Closure Page 17

  No one replied for a long moment, then he heard sharp static, followed by Andrei’s voice. “First Rover moving forward.”

  “We’ve got to stop them,” Mila said.

  “No.” Javin shook his head. “They’re splitting up. We can’t take them all down.”

  A long barrage sprayed bullets around them.

  “That’s coming from the Rover,” Qassim shouted.

  “Stay down, and let them go,” Javin shouted back.

  “They’re killing us, Javin,” Qassim said.

  “Seek cover, and let them pass,” Javin said.

  No reply for a few seconds, so he said, “Qassim, that’s an order.”

  Again no reply.

  He glanced through the Škoda’s rear window. Qassim was standing near the back of the Volkswagen. He had just shouldered a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. “No, don’t fire. Drop it,” Javin shouted.

  Qassim did not reply, but aimed it at the first Range Rover.

  Javin shook his head and stood up. If he did not intervene, the vehicle would turn into a fireball, along with all the CIS operatives inside.

  So he ran onto the road, amidst the hailstorm of bullets flying from all sides. He stepped in front of the Range Rover, pointed his pistol at Qassim, and shouted, “Drop the RPG.”

  Qassim returned a headshake, then moved further to the left, so the weapon would not hit Javin. But the Canadian took a step to the right, matching Qassim’s move. Javin was directly in the line of sight of the rocket-propelled grenade.

  He had no time to convince Qassim and no choice.

  Javin fired once.

  The bullet struck Qassim on his left arm. The force of the bullet knocked him back, but only for a moment. He realigned his launcher with the nearing Range Rover.

  Javin fired again, twice.

  His bullets thumped against Qassim’s chest.

  Off balance, he was able to pull the launcher’s trigger.

  Javin had expected that result, so he dove to the side. The warhead cut through the air a couple of feet over his head and slammed into the cement truck’s cabin. A large explosion rocked the entire area, and large orange flames engulfed the truck, leaping high into the sky.

  A burst of bullets struck around him.

  Javin rolled away from them, but there was no place for cover. One of the bullets grazed his left leg, while another whizzed so close to his head he almost felt the hair singe.

  Javin did not return fire but watched the first Range Rover plow into the front of the Škoda and push it to the side. Then it squeezed past the Volkswagen, crashing into its back, and continued toward the airport.

  The second Range Rover followed through. No one fired from this vehicle. Javin noted the rear right-side run-flat tire had been pierced by Andrei’s and his Iranian partner’s bullets. While the Range Rover was still going, it did not mean it could run forever. Especially at high speeds.

  Javin smiled. The operation had gone sideways, but he could still correct it.

  As the Range Rover slid next to the Volkswagen, Javin shouted into his mike, “Andrei, Mila, don’t let the Audi go through.”

  “Got it,” Mila replied.

  “No worries,” Andrei replied. “He’s stalled.”

  “How are you?” Javin bolted toward the Škoda.

  “Eh, okay, I guess. The explosion killed the Iranian.”

  “Yes, that was Qassim,” Javin said.

  “He’s dead too,” Claudia said as Javin reached the Škoda.

  “That’s too bad. I asked him to stop.” He shrugged and glanced at the Škoda. One of the front wheels was twisted, and the bumper had caved in. “That’s totalled.”

  Claudia nodded. “Let’s take the Polo.”

  Javin nodded. The Volkswagen Polo hatchback had suffered less damage. The rear was crumpled, but the wheels were intact. “Yes. Claudia and I will give chase. Andrei and Muath, hold back the Audi until the police arrive.”

  “I’ll be your back-up.” Mila glanced at Javin.

  “Sure.” He slid into the Volkswagen’s driver seat.

  Three seconds later, Claudia was strapped into the front passenger’s seat. “Hit it,” she said.

  “See you in a bit, Mila,” Javin said.

  “Yes, don’t let them get to the plane.”

  “That can’t happen,” Javin shouted and slammed his foot on the gas.

  The Volkswagen barrelled down the overpass and along Route de Ferney, following behind the Range Rovers heading toward the airport.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Route de Ferney

  Geneva, Switzerland

  The Volkswagen began to gain on the second Range Rover. Javin stepped so hard on the gas pedal, he thought his foot went through the floor. He held the steering wheel tight, as his heart was pounding in his throat.

  Claudia readied her pistol and rolled down her window. As the Range Rover zipped through the intersection without even slowing down, she fired a quick burst. She aimed at the rear tires, hoping the barrage would slow down the SUV, if not bring it to a complete stop.

  The Range Rover did not turn right and head toward the airport. A couple of large trucks were up ahead, and they would slow the Range Rover’s escape. The driver was following the lead SUV, which was staying the course.

  When Javin came to the intersection, a red Nissan sedan was racing across from them. Javin stepped on the brakes, then steered away from the sedan and the oncoming traffic. He missed the Nissan, but not a Mercedes-Benz SUV following behind. The Volkswagen sideswiped the SUV.

  The crash sent the Volkswagen spinning. Javin fought with the steering wheel, aiming to drive away from the intersection and a van coming straight at the Volkswagen. He stepped on the gas, and they missed the van by inches. Then Javin hit the brakes to stop the slide toward the traffic light pole.

  He was able to avoid the crash and straightened the wheel.

  Claudia said, “Pretty good. I’m impressed.”

  “This is nothing. You should see me do it single-handed.”

  He flattened the gas. The Range Rover had increased the distance, but Javin was working hard to get closer to the SUV. When the two vehicles were about twenty yards away, Claudia leaned out of her window and fired a long barrage. Her bullets must have struck the tires, because the SUV dropped a couple of inches. Then it veered right and left for a few yards, as it entered the tunnel running under the airport runway. The driver regained control, and the Range Rover kept going.

  Claudia looked at Javin. “I don’t think this is going to cut it.” She waved her pistol.

  “Hold on,” he replied.

  Javin kept his foot on the gas and tightened the grip on the steering wheel. The Volkswagen picked up speed, closing the distance between the vehicles.

  Ten yards.

  Then seven.

  Three.

  Javin yanked hard on the steering wheel, just as one of the Range Rover’s rear windows rolled down. A rifle appeared, then a barrage cut through the Volkswagen’s windshield. Javin ducked, but he kept his hands on the steering wheel.

  A split second later, the Volkswagen crashed into the side of the Range Rover. The collision’s impact was not enough to push the heavy SUV. The barrage had forced him to miss. The Range Rover was slightly damaged by the collision, but it was sufficient to cause the CIS operative to lose his rifle.

  Claudia reloaded, then she fired again at the Range Rover.

  “Let’s try this again,” Javin said.

  He steered closer to the Range Rover and aimed the smashed hood. The Volkswagen hit the Range Rover near the rear wheel, but again the SUV kept going as if nothing had happened.

  “Try a PIT,” Claudia said.

  Javin nodded. A Pursuit Intervention Technique, or a PIT, was the well-known police tactic of ramming the left side of the vehicle being pursued, in order to turn it sideways and stop the vehicle. The tactic was usually successful, but required a lot of precision and was more effective at a low speed. �
�That’s what I’m doing ...”

  He gunned the engine and drove close to the Range Rover.

  The head of a man appeared through the rear window. He glanced at the Volkswagen and pointed a rifle at Javin.

  It was Martin.

  Seeing his face made Javin seethe with rage. He ignored the bullets striking the front of the Volkswagen and skimming the hood. Javin dropped low in his seat and kept going straight for the Range Rover.

  The driver tried to slide out of the way.

  Too late.

  The Volkswagen slammed hard into the side of the Range Rover. The crash sent the SUV toward the tunnel’s wall. The rear wheels climbed over the narrow sidewalk along the wall, and the SUV spun around.

  Then it flipped over and began to roll. The windshield shattered, and the Range Rover lost the hood. The SUV’s frame crumpled, and the windows’ glass erupted under the continuous shock.

  Javin never took his foot off the gas. The Volkswagen crashed again into the rolling Range Rover. It turned a couple more times, then it rested on its roof.

  Javin stepped slowly on the brakes and brought the Volkswagen to a stop a few yards away from the Range Rover.

  Martin had been thrown out the window and was crawling on the pavement. His face was covered in blood, and his movements were weak, uncoordinated. He tried to climb to his knees, but the effort proved to be too much, so he rested on his back.

  Javin stepped out and remained behind the Volkswagen’s door. He was uncertain about the fate of the rest of the operatives in the flipped-over Range Rover. The lead SUV had stopped and was slowly backing toward the crash site.

  Javin knew it was not over. “Claudia, cover,” he said.

  “Got it.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Route de Ferney

  Geneva, Switzerland

  Javin walked toward Martin, ignoring curious glances from a series of drivers and passengers in the other two lanes going in the opposite direction. He waved at them to hurry along, but like most people in a similar situation, they were slowing down to take in the uncommon scene.

  As he got near Martin, who was struggling to get up to his knees, Javin’s ear burst with Mila’s voice. “Javin, I’ve got your back.”

  He cast a quick glance over his shoulder.

  Mila was standing next to a white box-shaped SUV. She had pointed a rifle at the lead Range Rover, which had stopped about thirty yards away from the second one.

  Javin reached Martin without anyone firing a shot. Javin kept his eyes open and held his pistol at the ready.

  A man was moving slowly near the driver’s door. He had no weapon in his hands, and his slow, clumsy gestures showed that he was not an immediate threat. A loud noise came from the other side of the Range Rover, as if someone was trying to pry open the door.

  Javin knelt next to Martin, who gave him a grin. “You’ve got ... got me, Javin. You’re happy?”

  Javin shook his head. “No, I didn’t want it to go this way.”

  He searched Martin and found no weapon on his boss. Javin tiptoed to the other side. One of the CIS operatives was trying to pull a passenger out of the SUV’s rear door. The operative was injured, and one of his arms was dangling like a withered branch. When he saw Javin, the operative froze.

  Javin said, “Relax. I’m not going to kill you.”

  “But ... you caused all this?”

  “I didn’t. All I wanted was Martin and the minister.”

  The operative nodded. “He’s unresponsive.” He pointed at the man in the backseat.

  Javin glanced at the minister’s bloodied face. His neck was twisted unnaturally, and his body was limp and hanging to the right side. Blood was trickling from a large chest wound. “Yeah, he’s dead,” Javin said with true regret in his voice. He gestured toward the Range Rover. “Let’s go.”

  The operative hesitated for a beat, but shuffled his feet when Javin waved his pistol. When they came close to Martin, a second operative—Javin assumed was the driver—was reaching for a rifle a few feet away from the Range Rover and Martin. “Don’t do it,” Javin shouted.

  The driver glanced at Javin, then at the rifle.

  Javin waved his pistol. He did not point it at the driver, but the gesture was clear.

  The driver slowly raised his hands.

  Javin turned his head toward Claudia, then Mila.

  They both nodded at him.

  Claudia said, “I’ve got them, Javin.”

  “I have the other Rover,” Mila said.

  Javin tipped his head toward the operative and motioned for him to get on the pavement. “Face down. Hands behind your head.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No, I told you that already.”

  “Then what?”

  “Do as you’re told.”

  The operative shook his head, but he followed Javin’s order.

  He then walked to Martin, who was giving him a stern look. “You’re ... you’re going to kill me now?” he asked between gasps.

  “No, I want you to talk, to tell me why you betrayed me and Claudia.”

  Martin began to shake his head. “You don’t ... understand anything.”

  “I understand treason. My boss of all people should have had my back, not send Mossad to kill me.”

  “They did what was necessary for the common good.”

  “The good of whom?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Except the ones punished for your wrongs.”

  Martin groaned. “Who are you to judge me, Javin? You’ve never done something wrong?”

  “I have; more than I can count. But I’ve never blamed it on my teammates.”

  Martin tried to shrug, but the gesture proved to be too much. He winced, and a trickle of blood oozed out of the left corner of his mouth. He coughed, then drew in a series of shallow breaths before saying, “One day you may understand, once you have a lot of responsibilities.”

  Javin shook his head. “Oh, don’t go there. Don’t blame this on the country you’re supposed to serve.”

  “I did serve my country very well ... until the end. And everyone is safer because of what I’ve done.”

  “No, you betrayed your country and everything we stand for. But they’ll learn about what you’ve done.”

  Martin’s face formed a sad grin. He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he reopened them, the glint of life seemed to have vanished. He appeared resigned to his fate. “It’s not going to work, Javin, and you know it.” Martin moved his head slowly as he glanced around. “This ... this is all you’ll ever get. Make the most of it.”

  Javin stepped closer to Martin. “I’m going to take you in, and you’ll give an account—”

  “No, you won’t.” Martin pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Javin.

  He raised his pistol, but before he could aim it, Martin fired a round.

  And another.

  They struck Javin in the chest. His bulletproof vest caught the brunt of the blows as Javin was thrown backwards. His body burned with pain as he tried to turn his pistol on Martin, but Javin could not control his hand.

  He fell on his back against the hard pavement and saw Martin turn his pistol toward Mila.

  She was waiting for him and returned a quick burst. Her bullets cut through Martin’s body. He dropped his pistol and his arm, then his head fell to the side.

  Javin slowly lifted his head as he tasted blood in his mouth. A sharp pain speared through his chest, and his lungs burned where the bullets had struck. Fractured ribs? he wondered.

  He got to his elbows before Claudia knelt next to him. “Javin, how are you?”

  “Eh ... I’m alright, I think.” He drew in shallow breaths to avoid the painful feeling in his lungs and his throat.

  “The vest you didn’t want to wear saved your life.” Claudia smiled.

  “Yeah, I should listen to you more often.”

  “You should.”

  “Is he—”

 
“Yes, Martin’s dead.”

  “I didn’t want this to happen.”

  “I know, Javin. It was his decision.”

  She helped him to sit up. “Can you stand?”

  “Yes, my legs are fine.”

  He leaned on Claudia, and a moment later he was standing next to her. Javin wavered for a moment, and it seemed he was going to fall. He took a couple of uneasy steps, then his dizziness disappeared. “I’m all right now.”

  “Good,” Claudia said.

  He glanced at Mila, then at the first Range Rover. “They try anything?”

  “No. They know better.”

  “I’ll go talk to them.”

  “After killing their boss and the minister? I don’t think it’s such a wise idea.”

  “They saw what happened. They’ll understand.”

  “I doubt it. But if you’re going, let me come with you.”

  Javin nodded. “Claudia, stay with them.” He gestured at the two CIS operatives lying on the pavement.

  “Got it. But do you have to go?”

  “Yes, we have to end this now.”

  “All right, Javin.”

  He gave her a smile and began to walk toward the first Range Rover. Javin held his pistol to the side, in an unthreatening manner.

  Mila walked next to him. Her assault rifle was in a low-ready position. With a quick flick of her wrist, she could raise the weapon, then fire, if it became necessary.

  They had taken but four steps when a silver BMW sedan sped through the tunnel. It was in the wrong lane, and it was coming at them fast.

  Javin and Mila both aimed their weapons at the BMW. It slowed down, then it came to a screeching halt near the first Range Rover.

  “Who’s that?” Mila asked.

  Javin shrugged. “No idea. Uninvited guest.”

  The BMW’s driver door opened, then a woman stepped out.

  Javin could barely see her face because of the faint light in the tunnel and also because she wore a pair of large sunglasses. His gut instinct told him who she was. And a beat later, when she lifted the sunglasses above her head, his instinct was confirmed.