Covert Assassin Page 8

  “Do you have to ask?” Ying smiled.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Let’s catch the tube at Piccadilly station and head to France.”

  “Always wanted to go to Paris,” Ying said.

  “Well, this is your chance,” Carrie said.

  Justin nodded. “Yes, and perhaps in Paris we might learn something about Lim, since that’s the last place he was seen before vanishing.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Onboard Eurostar Train

  En route to Paris, France

  As fate would have it, Justin, Carrie, and Ying snuck onto the Eurostar train without any trouble. There was a considerable security presence at St. Pancras International railway station: heavily-armed counter-terrorism units in gray uniforms brandishing Sig MCX carbines and at least three grayish vans and two black armored multi-role 4x4 vehicles. None of the officers paid any attention to the team, who boarded the train separately, at different cars. The three of them would meet at the restaurant car only after the train had been traveling for thirty minutes.

  Justin was the first to arrive. He ordered a coffee, picked it up, and stood by the window, away from a group of three young women who were chatting quietly. He glanced at his reflection in the dark glass as the train shot through the night at two hundred and twenty miles an hour. Justin pondered on the day’s events. There seemed to be a connection between Lim and the attackers at the restaurant, albeit still unconfirmed. Ying had promised to provide them with more intelligence on the man she had identified during the attack. Well, let’s hope she’ll answer at least some of our questions.

  He took another sip of his coffee, then his phone rang. Justin recognized the ringtone of the famous Stevie Wonder song, I Just Called to Say I Love You, which he had assigned to Karolin, his girlfriend. “Hi, honey,” he answered in a warm tone.

  “Hallo, Justin, how are you, sweetie?” Karolin said in the brisk German accent he loved.

  “Doing pretty well. And you?”

  “Oh, tired. It’s been a looooong day,” Karolin said and yawned. “I can hear a strange rattling noise. Are you ... on a train?”

  Justin stifled a yawn he had caught from Karolin. “Yes, that’s right. You figured it out.”

  “Eh, the noise ... No big deal.”

  “How did things go with the asset?”

  Karolin had joined CIS a few months back as a surveillant, working on low-level, minor-threat assignments. Justin had opposed the move, out of concern for her safety, but Flavio still had moved forward with the hire. According to him, having Karolin on staff would improve her relationship with Justin, enhancing his focus and performance. As much as Justin wanted to disagree, the move had worked. He saw Karolin more often now that they were both stationed in Vienna. But his worry had not disappeared; it had been replaced with another kind.

  Karolin took another moment, then said, “It could have gone better, but it could have gone worse. His contact came to the meet but provided nothing useful. I went through the recording and the transcript three times. A waste of time.”

  “There’s really no such thing, Karolin. At least you know that contact is not good.”

  “Yes, well, the asset doesn’t have any new contacts. So, we’re stuck, at least for a while.”

  “I’m sure something will come up. It always does.”

  “Enough with my boring case. How’s your op going?”

  Justin did not answer right away. Even now that both he and Karolin worked for the CIS Vienna station, they were given different assignments. Unless authorized to share intelligence with Karolin, he could not go into specifics. “How much do you know?”

  “What I’ve heard in the news. The shooting in Dublin the night before, then gunfire tonight in a London restaurant. Tell me that wasn’t you, Justin?”

  “Karolin, you know I can’t confirm anything.”

  “Well, Flavio has told me you’re operating in the UK, and you’re looking for the missing SAS operative. How’s that going?”

  Justin frowned. He had no prior knowledge that Flavio had shared those details with Karolin. Justin wondered about the reason, then a thought popped into his mind, and the frown deepened. Does this mean ... “Karolin, what exactly did Flavio tell you?”

  “Justin, you sound quite cranky.”

  Justin shook his head, then said in a low voice just above a whisper, “Karolin, did Flavio assign you to this op?”

  A moment of a tense pause, then Karolin said, “Justin, I wish you didn’t ask me that. Flavio told me he would inform you ... I guess he didn’t.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Justin sighed. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but we don’t need surveillants.”

  “Justin, I’m not coming as a surveillant.”

  Justin frowned. “What?”

  “You didn’t hear me. Flavio’s not dispatching me as a surveillant.”

  “I heard that. But this ... this job is for profess—”

  “I am a professional, Justin. And I will be working closely with other pros, like yourself and Carrie.”

  Justin shook his head, but there was no point in arguing with Karolin. He drew in a deep breath. “I’m ... let me talk to Flavio about this.”

  “Why, Justin? So you can try to change his mind?”

  “This is very dangerous, Karolin, extremely dangerous.”

  “You don’t think I know that?”

  “You do, but perhaps you don’t fully understand it.”

  “Well, then you can explain it to me, when we meet in Spain.”

  “Spain?”

  “Yes. Bilbao, to follow up on your report about Lim’s contacts.”

  Justin did not know what to say. “I ... I need to talk to Flavio. I haven’t gotten any orders to go to Spain.”

  “Well, I’m flying there in a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve talked to Flavio.”

  “All right, just don’t be angry about this.”

  “I’m not angry at you, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t be angry at anyone. Flavio’s doing his job.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “I’m sure he has good reasons, and you’ll find out when you talk to him.”

  “Yes, all right,” Justin said in a cold voice.

  Karolin sighed. “Good bye, Justin. Be safe.”

  “Yes, you too.”

  He ended the call, then slid the phone across the small counter by the window. It hit the coffee cup, but it did not spill it. Why didn’t Flavio tell me? He shook his head and reached for his phone. He dialed his boss’s number. No one answered during the first couple of rings, then the answering machine prompted Justin to leave a message. He shrugged and hung up. His number would show up in Flavio’s phone, and the boss would return the call. Yes, when he feels like it. Justin shook his head again.

  “What’s wrong, Justin?”

  Ying’s warm voice rang out from behind him.

  Justin turned around. “Eh, I got some bad news.”

  “About our op?”

  “No, well ... kind of.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Justin thought about how to word his reply. “My boss is bringing on board a new team member, and I’d rather not work with this person.”

  “You’ve had a fight with him?”

  “No, but I would prefer we weren’t on the same team. But it’s not up to me to decide. And while it’s the same team, the person in question will be working in another location. Spain.”

  Ying nodded. “Yes, checking on Lim’s associates. I’ve told you, Justin, there’s nothing there.”

  “Like I said, I’m not the one who decides.”

  Ying shrugged and sipped her coffee. Then she showed Justin her phone. “On the topic of decisions, this is the latest update from MSS. They’ve located Lim.”

  “Where?”

  “Northwest Iraq, about twenty K east of Rutbah, Anbar province.”

  “That’s not far from
where Thames disappeared, right?”

  Ying smiled. “You’ve got a pretty good memory, Justin.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t complain. How certain is your agency that this is really Lim?”

  “Well, our techs have confirmed the signal came from one of Lim’s phones.”

  “Does MSS have eyes on the ground?”

  “One asset, who also established Lim’s identity.”

  “How reliable is the asset?”

  Ying nodded. “We’ve used him a couple of times. He’s rock solid.”

  “All right. So we don’t need to go to Paris.”

  “I’m quite disappointed about that.”

  Justin cocked his head. “Why? You’re still going there.”

  “I’m certainly not. Lim is in Iraq.”

  “Right, but we still need to find his collaborators.”

  “If there are any to be found. But why? If we eliminate Lim, we will have stopped the plot.”

  “What if Lim has a partner, someone working elsewhere?”

  “We don’t have any such indications.”

  “But it’s possible, and that’s why we need someone in Paris.”

  Ying nodded. “Sure, but not me. I’m going with you and Carrie.”

  “We don’t really need an analyst, Ying.”

  “Right, but you need a driver. And I’m pretty good at that; you said it yourself. You and Carrie need a driver; you need me.”

  Justin could not argue with that. The CIS did not have any assets who were familiar with that remote area of northwest Iraq, unlike the Chinese service. This was as much an MSS operation as it was the CIS’s. Ying was right; another operative could follow up the intelligence trail in Paris. Justin nodded. Yes, perhaps Karolin can do that. If she’s dispatched to Paris, after she’s finished in Spain, that means she’ll stay away from Iraq. Away from danger. “All right, you’ve convinced me, Ying. Let’s get off at the next stop and make arrangements to fly to Jordan. Then we’ll cross into Iraq.”

  Ying nodded. “Good, very good.”

  Justin took another sip, then looked over Ying’s shoulder at Carrie, who had just entered the restaurant car. She hurried to them and said, “Sorry, I’m late. One of the doors was jammed.”

  “What happened?” Ying asked.

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Thankfully, one of the mechanics knew what to do and pried it open.”

  Justin said, “Well, it’s good you’re here. We’ve got a hit on Lim.” He tipped his head toward Ying. “You tell her.”

  “Sure, I’m all ears.” Carrie drew closer to Ying.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Five miles west of the Jordan-Iraq border

  Seventy-five miles southwest of Rutbah, Iraq

  The curtain of dust veiled the black Nissan SUV from Justin’s eyes for a few seconds. Then it re-appeared as it came around a bend in the broken reddish semi-desert terrain. Justin stepped on the gas of his black Toyota truck as the tires spun over the sandy trail. The two-vehicle convoy was headed toward the Jordan-Iraq border, staying away from the main route—Baghdad International Highway—and the small villages along the way and the Tarbil border crossing. Under the cover of night’s blackness, the team was hoping to cross into Iraq unnoticed by Jordan’s border protection forces. Jordan had mobilized its army a few months before to counter Islamic terrorist groups that had resurfaced in Iraq’s Anbar province. Twice the insurgents had attempted to capture the border crossing and had attacked the border town of Karameh. They had been unsuccessful, and skirmishes had died down, but there were new reports of clashes as recently as the previous week.

  Justin glanced at the glove compartment. There was a letter there that the CIS documents section had prepared. It looked very authentic, with forged seals and stamps of the Ministry of Interior of Jordan, permitting the bearer to travel freely through the area. If the convoy was stopped, the document was their last hope to avoid being thrown in jail, or worse. While the permit would withstand initial scrutiny by border guard patrols, it would not hold out against a careful examination. Justin could only hope that scenario would never unfold.

  “You look worried,” Carrie said and shifted in her seat.

  “I am. I was reading last night about the state-of-the-art border protection technology Jordan has bought from the U.S., including sensor-fused border barriers, ground radar, and motion detection cameras.”

  “We’re still too far away. And we know where the watchtowers and the patrol paths are. Plus, we’re gliding through in complete darkness.”

  “There’s still a slight chance we’ll be detected.”

  “Yes, that’s always the case.”

  “Do you think we’ll find Lim?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “This is just a wild goose chase?”

  “I’m not sure, but, as I told you last night, this op seems very clean.”

  Carrie and Justin had had a long conversation about the chances of a successful operation.

  She leaned closer to Justin and said, “Lim is using a compromised phone, and he knows better than that. We have the confirmation from the asset of another service. And shouldn’t Lim be in London or somewhere closer to his target?”

  Justin nodded. “If this isn’t something to throw us off, it could be a set-up.”

  “Exactly. It’s a remote area, and Lim will know we can’t go in with a large force. If he has bought the asset, he’ll already know it’s only the four of us. And we both know it’s actually just you and me.”

  “Yes, Ying can drive, but she can’t shoot to save her life.”

  “If it feels like a trap, we’ll abort.”

  “Yes. Unless we get visual confirmation of Lim, we’re not getting into an ambush.”

  “It might already be too late to pull out, Justin.”

  “We’re still in friendly territory. At least for another couple of miles.”

  Carrie glanced at her tablet. “Yes, if we keep going straight.”

  “Let’s see what Ying and al-Rawi are planning.”

  Safa al-Rawi was the MSS’s local asset in Iraq. He had agreed to meet them in Amman, the capital of Jordan, then take them to the location near Rutbah, where he swore he had seen Lim. Justin and Carrie had directed the asset and Ying to be in the lead vehicle. The Canadians could freely discuss their doubts about the operation, and if al-Rawi was leading them into a trap, Justin and Carrie would still have a chance.

  Justin reached for the radio. “Ying, we’re getting close to the border.”

  “Yes, but not ready to cross yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Al-Rawi wants to turn right and proceed for another couple of miles.”

  Justin frowned. The longer they remained on the Jordanian side, the greater the risk of being discovered. The Iraqi army patrols were notorious for their lack of discipline, equipment, and overall courage. Once the team crossed into Iraq, the chances of evading security increased tenfold. “We should cross now, without delay.”

  “We’re not yet at the right place,” al-Rawi’s loud, firm voice came over the radio. “If we cross now, we might end up right into Iraqi custody. Two more miles south. There are no guards there.”

  “You’re certain about that?”

  “Yes, yes, very certain, very certain.”

  Ying’s voice came over the radio. “Justin, it’s your decision, but I think we should listen to our guide.”

  Justin shook his head and did not say anything for a long moment. Al-Rawi could be right, but he could also be dead wrong.

  Ying said, “What do we do, Justin?”

  He sighed, then said, “Let’s continue south.”

  “Good, good, good. We do that,” al-Rawi said in a voice full of confidence.

  Justin turned off the radio and placed it in the bracket mounted on the dashboard. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Carrie shrugged. “There’s no easy right or wrong answer, Justin. We’ll wait to find out.”

  “Yes
, we will.”

  They drove in silence for the next five minutes. The vehicles were going very slowly and making very little noise, climbing and descending the broken terrain. Justin straightened one of the pockets of his chest rig strapped over the desert tan camouflage jacket. Carrie was wearing a similar uniform. The green-and-red patches on their arms identified them as members of the Kurdish Peshmergas, the militia force who had been battling the Islamic State and a horde of other terrorist groups. The Peshmergas were still fighting for a free and independent Kurdistan, whose lands had been divided among Turkey, Syria, and Iraq. The Jordanians, for the most part, had stayed out of the civil wars raging in the neighboring countries, and had followed a hands-off approach.

  Justin rolled down the window. A gust of cool, fresh air came in and toyed with his hair. He listened carefully and heard nothing but the low engine noise and the crunching sand under the tires. He said, “We’ve come so far without being spotted. I feel we might just run out of luck.”

  “Don’t you always have a feeling like that?”

  “And am I not right most of the time?”

  “Most of the time. But I hope you’re—”

  Her words were cut off by two bright, blinding searchlights that fell on Ying’s and al-Rawi’s SUV.

  Justin cursed. “They found us.” He glanced at the searchlights. All he could tell was they were mobile, perhaps half a mile away and drawing closer. Large vehicles. Border patrol trucks.

  “Jordanians?” Carrie asked.

  “Unless Iraqis have crossed over.”

  “We stop?”

  “We have to.”

  Ying’s panicked voice erupted over the radio. “Justin, they’re firing at us.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two miles west of the Jordan-Iraq border

  Sixty-five miles southwest of Rutbah, Iraq

  “What?” Carrie shouted.

  A loud and long burst came over the radio. Al-Rawi was returning fire, considering Ying’s lack of skills in handling firearms.

  Justin shook his head. The situation had gone from bad to worse in a heartbeat. Once bullets started flying, it was too late for explanations and apologies. “Step on it, Ying. Get to the Iraqi side, now!”