by Ethan Jones
visiting my website ethanjonesbooks.com
Justin Hall Spy Thriller Series
Javin Pierce Spy Thriller Series
The Carrie Chronicles Spy Thriller Series
Max Thorne Spy Thriller Series
Jennifer Morgan Suspense Thriller Series
Javin Pierce Spy Thriller Series
The Men of Mossad
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Israeli Intervention
Short Stories
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Counterblow
From the Javin Pierce Spy Thriller Series
Book 7
The Story
There’s no such thing as friendly fire…
Set-up and wounded, CIS spymaster Javin Pierce is determined to send a message to the Mossad agents who betrayed him and tried to destroy his team. They escaped justice, but CIS has moved on…
Javin hasn’t.
Short on official options, Javin partners with a Russian SVR agent to ensure Mossad pays. The deal might cost him his life, but he cannot rest until he has made his enemies pay. But can he fight a single-handed war with Mossad? And is revenge something worth losing everything?
Now more than ever, Javin has to complete this unsanctioned mission … all without leaving a trace.
Chapter One
Canadian Intelligence Service Headquarters
Ottawa, Canada
Javin Pierce had just received a call from Mila, the Russian SVR operative who was supposed to be dead. What’s going on here? He drew in a deep breath, feeling a warmth spreading across his body, as the adrenaline shot through his system. How can this be a fight-or-flight moment? Fight to find the truth, perhaps. He shrugged and said, “How did this happen?”
Mila’s voice took on a playful tone: “Oh, not on the phone. When can we meet?”
“Eh, I’m not sure. It’s going to be a long trip to Moscow and—”
“Who said I’m in Moscow?”
“Where are you?”
“Some place much closer to Canada.”
“How close?”
“Across the border. I’m in DC.”
“Washington, DC?”
“Yes. When can you come?”
A grin stretched across Javin’s face. It could be any time. He had requested personal leave, before the Canadian Intelligence Service would have forced him into administrative leave. It all happened because of the botched-up London operation.
Then he frowned, when he thought about Liberty, and the promise he had made to her that they were going to spend the time together. He sighed. I’ll have to make things work with Liberty, but I also need to know what Mila wants. “Give me some time, a day to make plans.”
“So, the day after tomorrow?”
“That will work.”
“Ten a.m.?”
“How about noon?”
“Are you asking me out, Javin?”
He frowned and felt his forehead wrinkle. He shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. A lot of things have changed since…” His voice trailed off, and he hesitated a moment, before saying, “Since your… your event.”
“Oh, what did I miss?” Mila’s voice took on an edgy tone and turned cold.
“Not on the phone. But I’ll tell you—no, I’ll show you when we meet.”
“All right, Javin, always the man of surprises…”
“Not like yours, for certain. Now, what is this about?”
“A favor.”
“Something that will get me fired?”
“Most likely.”
“Killed?”
“Only if you’re not careful.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It’s up to us whether we live or die.”
“Most of the time.”
“Eh, maybe all the time. It’s based on our decisions, choices, and their consequences.”
“What about being at the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“Okay, I’ll grant you that exception. Now, what’s a good email address?”
“The one you have.”
“This is extremely classified. Do you have a clean one, never used?”
“Sure. Use this one, then.”
Javin gave her a disposable Gmail address he had never used before. It was verified, confirmed, and linked to a phone number and address of a man who had died six months ago. If one tracked that address, it would be led to a dead end.
“Okay. See you in a couple of days.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I miss you, Javin.”
He let out a silent sigh, then said, “I missed you too.” He wanted to tell her again that things had changed, but he was worried she might clue in. He might have already said too much. Mila Kuznetsova was a tough-as-nails covert operative working for the SVR, or Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service. She was incredibly smart and had at her disposal a vast network of Russian operatives and an even wider net of assets. She knew how to find out the secrets of almost everyone. Moreover, she had a history with Javin, a love and hate history…
“Take care, now, my Javin.” Mila’s voice turned playful, as it had been at the start of their conversation.
“Yes, you too. Don’t cause trouble,” he said teasingly.
“Oh, no, I’ll wait for you. Then we’ll cause trouble together…”
“Bye now.”
He ended the call and shook his head.
“Javin, is everything okay?” Claudia asked in a voice full of concern.
Javin drew in a deep breath, feeling a dull pain spread across his chest. He had been shot in the chest a few days ago. The bulletproof vest he had been wearing had stopped the rounds, but he had still suffered bruised lung tissue. The doctors had called it pulmonary contusion, and the pain would continue for a few more days.
He turned around and tried to feign a smile, but it didn’t feel right to lie to Claudia. Besides being a long-time trusted partner, she was perhaps the only person he could rely on at this time. The favor that Mila was asking for was probably something that would require Claudia’s involvement.
But he didn’t want to involve her. He didn’t want to share his personal problems with her. She had no place in his private war. He was going to a dark place from which, most likely, there would be no return.
So Javin just nodded. “It will be okay. An unexpected call, that’s all.”
Claudia walked closer to him. She was dressed in business attire since they had just stepped out of the meeting with their boss. Although he didn’t require it, both Javin and Claudia always dressed their best for the situation. Javin was wearing his favorite black jacket, with a blood-red shirt and a black tie with a large knot as he liked it. Claudia had donned a light gray skirt suit, one of the few times she could actually put on a skirt for work. When she was a couple of steps away from Javin, she whispered, “Is it?”
Javin nodded slowly. “It’s… it’s complicated…” he said in a soft, warm voice.
“To say the least… I overheard some of it.” She shrugged. “Didn’t want to, but it’s a habit. And you were close.”
Javin said nothing. He knew Claudia was within earshot. That’s why he hadn’t mentioned Mila’s name or her supposed death. Javin studied her curious eyes. Will she be able to put two and two together? If not now, it’ll be very soon.
Claudia said, “I heard ‘Moscow,’ ‘Washington, DC,’ and something that can get you ‘killed.’ Care to explain?”
Javin wavered for a moment. “I’d love to, but not at this moment. I… I need to gather some more intel, to know what I’m getting myself into… before I involve you, if
I do…”
Claudia’s expression didn’t change. Her bright blue eyes gave him a warm glow of reassurance, but her thinly plucked eyebrows formed two high arches. “We still work together, Javin. Just because you’re on a short temp leave, doesn’t mean—”
Javin stepped closer to her. “Let’s get out of here.”
They walked down the long hall. They were on the fourth floor of the Canadian Intelligence Service, or CIS, headquarters. When they were close to the elevators, Javin pointed to his left and said, “Let’s take the stairs.”
Once into the stairwell, Javin said, “I don’t want this to happen to you, Claudia.”
“What is ‘this’?”
“What happened to me… Being kicked out of the agency, just like that.”
Claudia stopped atop the landing. “Javin, your leave is temporary. The inquiry will rule you did nothing wrong in London or Barcelona.”
Javin shook his head. “I appreciate your confidence, but you were there in the meeting with our boss.” He gestured with his head toward the door. “You heard what he said.” His face fell as he slumped his shoulders. “The committee wants blood.”
She returned a shrug. “I know you’re dreading it, Javin. I get it. I’ve been there before.” She nodded and gave him a cheerful smile. “I’m not trying to make light of it. Whatever action the inquiry will recommend, our boss can overrule it.”
“Right, but will he?”
“Why not? You’re the best operative in the agency—”
Javin smiled. “Some people might disagree with that assessment…”
“Fine.” Claudia shrugged again. “The best male operative. Our boss is not a fool. You might have your issues; who doesn’t? But he’s not going to let anyone kick you out…”
“Okay, let’s say that’s the case.” Javin walked in front of her. “What’s the next step, after my leave, after the committee finally makes their decision?”
Claudia followed him down the stairs. “In my case, it was a written reprimand, followed by a month off from field ops. I had to attend psych sessions twice a week, which, to be completely honest, were somewhat helpful. Some people might call them ‘touchy-feely’ or ‘group hugs,’ but they work. At least they worked for me.”
Javin descended a few stairs without saying anything.
Claudia said, “I know it feels really bad at this time, but things can only get better. They will get better. You’ll see.”
Javin nodded but said nothing. He didn’t want to contradict his partner and shut down her enthusiasm. Mostly because he’d then have to explain himself. And she was mostly right. If he played his cards right, showed true regret, and improved his attitude and his performance, this would all be history, swept under the proverbial rug.
The problem was not about what Javin had done but about what he was planning to do.
The operations in London and Barcelona had left a couple of loose ends. People had crossed Javin and his team members. They had trusted a man by the name of Ali Khalifa Al-Attiya. He was the aide of a powerful Qatari prince, who had struck a deal with Javin. If his team could find and deliver a terrorist mastermind, the prince would reveal the location of a nuclear physicist assisting Iran in its devious plans to build a nuclear weapon. Javin had kept his side of the deal, but Al-Attiya had betrayed them, putting the life of Javin and his team members in danger. The aide was now going to pay for it.
However, Javin’s boss had stopped any and all attempts by Javin to go after Al-Attiya. The aide had apologized for the misunderstanding, and that was enough for Javin’s boss. He considered the Qataris a trusted ally and had concluded that moving against the aide was going to cause a great insult to the Qatari prince. It was an unacceptable risk.
Not to Javin. He was prepared to take matters into his own hands.
To make matters worse, one of Javin’s team members had been killed in action. Her name was Yael Rosenberg, one of the best Mossad assassins, or “kidon,” as the Israeli intelligence service called its most secretive branch responsible for the assassination of Israel’s enemies on foreign soil. Her blood was crying from the ground at Javin, like a voice calling for revenge.
The men who had targeted her were members of her own agency, Mossad.
Javin was now going to war with Mossad.
He couldn’t drag Claudia into any of it.
But he’d need all the allies he could get. That’s where Mila came into the picture. A good start, he thought, but definitely not enough. I still need to make a trip to Beijing and talk to a man about a drone…
Chapter Two
Washington, DC
United States of America
Two Days Later
Javin had arrived earlier that morning with Liberty, his girlfriend. He wanted to enjoy the tourist landmarks of the US capital: the White House, the Washington Monument, and the National Mall. They visited them all, and Javin tried to live in the moment, holding hands with Liberty, the only sign of public affection she’d allow herself. Liberty was raised in a strict conservative home, her mother being the true British woman taught to never show her feelings, especially in public. “We’re not teenagers, Javin,” she scolded him playfully when he tried to kiss her but didn’t stop him. Their lips touched for just a moment, long enough to send Javin’s heart racing with anticipation.
Javin didn’t mind Liberty’s slap on the wrist, and he found it relaxing when he allowed her to take the initiative. Maybe it was because he had to be in control at all times when running an operation. Most times, he was surrounded by danger from all sides, and the possibility of death, which was constantly in his mind. Even here, today, while he was enjoying a day of sightseeing with his lovely girlfriend, the upcoming meeting with Mila was at the back of his mind.
He hadn’t lied to Liberty about the reason why they were visiting Washington, DC at this time. He had promised to be as truthful with her as the agency would allow him, without divulging classified information that could endanger any operations. The secrecy served the agency, but it also protected her life. The less she knew about Javin’s professional life and his mission, the better. Liberty would be less of a target if Javin’s enemies were unaware of the existence of his new love.
So he had told Liberty he was meeting at noon with a colleague, someone he had worked with. Javin remained silent about Mila’s nationality, her recent return from the dead, or his passionate past with her. There was a time when he was on the fence about which woman to choose between Liberty and Mila. At one point, the scale was tipped in favor of the Russian. Then Javin learned about her sudden death, killed in a clash with terrorists in St. Petersburg. He had looked into the incident, and everything seemed to support that scenario. A week later, Mila had called him, alive and well.
How much does she know? Javin thought as they rode in the back of a yellow cab.
The cab driver, a middle-aged Pakistani man with the obligatory mustache and a thick accent, dropped them off on Pennsylvania Ave, south of the Ritz Carlton. Javin’s meeting was taking place at the Old Boat Tavern, three blocks away. Liberty had started to get used to Javin’s modus operandi. He liked to walk to the meeting places, with plenty of time for reconnaissance, or “just to have a quick look around” as he had explained to her. But she knew what he was doing. She was a quick study, and her years of working in refugee camps all over war-torn areas of the globe had taught her a thing or two about survival and situational awareness.
“Here we are.” Javin slowed down and stopped across from the restaurant. He looked at the establishment, which had a tall, dark wooden door fit for a castle. The landscape outside was meticulous, with rocks, shrubs, and trees. A man was raking golden-brown leaves that had fallen, gathering them into a corner of the cobblestoned sidewalk.
“How long will you be?” Liberty asked in a slightly annoyed voice.
She understood it was a business meeting, and Javin had to go, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Not sure.” J
avin shrugged. “Let’s say two hours.”
“Two hours.” Liberty nodded.
“I’ll call you if it stretches longer than that, but it shouldn’t.”
“I hope it doesn’t. We still have the museum and the cruise…”
Liberty had planned a trip to the National Air and Space Museum. She loved to fly and had a private pilot’s license, allowing her to fly single-engine aircraft. She wanted to see the original Flyer of the Wright Brothers from 1903 and the Spirit of St. Louis, the first plane to be flown solo across the Atlantic Ocean, piloted by Charles Lindbergh.
“Of course, we’re not going to miss them.”
“Promise?”
Javin smiled.
It was one of Liberty’s quirks, and Javin had grown quite fond of it. He was going to keep his word regardless of whether he said the magic word or not. But if Liberty wanted it that way, he wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Promise,” he said.
He glanced through the windows, but because of the trees and the reflection of the gray curtain of clouds on the glass, he couldn’t see inside. Still, he was meeting an SVR agent, and not only that, but one of the best of the Russian spy agency. He knew Mila or one of her teammates was watching him. She hadn’t said she was coming alone.
“Come here,” he said to Liberty.
“What?” She gave him a look of surprise.
“This.” He drew her close and stole a quick kiss, their lips just barely brushing together. But it was good enough.
She said, “Hey, that was—”
“That was very good. Enjoy shopping.” Javin smiled.
“Yes, I hope… I hope it goes well.” Her voice took on a hint of concern.
“It will be okay. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t say that. I do worry, because I… I care about you.”
He smiled and held her hands. “Me too. Go now and have fun.”