you might as well just face it. We're all going to be in on this, and it's gonna be better that way.”

  The three of them talked over the plan until they were all sure of what was expected of each of them, and by the time Natasha showed up, they were ready to get rolling. She gave Harry a hug, and kissed his cheek, then handed him the machine pistol he'd demanded.

  They piled into her car, and she drove them to the restaurant so that they could all get into position. They knew that it would be a long wait, but they felt better about being there early, and each of them had spent long hours waiting before. It wasn't anything new to them, and they were all able to find a way to get comfortable.

  Ken sat on a rock behind a bush that was about twenty yards from the place, while Harry and Sam had to sit down on the ground. Each of them had an earpiece in that Natasha had provided, so that when the surveillance team saw Chandler coming their way, they would be notified a few minutes early. That way, they could all get to their feet and be ready to move once their prey was all inside.

  That call came at four forty, and the three of them readied themselves. One of the watchers confirmed that Chandler was in the car when it pulled up in front of the restaurant, and that he did get out and enter the place. Harry held up a hand to keep Sam from moving too quickly, and then he motioned for them to go.

  They came around the north side of the entrance just as Ken came around from the south, and all three of them saw the group of men that was sitting at the table in the back. Chandler looked up at them, and his face registered shock at the site of Ken and Sam, and then Sam raised his gun and began firing. Chandler and his own men began shooting back, and Sam saw Chandler drop to the floor, and then Harry came around him, and everything was happening fast.

  There were several other people in the restaurant, and they all began screaming and trying to run, and Sam was shoved aside by a man who was holding a child. He caught his balance, and leveled his gun once more, but then another man ran into him and he fell to one side. He hit a table, and slid off of it to the floor, and for a split second he was looking Chandler in the eye, but before he could even react, there was a foot coming down on his face. He pushed it off, and a man fell beside him, but Sam was fighting his way back to his feet. He tried to move forward, to get to Chandler, but a burst of gunfire came at him out of nowhere, and he ducked instinctively.

  Something hit him again, and he fell onto another table, but by the time he could get up and see what was going on, the place where Chandler had been was empty. Four of his men were down, including David Glenn, but Chandler was gone. Sam spun around, looking for Ken, and saw him on the floor, his shirt covered in blood. He started toward him, but stepped on something, and when he looked down, he saw that he was stepping on Harry.

  There was a bloody spot on Harry's face, and as Sam looked at him, he saw that blood was oozing out of it. Harry's mouth was working, but there was an odd look in his eyes, and Sam suddenly forgot about Chandler, forgot about Ken. He dropped to his knees and pulled the old man up to himself, and listened to see what Harry was saying, but it was too faint.

  He looked down at the old man, and as he did, a blankness came over his eyes, and Sam stared at him.

  He looked up and saw Ken, who was trying to get to a sitting po
sition, and then he heard the sirens. He looked back down at Harry's lifeless face, and suddenly wondered if maybe Chandler really was the Beast.

  And then he began to cry.

  1

  The sirens seemed to be everywhere, as more and more of the Israeli police began to swarm the little restaurant. It seemed like half of them didn't know how to shut their sirens off, but merely left the cars sitting there with the sirens screaming. Sam had been helped on to his feet, while paramedics loaded Harry onto a stretcher and rushed him out of the building. Another couple of paramedics had Ken sitting in a chair while they went over him, but he was trying to brush them off.

  “Just who are you, Mr. Davis?” Sam looked up at the man who had asked the question.

  “I already told you,” Sam said. “I'm Jim Davis, an American tourist. My friends and I stopped in here for a bite to eat, and apparently we walked into a gunfight.”

  The man who was questioning him looked around at the carnage in the little restaurant, then looked back at Sam. “My name is Boaz Ben Yazdi,” he said. “I am an Inspector with Israeli Police. I have spoken with many tourists, from many countries including the United States. Only very seldom do I find tourists carrying automatic pistols like these that I find all around you. Can you explain to me where they came from?”

  “Inspector,” Sam said, “like I told you, we walked into some sort of a gun battle. There were several men on each side who were shooting, and then, just as suddenly as it began, some of them ran out and got into cars and raced away. That's all I know.”

  Ken caught his eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod. This was the story they had practiced and agreed on, just in case things went bad. From Sam's point of view, things had just gone far worse than they ever could have expected.

  Ben Yazdi smiled at him. “Of course, that's what you told me. But, you know, that leaves me wondering — here we have four men dead, and all of them are holding firearms of one sort or another, but for the other side, you're telling me they all ran out unharmed. Is that correct?”

  Sam grinned. “Actually, now that you mention it, I remember that they picked up one man who had fallen and wasn't moving, and one of them was helping another man who looked like he might've been shot in the leg.”

  Ben Yazdi nodded at this, and his smile grew even wider. “Ah, yes, now it makes more sense. The attackers took their wounded and dead with them. Is that right?”

  “Well, I guess that's how it looked.”

  “Mr. Davis,” Ben Yazdi said, “even before we began to speak, I knew that you were not who you claim to be. Too many of the patrons here saw you with a machine pistol in your hand, so it is rather apparent to me that you are one of the combatants in this altercation. When I add to this information the fact that there is a record of your arrival on a diplomatic flight from the United States, even though neither you nor your friends are listed on any diplomatic roster, it becomes rather clear to me that I'm dealing with what must be special agents of an American task force. The only question that remains unanswered to me, then, is why such agents are here. Now, you can tell me, or I can simply detain you until I get the answers I seek. And incidentally, since you are not on any diplomatic roster, if it turns out that I'm correct in my assumptions then it is highly likely that you will be spending a great deal of time here in Israel. I can't say that you'll get to enjoy much in the way of tourism, and the accommodations might not be as luxurious as they are in the King David Hotel, but at least you'll get three meals each day. Well, most days.”

  There was a slight commotion near the entrance of the restaurant, and Ben Yazdi turned to see what was causing it. A blonde woman could be seen arguing with one of the constables who was standing outside, holding what appeared to be an ID case up in front of his face and pointing to it. The inspector gave a sigh of resignation. “Well, Mr. Davis,” he said, without looking back at Sam. “It appears that your cavalry has arrived. If you had told me I would be dealing with Natasha Minsky today, I might very well have simply let you go. Since you didn't see fit to warn me, however, I might now consider it an insult that requires retribution.” He glanced at Sam, and then put on smile as Natasha approached them.

  “Inspector,” Natasha said, “it seems that some of my new aides blundered into some sort of trouble, here. That's unfortunate, since I was just in the process of adding them to my unit roster.”

  Ben Yazdi took her hand, bent low over it and kissed it gently. When he stood, there was a twinkle in her eye, but the smile on his face remained as cold as ever. “Natasha,” he said. “As always, it is a pleasure to see you again. I'm assuming that you're going to give me some reasonable explanation for all of this?”

  Natasha laughed delightedly. “Oh, good heavens, no,” she said. “How could I possibly have an explanation? The only reason I even know that something happened is because I was scheduled to join them here for dinner. You can imagine my surprise when I got a call from our embassy saying they had overheard your dispatchers saying that there had been a gun battle here. Well, I just had to come and see for myself what was going on.”

  “In that case, I'm going to hazard a guess that these new aides of yours would be Mr. Davis, Mr. Clark and the unfortunate Mr. Milner, who just left in the ambulance. Would I be right?”

  “Indeed, you would. They just arrived yesterday, and I was getting all the paperwork done today. I don't know why they were so lucky as to walk into this situation — I'm too busy being thankful that I was running late. Why, it might've been me who was taken away in the ambulance.”

  “Yes. So,” Ben Yazdi said, “what you're telling me, then, is that all three of the men are part of your diplomatic mission, and therefore possess diplomatic immunity. Is that correct?”

  “Why, yes, I suppose that is how it turns out. I do hope this won't cause any hard feelings between us.”

  “Oh, Natasha, we both know that it will. Why pretend otherwise? On the other hand, you're saving me from a great deal of paperwork, for all I need do now is report that the three individuals the witnesses all have stated were involved in the attack on these people could not possibly have been involved, since they are all low-level aides to an American diplomatic mission that deals with tourists who run into financial problems. That solves so many problems for me. How can I thank you?”

  Natasha smiled and patted him on the cheek. “We can talk about that the next time you have an evening free, Boaz,” she said. “How long has it actually been since you took me to dinner? I think it's a couple of months now, isn't it?”

  Ben Yazdi nodded, his smile still as cold as it had been. “At least that long,” he said. “Perhaps this Friday night?”

  “Why, Boaz, you old charmer! I will be waiting by the phone for your call.”

  Natasha stepped over to where paramedics were still working on Kenneth, and looked down at him. “Are you going to live?” she asked.

  “These idiots claim that the holes in me don't seem to have gone through anything important, and managed to go all the way through without leaving any lead inside me. If they're right, then I probably won't bleed to death internally, or die of lead poisoning anytime soon. Have you got us out of here?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Don't you know that I simply live to pull your ass out of the fires you get it into? I got you listed as three of my people, so that no matter what happened here today I could try to cover you. Seems it was a wise precaution.”

  “Yeah, I'd say so. How's Sam?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Ken. “I haven't spoken directly to him yet, but he was keeping his wits about him. That's the most important thing, at this stage. Let's get them out of here, and we'll find out how he's holding up.”

  She hooked her head at him, and he pushed the paramedics away as he got to his feet. They walked back over to where Sam was still sitting in the chair he'd been in when Ben Yazdi was interrogating him. “Come on, Jim,” Ken said. “The boss lady's here, and she says it's time to go back
to work.”

  Sam nodded, and got to his feet. For once, he hadn't managed to get himself shot. The impacts that had knocked him down more than once had simply come from people trying to get out of the line of fire. He followed them out of the restaurant and down the street to where Natasha had parked her car.

  When they got inside the vehicle, with Sam in the back seat and Kenneth in the front, Sam put a hand over his eyes. “The sons of bitches killed Harry,” he said.

  Natasha looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Harry knew what he was getting himself into,” she said, “and we all know the risks involved in what we do. However,” she pointed to the ear piece in her right ear, “I got word while I was still talking to Boaz that the old buzzard isn't dead. Apparently, taking a bullet through your right cheek is enough to send you into catatonic shock, so you can be forgiven for thinking he was dead. He also took one in the chest, punctured his right lung. They were going to rush him into surgery as soon as he got to the hospital.”

  Sam stared into the mirror at her eyes. “Lady, if you're lying to me to keep me on the team…”

  “Relax, Sam,” Ken said. “She's a genuine bitch, and she'd lie to you about almost anything, except whether a man on your team is alive or dead. If she says Harry's still kicking, then he is. And that's great, but the question I want an answer to is where the hell Chandler got off to.” He looked meaningfully at Natasha.

  She shrugged her shoulders as she drove. “Got nothing, so far,” she said. “Some of our people tried to follow as he took off, but he was running scared. It's hard to keep surveillance on someone who's panicked. We know a few places he goes, so we'll be watching them. He'll turn up, his kind always do.”