A Thick Crimson Line (Mike Walton Book 3)

by Simon Gervais

  It was hard to know for sure which building sheltered the person with the tracker. The application was good, but not as precise as Yavari would have liked. It would have been nice to have the time to set up surveillance, but the colonel had been adamant; they had no time to lose.

  “Park here,” Yavari said to the driver, pointing to a large space between two abandoned vehicles. “We’ll walk back.”

  Yavari looked at the two Quds Force members who were riding in the back of the van. They were ready. He could see the resolve in their eyes. They were pros and didn’t need a pep talk, so Yavari got right to the point.

  “Iman, you’ll walk with me. Pistols only,” he said, placing the C8 at his feet. “There’s too much foot traffic for us to carry anything else.”

  “You want me to stay back?” asked Musa, the other soldier.

  “You’ll stay in the van with the driver,” Yavari told him. “Iman and I will assess the situation and I’ll call you if needed. If we do need you, you’ll come with the C8.”

  Yavari then turned his attention to the driver. “You do whatever he tells you, understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Athens, Greece

  It was no secret that Sanjar Behak was General Kharazi’s son-in-law. Sayed Tarapore would take no pleasure in killing Sanjar. None whatsoever. But Tarapore’s loyalty lay with General Adbullahi and had done so since the general had called in a favor to give Tarapore’s wife access to cancer treatment. It hadn’t saved her life, but at least she’d died in relative comfort. For that, Tarapore couldn’t betray Adbullahi’s trust. With the love of his life gone, Tarapore didn’t fear reprisals. He was alone in this world. Forty-five minutes ago, he had ordered Sanjar to stay at the apartment while he and the general’s family went to the grocery store to buy enough food to last a few days. It had made sense for one of them to stay behind and keep the apartment secure. While it was true they’d stopped at the grocery store, Tarapore had no intention of taking them back to the initial location. The general’s wife and children were now safe in another rental property a few blocks away. The general had thought this through.

  Tarapore knocked six times on the door of the apartment, waited three seconds, and knocked again four times. Sanjar opened the door and Tarapore went in.

  “Close the door,” Tarapore said.

  “Where are the others?” Sanjar asked, closing the door and holstering his weapon.

  “There’s a change in plans,” Tarapore replied. “The general called to let me know a car was on its way to pick up his family.”

  “So they’re gone?”

  “Yes. The car was already in the neighborhood when I got the call. It made more sense to stay at the grocery store than to come back here to wait for them.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We’re to take the SUV and make our own way to the King George. So grab your stuff. We’re leaving now.”

  Sanjar came back less than a minute later with his backpack.

  Tarapore opened the door. “Follow me. I moved the SUV further down the road.”

  He led the way down the stairs and waited for Sanjar to join him.

  “Go ahead,” Tarapore said, pointing to the alleyway to his right. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Tarapore scanned around him, and once he was sure nobody was in a position to see, he drew his dagger with his right hand and drove it hilt deep into Sanjar’s neck while covering his mouth with his left hand. Sanjar’s body tensed as Tarapore twisted the dagger left and right. Once Sanjar’s legs collapsed from under him, Tarapore went through his pockets and relieved him of his pistol and extra magazines but left the smartphone behind. Tarapore then lifted his former colleague on his shoulder and carried him to a large garbage container a few feet away.

  Tarapore opened the garbage container lid, but before he could dump the body inside the container, the lid closed with a loud bang. Tarapore’s eyes caught movements in a window from the building across the alleyway. If someone had seen him kill Sanjar, there was nothing he could do about it now. He briefly considered running to the apartment to take care of whoever had been behind the window but dismissed the idea. He would lose precious time, and by the time he reached the apartment, the citizen would have most probably already called the authorities.

  Tarapore grunted as he struggled to keep the garbage container’s lid open with his right arm while keeping Sanjar’s body balanced on his left shoulder. He twisted his body to the right and bent forward, allowing the body to slide off his shoulder. The corpse landed softly on the garbage bags. Tarapore closed the lid and hurried back to the rental property where a side window offered him a perfect view of the garbage container where he had left the body, about eighty feet away.

  Tarapore had promised the general’s wife he’d be back and he intended to keep his word. He placed Sanjar’s pistol and the two extra magazines on the coffee table next to him. He pulled the curtain halfway across the window and took a step back. There was nothing to do now but wait for the men General Kharazi had sent after his boss.

  CHAPTER 31

  Athens, Greece

  Mike gave Mapother and the rest of the analysts the ten minutes they had requested before calling him back.

  “There are no other exits you can use, Mike,” Mapother said. “To be honest, and with everything that has happened in the last two hours, I’m not sure you should proceed. His protective detail will be on high alert.”

  Mike didn’t see a clear path either. Even if he managed to gain access to the general’s room, it would be impossible to leave the hotel with two bodyguards in the lobby.

  Unless . . .

  “I’ll be fine, Charles,” Mike said. “What’s his room number?”

  Mapother told him. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’ll call you back once we have the general.”

  Mike placed his smartphone back in his pocket and switched to his local comms.

  “Eitan from Mike.”

  “Go.”

  “Stay in the square. I’m going to the general’s room. I’ll keep my comms open so be ready to back me up.”

  “Roger.”

  “Zima copy too,” added Zima. “With the traffic, I’ll need two minutes to make my way to you.”

  “Got it,” Mike said.

  He exited the restroom and took the stairs to the second floor. He opened the door leading to the second-floor hallway and took a peek. At the end of the corridor was a housekeeping cart. Mike didn’t see the maid but figured she’d be cleaning a room close to her cart. Seeing no one else, Mike stepped out of the staircase and casually walked to the cart. He passed General Adbullahi’s room and was glad the other bodyguard wasn’t standing outside the room. It would have complicated things.

  Mike reached the housekeeping cart. The door to his right wasn’t completely closed and rested on the security latch. He knocked on the door and pushed it open. The housekeeper was making the bed and let out a small yelp when she saw him.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” she said in perfect English. “You scared me.”

  “No worries,” Mike said, noticing the keycard attached to the retractable reel clipped to her breast pocket.

  “Is this your room?” she asked, and then continued without waiting for him to reply. “They shouldn’t have checked you in. I need another half hour.”

  “Oh, this isn’t my room,” Mike said. “I’m right across the hallway. I misplaced my room key and was wondering if you’d be kind enough to open it for me.”

  Mike flashed her the most sincere smile he could muster.

  “I’m not supposed to, sir,” she said. “You’ll have to contact security. You can use the house phone at the end of the hallway, if you wish.”

  “Can you show it to me?”

 
; “Of course,” the maid replied. She seemed relieved Mike didn’t push the issue. “It’s just around the corner.” She walked around the bed and Mike placed his back against the wall to let her through. The moment she passed him, he slipped his right arm around her neck, grabbed his left bicep with his right hand and pushed her head forward with his left hand. Mike tightened his grip and the maid went limp in a matter of seconds.

  He scooped her up and placed her on the bed. He used the two bathrobe belts to tie her hands and feet. She would wake up any second and he needed something to keep her quiet. He saw two pillows on the floor. He removed the pillowcases and used one to gag her and the other to wire her mouth shut. He unclipped the keycard from her belt and stood by the door.

  “Eitan from Mike.”

  “Go ahead, Mike.”

  “Any changes?”

  “Negative.”

  “Go into the lobby and confirm the bodyguards are still there.”

  “Copy. On my way.”

  Mike figured it would take the Israeli agent about thirty seconds to walk from Syntagma Square to the King George’s lobby. Mike used the time to screw the SilencerCo Osprey silencer to his Glock 19. The Osprey broke away from the traditional cylindrical design and used a modified rectangular shape, allowing the user to use the conventional sight picture without altering the firearm.

  “They’re here, Mike,” Eitan said.

  “Copy. You let me know if they move. I’ll get the general.”

  Mike visualized what he was about to do and took two deep breaths to calm his nerves. His holster didn’t allow for the Glock with the silencer screwed in so he had to peek outside the room to ensure there were no hotel guests in the hallway before heading to the general’s room. He approached Adbullahi’s room with his firearm at the low-ready position and was about to use the maid’s keycard to enter the room when Eitan broke the air.

  “Mike, the bodyguards are heading up. They’re running up the stairs. They’ll be on you in ten seconds.”

  Damn it!

  Things got worse when the door to the general’s room suddenly opened.

  Mike didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t hesitate. Things weren’t going down as he had planned but he had to act. The man’s eyes found Mike’s pistol. His right hand moved to his hip where his own weapon was holstered. Mike muzzle-punched the man in the sternum to make sure he’d fall inside the room before shooting him in the head once. The bodyguard fell backward, and Mike stepped over him. The door closed behind him and Adbullahi turned in a stupor toward him.

  CHAPTER 32

  Athens, Greece

  General Adbullahi was starting to think it had been a mistake to flee Iran. Nobody from the CIA had gotten back to him and the call he had placed with the Israelis had been met with skepticism. The person from the Israeli embassy he had spoken to on the phone had known who he was but had nevertheless insisted on a face-to-face meeting to assess his value.

  Was it a trap? He’d know soon enough. Chances were the Israelis would take him to one of their safe houses in the city. They had to be curious. It wasn’t every day a general of the Quds Force wanted to defect.

  “Anything?” Adbullahi asked his bodyguard.

  His man was looking out the window. He shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

  One of the four cell phones on the nightstand rang. Adbullahi had purchased a bunch of pre-paid phones and distributed them to his security detail so they could communicate without Tehran knowing exactly where they were.

  “Go outside,” he ordered his bodyguard. He didn’t want him to listen to the conversation that was about to take place. “And ask the others to come up. I’ll brief them on what to do next.”

  “Yes sir,” the bodyguard replied before calling his colleagues on the radio.

  Adbullahi picked up the phone and walked to the window.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Tarapore, General. It is done.”

  “My wife and children?”

  “They’re safe. For now.”

  Adbullahi swallowed hard. Allah, please keep them safe. He looked at his watch.

  “Be ready, Sayed,” Adbullahi said. “They’ll be coming soon.”

  “I know,” Tarapore said. “Goodbye, General.”

  Adbullahi wondered if he’d see his loyal man again. Probably not. In a way, he wished he’d never see him again because it would mean Kharazi’s men had taken the bait.

  A popping sound followed by a loud thud made him turn around. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine. His bodyguard was sprawled on the floor. His eyes were open but there was a hole in his forehead, right above his eye. Blood was already staining the beige carpet. A man stood above his bodyguard with a silenced pistol pointed in his direction.

  “Get on the ground!” the man yelled.

  This was the moment of truth. “More of my men will be here in seconds,” he warned, hoping this would show how committed he was.

  The man nodded. “I know. Get on the ground”.

  Adbullahi obeyed.

  CHAPTER 33

  Athens, Greece

  Captain Yavari consulted his smartphone for the third time in the last minute. Something was amiss. The application showed the general’s nephew to be in an alleyway sandwiched between two nearly identical apartment buildings. Why would Sanjar Behak be outside the building? To conduct a reconnaissance? Were they expecting company? Or maybe, just maybe, Sanjar knew they were coming and was there to help them.

  Yavari paused and let Iman catch up with him.

  “He’s in the alleyway right here,” he said, pointing to the flashing dot on his smartphone’s screen. “We’re two hundred feet away. I’ll lead the way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Yavari couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they might be walking into a trap. His eyes moved from left to right, looking for threats, but he couldn’t see any. There were a few pedestrians but none of them seemed to pay attention to him and Iman. His hand moved to the butt of his Sig when he turned the corner of the alleyway where Sanjar was supposed to be.

  With the exception of a dog eating from a garbage bag left open, there was no one else in the alleyway. Yavari tensed and a small knot formed in his stomach. He pulled his Sig out of its holster and walked toward the center of the alleyway while holding his smartphone in his left hand.

  ........

  Tarapore saw Captain Yavari first. He recognized him immediately since they had briefly served together a few years back. Yavari was a good officer, and Tarapore pondered if he had chosen the wrong side. What was General Adbullahi really up to? With Sanjar’s corpse resting in the garbage container, it was too late to change course. Plus, he owed this much to General Adbullahi. A man—especially a high-ranking officer—willing to help a subordinate’s wife without asking anything in return couldn’t be that bad. Right?

  Another man walked behind Yavari. Like Yavari, he was holding a pistol. Yavari had a smartphone in one hand and periodically glanced at it as he walked deeper into the alleyway. Tarapore didn’t see anyone else. That didn’t mean there weren’t more soldiers coming after him, but he didn’t have the luxury of waiting longer before engaging the man in his sight. Taropore moved closer to the window to get an angle for his first shot.

  He aimed at Yavari’s head just as he reached the garbage container. Tarapore’s finger moved to the trigger. He wouldn’t miss.

  ........

  Yavari knew nothing good would come from opening the commercial garbage container. He signaled Iman to back off in case it was rigged with explosive. Yavari knelt to look under the container when someone opened fire. The first round struck him square in the back and knocked him to the ground. The second tore through his left calf, shattering his tibia and ripping flesh. Yavari yelled in pain. He heard more gunshots then felt someone—Iman?—roll him onto his back.

&nb
sp; Yavari tried to speak but only managed to spit blood. Iman was yelling into his comms system for Musa to come over. Yavari felt as if he was drowning. But how could he be? There was no water around. Breathing became impossible and his body started to shake uncontrollably.

  ........

  Tarapore’s first and second shots hit their intended target. He adjusted his aim but had to break contact when two bullets hit the window frame inches from his face. Two more followed half a second later. Tarapore left his position and rushed to the exit door. He ran down the stairs and landed on the sidewalk less than twenty seconds after the start of the gunfight. He had to finish this. Tarapore negotiated the corner leading to the alleyway by “slicing the pie.” The man who had fired back at him was trying to drag Yavari out of the danger zone. Unfortunately for him, he had to holster his weapon to do so. The man must have sensed someone moving behind him because he suddenly dropped Yavari and turned on his heel with his weapon magically appearing in his hands. Before he could fire, Tarapore double tapped him in the chest. The soldier flew backward and landed on top of Yavari. Weapon extended in front of him, Tarapore advanced toward the downed Quds Force soldiers. He kicked the man’s pistol away before shooting him again in the head. Yavari was still alive and Tarapore took a knee next to him.

  ........

  Yavari was drifting in and out of consciousness. His last memory was of being dragged by Iman. But when he opened his eyes, he saw someone else. He had seen the man before but couldn’t remember exactly who he was. One thing was certain; he was one of General Adbullahi’s men.

  “Sir, my name is Sayed Tarapore,” said the man. “How many of you are in Athens? And why are you here? What did General Adbullahi do?”

  Yes. Sayed Tarapore. He remembered now. Yavari didn’t even try to respond. Breathing was difficult and painful enough without speaking. Did Sayed know he was helping a traitor? Yavari heard police sirens. He had heard them before but now they seemed closer. Tarapore must have heard them too because he looked behind him.