A Thick Crimson Line (Mike Walton Book 3)

by Simon Gervais

  There’s more to this than meets the eye, Mike thought. But at this point he didn’t really care. There were only two things he wanted. The first was to get out of this hotel as soon as possible, and the other one was for al-Menhali to meet his creator. And he, Mike Walton, would see to that.

  CHAPTER 8

  Athens, Greece

  Zaid al-Menhali watched her walked toward him. He felt helpless. He was addicted to Anja Skov. He just couldn’t get enough of her. There was something exotic about her and he couldn’t wait to spend more time in her company. He had always regarded women as accessories, and he had certainly intended on doing the same with this one, but she’d surprised him. Yes, she had enchanted him. She was so passionate, and not only in bed, but in all aspects of her life. It was impossible to fight her magnetism. He was drawn to her, and there was no doubt in his mind it was the same for her. You couldn’t fake what had happened the night before. It had been magical.

  Of course, he’d have to be careful not to show her the real Zaid al-Menhali. She wouldn’t be drawn to him. He’d have to be cautious moving forward or he would lose her.

  “Zaid,” she squealed, “how I missed you.”

  She gave him a big hug and he brushed his lips against her neck. He felt her tension and assumed it was from desire. He felt an erection coming and wondered how he was going to resist dragging her into an alley and having his way with her. Maybe he was going to do exactly that. He shivered in anticipation.

  “I was looking forward to this too,” he said.

  She slipped something into his hand.

  “What is this?” He looked down at a flash drive.

  “A little something,” she said. “A little something just for you. You know, something to keep you warm at night.”

  They had talked about it the night before. She had promised him pictures of her that she swore would have him dream of her every night they weren’t together. He didn’t expect it to have them so soon though.

  “I took them this morning,” she said. “I think you’ll like them.”

  Her face had become red. That was another thing he liked about her. She was confident—not a trait he was used to in women—but timid at the same time.

  The palms of his hands grew sweaty. He hated that. He pocketed the flash drive and wiped his palms against his pants. It pissed him off that a woman—even one as beautiful as Anja—could make him lose control over his body. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure about her. He didn’t feel safe. She was controlling him, and that he couldn’t stand.

  I should teach her a lesson. Show her who’s in charge.

  But he had his orders. They’d been in the back of his mind all along. He had to continue to play nice with her. She knew the right people within her government, and his superiors wanted him to transform her into an ISIS asset.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  She took his arm and squeezed it. “You make me feel good, Zaid,” she said as they walked toward the restaurant. “We have so much in common.”

  Yes, she was perfect. As long as he knew who was on top, maybe there was nothing wrong with her being in control for a while.

  ........

  Anja Skov fought not to throw up her breakfast right there and then on the pavement. Zaid al-Menhali sickened her. The fact he’d been inside her yesterday night repulsed her. The moment he had fallen asleep, she’d gone to the bathroom. After turning on the shower to cover up any sound, she had violently thrown up in the toilet. When she had volunteered for this assignment she hadn’t thought she would have to sleep with the man partly responsible for the death of so many innocent people. Her superior officer at DDIS—the Danish Defense Intelligence Service—had wanted her to infiltrate ISIS when they had come across intelligence suggesting a potential terror threat against Danish interests in Greece. Never before had a Danish government official been so close to getting raw intel from a reliable source. The counter-intelligence division of the DDIS had worked hard to fabricate elaborate stories to provide her with a background cover. And it was working. Zaid al-Menhali had fallen hard for her. With any luck, he’d love the naked pictures on the USB drive she had given him. He only had to click on one of them to download the Trojan program the DDIS techies had embedded in every photo. Once downloaded, the Trojan would collect passwords, logins and machine-specific information from al-Menhali’s computer. With the collected data, the techies would have full access to everything al-Menhali had on his computer, including emails he had sent and received and the passwords to his bank accounts.

  The next few months weren’t going to be easy. She knew that. But if sleeping with al-Menhali helped save Danish lives, well, that would be her way to serve.

  CHAPTER 9

  Athens, Greece

  “She gave him something,” Mike Walton said. Anja Skov and Zaid al-Menhali were now on the sidewalk heading east on Vasilissis Sofias. In thirty seconds, Mike wouldn’t have a shot anymore.

  “Couldn’t see what it was,” Zima replied.

  “Me neither,” added Eitan from his position on the street.

  Mike had to make a decision. “Eitan,” he started, “once he’s down, I want you to get whatever she gave him. He slipped it in his left pocket.”

  “Understood,” Eitan said.

  Mike took a few deep breaths and concentrated on his target. He trusted Zima to warn him if the overall situation changed. “Wind?”

  “No change.”

  Mike was now in his zone, making one with his Sako TRG 42. A headshot wasn’t necessary. At this distance, the 308 Winchester round would be just as deadly punching through his target’s back, and chances of over penetration were almost non-existent.

  Mike gently pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 10

  Athens, Greece

  Anja Skov felt al-Menhali pitch forward. Then his knees gave and he fell face first on the sidewalk. Because their arms were entangled, his weight dragged her down with him. Though she’d never been in a gunfight before, she recognized what had just happened. Zaid al-Menhali’s eyes locked with hers and he tried to speak. But only blood came out of his mouth. His body jerked twice and then remained still.

  She screamed for help, as any sane person would. And then she stepped back, furtively looking for cover while hoping it would appear to any observers like a move made by a frightened woman. The DDIS had an officer tasked with watching her back. She had never met her protector, but now would have been a good time for him to show up.

  Her mind was spinning. Am I a target to? Where did the shot come from? She looked at where the dead terrorist had fallen and concluded the shooter had been at the Grande Bretagne Hotel. A few pedestrians, who had no idea the man on the ground had just been shot, approached al-Menhali. They took out their cellphones but instead of calling for help, they started filming the scene. A man on a scooter stopped close by and rushed to al-Menhali’s side. Is it him? She tried to make eye contact, but he didn’t even look at her. Plus, he kept his helmet on, which was odd. Almost no one in Athens wore a helmet while riding.

  “What happened?” she heard him ask the small crowd gathered around the dead man. When nobody answered, he rolled al-Menhali on his back and checked his pulse. He started CPR but stopped almost immediately when a huge amount of blood erupted from al-Menhali’s mouth. Then she thought about the flash drive. She had to get it back. Before she could move, another man approached the scene. His eyes moved left and right and stopped on hers for a split second. This and his demeanor told Anja he was the DDIS agent responsible for her safety. He kneeled next to the man who had started CPR and grabbed his wrist as he started to get up.

  ........

  Eitan David hated being out in the open like that. He had counted no less than five people filming the scene with their smartphones. He needed to leave. Now. But he also needed whatever Anja Skov had passed to the dead terrorist.

&nb
sp; His right hand slipped into al-Menhali’s left pocket. He felt the contour of what seemed to be a flash drive, but before he could examine what he had found, another man knelt in front of him and grabbed his wrist.

  There was a chance the man was a Good Samaritan trying to prevent what might have looked like a thief pickpocketing someone in distress, but Eitan couldn’t take the chance. Instead, he used his left hand to chop the inside of the man’s forearm. He did it with such force that he broke the man’s radius. The man’s eyes opened wide, in shock. Eitan used his advantage to pull the man toward him using his right hand and delivered a powerful punch to his solar plexus with his left. The man doubled over and went to his knees, desperately struggling for breath. Not knowing who the man was, Eitan did not intend to cause him any lasting damage. He grabbed the flash drive he had dropped during the altercation and was about to climb back on his scooter when he heard Zima’s alarm in his ear.

  “Behind you!”

  ........

  Anja Skov had rarely seen someone move as fast as the scooter man. He had incapacitated the agent in charge of protecting her in less than two seconds. She watched him pick up the flash drive. She had to get it back.

  She followed him to his scooter and was about to try to subdue him with a carotid artery choke from behind. She never made it. The man suddenly dropped down and performed a perfectly executed foot sweep that sent her crashing to her side. By the time she got up, he was already gone.

  “C’mon, we need to go,” said the other DDIS agent, holding his injured arm. “The police are on their way.”

  “He has the key,” Anja Skov said.

  “Is it really a bad thing? Maybe we’ll learn something we don’t know about these assholes.”

  Anja Skov doubted it. She didn’t think the scooter man worked for ISIS. He was probably part of a kill team, and if she was right about this, she was lucky to be alive. All this work, all this pain. All for nothing.

  Shit.

  CHAPTER 11

  Athens, Greece

  Eitan half expected to be shot in the back as he accelerated away and only breathed a sigh of relief when he made a right at the first intersection. He sped up the street, trying to put distance between him and the dead terrorist. More than one person had his description. They might not have seen his face, but he’d need to find new clothes and a new method of transportation before meeting up with the team.

  “Eitan, this is Jonathan,” came in Sanchez’s voice.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Go to location Alpha-Niner,” Sanchez said. “There’s a white Hyundai Getz parked in lot P2. Key’s in the exhaust pipe.”

  “Copy. I’ll advise once I’m on site.”

  Eitan promised himself to thank James Cooper, the Support 6 team leader, for that. That was another thing Eitan loved about the IMSI: they were well prepared. Sometimes even more than the MOSSAD. Almost anywhere they went, IMSI assets had a support team with them. While the assets focused on the actual mission, the support team made sure the assets had everything they needed to complete it. Preparing weapons caches and positioning exfil vehicles were all part of the job they performed to ensure mission success.

  Alpha-Niner was a two-hundred-and-seventy-four-slot multistory underground parking garage located in the downtown area of Kerameikos. Eitan smiled at the thought that the Greek authorities had spent more fifteen million euros to build the parking structure. That meant that each parking spot had cost the taxpayers more than fifty-five thousand euros. No wonder they’re broke.

  The Hyundai Getz was where it was supposed to be and so was the key. Eitan opened the trunk and unzipped the carry-on suitcase. Inside were three changes of clothes—one for each operator—fifteen thousand euros, three genuine Canadian passports, two thermite grenades, and three Glock 19s with one spare magazine each.

  “Jonathan from Eitan,” he said, trying to reach the IMSI headquarters. No response. He was about to try again when he realized there was no way he’d reach them from the underground garage.

  Eitan jumped in the cramped rear seat of the Hyundai and changed his clothes. He was almost done when he saw a man in uniform walking from car to car. His heart stopped when he recognized the patch of the Hellenic police on the officer’s shoulder. Had he been followed? He doubted it. More than likely, the description of his scooter had been broadcast at large and an officer must have seen him and called it in.

  Of course they had no way of knowing whether he was still in the garage. And it was not as though he had been seen killing the man. They probably only wanted to question him. Eitan watched as the officer moved from car to car, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Another forty seconds or so and the officer would reach the Hyundai. Eitan would have a hard time explaining what he was doing alone in the backseat of a car.

  He had to move.

  He stepped out of the vehicle, glad he’d had time to change clothes. He sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. He put the transmission in reverse, but the police officer was standing behind his car, blocking his way. A look in the rearview mirror told him the officer meant business. His hand was on his weapon and he was yelling at him to stop. Eitan wasn’t sure to whom the vehicle was registered and he didn’t want to find himself facing questions he couldn’t answer. Not willing to plow through a police officer, Eitan obeyed and turned off the Hyundai. The officer slowly approached his window and, although Eitan didn’t speak Greek, it was clear the officer wanted him to exit his vehicle.

  Eitan was delighted to see the officer’s gun still in its holster. Making sure not to make any move that could jeopardize this fact, Eitan opened the door and smiled at the officer. He kept his hands well in sight. He was halfway out of the car when he sensed something change in the officer’s demeanor. It only took a quick look at the backseat of the car for Eitan to understand. In his rush to get out of the garage, he had left the soiled clothes on the backseat and the officer had seen them. The blood on the white t-shirt was hard to miss. The officer already had his pistol three quarters of the way out of the holster when Eitan reached him. Then the first shot rang out.

  CHAPTER 12

  Athens, Greece

  Even though Zima kept an eye on the target as he went down, Mike knew it was a good shot. He started to disassemble his rifle. The armorer at the IMSI headquarters had customized it so that the Sako could be stored in a gym bag. Mike had no problem fitting it in his carry-on suitcase.

  The clear line of sight from his sniper nest to his target had facilitated his shot, but that also meant it would be easy for anyone trained in ballistics to know where the shot had come from.

  “Eitan’s off,” Zima said. “Looks like he had to fight his way out.”

  That wasn’t good. They needed a clean exit, and an altercation made that much more difficult to achieve.

  “First there was a man,” continued Zima. “I don’t know why he got involved but Eitan pushed him off. Skov tried to stop him too. Then she left the scene with the man.”

  “Did they go to the embassy?” Mike began to wipe the room clean of fingerprints.

  “No. They went north on a side street and I lost visual.”

  That was strange. The first thing she should have done was rush back to the embassy. Who was the man Eitan had to take down? Clearly, he was a friend of Anja Skov. Was al-Menhali being played by the Danes? It didn’t matter anymore. The next ten minutes were spent making absolutely sure they didn’t leave any trace of their presence. The woman Zima had secured in the bathroom was still unconscious.

  “Could she identify you?” Mike asked.

  “Unlikely.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll get the car,” Zima said, her gloved hand on the door handle. “Give me ten minutes and wait for me at the corner of Xenofontos and Filellinon.”

  Mike waited another minute and then followe
d her out of the room. The room had been rented using an alias and paid for with cash, which wasn’t at all suspicious in Greece. Businesses in Greece loved cash. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for them to claim that their interact or credit card payment processing machines were broken so their clients had no choice but to pay with cash.

  “Mike from Jonathan,” came in Sanchez as Mike called the elevator.

  “Go for Mike,” he replied once he made sure no one else was around.

  “We’ve lost comms with Eitan. Can you reach him?”

  Mike tried to reach him on the alternate channel. Nothing.

  “Negative.”

  “The last contact was when he was on his way to Alpha-Niner.”

  This was the underground parking garage where James Cooper had set up one of the exfil vehicles.

  “Eitan will be fine. He’ll meet us at the airport. We’ll wait for him there,” said Mike. “We need to bug out.”

  “Roger that,” Sanchez replied. “I’ll make sure the Gulfstream is ready to go.”

  Mike knew the pilots well. Martin St-Onge and William Talbot were solid. They’d be ready. Eitan had better show up.

  CHAPTER 13

  Athens, Greece

  Eitan cursed out loud. The officer had shot himself in the foot trying to get his weapon out. Eitan had then easily wrestled the pistol away from the officer and used the man’s handcuff to secure his hands behind his back.

  “You speak English?”

  The officer was in shock but managed to nod. “What’s your name?” Eitan asked, removing the officer’s shoe.

  “Manos.”

  “I’m no threat to you, Manos,” Eitan replied. He was now taking the officer’s sock off. He was pushing his luck staying in the garage for so long but he needed to make sure the officer would be okay. He didn’t want to have a police officer’s death on his conscience. It was a small miracle that nobody had come to investigate the commotion.