by Trevor Scott
“I’ll get in touch with Jake,” Kurt said.
“Thanks. And tell him we’ve vetted the woman from Portuguese intelligence. She’s their best asset.”
“Roger that.”
The CIA Director lifted his chin and ran back toward his security detail, who picked up the pace and trailed the former Air Force general up the hill and into the frozen forest.
Kurt pulled out his secure SAT phone and tapped in Jake’s number. Then he composed his message and hit send.
With a nudge of the leash, his German shepherd took up a position at Kurt’s side as he followed the men out of the park toward his car.
12
Porto, Portugal
Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled out the small SAT phone to read the message. Since it was encrypted, he first needed to punch in a long sequence of numbers to open the text. He expected to see the address for the Gomez organization communications facility in Porto, but instead it was a message from his old friend Kurt Jenkins.
After getting shot at along the Douro River, Jake had driven Sancho’s car back to Porto, parking momentarily in front of Carla’s hotel, which sat about six blocks up the hill from the main downtown of the city. Then Sancho had taken the car and gone back to work to find a possible leak in their organization.
Now, Jake stood in Carla’s hotel room on the sixth floor overlooking the downtown. From this angle Jake couldn’t even see the Douro. But the lights of the city were starting to come on as dusk seeped across the area. He quickly sent a text to Sancho to get his address.
Carla came out of the bathroom. She had showered off the gunpowder and changed her clothes. “Any word from your friend?” she asked.
“Nothing yet,” he said.
She glanced at his phone. “You had me checked out. I would be concerned if you had not.” Carla sat on the edge of her bed and flipped her long hair over her shoulders. “Well? What did they say?”
“They said you were one of the best in Portugal.”
“One of the best,” she said with derision.
Jake shrugged. “I know. It’s like saying you’re almost the tallest midget.”
“What is midget?”
“It used to be a term we called little people, before people thought the term was derogatory.”
“Ah. Anão. Or gnomo. A dwarf. I don’t understand. I am very tall for a woman in Portugal.”
Her English was outstanding, with a sexy accent. But she still lacked idiomatic colloquialisms. “Never mind,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?”
A text came in from Sancho with his address, which he quickly mapped on his phone. It was only about five blocks away to the Gomez communications center.
“You came here to find me,” Jake said. “But now we must go to Lisbon.”
“What about those who tried to kill us today?” she asked.
“Good point. Let’s stick around and give them another shot.”
Carla cocked her head to one side. “That’s sarcasm, right?”
Jake shoved his phone into an inside pocket of his leather jacket. Then he said, “There’s something you need to know about me. First of all, I might have temporary employers, but I work for nobody. When someone tries to kill me, like on Pico Island and earlier today, I don’t sit around and wring my hands to consider their motive. Usually, I just kill them and let God sort them out. Second, if my hunch is correct, they will find us wherever we go.”
“Your hunch?” she asked.
“You know what a hunch is?”
“Of course. A guess.”
“More of an educated guess based on vast experience.”
“And that comes with age?” she tried to hold back a smirk.
“Usually,” he said. “Although I’ve known a lot of old dumbasses.”
She stood up and found her duffle bag on the floor, strapping it over her shoulder. “I’m ready. Airport or train station?”
“We’ll take the train.”
“It’s a little over three hours. I’ve done it many times.”
Jake pulled out his wallet and found two hundred Euro bills, which he handed to Carla. “Go to the main terminal and buy us a private first-class compartment. Don’t tell your agency about your travel plans.”
Carla took the bills from Jake. “You think we are the leak?”
“I honestly don’t know. But let’s eliminate one possibility.”
“Understood. What will you do?”
“While you’re getting the tickets, I have to deal with Sancho.”
“You aren’t going to kill him, are you?”
“Of course not. What kind of intel briefing did you get on me?”
“Seriously? I was told you have lost count of all the people you have killed over the years.”
Jake raised his right index finger and said, “They were all bad people who tried to kill me.”
“Like those today. And those on Pico.”
“Right.” Unfortunately, she was also right about Jake’s body count. He remembered most of the faces, but had never sat down to count those he had killed. Changing the subject, he said, “I just need to get some comm equipment from Sancho. Plus, I’ve never seen our facility in Porto. And, Sancho is looking for a leak. I want to make sure those working there know I take leaks seriously.”
She raised her thin brows. “Yeah. You need to do that alone. Be gentle.”
He wasn’t sure what the word meant when it came to security.
They agreed it would be better to leave the hotel separately, so Jake followed Carla out of the building. She turned down the hill and walked with purpose, as if she were late for an appointment. Instead of going directly to the Gomez facility, he tailed Carla to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She was clean.
Then, once she entered the main train terminal, Jake turned up the street and walked two more blocks to Sancho’s location.
The first floor of the building was a coffee shop. Jake couldn’t help wondering if Sancho had placed their facility in this building on purpose, to make it easier to get his caffeine addiction. At the entrance, a sketchy stairwell rose up to the left. A crappy intercom was on one wall with what appeared to be four apartments. But Jake knew that Sancho Eneko was the only person officially living there. The other three units had been converted to a comm center. He pressed all four buttons and then climbed the stairs.
At the top stoop was a thick metal door that looked like a vault entrance. Although the door was rusted and dinged up to look old, Jake knew that it was bullet proof and could handle most breeching devices by law enforcement or the bad guys.
Jake didn’t have to give them any secret knock, since he knew they had been watching him since he pressed the apartment comm buttons.
The door opened for him and Sancho stood on the other side with an energy drink in his left hand.
“Still alive,” Sancho said.
“Afraid so,” Jake said, passing the hacker and entering an interesting room.
The large space with high ceilings was nearly pitch dark, with the only light coming from computer screens and a few small lights on desks. A number of young men and women sat at terminals. Some were watching camera feeds, while others were wearing headsets and speaking to someone on a small mic.
Coming up next to Jake, Sancho whispered, “I’ve done a thorough vetting again of our people. I’ve also checked every communication from our facility leading up to the Pico Island shooting. We are squeaky clean, Jake.”
Jake had a feeling that was the case. Before Sancho had hired his team, Jake had also done a background check on them. Other than minor violations for hacking, these people were not malicious.
“All right,” Jake said. “I need a comm unit for our Portuguese friend.”
“Hot Carla? Sure.”
Sancho went to a cabinet against one wall and found a comm unit, which he handed to Jake. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. I need you to restrict access t
o our location to you only. Do you understand?”
“Of course. But that will mean some extra work for me.”
“You sleep when we sleep.”
Sancho nodded.
One of the computer guys swiveled in his chair and noticed Jake. His eyes got big and he said, “Holy crap. It’s Scary Dude. Where’s Hottie One?”
Jake walked in front of the computer terminals and yelled, “Heads up, people.”
All of those at terminals finally noticed Jake and stopped what they were doing.
Jake continued, “Do you all speak English?”
“They do,” Sancho said.
“Good. So, let me make something completely clear to all of you. If I find out that one of you has compromised anyone in the Gomez security organization, I will not turn you in to the police. I will personally hunt you down and put a bullet in your fucking head. Do you understand?”
There were a number of gulps and gasps and nodding heads.
“One more thing,” Jake said. “After I put a bullet in your brain, I’ll hunt down everyone in your family and do the same thing. Then I’ll kill your dog or cat and burn down your apartments.”
Their eyes got big with this last revelation. One of the women started crying.
Whispering in Jake’s ear, Sancho said, “That’s a bit harsh. They already call you Scary Dude.”
Jake grunted and then put his hands into a calming motion. “Take it easy. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you will be fine.”
The young woman wiped tears from her face.
“Alright,” Jake said, trying to smile. “Get back to work.”
The gaggle of nerds did as Jake ordered with great enthusiasm.
Stepping back toward the front door, Jake hesitated and put his hand on Sancho’s shoulder. “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, man. You aren’t taking my car.”
“No. You’ve got my bag in your trunk.”
“Right.”
Jake followed Sancho to a parking lot behind the building. He pulled out his bag and slung it over his shoulder, but still with access to his Glock under his left arm.
“What’s the plan?” Sancho asked.
“I’ll let you know when I know. For now, I’m working with Carla.”
“How will Sirena feel about that?”
“It’s business. Nothing more.”
“She’s hot.”
No shit, Jake thought. “So is Sirena.”
“Good point. Speaking of Sirena, the Gulfstream crew let me know where she went.” Sancho smiled.
“And?”
“It wasn’t Israel.”
“Then where?”
“Suez, Egypt.”
What in the hell had Sirena’s Mossad friend gotten her into?
“Thanks,” Jake said. “Is someone upstairs monitoring her comm?”
“No. She went off-line.”
“Alright. Let me deal with her. In the meantime, keep digging. Someone gave away our position on Pico, along with the officers in Lisbon and elsewhere. I’ll save you from tracking me. We’re taking a train to Lisbon tonight. Only you know this.”
“Are you testing me?”
“I trust you, Sancho,” Jake said. “But I don’t know the others upstairs.”
“I do.”
Jake put his hand on Sancho’s shoulder and squeezed down. “I know. Keep digging, though.”
Then Jake walked off through the alley between the buildings and toward the main train station.
13
Suez, Egypt
Sirena and Bayla had gotten in to this port city earlier in the day, finding a hotel in the Port Tawfiq area with a view of the south terminus of the Suez Canal. From this point the Gulf of Suez led to the Red Sea, which led to the Gulf of Aden, the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean.
From their third-floor balcony, they could watch the massive ships moving in and out of the canal. Two blocks away was the port used by pleasure craft and small fishing boats. But flying over the harbor on their way to land, Sirena saw that most of the other ports in the region dealt with oil shipments from Saudi Arabia to Europe and beyond.
Both of them had taken a nap in the afternoon in their large king-sized bed, knowing they would be out late that evening.
Now, Sirena stood at the railing of the balcony, dressed in black from top to bottom.
Bayla came up behind her and hugged her old friend. “I am so glad you are here.”
Turning to face her friend, Sirena returned the hug. Then she pulled back and said, “I’m happy I can help.” Then she shifted her head toward the sliding glass door, knowing they couldn’t discuss matters out on the deck.
They went into their room and Sirena closed and locked the slider.
Bayla’s hair was still wet from her shower, her dark locks curlier than normal.
“Will you tell me now about your mission?” Sirena asked.
Her Mossad friend paced across the Persian rug. Finally, arms crossed over her chest, she said, “I have a contact who says the Palestinians are taking shipments of arms through this port.”
“Coming from where?” Sirena asked.
“We don’t know. Not Egypt or Saudi Arabia. If I had to guess, I’d say China or North Korea.”
“What time do we meet the guy?”
Bayla checked the time on her phone. “Within the hour.”
“Where?”
“Port Tewfik Memorial.”
“That’s only a few blocks from here,” Sirena said. “There should be a lot of people there still. That’s a lot of eyes.”
“That’s why he wants us to meet there,” Bayla said. “He’s a trade official at the nearby Saudi consulate.” She found her phone and brought up a photo of the man. The guy’s most prominent feature was a nose much too large for his skinny face.
“Saudi intelligence?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but we did a background on the guy. He is what he says.” Bayla found her bag and pulled out a new comm unit for Sirena. “This will keep us on the same frequency.”
“They’ve gotten a lot smaller since my time with the Mossad,” Sirena said, putting an ear bud in her right ear and covering that with her long dark hair. “Will your agency be listening?”
“No. It’s not enabled for satellite communications. These are simply two-way comms.”
“Recording to your phone?”
“Of course.”
“Then we go there separate,” Sirena said.
“That’s right,” Bayla said. She drew her gun and placed a round in the chamber, before placing it back in its holster and covering it with her light jacket. “You have my back?”
“Always.”
“Good. You head down there and tell me what you see. I’ll be right on your tail.”
Sirena gave her friend a hug and then left the hotel room.
When she got out onto the main street that ran alongside the Suez Canal, she noticed a large ship making its way up the canal entrance. Bayla had told her that many people came to Port Tewfik Memorial park to watch the ships at all times of the day and evening. This evening was almost too warm to be wearing her leather jacket, so Sirena left it unzipped, giving her easy access to her Glock.
She strolled along the canal and pretended to care about the ship passing by to her left.
“Check one,” she said softly, barely moving her lips.
“Loud and clear,” Bayla said. “Two blocks back.”
In a moment Sirena got to what was called Port Tewfik Memorial, which consisted of an unimpressive stone structure. It looked like the base of what should have been the statue of an important historical figure. Perhaps a man on a horse. But instead, the memorial was overshadowed by a steel tower with important navigational lights on top. Function over form, she thought. Better to have ships entering the Suez Canal not run aground.
Sirena wandered to the very tip of the memorial, leaning up against the stone wall. To her left ships entered the canal. To her right, small boat
s could enter a tiny harbor.
She took out her phone and pretended to take a selfie of herself, but she was really shooting photos of everyone in view. There were young couples getting handsy, old couples keeping a safe distance from each other, and a few children annoying everyone within their sphere of activity.
It was still a few minutes before the meeting time, but Sirena had no idea if the trade rep was here yet. She guessed she would recognize the nose, if not the man himself.
“Not here yet,” Sirena said.
“I think I picked up a tail.”
“Give me a sec.” Sirena wandered toward the canal. From this new location, she would have a view of Canal Street, and maybe the tail following Bayla.
When she got to her new position, she noticed Bayla wandering down the street. “In position.”
“At my five,” Bayla said. “Across the street.”
“I can’t tell if it’s him,” Sirena said. “It’s possible. He’s in a suit.”
“Western.”
“Negative. White thawb. Red and white checked headscarf with black rope. Leather sandals.”
“Beard?”
“Thin beard.”
“That’s Yousef.”
Bayla came onto the memorial and stood near the Suez Canal side. A large oil ship was making its way down the canal.
Sirena took photos of the ship, with Bayla in the foreground. Within a few seconds, the Saudi man approached Bayla. But he stopped a few feet away and didn’t look at Bayla.
“I think we missed the sunset,” Yousef said in English.
Bayla, without looking at him, said, “That’s alright. I like that time just after the sun sets. It’s the most beautiful time of all.”
Contact phrase complete, the two of them turned to view each other. Bayla had positioned herself so she would have a good view of anyone coming onto the memorial.
“What do you have for me?” Bayla asked.
The Saudi man shifted his gaze across the water and said, “Look across the gulf. What do you see?”
Bayla hesitated. Then she forced a glance out to the wider gulf area. “Water. Ships. Lights. Why?”
“Look all the way across,” Yousef said. “That’s Adabiya. A major port. Now, Egypt is not exactly a large player in the oil business, but much of their production is shipped from that port.”