“So what? I don’t get it. Of course they got their funding from oil. Look at where they were from. Iran. Saudi Arabia-”
“And one was from England, where, among other things, he represented a company called Lunosol, which was a subsidiary of another company, ultimately owned by Grigenko.”
“And…?”
“I should just start at the beginning. Four years ago, a major new oil field was discovered in Belize. It increased the country’s known reserves by a factor of ten or more. It was kept secret by the company that did the prospecting, which isn’t unusual — the business is cutthroat, and if word of something like this leaked, it would have been a major game changer for everyone with prospecting rights. And there are quite a few large players with rights there. Anyway, the field was discovered by a group that had been nosing around in the boonies for months, and when they confirmed it, a few days after they reported it to headquarters, everyone associated with the find went down in a helicopter crash. Nobody lived that knew about it. So the secret was safe. The government didn’t know, and neither did any competitors.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with Algeria?”
“I’m getting to that. The CIA had a mole in the company, who tipped it off — the engineer on the project, who earned pocket money being a source in Central America for the agency. But he was working multiple angles, because he apparently told one of the targets at the Algiers meeting — a man who was an active threat to Israel. I don’t know how the Mossad got wind of it, probably our own informant, but someone at a very high level decided that it was in our interest to keep the find quiet. Again, even I don’t have all the information — the same need to know applies to me as did to you. What I was told is what I’ve just told you, but with an additional piece of information. The Algeria strike solved several problems for us — we got rid of some nasty characters that were propagating misery, and the secret died in the explosion at the house. And that’s where it should have ended.”
She understood.
“But it didn’t, did it?”
“Apparently not. My hunch is that Grigenko has his own mole in the Mossad — not completely impossible given the penetration we’ve seen by the KGB. The two intelligence services are closer than most people realize — myself included, until I’d been in the game for a while. Anyway, I think eliminating the team was him doing housecleaning in anticipation of making a move — one that involves the oil discovery. He couldn’t be sure how much I knew, or how much detail I shared with the team. In that scenario, the safest thing would be-”
“To eliminate everyone who isn’t loyal to him who could know anything about it,” she finished for him.
“Exactly. Including me.”
She nodded. “That’s why the push to kill me, even though I was officially dead. If I was still alive, there was another risk of a leak, and they couldn’t have that floating out there…”
“Correct. If my guess is right, they staged the robbery to get anything I had in the way of records — which turned out to be a dead end. There’s no way I would keep anything operational about the team on a computer. But they found enough to start them on a hunt that led to you.”
“How would they know who was on the team? How could they get that information?”
“There are only a few people in the Mossad who know. I think it’s pretty safe to say that one of them is Grigenko’s mole. But anyone we’re talking about is so highly placed that there’s no way they will ever get caught.” David paused, thinking. “Which isn’t your battle.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “It’s not yours anymore, either, David. Unless you make it yours.”
He waved the comment away.
“Grigenko is the common element. I never told you about his brother because there was no need to know, and it wouldn’t have changed anything. But if he’s escalated and is now operating hit squads…if he knew you were on the team, he might have also discovered that you killed his twin. In that case, it would make this about blood, not just money. And it would also explain why he went the extra distance to exterminate us. Because it’s personal. You pulled the trigger…and I planned the op.”
“What did you find on the network?”
“I installed a program that logs everyone that accesses certain areas. It’s transparent — it does the logging invisibly and is impossible to detect. Let’s just say that I’m surprised by some of the areas that one of the deputy directors has been poking around in. Looking at the dates, he accessed the files a couple of weeks ago. A week and a half later, the team is dead, and I’ve been attacked. It’s not open and shut — there are probably a dozen reasons he could contrive to explain why he was accessing those dossiers. On the surface, it could be innocent. But I don’t think so. The timing…”
“You’re saying that there isn’t enough to build a case against him.”
“Not with just this. It would take a lot more. He’s been with the Mossad longer than I’ve been alive. These people always have wheels within wheels. The director would need to authorize a massive surveillance effort, and in the end, it wouldn’t show anything, especially if he was only passing information to Grigenko for the money. Unlike a double agent, there would be no pattern. For all we know, this could be a one-shot deal.”
“But the money would leave a trail, wouldn’t it?”
“Not likely. Remember, we’re talking about someone who has been living and breathing tradecraft his entire life. No way would there be anything to follow.”
They sat awhile, considering David’s theory.
Jet rose, an expression on her face he knew too well.
“I want to take him down.”
“Who? The deputy director?”
“No. Grigenko.”
David shook his head. “You’ll never be able to get to him. He’s too insulated.”
“Everyone can be gotten to.”
“Not this guy.”
“I’ll find a way. We will find a way.”
He knew that look, and knew better than to try to argue it.
“He’s one of the richest men in Russia,” David reminded her.
“Rich men bleed, too.”
“It would be suicide.”
“David. Please. This is just a logistical problem. It can, and will, be done — by me. The only question is whether I have to do it alone, or whether you’ll help.” Her face took on a determined expression. “I want to bring the pain to him. We need to figure out what he’s doing, what triggered this. It has to be something to do with Belize, otherwise there would be no rush to execute the team. So let’s put our energy toward trying to figure out what he’s up to. We may be able to use it against him, draw him out. In any case, if he’s the problem, then he’s got to go or we’ll never be safe. A man like that, with unlimited power and money…it’s either him or us. Don’t you see that?”
“It’s just so…he really is untouchable.”
“Not anymore.”
Chapter 19
At dusk the next day, Rani stopped by again and gave David a full examination, murmuring to himself as he did so. Eventually he pulled off his stethoscope and placed it into his bag before turning to Jet.
“What’s the prognosis?” she asked.
“He’s healing remarkably quickly. I’d say it’s about time to get his lazy ass out of bed and walking.”
“I’m right here, you know. I can hear both of you. I’m three feet away,” David commented.
“Is there anything he needs to be careful about?”
“He’ll have to take it easy. No running, no lifting anything heavy. But he should be able to handle moderate activity. Everything looks good — no doubt because of the skill of his physician,” Rani said with a grin. “I’ll need to pull the stitches in the next few days, but as long as it’s nothing strenuous he should be up for it.”
“Hello. Am I invisible? Can you hear me out there?” David waved his arms over his head.
Rani turned to him.
“Well, my friend, you made it. Try to avoid getting shot in the stomach any more. It’s really cramped my social schedule this week.”
David got serious. “Thanks for everything, Rani. I wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t taken me in and done this. I know that. I owe you bigger than I can ever say.”
Rani smiled. “Nothing says thank you like pizza. Double cheese, extra sauce. Just as a hint. There’s a good place around the corner from my office. In case you’re wondering, I usually take lunch around one. Tomorrow, maybe a little earlier…”
“Speaking of which, can I eat solid food?” David asked.
“Sure, but stick to fruits and vegetables for another day or so just to give the healing a little more time. I wouldn’t recommend a big filet or a bag of nuts quite yet,” Rani said.
He turned to Jet.
“When will we see you again?” she asked.
“In a couple of days, to pull the stitches. Other than that, there’s no reason for me to intrude on your vacation together.” Rani gave them a knowing look — Jet felt herself blushing.
After Rani had said his goodbyes, she locked the door behind him and moved to the sofa in the living room. David walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of milk, and then joined her.
“So where do you want to go tonight? Dancing?” he asked.
“I was thinking of maybe a nice slow half-hour walk around the neighborhood to get you back on your sea legs.”
“Not as exciting as hitting the discos, but I’ve learned never to argue with a woman.”
“Who has your gun.” She picked it up and peered down the sights at the window. “I think the first order of business tomorrow should be to get ourselves something with more stopping power than this. Don’t get me wrong, I like Glocks, but it’s only one pistol between two people, and I don’t like to share.”
David thought about it.
“I know a guy in Jerusalem. He’s not Mossad. A freelancer. I’ve used him to procure weapons when I needed a deniable source. He specializes in Russian and Israeli military stuff. I’ll give him a call. He has no idea who I am, although I’m sure he suspects I’m not running a candy store. I’ll see what he can get us.”
“That would be a start. And I’ve been thinking about our options. I have an idea. Several ideas, actually. But they’re going to be very risky, and will require luck and money,” Jet said.
David nodded. “I’ve got a few thoughts myself. As to the money, I have just shy of a half million euros in a blind account I use for operational budgets. I can transfer that to another bank, and it will disappear — not that anyone would ever be able to trace it in the first place. That’s the whole point of an off-the-books team. Invisibility.”
“Can you do it online?”
“Absolutely.”
She gestured to the laptop on the dining room table.
“All right. Give me a few minutes, and then I’ll get dressed, and we can go for an evening constitutional.”
Jet went to the bathroom, and on her way back heard laughter from the bedroom.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as she approached from down the hall.
“We should add shopping to our list of things to do tomorrow. Or maybe this evening, if we can find a store around here. I’m afraid Rani’s not quite the same size as me.” David was holding up a shirt that was twice as big as he was.
“That’s the fashion these days. Just wear your baseball hat sideways.”
“At least the blood washed out of my pants. Mostly.” He slipped the shirt on and swiveled, modeling his ensemble.
“I’m not sure I want to be seen with you,” she said, eyeing him skeptically.
“I completely understand why.”
“Do you have any cash? The sooner we can get you some adult clothing, the better. That’s just embarrassing…”
“About a grand. We’ll need to access the bank tomorrow to get money for any weapons we buy.”
“What have you got for ID?”
“We’ll stop by my safety deposit box — I keep a kit there. It uses a hand scanner for access. I have three passports and about thirty grand in dollars. Some credit cards. The usual.”
She nodded. “Is it too late to call your arms dealer tonight? Or does he keep business hours?”
“Let’s go get a burner cell phone. I’d rather not make that call from the house. You have a car? I had to ditch mine after the attack.”
“I rented one for a week. I have it for three more days.”
“Let’s go get it and find me a clothing store, then get a phone. Walking around between stops should be adequate exercise for my first big outing.”
Jet left the house first, scanning the street for anything amiss. It was quiet. She walked to the corner, and soon David joined her. She led him to the car and noticed he winced when he got in.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“Just a twinge. I’ll be fine. It’s still going to hurt now and then. That’s expected.” He grimaced and gingerly probed his abdomen. “I wouldn’t recommend it as a way to lose weight.”
Within an hour, they had acquired several shirts, a pair of jeans and a cell phone. When they were back in the car, he closed his eyes to focus on the arms dealer’s contact info, then called a number from memory.
“Moshe — it’s Ari. Long time,” David said, using the alias Moshe knew him by. He paused for a few seconds, listening to the response. “Yeah, yeah. So listen, I need some stuff. Are you around tomorrow?” Another pause. “Where? The shop?”
He hung up after another ten seconds.
“Eleven o’clock tomorrow. In Jerusalem,” he informed her.
“Sounds like a date. Now, how courageous are you feeling? You want to hear my idea, or wait till tomorrow. You may not sleep very well once you know what I’m thinking.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is it that bad?”
“Worse.”
“I can always take a sleeping pill.”
“You’ll probably need to take two.”
The drive into Jerusalem the next morning was difficult, the highway clogged with commuters heading into the capital for another day at work. It took longer than they had hoped, but once they were within the city limits, the stream of cars thinned out.
The bank had been open since eight-thirty, and David disappeared inside. Jet watched the pedestrians hurrying down the streets, engrossed in their ordinary lives, and felt a stab of envy. She wondered for the thousandth time what it felt like to be normal, to have never killed anyone or seen the horrors that had been a routine part of her existence.
And yet many of the people traversing the street looked worried or anxious, immersed in whatever made up their day — maybe a cheating spouse, or money problems, or a mean boss, or news of a sick relative. Had they spent just one hour by her side during one of her workdays their entire universes would have changed forever, and yet they were completely absorbed with their own perception of reality and believed themselves safe as they went about their prosaic business.
It must be nice to not be afraid of bullets tearing you apart with every step you take, she thought absently — then mentally shook herself. There was no point dwelling on things she couldn’t change. She was walking her own path, which is all anyone could do. Everyone had their own problems no matter what their circumstances.
David walked out of the bank after seven minutes and glanced in her direction. She watched him make his way down the busy sidewalk to the car, a messenger bag over one shoulder, and decided he looked pretty good, all things considered. No limping or other obvious signs of an injury, his color back to normal. If she hadn’t seen him at death’s door only a few days ago, she never would have believed it.
He swung the door open and slid into the passenger seat.
“Mission accomplished.”
“You clean it out?” she asked.
“Seemed prudent. I have no idea when I can get back here again, so…”
“All right. How do we get
to this Moshe’s shop?”
They weaved their way through traffic and negotiated the teeming streets, horns sounding and jaywalkers darting between cars like daredevils with a death wish. Eventually they pulled to the curb a block from the arms dealer’s store, and he got out.
“How well do you know this guy?” she asked.
“Well enough. Wait here and try not to kill anyone.” He glanced at the Glock sitting next to her on the seat.
She dropped her backpack over it.
“I’ll do my best, but no promises. Remember the knives.”
“I’ve got the list.”
David took his time, ambling towards the storefront, pretending interest in the displays in the other shop windows. His senses were on full alert, wary of a trap, but he didn’t detect any surveillance.
He eased the shop door open and heard a buzz at the back. The showroom was empty except for a stunning young woman, no more than twenty, wearing skintight red pants and a top that accentuated her ample charms, chewing gum and looking bored out of her mind beside a glass case filled with military medals and insignia.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked in a voice that clearly conveyed that she had no interest in doing so.
He looked around at the walls and the displays. Every imaginable type of sword was represented — sabers, Roman short swords, katanas, ceremonial daggers, epees.
“I was hoping to find a ‘Give Peace a Chance’ bumper sticker.”
She gave him a blank stare. Her gum popped.
“Is Moshe here? I’m a friend.”
She followed up with a look that said ‘figures’ and leaned over the counter, calling into the back area.
“Moshe? Someone’s here to see you.” She returned her attention to David. “What’s your name?”
“Ari.”
“Moshe? Ari is here.”
A gruff voice rang out from the rear of the shop.
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