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  Vehicles zipped along the highway constantly, but only once in a while someone would drive past them. A couple of times, Javin was outside the Lada when it happened. The drivers only slowed down and gave Javin a casual glance, then proceeded on their way.

  At the crack of dawn, Javin woke up his team. He took Chen, and they drove to a hardware store and bought cans of paints, rollers, and other painting supplies. Back at the truck, they repainted the trailer a dark blue. It wasn’t the greatest job by a long stretch, but sufficient to cover the Maersk logo and letters, especially from a distance. Even if it only slightly improved their chances of blending in, it was well worth the hassle.

  Chen took over driving the Lada so that Javin could rest. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for perhaps an hour or so, then dozed on and off for the better part of the next two. When he was half-awake, they stopped at a roadside café for a jolt of caffeine. In a matter of minutes, Javin was up and running and behind the wheel of the SUV.

  Mila called Javin to inform him that she had spoken to Captain Abiyev. As expected, he had denied any involvement in the ambush, or that he had dispatched the border guards after Fang and his team. Javin hadn’t been able to obtain any intelligence from the phones they had retrieved from the dead guards, because the devices were password protected. It didn’t matter. Once the SVR electronic experts had gone through the phones, they’d find a way to check the captain’s claims.

  Mila had convinced the captain to send the police authorities on a wild goose chase in the opposite direction, toward Almaty and the border areas. This was the reason for the lack of attention to the truck and the convoy as Javin and his team reached Karagandy in the late afternoon without running into trouble.

  The SVR operative had arranged for a surgeon to treat Fang at a house behind Bagdat Restaurant, just north of the Karagandy State University. The surgeon noticed the skin around the wound had turned red, a sign of an infection. He suspected the wound had been contaminated with clothing particles and bacteria. Fang reported tingling around the wound and new, increased pain. The surgeon strongly recommended that Fang remain in the house after the surgery to remove the bullet and any fragments.

  It was a difficult decision, but Javin agreed with the doctor. Fang promised to connect through his laptop and accomplish the rest of his assignment since his presence wasn’t crucial for the next phase. The team could complete the mission on their own. It was going to be difficult, but not impossible.

  Xiulan, of course, stayed back with Fang. Javin didn’t mind her absence, considering her more a liability than an asset. But she’d be able to stay by Fang’s side and comfort him.

  Javin left the Kia sedan with Fang after his teammates moved everything to the Lada. Then the SUV and the tractor-trailer continued on their three-hour trip to Nur-Sultan, the capital of Kazakhstan, along Highway M-36.

  When they drew near the Nur-Sultan Nazarbayev International Airport, Javin called Mila. She had secured space in an Ilyushin cargo plane and had made the necessary arrangements for the truck to clear customs with just a passing glance at the manifest. In a matter of minutes, the truck was discreetly loaded into the cargo bay of the plane.

  The entire scenario greatly unsettled Javin, but it was the price he’d have to pay to secure the Russians’ cooperation. It troubled him how much he was relying on Mila and her network of contacts. I will have to pay big for this, for everything she’s doing. Is it worth it, Javin? He shook his head. He couldn’t abort the mission now.

  Claudia’s words echoed at the back of his mind. Stop messing around with Mossad. Whatever is done is done. He shrugged. I’m sorry, Claudia. I’m past the point of no return. I might go down in this op, but I’m taking down the Mossad team one way or the other… I will make them pay, or I’ll die trying…

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Somewhere Over Eastern Turkey

  The call from Matthias came as the Ilyushin cargo plane was about an hour away from its destination, the recently established airbase in Qamishli, northeastern Syria. Javin walked to the end of the aircraft, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the Chinese hackers sitting on uncomfortable seats along the sides of the cargo bay. He stood next to a couple of pallets of supplies being sent to the airbase, then removed his aviation headset. He plugged one of his ears with one finger, brought the phone to his other ear, then said, “Yes, Javin here.”

  “Ja… vin, Javin… I… can… bare… barely hear you,” the Mossad operative’s voice came weak and in bursts.

  “Yes, I’m on a plane.” Javin stepped farther away from the side of the plane. “Is this any better?”

  “No… not really.”

  “Well, I can hear you somewhat okay. Go ahead…”

  “I’ll keep this short, so… before the line drops. I’ve got the team’s destination.”

  It was the Mossad team that Matthias had been tracking, the team that had killed Yael, the team that Javin was going to hunt down and eliminate in Syria. His heart jumped in his chest. “Where?”

  “Al-Qudin. It’s a village north of the town of Al-Bukamal, eastern Syria, just across the border with Iraq.”

  Javin nodded. He knew the town’s exact location, which was just thirteen kilometers away from the border crossing, in the Deir Ezzor province. The area had been the target of an intense airstrike that heavily damaged an Iranian military airbase under construction a short distance southwest of the city, on the banks of the Euphrates River. It was an open secret that the Israel Defense Forces had carried out the attack, which aimed to destroy the Iranian storehouses.

  Over the last few months, a series of Israeli airstrikes had targeted compounds of pro-Iranian Shiite militias around the town. According to Israel, the Iranians’ intentions were to build a so-called “land bridge” to facilitate the movement of weapons and fighters from Iran to its allies in Syria and Hezbollah in Lebanon. According to Iran, a long-time ally of Syria, the assistance of its troops to the “Shiite brothers” in Syria was intended to utterly destroy ISIS terrorist forces still hiding in small towns and villages in the area and to return peace to the region.

  According to Javin’s intelligence, the Iranian Quds Force was in charge of the compound’s construction. The entire area was crawling with Iranians or members of the Popular Mobilization Forces, or PMF, the Iranian-backed Shiite militias. It made sense that Mossad would dispatch an assassination team to this hot zone.

  “Who’s their target?” Javin asked.

  “A colonel called Mohsen Dabiri. He’s the second in command of the Quds Force troops operating in the area. He’s having an important meeting with leaders of Shiite fighters in the village.”

  Dabiri. The name didn’t ring any bells, but Javin had no reason to be familiar with the individual commanders in the area. The situation on the ground changed on almost a daily basis, and moreover, that was not his area of operations.

  “I’ve never heard of the man.”

  “He’s a big deal in the area. I’ll send you a photo along with the files.”

  “Why is the team on the ground?”

  “Why? Isn’t it obvious? To kill him.”

  “Okay, but why in person? Why not airstrikes, as has been Israel’s way in the past?”

  “Two different, but related reasons: First, airstrikes are imprecise, especially when targeting specific individuals. In this case, the agency wants to make sure that Colonel Dabiri is eliminated. Second, recent airstrikes have given the IDF a bad rep, especially the last one. A family happened to be visiting one of the compounds when it hit. Three women and two children died.”

  Javin nodded. “Collateral damage” to the Israelis. “Reasons for revenge” to the surviving family members.

  “Do you have more details?”

  “I’m sending you a draft of the initial plan. As you’ll see, it’s incomplete. I’ll be away from my station over the next forty-eight hours, so that I have a rock-solid cover story when all this comes to light. The tracker
will still be working, as long as they have the phone with them, but I’ll have no visual contact or communication with the team.”

  Javin nodded again. He understood Matthias’s perilous position. He was betraying members of his own agency. Yes, he was giving them what they had coming their way, but treason was treason, no matter the reason… “Understood. Anything else?”

  “No. I might call you later today, once the team is on the ground. That will probably be our last communication until this is all over.”

  “Good. I’ll take over from here.”

  “Their entry point into Syria is the US base at Al-Zkuf, a hundred and thirty kilometers southwest of the village. They’re landing today in the evening.”

  Javin made some quick calculations. His team would have just enough time to cross through most of eastern Syria and be in position.

  “All right. Thanks, Matthias.”

  “No problem, Javin. Now, good luck.”

  “Yes.” I’ll need it.

  He sighed and returned to his seat. He put his aviation headset on and glanced at Chen, who was sitting across from him. Chen gave Javin a worried look and said through the communication system, “Bad news?”

  “No. Just news. It’s up to us to decide whether it’s good or bad.”

  He didn’t want to offer more details since everyone else on the aircraft could hear their conversation.

  Chen understood and didn’t press any further.

  Javin leaned back against the wall and tugged on the seatbelt strap to make sure it was secured. He closed his eyes and tried to tune out the roar of the airplane engines. He was somewhat successful as he fell into a shallow, fragmented sleep.

  * * *

  It was late morning when the cargo plane landed at the Russian airbase in Qamishli. Javin met briefly with the airbase deputy commander, who was more than happy to assist Javin in leaving the premises as soon as possible. The commander saw Javin as a headache, whom he was forced to support because of orders from Moscow. He provided Javin with weapons and ammunition, a GAZ-2330 “Tigr” armored vehicle— considered “the Russian Humvee”—and an Iveco 4x4 truck for the cargo and quickly escorted him off the base.

  Javin’s team was now entirely on their own.

  He didn’t mind it at all. In fact, that’s how he preferred it. The fewer the people who knew about their operation, the higher their chances of survival and success.

  After a quick meal at a hole-in-the-wall eatery just outside the base, the team readied for their long trek toward Al-Qudin. Under normal conditions, the trip would take about seven hours, with plenty of rest along the way. But there were no normal conditions in Syria, especially in this part of the country, fragmented among various hostile factions.

  Most of the area was controlled by pro-government forces and local militias loyal to the government. Some pockets were still in the hands of ISIS remnants or its supporters. Farther to the south, the US troops and coalition forces held large swaths, where they had two bases and trained Syrian opposition armed forces to fight ISIS. The Iranians and their proxies controlled some parts of the southeastern region.

  It was a true minefield.

  Javin secured a Nissan truck as part of their convoy. The Russian armored vehicle would serve them well in areas under Russian and pro-government forces’ control. The vehicle would become a bullet magnet when entering rebel-held regions. He was planning to leave the “Tigr” at the last Russian outpost, before they crossed the point of no return.

  The convoy headed south with Javin leading in the Nissan, followed by Wu and his partner in the Iveco truck. Chen and Li were at the back in the “Tigr.” They drove as fast as they could along Highway M4 patrolled by Russian troops. Then they switched to the narrower Route 7, which was in worse condition.

  When they reached Al-Hasakah, Javin handed over the “Tigr” to the Russian checkpoint on the southern outskirts of the city. After Chen and Li got into the Nissan, Javin peeled off the main artery going south and drove toward the east. They took secondary roads and dirt trails, skirting towns and villages, following the intelligence Javin had carefully collected from his Russian, Canadian, and US sources.

  As fate would have it, they drew near the village of Makhban around nightfall. Javin could hardly believe that they had almost reached their destination without encountering any resistance or firing a single shot. He thanked God for leading them so deep into enemy territory and keeping them safe.

  But he knew it wasn’t over. The real operation was about to get started.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Five Kilometers Northwest of Makhban

  Syria

  And it did, with a call from Matthias about an hour later.

  When Javin answered, the Mossad operative said, “Javin, they’ve landed.”

  “When?”

  “Fifteen minutes ago. The signal is stationary, so they should still be at the American base.”

  Javin frowned. He stepped out of the Nissan and stood a few steps away from Chen, who was fumbling with his phone. The CIS operative didn’t want the rest of his team to hear any bits and pieces of the conversation, since they could misinterpret his words.

  The stationary signal highlighted the limitation of their tracking capabilities. If the Mossad team leader didn’t bring the phone with him, or if he was away from the rest of the operatives, the drone strike would only take out that target.

  Javin thought about the file that Matthias had sent him. It contained the initial route, but that also wasn’t much help. Javin’s team had changed their driving course at least five times over the last three hours, to avoid existing or potential checkpoints. Mossad’s operatives would have to adapt their plan to the current situation on the ground.

  There was yet another option, but he’d rather not use it at this point.

  Javin asked, “What else do you know?”

  “That’s all I’ve got. As I said, the tracker will still be active, but you might lose the signal. The area doesn’t have much coverage. Plus, I’ll have to make sure I’m not caught.”

  Javin drew in a deep breath. They were at least a hundred kilometers away from the US base at Al-Zkuf. US-led coalition forces were training local militia groups to fight against the Syrian regime. The Mossad team could blend in with them, to make themselves harder targets. Or they could operate together with US troops. Both scenarios would make a drone strike impossible. Javin couldn’t have collateral damage among innocent locals or American allies.

  “Okay, Matthias. I’m assuming this is the last I’ll hear from you…”

  “Yes, until this is over.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Beh hahts lah khah, Javin.” I wish you luck, Javin.

  Yes, otherwise, I’m a dead man. “Thanks, Matthias.”

  He ended the call and looked at the trucks about twenty meters away. They had found an area somewhat sheltered from the rest of the desert because of tall dunes. Away from all back trails, accessible only through a path that Javin had cut, the team was tucked away. They’d be discovered only if someone knew where and what they were looking for.

  He made his way to the team and said, “All right, the time is now. We have to put the bird in the air.”

  “Now? Here?” Wu asked. He was the oldest of the team, forty-one, with the smallest frame, wiry hair, and a pair of black-framed thick glasses.

  “Yes, how long will it take?”

  “Eh, an hour, two, maybe.”

  “We don’t have that long. Can you do it in thirty minutes?”

  “Thirty minutes? I… I don’t know.” Wu shook his small head.

  “Forty-five? Let’s aim for forty-five then…”

  Wu shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  “Give it your best shot. You guys are the best,” he said as his eyes moved from Wu’s face to Chen, then Li, and then the last man in his team, Keung. “You took the drone from the Chinese military base right under their noses, and they still don’t know where it is. I’m
sure with all that talent, you can get it ready in no time.”

  Keung offered a small smile, his gray eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight. “We’ll do our best; we’ll try,” he said.

  “That’s all I’m asking. And get Fang on the line. He can help as much as you need him. I’ll keep guard.”

  Wu and Keung ran to the Iveco truck.

  Javin said to Chen, “Once the drone is up and running, link the tracking signal to the drone control console and have the drone follow the signal.”

  Chen nodded. “I’ll get it done and bring it to you.”

  “Good. And don’t forget to mask the signal.”

  “Of course not. Now, you know once we’ve activated, we’ll be visible if someone’s watching…”

  Javin said, “I don’t think the Iranians have the technology to detect drones.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Yes, so let’s refrain from activating the signal until it’s ready to fly.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  Wu and Keung began unloading the equipment for the control station to operate the drone. Javin shrugged and crawled to the top of the dune. He stretched out on the sand and began to observe the surroundings through his binoculars. Then he switched to his night-vision goggles.

  Nothing.

  It was a clear night sky, with only the occasional thin cloud. The bright moon lit up the area, and he could see a few hundred meters away. The night had grown chilly, so he tightened the tan vest around his chest. He could see his breath in front of his mouth for a few moments before it disappeared.

  He drew in a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs. He turned his head upwards, at the lit sky. He had never seen so many stars. He searched for reconnaissance aircraft or drones that the Americans or the Russians might be employing in the area. It was improbable that Javin would detect them until they were right overhead. Then, it would be too late.