SAVE THE GIRLS: A JAMIE AUSTEN SPY THRILLER (THE SPY STORIES Book 1)

by Terry Toler

  If the person doesn’t have a weapon, it’s much better if their hands are at their sides rather than in the air, free to strike. With Jamie, it didn’t make much difference. She could strike effectively either way. That was the advantage of him being close range. She could direct the line of fire by controlling his arm and moving her body. If he were five or six steps behind her, he could potentially have time to fire before she could bridge the distance.

  When she did act, it would be swift and violent.

  But why was he doing this? Jamie wanted to act and disarm him which she could easily do but wanted more to know who he was and what he wanted.

  Was he acting alone? If he wasn’t acting alone, who was he working for? Did he know about the meet? Was this related to the pipeline? Was there a bigger conspiracy involved? Gathering that information was worth giving him a few seconds to state his intentions. It didn’t take long at all.

  “You messed up my brother’s leg,” he said roughly. “I’m going to mess you up, bitch.”

  That was all Jamie needed to know. The punk kid in the hospital had an older brother who was defending his family’s honor. He was seeking revenge and thought he was going to finish what his brother had started.

  Jamie was ready to act. No need for any more information

  Her options were limited. Not that there weren’t many different things she could do it was just that there were only two that made the most sense at that moment. It all depended on whether Jamie wanted to move to her right or to her left. She had trained extensively for both and had used both in real life situations. She was comfortable with either one.

  A phone started ringing, and Jamie realized it was hers. That distraction was all she needed. A split second later, she had control of the gun, and he was flat on his back. She had moved to her right so she could look him in the eye when she struck him. She heard his skull crack when it bounced off the pavement. He would have a severe concussion and likely join his brother in the hospital. Maybe they could share a room.

  She disarmed his hand from the gun but not before snapping his finger. Unnecessary at that moment, but she wanted to be sure he would never be able to handle a gun with that hand again.

  When someone was threatening to take your life, Curly said there was only one rule. There are no rules. Whatever it takes.

  “Thank you for the weapon,” she said to the unconscious man lying on the ground.

  The gun might come in handy in the next twenty minutes.

  21

  5:40 p.m. Minsk, Belarus

  Jamie checked her assailant for a pulse. It was strong. Satisfied he was alive she took his wallet so it would take the Militsia longer to identify him and then ran to the end of the tunnel the opposite way from which she had entered. She looked back in time to see a couple, holding hands, walking in from the other side.

  “That’s good. They’ll call an ambulance.”

  Jamie looked at the man’s ID, tore it up, and threw the wallet into the bushes. Confident she hadn’t been seen, Jamie scurried up the hill, crossed the train tracks, and went down the hill on the other side. Adrenaline still pulsed through her body from the confrontation. She took a moment to get her bearings, looking to the left and to the right. All she saw were a couple with kids, an older man walking with a bag in his hand, and a merchant loading some things in his car.

  She scrambled down the embankment, and turned to the right toward Liberty Square, determined to get there before her contact and anyone else if they intended on setting a trap for her.

  At the first opportunity, she slipped behind some trees to check the gun to make sure it was working properly. It had less than a full cartridge of bullets but appeared to be in good working order. She counted the bullets. Twelve. Jamie liked to know the number. In a gunfight, she had an uncanny ability to count in her head the number of bullets she had fired.

  Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a gunfight. If there was, she felt better bringing a weapon to it. Another Russian-made Makarov pistol. Amazing that both brothers were carrying military-style weapons, though she wasn’t complaining. If she couldn’t have her own Sig M11 A-1 compact in her hand, then this was as good as anything else.

  She quickened her pace, almost running, and arrived in the square within five minutes. At the top of the hill on the south side in a clove of trees was a perfect spot where she could see the entire area but not be seen. She went around the square and entered the area from behind. Away from all the touristy spots. Thankfully, no one was there. She had worried that someone else might’ve noticed that spot as well and may have already beaten her to it.

  Her instincts told her the meet wasn’t going to go well. It was a feeling she couldn’t explain. Some might call it women’s intuition in normal situations, but this wasn’t a normal situation, and it was more than intuition. Most men operatives in the field had it as well, although Jamie’s discernment abilities were special. Curly had said as much. She had always had a knack for sensing a dangerous situation before it materialized. Something that had served her well in those type of situations and had saved her life more than once.

  She scanned the square. No sign of the contact. She had a lot of questions for him and hoped he had the answers. The main question was the name of the man behind the pipeline. Jamie was told in her briefing the contact had that name. She desperately wanted it. Her investigation was at a dead end, and a name would breathe new life into it. While she had a feeling Omer Asaf was involved in some way, she had no proof. If the contact could confirm it was him, her mission would be much simpler.

  The square was basically empty. The church was closed and only a couple people were milling around. No signs of any surveillance. She took a deep breath and focused on slowing her heartbeat. She suddenly remembered her phone rang during the confrontation with the man in the tunnel.

  Was Alex calling back? She should’ve blocked his number. Didn’t need the distractions at the moment. and decided not to check the phone in case it was him. He was history. She had important and dangerous work to do.

  Leave me alone.

  Right at six o’clock, she saw an older man walk into the square carrying a briefcase.

  His appearance helped her put Alex completely out of her mind. She studied the man closely, suspecting immediately he was her contact.

  He walked across the square, past the carriage, and sat down on a bench next to the fountain. It had to be him. She had expected a younger man. He looked to be in his seventies. Frail. Walking slowly.

  Jamie decided to wait a few minutes before going to meet him. She knew he had instructions to wait for fifteen minutes. She had time to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

  It didn’t take much time. Jamie spotted the surveillance almost immediately.

  He was being followed!

  Two men. Black Jeep. Middle Eastern.

  A jolt of fear shot through her. That could only mean one thing―someone was on to him. His life was in danger. Confirmed when she saw one of the men in the vehicle checking his rifle. She couldn’t tell exactly what type of gun it was, but it wasn’t long range. At least they weren’t planning on assassinating him from a distance. If they moved against him, she’d have time to react.

  Still… This can’t be good.

  The Middle Eastern men were watching the square closely. On alert. Eyeing everyone who came in and out of the area. Clearly expecting something to go down. The contact obviously didn’t know he’d been followed. He’d led them right to the meeting. Not surprising, considering his level of training and his age and frail condition. How could he have known?

  Jamie was thankful she’d waited to approach him. Once again, her instincts were right. And her preparation had saved her. Her location was perfect for spotting the men and assessing the situation without being spotted. Probably saved her life, and the life of the contact. She’d just leave. Live to meet another day.

  Then she saw the man load a bullet into his chamber. The driver was getting antsy.
Looking around. Like he was about to move.

  I have to warn him.

  Jamie took the map out of her pocket and emerged from her hiding place. The men in the Jeep noticed her but didn’t pay any particular attention. She made it appear as if she was just a tourist taking in the square. The surveillance team kept their attention on the contact until she got closer when they suddenly became excited as she neared him. They didn’t get out of the Jeep. Apparently, they wouldn’t move as long as a tourist was in the vicinity.

  “The train leaves at ten o’clock,” Jamie said when she got close enough for him to hear her. The code phrase meant that the meeting was compromised, and ten o’clock was the direction where the danger was lurking. Her face was turned so the men in the Jeep couldn’t see that she had said something to him. She hoped the contact was smart enough to know who she was and not give anything away with his reactions.

  Jamie stopped in front of the bench and showed him the map.

  “Point to the other end of the square,” she said with a sense of urgency. “Pretend you are giving me directions.”

  It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening and who she was. He heard the angst in her voice, as she saw a concerned look cross his face as his eyes narrowed and he glanced around the square.

  “Don’t look around. Just pretend to give me directions,” Jamie implored him. “There are men with guns here. I think they want to kill you.”

  He regained his composure and pointed the opposite direction from which she had come. Jamie looked up from the map toward where he was pointing taking a quick glance at the men in the Jeep. The gunmen still hadn’t made a move so Jamie decided to see if she could gain any information.

  “Do you have a name of the man in charge of the sex trafficking pipeline?”

  “Omer Asaf,” he responded.

  Jamie was glad she asked. She now had confirmation. Just as she had suspected. Asaf was the Turkish businessman trafficking the women. The contact probably had more information, but she didn’t want to risk any more communication. She started to walk away.

  “Briefcase,” he said.

  Jamie stopped walking and turned back toward him. She didn’t want the surveillance team to see him talking but her not responding. She let out a laugh, like he had said something funny. It didn’t match the serious look on his face, but she hoped they were far enough away that the difference didn’t register in their minds.

  “You need to know about the briefcase,” he added.

  “Okay,” Jamie said with a slight wave as she kept walking the direction he had pointed. She wasn’t sure what he meant. He had a briefcase sitting next to him at the bench. Did he bring it for her? There was no way she could take it from him while they were being watched. She quickly formulated a plan. She would follow him out of the square and try to interact with him at another location. Find out where he lived. Then she could go into his house in the middle of the night, if necessary.

  She walked to the end of the square and around to the back of the church. Out of the view of the men in the Jeep but in clear view of the contact still sitting on the bench. After a couple minutes, he got up from the bench and started walking the other direction carrying the briefcase.

  Jamie heard the Jeep before she saw it. The tires squealed. The engine roared as the man drove onto the sidewalk and into the square, speeding toward the contact coming to a screeching halt right next to him. The man on the passenger side jumped out of the vehicle and began shouting at the older man. He sat the briefcase down on the ground and held his hands in the air. The gunmen grabbed the briefcase and stuck it in the back seat.

  Jamie could hear the Middle Eastern man shouting but couldn’t hear what he was saying. She could just tell the tone was threatening. She pulled out her gun but was too far away to get off a shot.

  The contact got down on the ground.

  The man raised his rifle, took aim, and fired.

  Her contact’s body lurched as the bullet entered it.

  Jamie let out a scream and took off running toward them before she realized what she was doing.

  The man heard the scream and looked her way, turning his gun toward her. He fired six rounds.

  Since she was too far away to hit him, it also meant she was too far away for him to hit her as well.

  That didn’t stop him from firing recklessly.

  Jamie was unfazed and continued running toward them. A few more shots came her way, but none got close enough to worry her as they banged off the concrete and off the side of a wall. She held her fire. Not wanting to waste a single bullet.

  The man fired several more rounds. He was out of ammunition. He started to reload. The reason Jamie always wanted to know how many rounds she had in the chamber. Before he could finish reloading, she was close enough.

  In full stride, Jamie raised her gun, took aim, and returned the fire. One shot. Hit the gunman right between the eyes. He dropped to the ground, dead. The other man was still in the vehicle with his back facing her. Confused as to what to do. He looked at his dead partner on the ground then strained to look behind him at the danger approaching.

  She saw several flashes from his gun as he sprayed bullets her way, trying to fire with his back to her. He was so taken by surprise, he was panicking and not taking his time to get off a good shot.

  Jamie fired two shots his direction.

  He revved the Jeep.

  I can’t let him get away. He had the briefcase.

  Jamie stopped. Took aim as the Jeep started to move. She squeezed the trigger slowly firing three shots. The back of the man’s head exploded into the windshield. Jamie made sure he was dead and then ran over to where the contact lay on the ground.

  She checked for a pulse which was weak, but he was still alive. She carefully turned him over and checked for wounds. The gunman had shot him in the back and the bullet had exited his chest. He was not going to live much longer.

  “Stay with me,” Jamie implored.

  He coughed and blood oozed from the side of his mouth. He tried to speak. Jamie leaned in bringing her ear closer to his mouth.

  “Briefcase. Take the briefcase,” he said.

  His last words. One more breath. Then he died.

  ***

  Jamie had no time to mourn.

  Machine gun fire erupted again in the square.

  The shots startled her. Where were they coming from? Was it the police?

  She stood up into a crouch so she could see over the vehicle. Two more Middle Eastern men had exited a sedan from the road and were running toward her. She was thankful they hadn’t pulled up on the sidewalk like the other two men. They could’ve easily killed her.

  Jamie dove behind the Jeep as more rounds pulverized the front of the Jeep. Glass broke and sprayed everywhere. She flattened herself against the side, protected by the engine block and the door the bullets were glancing off of. She peered around the back and fired five shots.

  The men took cover. It wouldn’t take them long to come up with a plan. Probably try to outflank her. Which wouldn’t be hard. One could easily circle behind her and she’d be an open target. Trapped. With no place to run.

  She wasn’t going to wait around long enough for them to figure that out. She fired the remaining bullets in her gun. The men ducked behind concrete barriers.

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  I have to get moving.

  Jamie took off running but then stopped herself and dove behind a tree just off the sidewalk as the men sent a barrage of gunfire her way.

  The briefcase!

  Was it worth going back for? She had no gun. He’d risked his life to bring it to her. She owed it to him. Something was in there he wanted her to have. Jamie ran back to the Jeep going at a different angle, so the vehicle was between her and the gunmen. She grabbed a rifle off the ground and sprayed a few bullets toward them. Not expecting to hit anything, but enough to make them duck their heads.

  As soon as she stopped firing, th
e men started shooting again, but held their position behind the barriers. The thud of rounds hit the metal on the Jeep and sent loud clanging noises echoing through the square.

  Jamie grabbed the briefcase and took off running the other way. The men weren’t close enough to lock in on her, and she was moving quickly. She glanced back just as they emerged from behind the barriers and started charging toward her, though unable to run and shoot at the same time. She had a head start, but they had the angle.

  Her options were limited. The best option was to run to the left. That led to the main road. But it also led to where there were pedestrians. Cars. Shops. She couldn’t risk the gunmen hitting an innocent bystander. She doubted they cared, but she did.

  She led them the other way, toward the river. She ran downhill toward the bank toward the river. The hill was still manicured but steeper. She traversed it easily enough. So did the men.

  At the river were no streetlamps. Her dark clothes made it harder for them to see her. For a moment, she considered jumping into the river. But it was a cold night. She didn’t know how cold the water would be. She would only last about two or three minutes in there before hypothermia would kick in. Was that long enough?

  What the man said next made the decision for her.

  “Omier skazau uziac jaho zyvoj. Omer said to take him alive.”

  That changed things. A lot of information to process in that one sentence. They weren’t going to shoot her; they thought she was a man; and they were working for Omer. The name of the man her contact said was responsible for trafficking three hundred women a month. A rage rose inside of her.

  Omer had her contact killed. She was determined to live to make him pay.

  Jamie suddenly changed direction, running back toward the men. That startled them. They already said they weren’t going to shoot. That created indecision. They raised their guns and began firing. Jamie had already turned away from them. Into the trees, heading back toward the square.