by Brad Taylor
“What?”
“A camera. I mean, I think it’s a camera. I wanted you to see it just in case.”
“Why in bloody hell would I care about a camera? I have half the world chasing me for my executions of the infidels. One more won’t matter.”
“Okay, okay. I . . . just thought you’d want to see it.”
Hussein gave up trying to get Ringo to leave, focusing now on the secondary plan he’d been given, trying to glean any information he could. Getting away from Ringo to rejoin the predator in the van was a problem he didn’t want to contemplate just yet.
One step at a time.
He asked, “When are you going to attack?”
“I’ll call.”
“I think I should know.”
“Get used to disappointment.”
Hussein laid his pack on the chair, his back to Ringo, pretending to dig through it. As nonchalant as he could, he said, “Are the men ready?”
“Yes. More than ready. And the cell in Ma’an is watching the news. As soon as we make the broadcast, they execute, spreading the fire in Jordan. A double blow.”
“Where are our men staying? Is it around here? Do you have to drive them, or will they walk?”
“You mean to the hotel? Of course we’re driving. Do you think we can walk with our weapons in our hands? Why all the questions?”
Hussein turned around and said, “No reason. I just think I should know. I’m part of this too.”
Ringo stopped his fork halfway to his mouth, squinting. “Why are you sweating so much?”
Hussein wiped his forehead and said, “It’s hot in here.”
Ringo stood. “Not that hot. Why haven’t you mentioned your dad? Yesterday that was all you cared about. Today, all you care about is how I’m doing the mission.”
Hussein’s lip quivered, but he said nothing.
Ringo advanced on him. “Did you tell your father something about the mission? Did you warn him?”
Hussein started backing up, holding his hands in the air. “No, no. Of course not. Ringo, I didn’t say anything to my father.”
Ringo grabbed both of his shoulders and shook him violently. “Tell me the truth. Tell me what you did.”
“Nothing. I swear, I’ve done nothing. I got the badge like I promised. That’s all.”
Ringo pulled out his knife, the dull black of the steel contrasting with the shiny edge of the blade. Hussein panicked, jerking out of Ringo’s grasp and tearing his shirt down the front.
The tiny microphone flopped out, a traitorous piece of metal attached to a black wire.
Time stood still for a brief second, Hussein panting, unaware, and Ringo staring.
Ringo said, “What the fuck is that?”
Hussein looked down and felt his world crumble. He stumbled back and said, “My iPod. It’s for my iPod!”
Ringo jammed him against the wall and brought the knife forward. “You fucking liar!”
He brought his face within inches of Hussein’s and said, “Know this, Lost Boy: Your father is dead.”
He jammed the knife deep into Hussein’s chest, and Hussein screamed. Ringo brought the blade up again and Hussein sagged against the wall. He began laughing, a crazy hitch that echoed off the cinder-blocks.
Hussein said, “Kill me. Do it. Send me home.”
When Ringo hesitated, Hussein grabbed the back of his head with both hands, feeling a strength he had never known. He said, “They’re coming for you. They’re going to slaughter you. They’re on the way.”
Ringo’s eyes went wide and he threw Hussein aside. He fell to the floor, his blood pumping freely from the puncture in his chest. Ringo ran to the table and slammed his laptop closed, then dialed a phone. Hussein shouted, “Ringo, look at me.”
Cell to his ear, Ringo did.
“You’ve taken the lives of many people, and now you will pay.” Hussein coughed and sagged, then regained his strength. “I know who will extract that payment. I’ve met her. She’s a Jew. And she’s a greater killer than you. She’s going to carve you up like all the men you murdered.”
Hussein saw the fear in Ringo’s eyes and felt victory.
He had won.
He lay back onto the floor, his life force draining, and thought of his father. He prayed that the predator in the van wasn’t tricking him like so many others had in his life. Prayed that this one time, someone would honor what he said.
He heard Ringo shouting into the phone in Arabic, then saw him run to the balcony, laptop case flapping against his back. He heard distant footsteps on the stairs outside.
He closed his eyes, dreaming of his mother and father, lovingly together, in a world that didn’t exist.
35
Jennifer heard the British terrorist say, “Why are you sweating so much?”
Then, the scrape of the chair.
She glanced at Pike, but he was already moving, prepping his weapon and talking on the net to the other van.
“Knuckles, kit up. Things are going south.”
“We going in hard?”
“No. Same plan. The Brit is getting antsy and I just want to close the distance. All weapons concealed. Stage on the third floor. Brett leads, Retro takes the rear.”
The conversation continued in the room, accusations of Hussein having betrayed the plan to his father filling the air. Pike slid open the door, telling Jennifer, “Let me know when to enter, but don’t pull the trigger too soon. Worst case, we assault and Hipster could have handled it.”
He nodded at Aaron, and they both stepped out, linking up with the men from the other van. Jennifer watched them jog across the street and enter the apartment building.
They were gone no more than five seconds when the sound of scuffling filled the van. Panting, breathing, a fabric tear, then the words that would alter Hussein’s destiny.
“What the fuck is that?”
Jennifer knew the worst had happened.
He’s burned.
“Pike, Pike, this is Koko. Execute. I say again, execute.”
No questions came her way. All she heard was “Roger.” She knew the team was now moving as quickly as possible, completely trusting her call.
She saw Shoshana reflexively squeezing her fists open and closed, her eyes rigidly fixed on the speaker.
She heard Hussein scream, then, “Kill me. Do it. Send me home.”
She felt as if she’d been punched. We did this. We sent him to his death. She shouted into the radio, “Go, go, go! He’s killing Hussein!”
She heard a body hit the floor and thought they were too late. She put her head into her hands, ignoring the noise until she heard. “I’ve met her. She’s a Jew. And she’s a greater killer than you. She’s going to carve you up like all the men you murdered.”
She looked at Shoshana, seeing her visage change into that of a dark angel, her knuckles white as she squeezed her fists.
Arabic filled the van and Shoshana stiffened. She looked out the windshield and said, “He’s leaving by the balcony. He’s running.”
Jennifer leaned forward and saw a figure leap from the third-floor balcony to the one on the apartment complex next door. She heard a racket in the room from the microphone, then Pike on the radio. “We’re in. Hussein’s been stabbed. He’s alive, but bleeding out. Room is clear.”
The sound echoed through the speaker in the van, Pike’s voice picked up by the microphone on Hussein. She said, “Pike, al-Britani jumped to the north building. He’s in the wind.”
Shoshana said, “He was telling the team they were attacking today. Now.”
Jennifer snapped her head to Shoshana, and she said, “I speak Arabic. That’s what he was yelling, probably into a cell phone.”
Jennifer heard shouted instructions, the rustling of cloth, then Hussein.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Someone said, “Shh. You’re going to be okay. Lie still.”
Hussein: “It’s because of the white house. I never wanted to go there
. Nobody wanted to go there. They did this. Ask Jacob. He’ll tell you about the white house.”
Jennifer cut in, “Pike, Pike, al-Britani is attacking now. He’s on the run to attack. Shoshana heard him tell the team before he fled.”
She heard Pike go robotically calm, and knew they were in deep trouble. The worse the situation, the more relaxed Pike’s voice became, and he sounded like he was ordering pizza now. No yelling. No stumbling over words or hasty statements.
“Roger all. We need to stabilize Hussein, then get him out of here. I’m leaving Brett and Knuckles. Aaron, Retro and I will be at your van shortly. Get a fix on his last known location, determine the avenues of egress and come up with a search plan. I’ll contact Showboat for an update and get him synchronized with Jordanian liaison services.”
Shoshana said, “There he is, up the street!”
Jennifer leaned forward and saw a figure running north. A laptop case bouncing against his back, he skipped through the smattering of people, knocking aside those who weren’t quick enough to move out of the way.
Shoshana slid into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, put the van in drive, and punched out of the alley, turning the wheel and going fast enough to make the tires squeal in protest.
Flung to the side, Jennifer grabbed the passenger seat for support, shouting, “What are you doing?”
Shoshana tossed her an indigenous hijab, saying, “Put that on. Cover your hair. Nobody will look twice at us.”
Jennifer climbed into the passenger seat and said, “We should have waited on Pike. On Aaron.”
Shoshana faced her, and Jennifer saw the dark angel again. The killer she’d seen once before, in Germany. Right before she’d slit a man’s throat. She said, “He’s not going to escape his destiny.”
* * *
Exiting the building, still talking to Lieutenant Colonel Alexander, I saw only one van in the alley. Empty.
What the hell?
“Sir, I have to get back on the team net. I’ve got a developing situation. Keep me abreast of the Jords. I don’t want a gunfight to go bad.”
“Gunfight? You’re out of it. Let the Jords handle it.”
“I will, I will.”
At least I hope I will.
I manipulated my smartphone, getting back on the team internal. “Koko, Koko, this is Pike. What’s your status?”
“We’ve got al-Britani in sight. We’re tracking him. He’s running north, about a half mile from you. He just went east, deeper into the neighborhood.”
“Damn it, Koko, I told you to sit tight. Showboat’s spinning up the CIA. This neighborhood is going to be locked down in about thirty minutes with Jordanian security. He’s not going anywhere. Our job is done.”
“You need to tell that to Shoshana. She’s driving.”
I turned to Aaron. “Call Shoshana. Pull her off before she does something stupid.”
He began dialing and Brett came on.
“Pike, Hussein’s KIA.”
“What?”
“He bled out. The knife wound must have nicked an artery. Nothing I could do.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. For all practical purposes, I’d killed him. By all accounts, he deserved it, but on this operation he was my asset. My responsibility. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d really wanted to help.
Something to think about later. As I had many times in the past, I compartmentalized the damage and continued the mission.
“All right. Sanitize the body and sterilize the room. Get anything related to him, then leave it for the Jords to sort out. Get down here ASAP.”
“What’s going on?”
“Shoshana’s on the warpath.”
36
Jennifer heard Shoshana say, “I got it, Aaron. I’ll just track him then feed his location to you. I won’t do anything rash.”
There was silence. Shoshana said, “Aaron? Aaron, you still there?” Then, “Who is this?”
Jennifer saw Shoshana’s face grow rigid. She said, “Pike, don’t tell me what to do. The mission takes priority.”
Pike said something and Shoshana glanced Jennifer’s way, saying, “I won’t get her killed.”
Jennifer could hear Pike’s voice from across the cab of the van, shouting into the phone. Shoshana hung up on him, tossing the cell in the back. She said, “Your little lover boy seems to have a soft spot for you.”
Jennifer glanced at the phone and could only imagine the rage Pike was experiencing now. She said, “It’s not just me. He has a soft spot for anyone on his team, especially when unnecessary risk is taken.”
Shoshana smirked and said, “Oh no. It’s you. He reeks of it, so much so he’s willing to put the mission behind your safety.”
Jennifer thought of past operations when she’d come within a hairbreadth of dying, all on Pike’s orders. Then of Aaron. How he reacted to Shoshana. “He’s no different from your team leader.”
Shoshana scoffed, saying, “There’s a big difference. Aaron doesn’t control me.” She gazed out the windshield, then sat upright. “That fucking Pike. I lost the target while talking to him. Where is he?”
Jennifer leaned forward, as if getting closer to the windshield would help. They’d entered a street lined with vendors selling fruits, vegetables, and other things, the going slow. She caught a glimpse of the laptop bag and said, “He’s no longer running. He’s just up ahead. See the rainbow awning? Look left. He’s pretending to shop.”
Shoshana did and said, “He’s close to the hive. He’s thinking of the operation. He’s making a plan before he meets the team.”
She pulled into an alley and put the vehicle in park. “Time to go. Keep your head covered. Walk steadily and don’t make eye contact.”
“No. We go nowhere. We’ve necked down the location enough for the Jordanians. They’ll handle it.”
Her radio came alive with an exasperated Pike. “Koko, Koko, status?”
She said, “I’m here. We think we’re within a block radius of the terrorist team. The Brit is still on the move, but he’s no longer running.”
Pike said, “I’ve got your location on my phone. Sit tight. No action. Keep eyes on, and we’ll relay location to the Jords.”
Jennifer looked at Shoshana and said, “Roger all. Sounds good to me.”
“Jennifer, don’t let that nutcase Shoshana do something. She wants a scalp, but we’ve gone beyond that. Our mission is done. She gets caught, and it might unravel us. She won’t listen to Aaron. She might to you.”
Trying to talk without giving anything away to Shoshana, Jennifer said, “Okay. But if they attempt to execute, and I’m still here, what do you want me to do?”
“Take her down.”
Shoshana opened the vehicle door and said, “Come on. We’re going to lose him.”
In one fluid motion, Jennifer dropped the phone and withdrew her Glock 30, the long tube of the suppressor making it unwieldy in the close confines of the van. She pointed it in a two-handed grip and said, “We wait. As Aaron ordered.”
Shoshana’s face grew dark. She slammed the door closed and said, “You fucking Americans. It’s all about the orders. Never about the true mission.”
Jennifer said, “Shoshana, just sit back. Trust me, it makes me sick to do this to you. We have equities in play.”
Shoshana said, “That terrorist you’re letting go cut the head off a man. Of many men. You’re happy with him in a Jordanian prison? Do you know who else was in a Jordanian prison? Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. The fucking spawn of the Islamic State. The man who cut the head off of Daniel Pearl and murdered more American soldiers than anyone else.”
Jennifer said nothing, watching the dark angel appear. For the first time, she felt real fear, knowing that Shoshana was going to push. Force her to shoot. And she knew she couldn’t. She wasn’t so sure about Shoshana.
Without warning, Shoshana lashed out, slapping one hand on the weapon and whipping an elbow at Jennifer’s head. Instead of fighting for
control of the pistol, as Shoshana expected, Jennifer dropped the Glock, ducked her head forward, and wrapped up Shoshana’s arms.
The fight was short but brutal. Shoshana landed two well-placed elbows against Jennifer’s head, wanting to strike, to maim, something that was the anchor of Krav Maga. Jennifer was all about control, and this she did.
She launched her legs against the footwell and drove Shoshana into the back of the van. They hit together, and Jennifer wrapped up her thighs with her legs, then scrambled for an arm bar that would rip out Shoshana’s shoulder socket. Shoshana went berserk, raining down blows on Jennifer’s head with her free arm until Jennifer saw stars and started to black out. She fought through the pain, ignoring the punches and methodically working her position just as Pike had taught her.
She saw the opening, felt an elbow tear into her scalp, slamming her head into the floor of the van . . . and then she had the bar. She twisted her body, hunching her hips and bringing Shoshana forward, into her deadly embrace, and she felt the joint lock set deep. Perfectly positioned.
Shoshana slammed a fist into Jennifer’s skull one more time, and she stretched out, dragging the arm with her, stressing the socket to the point of irreversible damage. Shoshana screamed, slapping the back of Jennifer’s thigh.
Jennifer let up slightly, breathing heavily. She blew bloody snot from her nose and said, “We go nowhere.”
37
Knowing she was trapped, Shoshana went rigid and let out a keening wail, sounding like a wounded animal, then went limp, sagging into the floor of the van and giving Jennifer complete control.
She closed her eyes and said, “You’re letting him get away. You’re going to allow that murderer to go free. Why did you care about catching the American so much, but not al-Britani? Why do you fight me?”
Maintaining her position, not relaxing at all, Jennifer saw an actual tear in Shoshana’s eye. She said, “Why do you strive so hard to butcher like them?”
Shoshana wiped her eye with her free arm, no longer fighting. She said, “Because they’re evil. They aren’t human. They tossed aside all humanity when they embraced the ideology, then set about killing. I’m no more like them than a hog farmer is. Yes, I butcher, but like the farmer, it’s for a greater good. We’re both killing a beast, but the hog is a much greater sacrifice.”