Covert Assassin Page 12

  “I had more important matters here in the village.”

  “Such as?” Carrie said in a demanding voice.

  “Such as none of your business,” Isaac replied in about the same tone.

  “None of your men could be trusted with this assignment?” Justin said.

  “Right. It was very sensitive and dangerous.”

  “Do you suspect someone is a traitor?”

  Isaac did not answer right away, seemingly wondering whether he should tell the truth. “Yes, the doctor.”

  “He’s the one who called the terrorists’ friends, giving them the heads-up, so they could organize the ambush?”

  “It appears so, but I have no evidence to support that theory.”

  Justin nodded. “We might have the evidence.” He waved one of the cellphones. “It belonged to one of the dead al-Qaeda fighters. Perhaps we can connect the doctor to this phone number or another number in the phone’s log.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’m glad you’re sharing the intel—”

  “Not so fast, Isaac. Was that your goal, to expose whoever was betraying you?”

  “No, that wasn’t it, Justin. I didn’t plan to send you into an ambush so I could test my men and see who, if any, was the traitor. In hindsight, the result is welcomed.” A grin stretched across Isaac’s face.

  Justin clenched his teeth. He felt Isaac was lying to them and believed the Mossad operative had dispatched them exactly for the purpose of drawing out the traitor. But Justin had no proof to support his conclusions. In their situation, it was highly unlikely he was going to find more evidence.

  Carrie said, “One thing I don’t understand: why is Mossad helping al-Qaeda, one of the worst terrorist networks, and the enemy of nearly everyone?”

  Isaac shook his head. “Al-Qaeda knows better than to attack Israel, and, to my knowledge, they’ve never done so. Even the Islamic State, at the peak of their power, bowed down before my country. When IS fighters attacked an Israeli army unit in the Syrian Golan Heights, one of the IS’s senior leaders apologized for the attack, and clarified that their war was not with Israel.”

  Justin said, “Isn’t talking to IS terrorists against Israel’s laws, since it is considered as contact with the enemy?”

  Isaac shrugged. “I’m not in charge of policies, Justin. You’ll have to ask our defense minister.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Carrie said in a voice full of disappointment and frustration.

  “Well, you should, because it’s true. Second, the decision to treat those fighters was based mainly on humanitarian reasons. We couldn’t let them die on the side of the road.”

  Carrie said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Is Mossad now a charity? What’s the new name: The Good Samaritan?” Justin said.

  “Listen up, now, I didn’t say it was only because of humanitarian reasons. There’s a strong, tactical component to our actions.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Isaac shrugged.

  “Many things are obvious until they’re not.”

  “All right, I’ll explain it for you.” Isaac’s voice turned slow and took on a condescending tone. “The tactical decision was for those fighters to return to the front and continue their operations.”

  “Against the newly-elected Syrian government?”

  “Elected? Now, who’s the one kidding?”

  Justin shrugged. “Well, considering the country was run by dictators for almost half a century, you can’t expect democracy right off the bat.”

  “Right, but the government is anything but elected or reformed. It’s full of officers from the previously hated regime, with no real wide-base representation, and is turning out to be as autocratic as the old regime it claimed to have replaced. Moreover, the government is heavily influenced by the Iranians.”

  Justin nodded as he locked eyes with Isaac. “And that’s the main problem you have with the new political scene in Syria?”

  “Yes. You’d agree Iran is the greatest enemy of Israel?”

  “I’m not qualified to make such claims.”

  “But I am. We can’t allow Iran to have an atomic bomb. That would be catastrophic, not only for Israel, but for the entire region, the whole world.”

  “We’re not talking about Iran’s nuclear program here.”

  “No, but it’s all related. If Iran’s sphere of influence expands to Syria, especially the government authorities, it would be easier for Tehran’s ayatollahs to get plutonium, the enrichment technologies, and the scientists to make the bomb.”

  “So this is all about security, right?” Carrie asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Whose security?” Justin said. “These terrorists are attacking American, Canadian, and European troops operating in Syria, troops working to bring peace and safety to the country and the region. Mossad, indirectly, is destroying this work. These soldiers in Syria are dying because of terrorist attacks launched by al-Qaeda and their affiliates.”

  Isaac did not answer right away. He seemed to think about his answer. “It’s unfortunate, but unavoidable.”

  “It’s completely avoidable, if Mossad doesn’t intervene,” Carrie said.

  “We can’t sit on the sidelines and watch. Iran isn’t only working on the atomic bomb, which is a future threat. They’re currently and constantly endangering our very existence by supporting Hezbollah. Again, we can’t, we won’t, tolerate that.”

  “And the dead Americans? They’re your allies, your greatest supporter,” Justin said.

  Isaac shrugged. “We’re at war, Justin. I don’t expect you, a Canadian, to understand that.”

  “No, I understand it very well.” Justin shook his head in disgust. He stepped away from Isaac and toward the door. “We’re done here. Carrie—”

  “Wait, and the intel?” Isaac pointed at the phone.

  “I’ll get those numbers to you when our tech team is finished. If I were you, I’d keep an eye on the doc.”

  “I need that intel right away.” Isaac’s voice rose to almost a shout.

  “Yes, and I need to see al-Rawi. Maybe he has regained consciousness.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ve got to keep an eye on the doc, right?”

  Justin nodded.

  “And the intel?” Isaac walked to Justin. “What do you want in return?”

  “Is it always about a trade with you?”

  “It doesn’t have to be. I’ll accept it if you hand it over.”

  Justin shrugged. “Let’s talk about that after I’m done with al-Rawi and Ying. Then, I’ll have a better idea of what I need, if anything.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’m sure I can come up with something you’ll want or need.”

  Justin nodded back. “Yes, and that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Al-Zemrah, Iraq

  Al-Rawi was hanging to life by a thin thread. The doctor had removed the bullet, but the Iraqi had lost a lot of blood. He was still unconscious, and the doctor did not hold out much hope. “Miracles do happen,” he said more than once. “I’ve seen men come back from the dead. Maybe he will too.”

  With al-Rawi out of the picture, Justin gathered his team in the small yard of the house used as a clinic. He glanced around, but the nearest gunmen were beyond earshot. So he leaned closer to Carrie and Ying and said, “Thoughts about what we do now...”

  Ying said, “We go on with the mission. Lim’s signal is still active in Rutbah.”

  “If that’s really Lim,” Carrie said.

  “It is Lim—well, one of the phones he has used. And al-Rawi confirmed seeing Lim,” Ying said in a voice a bit louder than necessary.

  “Keep it down,” Justin said. “With al-Rawi gone, we’ve lost not only a quarter of our team, but also our guide.”

  “Perhaps we should have someone call the number,” Carrie said, “to make sure Lim is actually there.”

  “You think Lim will be so
stupid as to answer a call from an unknown number?” Ying said.

  Carrie shrugged. “We think he’s stupid enough to use an old, burned phone number.”

  “He doesn’t know the number is burned.”

  “Well, if we think Lim is as good as he’s supposed to be, he should know.”

  Ying shook her head. “Lim is absolutely the best; I can attest to that.”

  Carrie shrugged again. “I say we abort the mission.”

  Justin said, “We’ve come so far, and Rutbah is only an hour away. But I’m not willing to go into Rutbah blind. When we had al-Rawi, he was our guiding eyes. Now, it’s going to be you.” He gestured at Ying.

  “How? I’ve never been to Rutbah or this part of Iraq.”

  “You’ll call Lim and confirm he’s there.”

  “But ... he’ll recognize the number, know it’s from someone in Iraq and not answer.”

  Justin showed Ying one of his phones. “This one has scrambling tech enabled, which masks the number. We can make it to be whatever number we want.”

  Ying nodded. “Wouldn’t that tip our hand? Lim will know we’re after him.”

  Carrie said, “Lim’s absolutely the best; he’s fully aware we’re after him.”

  Ying shook her head. “I don’t know. If Lim has decoding technology or whatever it is called to unscramble the number, he’ll know we’re close, and then disappear.”

  Justin thought about it for a long moment, then said, “I doubt Lim has such high-tech equipment in a remote village. It’s a risk we’ll have to take. If nothing else, it will confirm to us that Lim is in Rutbah. Even if we don’t find him there, he won’t be able to go far. At this point, we’re not even sure he’s in that village.”

  “But we know he’s there. Al-Rawi confirmed that.”

  “He did. Two days ago. Lim may have left the village and not taken the old phone with him,” Justin said.

  Ying sighed and thought about it for a moment. Then her eyes sparked with what Justin thought was a mischievous glint. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ve thought of a way I can bait him.”

  Justin frowned. “Bait him?”

  “Yes, I can pretend that I can help him. When Lim was still in the MSS we were close ... very close.”

  “Lovers?” Carrie said.

  Ying nodded slowly. “Yes, you could say that.”

  Justin shook his head. “No, that’s too risky, and Lim may read through your lies. Just tell him you’re aware of his London plot, without giving details, of course. Then tell him you’re going to stop him at any cost.”

  “We only need confirmation of Lim being in Rutbah,” Carrie said. “And you’re the only one who can recognize his voice.”

  Ying did not notice the hint of regret in Carrie’s voice, but Justin did. He said, “Yes, keep it short and sweet.”

  Ying nodded.

  Carrie said, “And use the speakerphone.”

  “That’s not a good idea. He’ll know someone is listening.”

  “Once you talk to Lim, it will be clear that someone is listening, whether you’re on speakerphone or not.”

  Neither Justin nor Carrie spoke Chinese, so the speakerphone did not help much. However, Justin was not sure Ying was aware of their language deficiency. He wanted to give the impression that he and Carrie were listening to every single word Ying and Lim were going to exchange. Moreover, Justin wanted to hear Lim’s voice, so he could recognize him the next time, if there was a need and a next time.

  Ying nodded. “Okay, okay. When are we calling?”

  “Right away. No more time to lose.” He started to swipe through his phone. “Let’s find a more private place.” He tipped his head toward the alley.

  “Yes, I’ll make sure it’s clear.” Carrie walked to the gate.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Isaac called.

  He had just stepped onto the porch, about ten yards away.

  “Out there, for a quick call,” Justin replied.

  Isaac nodded. “Don’t wander too far.”

  “Got it, chief,” Justin said.

  Isaac grinned. His smirk looked even more devilish under the naked light bulb, hanging from a frayed cord, that faintly lit the porch.

  Out in the empty alley, Justin handed his phone to Ying. “It’s set to appear as if you’re calling from London, if he asks.”

  “All right,” Ying said. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it,” Justin said.

  She nodded and dialed the number. It rang for a long tense minute, while Justin paced back and forth, praying Lim would pick up. Then a strong man’s voice replied from the other end of the call in what Justin assumed was Chinese. He knew the language had a fast pace and rhythm to it, but this man sounded like he was buzzed on caffeine or perhaps even something stronger.

  Ying replied in a warm-sounding voice, which turned sharp as the call went on. She nodded a few times at Justin, which he interpreted as the sign that the caller was Lim. Justin thought he recognized the words “London,” “president,” “Russian,” and a few others, but he could not be certain.

  Moments later, the conversation turned into a shouting match.

  Justin shook his head, gesturing to Ying to keep her voice down.

  She did not and kept screaming at the phone for a few more seconds, until Lim hung up on her. Ying ended the call and gave Justin a triumphant look.

  “What was that all about?” Justin said.

  “To be convincing. I told Lim we’re coming to kill him, wherever he’s hiding.”

  “You’re absolutely sure he’s Lim?” Carrie asked.

  Ying returned a firm nod. “Of course, I am. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize his voice?”

  Justin returned the phone to his pocket after he swiped through a couple of screens. He disabled the recording feature he had activated before handing the phone to Ying. Since he did not trust Ying completely, at the last moment, he had decided to have another set of ears listen to the recording. Someone who actually understood Chinese.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Let’s go talk to Isaac about borrowing some of his men.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  A mile southwest of Rutbah, Iraq

  In theory, the plan was really simple. Justin’s team knew the approximate location of Lim, or at least his phone. Ying had checked with the MSS cyber-communication team, which was constantly tracking the phone signal. It was still transmitting from the northern outskirts of the village, from the same house. So the plan called for Justin’s team to move in, capture or kill Lim, and get out alive.

  In practice, things were much more complicated. The team had no intelligence about Lim’s men or their defenses. It was reasonable to expect him to have a certain amount of security, a handful of men perhaps. But that was an assumption. Lim could be hiding completely on his own, if that was truly the purpose of his going to Iraq. Justin seriously doubted that was the case. He believed Lim could be recruiting accomplices for the London assassination plot. If that was true, he might be surrounding himself with a dozen or more combat-hardened fighters. Iraq was awash with poor, uneducated young men, whose only skill was firing a gun.

  So Justin took the necessary precautions, avoiding the often-made mistake of underestimating the opposition. He asked Isaac to provide as many trusted and well-trained fighters as possible. As expected, Isaac drove a hard bargain. Besides all the intelligence Justin had gathered at the site of the ambush, Isaac requested complete secrecy about what Justin and Carrie had learned during their brief stay in the village of Al-Zemrah. “What happens in Iraq, stays in Iraq,” Isaac had said with his trademark grin. Reluctantly, Justin had accepted the one-sided deal. This news will soon make it to the media, if it hasn’t already. Even Mossad will never be able to keep a tight lid on this scandal.

  In the early morning hours, two teams departed toward Rutbah in a three-SUV convoy. Isaac was in the lead vehicle with the driver, Hadi, and another man in his early forties, who intr
oduced himself as Heval Stephan. He had a fair facial complexion and strawberry blond hair and beard. Stephan spoke good English with a pronounced German accent. The word “Heval” meant “friend” in the Kurdish language. Justin had talked briefly to Stephan, and his accent reminded him of Karolin. What is she doing now? She’s probably in Spain, chasing Lim’s shadows. That would all be in vain if we get Lim in a couple of hours.

  Justin and Carrie rode in the second SUV, along with a couple of fighters. Ying was in the third vehicle, along with two more of Isaac’s trusted men. Considering her lack of tactical skills, Justin had decided Ying should remain as far away from the fighting as possible. He even thought about ordering her to remain in the village. But the team needed drivers, and Ying had proven herself very capable as one, especially if there was need for a fast getaway, which Justin suspected would be the case.

  Isaac’s men were very familiar with the area and knew what roads to take and what areas to avoid. As a result, the convoy reached the southern outskirts of Rutbah without running into any checkpoints or exchanging fire with anyone. Justin knew that was going to change soon.

  The target house was about three hundred yards deep inside the village. Justin had decided the team was going to move on foot toward the target. While the steel-reinforced doors of the SUVs offered some protection from volleys of bullets, they also reduced the team’s visibility and, more importantly, mobility. However, advancing on foot carried with it the added danger of being easier prey to the militants’ bullets.

  As the lead SUV drew near the first couple of houses, Isaac’s strong voice came into Justin’s earpiece. “Dismounting and heading north.”

  “Copy that,” Justin replied. “Ready?” he asked Carrie, then looked at the fighters in the backseat.

  “Yes,” said Carrie.

  “Ready,” replied one of the fighters who spoke a little English.

  Justin nodded and parked on the side of the road. He opened the door and stepped out in the cool, fresh morning air. He wished they would have arrived at the village in the heart of the night, when they were more likely to find most people asleep. But this was not a typical operation. There had been almost no reconnaissance. There were no overwatch snipers to cover the team’s advance. Justin barely knew his teammates’ names, let alone their combat skills.