Change of Heart by Jack Allen

by Unknown

  Josh looked down at his right arm like he’d forgotten it was there. Jerry’s eyes widened. Josh’s hand was covered with blood.

  It dripped to the sand from the tips of his fingers.

  “I got a cut,” Josh said in a subdued voice.

  Moshe motioned him over. Caroline turned and walked off with an angry stride. Josh sat on a box beside Victor, holding out his bleeding arm. He caught Jerry’s eye.

  “Jerry, call those choppers and get them over here,” he ordered.

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  Jerry listened while Moshe cut away the right sleeve of Josh’s sweater. It was soaked with blood. When Moshe peeled back the sliced sleeve, Jerry saw the cut and his eyes widened. Josh’s entire forearm was sliced open.

  “Right away,” Jerry said and looked away, trying to keep his voice from sounding weak.

  He thought he saw the white of Josh’s bone, but he didn’t want to know for sure. He took out the short range, hand held radio and called the helicopter pilot.

  “You want me to what?” the pilot said.

  “We got wounded here,” Jerry said, his voice rising. “Josh wants you to bring those choppers right now.” He paused a second, then calmed his voice. “There’s a clear area for you to land on the east side of the camp.”

  “Roger,” the pilot said.

  Jerry put the radio away and looked down at the terrorist, who stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

  “What are we gonna do with him?”

  “Put him in the chopper,” Josh said.

  Jerry glanced back at Josh. Moshe was wrapping his arm with a bandage and looked up at Josh with anger in his eyes, but said nothing. Josh didn’t appear to be in the mood for a discussion.

  “Did you find the explosives?” Josh said.

  Jerry stepped toward him. Josh’s arm was wrapped with a neat white bandage and Jerry no longer had to look at the grue-some wound.

  “Yeah. They’re in that tent.” He pointed to the big tent behind Josh. “But some are missing.”

  “How many?”

  “Eight.”

  Josh’s eyebrows arched up, but he didn’t reply. Maybe he could figure out why they were missing.

  Caroline returned again and walked to Josh.

  “His body is not here,” she said in accented English.

  Jerry wondered what she was talking about. Apparently, so did Josh.

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  “Who?” Josh asked.

  Moshe finished the bandage and stood up.

  “Ismail Rafjani,” he said. “The Mossad has been interested in him for several years.”

  “He was supposed to be here tonight,” Caroline said, unable to conceal the fury in her voice. “We wanted him dead.” Josh looked at the three of them with an expression Jerry thought might be amusement or annoyance, he couldn’t tell.

  The noise of the approaching choppers rose in the distance.

  Josh got to his feet. Jerry noticed he looked pale. He must have lost a lot of blood.

  “It looks like your man took his share of the prize and split.

  If he’s freelancing, that makes him everybody’s problem.” Before they could reply, Josh turned away and went to Aaron, who lay on his back, staring up at the stars. Jerry cringed when he looked at the man. Aaron’s skin was red and black and blis-tered. Most of his hair was burned off. The straps of his pack had melted through the sweater and seared to his skin. Jerry could only imagine the pain he must have been in. Surely he would not survive much longer.

  Josh knelt beside him. Aaron’s eyes turned to look at him.

  “Hi, Josh,” he said.

  The noise of the choppers rose behind Jerry. He stood several feet from Josh and Aaron and wasn’t able to hear what they said.

  The choppers picked their spots and settled on the sand and their noise dropped.

  Josh jumped to his feet and shouted “No!”, startling Jerry.

  The others turned to look.

  Aaron reached up for Josh and repeated his request louder.

  “Please, Josh, kill me.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t let my family see me like-”

  “No!” Josh shouted, his hand out in a stopping gesture.

  “Don’t ever ask me that again!”

  He looked around at the others. They were all staring at him.

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  “Get him on the chopper.” Josh glanced at Victor and the Iraqi. “Get everyone on the choppers. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

  Jerry saw the anger in his face, but as Josh turned away, he thought he saw Josh wipe away a tear, but he wasn’t sure.

  “Jerry, you’re with me,” Josh said.

  Jerry was about to help the Iraqi up. Victor came up beside him.

  “You go. I’ll cover him,” he said, pointing his pistol at the terrorist.

  Jerry saw a look in Victor’s eyes that told him he understood Josh’s moods.

  Josh was going through what was left of Aaron’s pack. He handed Jerry a length of primacord, what looked like narrow yellow rope, coiled and tied. Primacord was the fuse, and burned at a very high rate of speed and under any conditions.

  “Untie that, please,” Josh said.

  He appeared to have calmed down, but Jerry was still wary of him. He saw a side of Josh he had not seen before. Jerry untied the wire wraps that held the coil together while Josh fished some other items from the pack.

  He took out a small handful of blasting caps. The caps would be connected to the end of the primacord and contained a small amount of explosive that would set off the bigger explosive when ignited. There were about two thousand feet of primacord. Jerry hoped it would be enough. Five tons of plastic explosives would make a hell of a bang.

  When everyone was aboard the choppers, Josh ordered them to return to the drop point to wait for him and Jerry. Obviously, he didn’t want them anywhere near when the blast went off. If the choppers were damaged they’d all be stranded.

  The camp was quiet when the choppers were gone, and so was Josh. He and Jerry broke open a few of the crates and dumped the contents on the ground. Soon they had a small pile of individually wrapped bricks, which they stacked around the rest of the crates to form a sort of chain reaction. The chain would 266

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  start where the few blasting caps they had would be stuck into the bricks. The detonation of one brick would set off the bricks around it and so on, working around the stack on the perimeter of loose bricks and inward through the crates to the center, at least in theory. If it worked, the entire chain reaction would take place in an instant.

  Jerry stood back, holding a flashlight while Josh poked the blasting caps into the bricks in the center of the short wall they made around the crates. Josh stood up, looking at his work like a sculptor.

  “It’s ready,” he said.

  Josh poked one of the tent stakes through the canvas floor of the tent and tied a loop of primacord around it. Jerry was about to ask him why when he realized the answer. They had to stretch the primacord as far as it would go and Josh didn’t want to put any stress on the connections with the blasting caps. Jerry could see the reasoning for that. If they accidentally pulled the connections loose then lit the fuse, all of the primacord would be wasted and they would have no way of setting off the explosives.

  At least, not without going up with it.

  They strung the primacord out through the tent flap, across the compound, between the tents on the far side, all the way to its extent. They were about half a mile from the camp, about twenty feet from the edge of a shallow dune. Josh pulled out a lighter, lit the end of the primacord, and they both leapt over the edge of the dune.

  The blast went off before their butts hit the sand. First there was an ear piercing crack, then a tremendous boom. The ground rumbled and shook and Jerry and Josh bounced about a foot off the ground. When he came down, Jerry couldn’
t see through the cloud of dust that surrounded them. The desert was lit by the fire of the explosion as if the sun had come up.

  Josh scrambled over the edge of the dune. Jerry went with him. He wanted to see it, too.

  Nothing was left of the camp. A few small fires burned here and there and debris dropped from the sky in clumps. Where Change of Heart

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  the tent with the crates had been was a crater about thirty feet across.

  “Wow.”

  “That was pretty cool,” Josh said, like a kid with his first firecracker. “They’ll see that in Baghdad. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 12

  Yuri Kurchenko watched his brother. Nikita stared at nothing.

  He looked grave. His skin was ashen. It seemed he had aged ten years overnight. How long was it since he spoke? He couldn’t remember hearing his brother say a word all day. He was sure he had, of course, he just couldn’t remember.

  It was because of the attack on the Communists, the attempt to rescue Valeria. It failed miserably. Nikita sent a dozen men to the Nikolai Hotel, where they suspected Valeria was being held.

  The Communists were waiting for them and all twelve men were slaughtered.

  They were betrayed again. No one in the family could believe it, least of all Nikita. He was dismayed that a member of his own organization would do something as treacherous as this. The structure and reputation of the entire business was in a shambles.

  His brother did not know who to trust and who not to trust. Yuri sympathized with him. He had felt that way for years.

  Nikita took a deep breath, startling Yuri.

  “What are we to do, Yuri?” Nikita said, his voice sounding tired and old.

  Yuri shook his head. He had no answer. He never concerned himself with the family business until now. In fact, he intentionally distanced himself from the illegal activities, and Nikita always respected his wishes. But now the family was weak and ready to collapse. No matter what he thought of the business the family did, Yuri’s brother needed his support to get through this crisis.

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  However, he was at a loss for advice. Nikita spoke again.

  “How can I expurgate all of my lieutenants for the sake of a single traitor, and yet, how can I ever trust any of them again?” The strength of his voice began to return with his anger. Yuri sat back, recognizing his brother’s usual shortsightedness.

  “It may not be just one of your lieutenants. It may not be one of your officers at all. You must consider these possibilities.” Nikita nodded as if he understood, but he looked shocked.

  Obviously, Nikita had not considered the possibility of a deep conspiracy or of a vengeful member of the organization at the lower ranks. Yuri knew of other possibilities, but didn’t think the time was right to bring them up.

  His immediate concern was still Valeria. If the Communists had known and were prepared for the raid, most likely they had moved her, or she was never at the hotel in the first place. Yuri’s only hope was the American spy.

  Nikita, of course, dismissed this idea out of hand. His claim was that Americans could not be trusted, especially American spies. Yuri, however, was not so sure. His brother was not in much of a position to trust anyone at the moment, but Yuri did not have much choice. Either he had faith in the American, or he probably never saw Valeria again. Anything was better than that.

  A knock on the office door broke his train of thought. The door opened and Katya, Nikita’s personal secretary, entered.

  “There is an American to see you,” she said.

  Yuri’s hopes soared. He had been true to his word. He would figure out a way to save Valeria.

  Nikita gave Yuri a hard look. “Who is he?” Katya stepped aside and allowed the American to enter the room. Yuri recognized him instantly. His features, bruises and all, were etched in his memory.

  “My name is Joshua McGowan,” he said, speaking in that perfect Russian that shocked him at the Tokyo airport. He looked at Yuri. “I believe your brother informed you of our discussion in Tokyo.”

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  Nikita rose from his seat. The two men were about the same height.

  “You’re with the CIA,” Nikita stated as if it were a fact.

  Joshua shook his head. “I’m not with the CIA.”

  “With who then?” Nikita demanded.

  “U.S. Naval Intelligence.”

  Nikita dismissed it with a disgusted wave of his hand. “Just as bad.”

  Yuri rose out of his seat, angry and frustrated with his brother’s obstinence.

  “I cannot trust my own men. Why should I trust this American I’ve never met?” Nikita said, his voice trailing off as he went back to his seat and sat down in defeat.

  Yuri shook the American’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Don’t thank me. I had to. You’re the only hope I have of completing my mission.”

  “What is your mission?” Nikita said.

  Yuri was annoyed with his brother, but he was just as curious to know about this mission. He and Joshua sat down.

  “You may already be aware of this,” Joshua began. “The Communists have recruited an American scientist who has developed a new process for making plastic explosives that makes it almost impossible to detect. They are selling the explosives for profit.

  My job is to bring the scientist back to America to go on trial and stop the Communists from making any more of the explosive.” Yuri looked at his brother, who was nodding slowly in contemplation. Yuri fretted. To him, the most important part had been left out.

  “What about Valeria?” he said.

  He was so frustrated and angry he wanted to grab the American in both hands and demand that he bring her back to him.

  Joshua nodded.

  “Originally, the plan was to debrief her to learn where the scientist was doing his work. The Communists changed those plans, so I came to you as a last hope.” Nikita grunted. Yuri and Josh looked at him.

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  “She does not know where he is,” he said.

  Yuri stared at his brother, thinking, How did he know this?

  Nikita went to the bar along the side wall to pour a glass of vodka. Yuri and Joshua watched. Nikita looked smug when he spoke.

  “Without doubt she would have led you to me. I know where he is.”

  “Where?” Joshua asked. Yuri was astounded Nikita knew this at all.

  He took a drink of vodka, savoring the dramatic effect.

  “He is at the train yards south of Moscow. They have set up a laboratory and a manufacturing facility in a warehouse. I have spies of my own, you see.”

  Joshua appeared excited by this news. “Can you get me inside?”

  Nikita waved his hand with the vodka glass. “It is a simple matter.”

  Yuri was practically bursting, and finally spoke up.

  “What about Valeria?” he shouted.

  They turned to him. Nikita looked astonished, but the American looked at him with those same honest eyes Yuri saw in Tokyo.

  “If she’s in there I’ll get her out.”

  “And if she’s not?” Yuri said, fighting back the emotions that forced their way out.

  “If she’s not, I’ll find her somehow. Or I’ll die trying.” Yuri believed him. He believed Joshua, and not just because he wanted to.

  “While you’re there, maybe you can do something for us,” Nikita said.

  Joshua held his hands out in an accepting gesture.

  “Anything,” he said.

  Yuri was furious with his brother for wanting to make a deal when the life of the woman he loved was at stake.

  “The Kurchenko family has had a problem recently with a traitor. It is like a virus that infects us. Every time we make a 272

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  move against the Communists it is as if they know we are coming.

>   They do, of course, because someone within this organization is telling them.” He paused for that dramatic effect and Yuri knew this was where he would attempt to make a deal. “If, while you are on this mission of yours, you could find out who that traitor is, I would be very grateful.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Joshua said.

  Yuri saw by the expression on Nikita’s face he was not entirely satisfied with this answer, but they both knew it was the best they could expect. Nikita sat back, nodding.

  “That would be fine,” he said. Yuri realized he had been holding his breath and let it out.

  “Good,” Joshua said, obviously just as relieved. “What can you do to help me get inside?”

  Nikita set the vodka glass on the desk. “If I gave you the uniform of an officer, would that help?” Joshua glanced between the two men. “Do the Communists wear uniforms in Moscow?”

  Yuri chuckled. “All the time. It’s a badge of honor for them.”

  “Then that would be fine. If it’s good enough to get me inside, all you have to do is point me in the right direction.” The door behind them opened and Nikita looked up. Yuri heard Aleksandr Baretsky’s voice.

  “Boss, are you busy?” he said.

  Nikita rose from his chair, grinning like a proud papa. “Sasha, come in. I have someone here I’d like you to meet.” Yuri and Joshua rose from their chairs and turned around.

  Yuri saw a pleasant smile on Baretsky’s face that suddenly fell.

  His hand was extended to shake the American’s hand, but it jerked back as if he was afraid it would be bitten off. His reaction surprised Yuri.

  “Do you know each other?” Nikita said.

  “We’ve met,” Josh said.

  His voice sounded like the angry growl of a lion, and Yuri was suddenly frightened of him.

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  “I’ve never seen this man,” Baretsky said, regaining his composure.

  “If any man is your traitor, it would be this one,” Joshua said.

  “Where have you met?”

  Baretsky opened his mouth to speak, but Joshua cut him off.

  “Kiev, 1991. Two months before the end of the Cold War.

  I was leading a mission to take out a Soviet listening post. This man was our guide. He led us into a trap. Five of my men were killed. He was a KGB agent.”