A Red Dotted Line (Mike Walton Book 2)

by Simon Gervais

  “No,” Yatom replied after a moment, conceding the point, “but I’m sure you’ll be able to adapt.”

  If he was to believe the blueprints on the screen, the villa had four bedrooms on the second floor. Each bedroom had its own balcony and en-suite. A large living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a half-bath occupied the ground floor. The interior of the villa could be accessed via two doors. One was located at the front of the house while the other door could only be accessed from the large terrace facing the Aegean Sea.

  Once everyone was familiar with the layout of the villa, Yatom continued with the details of the operation. He, Zima and Rafael were to be the assault team while Eitan and Ari would provide cover with their sniper rifles. Once they were able to establish exactly how many hostiles were present at the villa, they would launch the assault. Zima would drive the van, carrying Mike and Rafael in the back. The objective was to find Mike’s father and to be in and out as fast as possible. They would leave the villa the same way they had come in while the two snipers covered their retreat. They would then exfiltrate Mykonos with the IMSI Gulfstream. Eitan and Ari would follow suit twenty-four hours later via two different commercial flights.

  Mike had to agree that the plan might actually work. It was well thought out, and they had the element of surprise. The only thing he didn’t look forward to was the HALO jump. He’d done a few when he was serving with the Canadian Special Operation Regiment but they weren’t nice memories. He had never understood why some people’s favorite hobby was jumping out of aircraft.

  Two hours later, and with the briefing coming to an end, Yatom’s cell phone chirped. Mike watched the Israeli’s face turn pale. He wasn’t the only one to notice because Ari asked, “What is—”

  Yatom raised his hand to silence him. His eyes were glued to his smartphone. The room fell silent. Finally, Yatom said, “It appears that the Sheik might be on his way to Mykonos.”

  The Sheik.

  “Do we know the timetable?” Mike asked.

  “Not at this time. But it does change one thing,” Yatom said. “Once you guys are in position, you won’t move in before you have confirmation that the Sheik is on location.”

  They looked at each other. “You okay with this, Mike?” Ari asked.

  Mike really appreciated the gesture. “I’ve waited for two and a half years for a shot at getting my father back. I’ll wait for as long as it takes if it means we get to take the Sheik down. He started all this.”

  “All right then,” Yatom announced. “Get ready.”

  Everybody moved out of the briefing but Mike stayed behind. “Where are you getting this intel, Meir?”

  “Sorry, Mike,” Yatom said. His firm voice left no room for negotiation. “This isn’t something I’ll share with you. You can walk out if that’s your wish.”

  “You know I can’t walk out, Meir,” Mike said. “That’s my father we’re talking about.”

  “Then I suggest you get ready.”

  CHAPTER 61

  Mykonos, Greece

  Mike Walton was the first man on the ground. He collapsed his chute. The last time he had done this had been in Kosovo more than a decade ago while working with Jonathan Sanchez, then a Delta operator. The reason Yatom had wanted them to do a HALO jump was to minimize their exposure to potential ground observers and not, as had been the case when he jumped over hostile territory in Kosovo, to decrease their chances of being hit by enemy flak.

  Just before he had jumped, the pilot had confirmed that the landing zone was secure. Prior to departure, it had been agreed that if Zima failed to communicate the LZ status or in case of any kind of problems, they would do another pass exactly sixty minutes later.

  Rafael hit the ground next, followed by Eitan and then Ari. No one was hurt and Mike thanked God for that small miracle. Night jumps were always dangerous and he was glad they hadn’t lost anyone due to an injury. In a regular army drop, there were hundreds, sometimes thousands, of paratroopers inundating a specific area. Even if ten percent were lost during the jump, you still had a combat force. Here, if they had lost even one member, it would have been a reduction of twenty percent. The whole operation assumed five assaulters. Four wouldn’t do.

  ........

  Zima had no problem with the Greek customs officer that greeted her at the airport. He was all smiles and even a little too friendly for her taste. Nevertheless, he stamped her passport. The IMSI had provided her a solid cover and if anyone was to check her story, they’d find a room booked under her name at the Kouros Hotel & Suites. She picked up the keys to the Toyota HiAce van from the rental car counter outside the terminal. The HiAce was a large panel van that could sit three in the front but had room for another eight passengers in the back. However, the version the IMSI had booked had only two seats in front and none in the back. That specification would allow the rest of the assault team to carry their gear and remain somewhat concealed, as the side panels of the van had no windows.

  Her first stop was the registration desk at the Kouros. She wasn’t planning on using the room but needed to check in to avoid suspicion from the hotel staff. Even at night, the view from the lobby was exceptional, and Zima promised herself that one day, when she had the time and money, she’d come back to visit. Maybe with Eitan?

  She went to check the room and it was gorgeous. Cozy but elegant. Yes, definitely with Eitan. She grabbed an apple and a water bottle and headed back up to where she had parked the HiAce.

  The meeting point wasn’t far from the hotel. A fifteen-minute drive at most. But Zima took her time and made a lot of detours to make sure the site was secure. Equipped with a powerful pair of night-vision binoculars, Zima scanned the surrounding area. Convinced the landing zone wasn’t the site of an ambush, she contacted the pilot to let him know the site was green.

  Twenty minutes later, she saw the first parachute. She’d never jumped out of a working aircraft but she had read somewhere that it was, indeed, dangerous. She caught herself holding her breath while she watched the three other chutes land close to each other. She gave the men three minutes to gather their stuff before she returned to the HiAce.

  ........

  Mike Walton saw the flashing lights and lead the way. They reached the van and Zima slid the side door open for them.

  “Any issues?” Mike asked, dropping his gear in the back of the van.

  “None. We’re good to go,” she replied.

  Once they had all secured their equipment in the truck, Ari went over the plan one last time. He quizzed every one of them but they all knew the same thing—they were ready.

  “Time to go to work,” Ari said. Mike couldn’t agree more. He hoped the intelligence they had received regarding the Sheik would hold true. He had to admit that, so far, the Israelis had been dead on. Clearly, Meir Yatom cared a lot about his source. But Mike didn’t like acting on intel when he didn’t know where it came from.

  As Zima drove around the island, Mike and Rafael changed out of their jumpsuits and into civilian tactical clothes whereas Eitan and Ari put on their ghillie suits. Their first stop was about two hundred meters below Eitan’s sniper nest. Using satellite imagery, Eitan had found his spot with the help of Chaya back in the operation room. It was located four hundred and twenty meters away from the villa and gave him an excellent view of the only road leading to the villa. Eitan would have to hike the rest of the way.

  “Let’s do a comm check before you’re too far away,” Mike said to Eitan as he exited the HiAce by its rear doors.

  As soon as the doors were closed, the HiAce accelerated away.

  “Ari from Eitan,” Mike heard through his comm system. “Radio check, over.”

  “You’re five by five, Eitan,” Ari replied.

  “Copy that, Ari. How do you copy, Mike?”

  “You’re five by five,” Mike said.

  “Got you loud and cl
ear,” Zima added.

  “Same here,” Rafael said.

  “All comms are good,” Eitan said. “Eitan out.”

  The next one out was Ari. His position was a little trickier than Eitan’s. He’d have to walk for about two kilometers before reaching his position. Located about two hundred meters from the villa, his sniper nest was sandwiched between the villa’s terrace and the ocean. “We’ll get your dad out of there,” he said to Mike.

  “Stay safe,” Mike replied.

  Rafael and Ari banged their fists together. “Take care, brother.”

  The next stop was the staging area. It was about one kilometer away from the villa. This was where Zima would park the van and wait for Ari’s word to go. Mike had butterflies. His mind traveled back to Benalmadena, where he, Lisa and Jasmine Carson had raided the Sheik’s yacht. His mistake, his eagerness to go after his father and to catch the Sheik, had cost Jasmine her life. These thoughts brought tightness in his chest and his hands began to shake. He recognized it for what it was.

  A panic attack.

  As the panels of the HiAce closed on him, his mother’s voice resonated in his head, telling him to be careful, to think about Lisa, and not to take unnecessary risks. But most importantly, she was telling him that she was proud of him and that everything would come out as it should.

  “You’re ready for this?” Rafael asked him, pulling him back to reality.

  “Yeah,” Mike mumbled, wiping the perspiration that had appeared on his forehead. I have to be. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank half of it before offering it to Rafael.

  Ari’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “In position,” he said.

  “Copy that,” Mike replied.

  Now we wait.

  CHAPTER 62

  Mykonos, Greece

  Lisa Walton’s pain had become almost unbearable. The morphine was wearing off quickly. The medics had patched her forehead but the dressing was already soaked with blood. Since the impact, her vision had remained blurry. That sounded like a concussion to her.

  She didn’t know what hurt the most, her leg wound or her stomach. She was sure she had internal bleeding. She wouldn’t be surprised if the doctors had only operated to make sure she’d live another three or four days. The agony she was in wasn’t normal, even for a gunshot wound. That scared her because she was well aware that the main concern with a stomach wound wasn’t the bleeding, or the pain for that matter, but the infections that resulted from the spillage of the contents of these organs. The deep burning from deep down seemed to confirm her biggest fear. It was entirely possible that the Russians doctors didn’t know what they were doing and might have signed her death warrant when they removed the bullet. Maybe three or four days was too much to ask.

  The plane landed without incident and rolled to a gate close to the end of the terminal. She closed her eyes. She was beyond tired but the pain caused her so much discomfort she couldn’t sleep. Somebody picked her up. Through half-closed eyes, she could see it was one of the medics. He was strong. He carried her as if she weighed no more than a pillow.

  The sun was rising and she forced herself to look around as the medic carried her down the stairs of the aircraft. She recognized the place immediately.

  Mykonos.

  She and Mike spent two weeks in Greece four years ago, and Mykonos had been one of their stops. It had been a fabulous trip. She remembered the beauty of Mykonos, its five sixteenth-century windmills, the enchanting sunsets and the intense nightlife they had taken advantage of. They had lost themselves more than once in the narrow, paved streets that had been built with the intention of confusing the pirates in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. But the true highlight of their trip was when they had rented an ATV and crisscrossed the whole island in search of beautiful beaches. Elia Beach was the one they had finally decided to spend the day at. She could almost feel the sand between her toes and the cool touch of the pristine blue waters.

  The medic sat her down in the backseat of a large SUV. She didn’t have the strength to fight back. The medic probably knew that because they hadn’t even bothered tying her hands together. She had done everything she could. Charles Mapother had given her a second chance, and she hoped she hadn’t wasted it. She didn’t think so. She had accomplished a lot. She truly believed the IMSI could make a difference. But she wasn’t naïve, and as the pain continued to grow, she knew it was the end of the road for her.

  She was fine with this. Mike would avenge her. He’d find the Sheik and he would rip him apart. He’d probably never forgive himself for letting her become an asset. She wished he would, though. Because it had been her way to seek justice. She couldn’t have stood on the sideline while he traveled the world in search of the Sheik.

  She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes she was in a wheelchair being rolled toward a beautiful villa. She shivered.

  Fever.

  In her own professional assessment, unless there was a capable doctor at the villa, she had a few hours to live, at most.

  CHAPTER 63

  Mykonos, Greece

  Mike Walton checked his weapons for the hundredth time in the last hour. His leg holster carried a Glock 19 while his primary weapon was a Heckler & Koch UMP45. He had five spare twenty-five-round magazines in his tactical vest. Two hours ago, Eitan had reported one man patrolling the front of the villa while Ari had mentioned another one positioned on the terrace.

  “Two black SUVs driving in tight formation are approaching the villa,” Eitan said over their frequency. “They are four minutes away. Stand by for more info.”

  Mike’s heart rate accelerated. He was ready. The toughest part for him was the wait. The wait was the silent killer. It was hard to remain focused for a long period of time.

  Especially in the cargo area of a windowless panel van.

  “In the first vehicle,” started Eitan, “one woman in a wheelchair, with a bloody bandage on her forehead. I also count five men. At least two of them are armed.”

  Mike hoped the Sheik was part of this group. If he wasn’t, he had no idea if Yatom would give the green light for the assault. He held his breath as he focused on Eitan’s report.

  “I see the Sheik. I repeat, the Sheik has arrived. Do I have the authority?”

  Mike’s heart sank. No! Ari couldn’t give him the authority. That would be a death warrant for his father, if he was really inside.

  “Negative,” came in Ari. “Authority comes from Meir. Standby.”

  Ari’s voice broke the frequency five minutes later. “Get ready. We’re moving in four minutes.”

  Mike smiled. At last.

  CHAPTER 64

  Mykonos, Greece

  Ray Powell was stuck in his room. At least they hadn’t beaten him up and he had access to his own bathroom. A luxury he didn’t have while the Sheik had sequestered him in the shithole in Syria. But he wasn’t naïve enough to think he was out of trouble. They had a plan for him. He just didn’t know what it was.

  His captors had made no secret that he was being watched. Not that he cared that he had no privacy, but it made it difficult to find a weapon he could use.

  The door to his room opened and someone in a wheelchair was rolled in. At first, he didn’t recognize her. But then he did. And he started crying.

  ........

  Lisa was lifted from her wheelchair and laid down on a comfortable bed. It was soft and nice. Heaven? Someone tried to lift her shirt. No. Not this. She tried to push the hands away but she wasn’t strong enough. Warm tears filled her eyes. I’m going to be raped. Oh God, please let me die in peace. Not like this!

  “Lisa, it’s me, Ray,” a voice said, making its way through her foggy mind. Ray? She forced her eyes open. Mike’s dad was standing next to her, crying but smiling. She couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t possible. His hands were carefully removing the d
ressing she had on her stomach. She let him clean her wound with a damp towel. Lisa had never been so confused. She honestly couldn’t tell if she was dreaming or not.

  “What have they done to you?” Ray said, his voice cracking. “What on earth have these bastards done to you?”

  CHAPTER 65

  Mykonos, Greece

  The Sheik held his son in his arms. “You’ve done well, Igor.”

  “I always do,” Igor replied.

  “Are your men ready?” he asked, heading toward the dining room.

  “For what? Our instructions were to wait for you here.”

  That was good to know. That meant that Vienamin Simonich had kept his part of the bargain. He wouldn’t be interfering with his plan.

  “I don’t know what the president told you, son, but we’ve suffered some setbacks in Russia,” he started as they took seats at the large dining table.

  “What kind of setbacks are we talking about?” Igor asked, sharply looking up from the cup of coffee one of his men had just brought to him.

  “Simonich has lost plausible deniability,” the Sheik said. “A full-scale attack is now out of the question, but we’ll use the ambassador and the woman to achieve our objective.” The Sheik sensed his son didn’t like what he had just said, so he added, “We’ll still be able to strike at our enemies.”

  “Who’s enemies, Qasim?” Igor’s eyes were inquisitive. “Yours or Russia’s?”

  If his son’s intention was to offend him, it worked. He felt his blood pressure rise. How dare this little shit say something like that to me, his father, the Sheik?

  “I respect you,” Igor continued, “but my loyalty is to Russia—”

  The Sheik burst out of his chair and shouted, “And mine is to you, your mother and the family that was taken away from us. Don’t you get this?”

  His son didn’t reply. He looked stunned. His father had never talked to him in such a way. The soldier who had served them coffee stopped moving. He was looking at Igor, waiting for instructions.