Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) (5 page)

             
“She was a good friend, and I know she wouldn't want agent Trunce left in the hands of the PLO.  They are violent, poorly trained and use terror as if it’s the only tactic they understand,” Ariel said.

             
“Almost every similar organization over time has started that way,” Hartmann said. “When I fought for an independent Israel after the war, few of us had any training.  I led many missions where I was more concerned about my comrades making mistakes and getting killed than the execution of the mission itself.  We had little time to train anyone.  We just had to make do.”

             
“You were successful, and that's all that matters, sir,” Ariel said.

             
“Yes, you're right.  Victory has a way of justifying the means.  Let me know what's happening with the agent.  There's something about the American agent that I'm missing.  Some link to the past I just can't grasp.  I feel wary, and it’s not just the coming war with the Arabs, that’s inevitable. It's something else altogether,” Hartmann said.

             
Ariel left Hartmann with a quick nod.  She was his personal attendant and also one of his bodyguards.  He was a hero of the Jewish people, and had been long before she was born. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

             
Madeleine, John and Jack sorted through several weapons John kept in an expanded storm shelter in his back yard.  It had been renovated and expanded to accommodate several storage lockers and a gun range.  Few people other than himself had ever seen the extent of the collection of firearms and explosives he kept in anticipation of some future event only he could foresee.

             
“This will have to be done quietly, John.  But I think it's prudent to be prepared with some automatic weapons and at least one sniper rifle,” Madeleine said.

             
“I agree,” John said.  “I also think it would be best not to use American-made weapons in case we have to leave any behind.  I'd rather not start an international incident, at least not one that looks like it was started by the US.”

             
“We both worked with Russian weapons during the war,” Jack said casually.  “And I’ve kept current on the newer models.”

             
“How current, Jack?”  John asked.

             
“I'm semi-retired from MI6.  Sort of a consultant, you might say,” Jack said with a glance towards Madeleine.”

             
“You and MI6 can have your 'cold war', Jack,” Madeleine said.

             
“You knew, Madeleine?” John said.

             
“Of course I knew.  It was just an unspoken understanding.  Jack is no longer in the field, but learned many secrets during the war and the ensuing years.  That information is still valuable and classified. The Brits have a thing for old soldiers, John.  It's about loyalty.  There have been so many defections from both sides over the years.  I guess you could say that Jack has been instrumental in turning a Soviet agent or two,” Madeleine said.

             
“Mostly old soldiers like us, tired of the lack of promise the People's Revolution delivered.  Only the party favorites seem to enjoy any privilege.   It was just a switch from one kind of oligarchy for another,” Jack said.

             
“Is there anyone at MI6 that we can use for information?” John asked.

             
“It’s hard to say.  Maybe a man or two on the ground, but no one will want to do anything official.  Britain has its interests in the area as well.  I don't care about my position.  I've done my duty.  I just don't want to see any more casualties than necessary,” Jack said.

             
“While you soldiers are discussing strategy, mine is simple.  I will infiltrate and gather information.  I speak fluent Arabic.  My mother's family is from Algeria.  I will just need to find the right person at the right level.  I've done it many times,” Madeleine said.

             
“I almost hate to ask, then what?”  John said.

             
“I go get him and take out anyone who gets in the way,” Madeleine said casually breaking down a pistol, checking the action.  “John I appreciate your keeping my pistol in such fine working order.”

             
“A Welrod is a legendary weapon, deserving of tender loving care,” John said.

             
“The assassin's pistol,” Jack said.  “I hoped to never see that in your hands again.”

             
“You put it my hands the first time, Jack,” Madeleine said without reproach.  “I wouldn't pick it up again for any other reason.” Madeleine raised the weapon to arm’s length, remembering its balance and feel. “John, I'll need an automatic or two as well.  A .45 is too clumsy; anything silenced is best for me.”

             
“I've got a couple of OSS High Standards, HDM,” John said.

             
“They’re only .22 calibers,” Jack added.

             
“If it gets to the point where something bigger is necessary, we might as well bring out the heavy artillery.  It won't matter then.  This mission will have to be a smash and grab.  I think some direct persuasion will work best with terrorists.  They are still feeling their way around the mess brewing in the Middle East.  If they’re not sure who it is that is pursuing them, they will be less likely to execute a prisoner.  They won’t want to bring down too much heat until they know who they’re dealing with.  Their uncertainty and fear will be our biggest ally,” Madeleine said.

             
“Madeleine, should we see if that Welrod is still accurate?”  John said, gesturing towards a shooting range adjacent to the gun cabinets. Fifty feet away, a body target was attached to an impact wall for collecting bullets.  John handed Madeleine a .32 caliber bullet, which she inserted into the gun’s magazine.  She operated the single bolt and raised the pistol in one fluid motion, firing without hesitation or a pause to steady her hand.  The bullet hit dead center, a bull’s-eye in the middle of the target's heart.  She quickly checked the action and magazine to make sure the gun was unloaded.

             
“Seems to work just fine,” Madeleine smiled, handing the weapon back to John for loading into the cases they planned to use for transporting their weapons.  “I'll leave you men to it.  I have to make plans with the employees so that we can leave. John, this mission needs to be accomplished within two weeks at the most. Do you have a plan for getting us over there unnoticed?”

             
“We’ll have to travel in a cargo plane.  It won't be very comfortable, but I know a couple of old fighter jocks, working their way towards retirement, that would be willing to let us hitch a ride, no questions asked.  They won't say a word.  We’ll have to scrounge vehicles when we get to Israel, Range Rovers or Jeeps are all we’ll likely find, and neither is very large, so we'll have to travel as light as possible.  We’ll have to be mobile since we don’t even know what city or military facility Tracy is being held in,” John said.

             
“I think I can manage a place to stay,” Jack said. “MI6 has safe houses throughout the region.”

             
“Ok.  I see you have everything in hand.  I'll see you both shortly,” Madeleine said walking up the stairs. 

             
Once Madeleine was out of sight, John turned to Jack and asked, “Jack, just out of curiosity, how long has it been since she fired that Welrod?”

             
“Since 1944, if you can believe it.”

             
John shook his head in disbelief.  The men busied themselves with wrapping their weapons in soft oiled cloths, carefully packing them into the sturdy wooden cases they’d selected for transporting their ammunition and arms.

             
“Jack, you know I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice.  I'm sorry.”

             
“These are the lives we've chosen, John.  You saved Madeleine’s life and brought her back to me.  That makes us family, and you know how important family is to her, and to me,” Jack said. “There's a connection between Madeleine and Tracy.  Maybe it’s because Yves was killed by the Nazis at about Tracy’s age.  Regardless, if she had found out on her own that Tracy was abducted, she would have gone after him already.  At least this way we have a chance to help her, to give her support and backup. She is cautious, always was, but this one’s different.  They have taken someone near and dear to her heart.  The world may have forgotten what she is capable of, but I’m afraid that has come to an end.”

CHAPTER NINE

Tracy paced his cell over and over again.  He’d been moved from one location to another twice.  This was his third cell and the accommodations hadn’t improved.  He had three concrete walls and a heavy iron door. The boredom of the long days of solitary confinement was only broken up by the meals his guards brought.  He slept or exercised most days, or read a copy of the Quran his captors had given him.  So far he couldn’t find anything in it that justified terrorism or Rachel’s death.  Nevertheless, he studied it intently.

There was no street noise or anything identifiable that helped him guess his location.  He recalled a long flight of stairs from the floors above.  His captors had roughed him up a bit but hadn't employed any of the heavy torture he had been trained to expect.  He’d be happy to tell them everything they wanted to know, because, he knew absolutely nothing.  The PLO knew he was an American agent and he guessed that they would use him for leverage or for some other unknown purpose.  He tried to keep a positive frame of mind, expecting that his usefulness would be for a prisoner exchange.  His jailers had ceased to beat him after the first couple of days.  They still taunted him about Rachel’s death, but there was little he could do for now.  Revenge would have to wait.

             
Three floors above Tracy’s cell, two men sat dressed as businessmen, sipping coffee on an open veranda and smoking cigars.  The building was used as a storage facility for goods transported in and out of the country. It was a legitimate import-export company, and had been in Achmed Sacari’s family since before he was born.  Like many Palestinian businessmen, he hoped getting the Jews out of his homeland would only improve his business.  Because of that, he had joined the PLO early on.

“And the American, he suspects nothing?” Sacari said to his first Lieutenant, Ismael Nasab.

             
“No sir.  As instructed we feigned interrogation to keep him off guard.  There's no way he could know our plans for him,” Nasab said comfortably seated in Sacari’s office. The beautifully decorated room opened onto a rooftop deck that could be used for entertaining or business meetings.  The furniture throughout was handcrafted out of mahogany and fit well with the opulent décor.

             
“Our Syrian friends, and their Russian counterparts, have expressed the need for the utmost secrecy.  The war against the Jews will start soon.  They will be attacked by Syria and Egypt simultaneously.  We must have a means to influence the threat of American assistance to the Jews once we’ve attacked on both sides at once.  The Jews will be surrounded; however the Americans have vast resources and can airlift in supplies and arms.  We would like to discourage them from doing that in any meaningful way,” Sacari said.

             
“Those are the orders?” Nasab asked.

             
“Yes, but our Egyptian and Syrian allies are confident that they will be able to win a decisive victory by conventional means.  Holding the agent in reserve is just additional insurance,” Sacari said, idly tossing the worry beads in his hand.

             
“You know the Jews will fight to the death,” Nasab said.

             
“Then our land and our heritage will be restored.  This is a holy war, Ismael.  Right now, our chances of victory are at their highest,” Sacari said pointing his finger at the younger man for emphasis. 

             
“Is America an enemy we want to make?”

             
“Remember the oil, Ismael.  Our biggest weapon is their dependence on what we have and they need.  If we need to, we can reduce their supply to a trickle,” Sacari explained.

             
Ismael shook his head in understanding.  “Then here’s to a swift victory,” Nasab said raising his coffee cup.

             
“And to keeping the Americans where they should be, at the end of our oil pipeline,” Sacari said with a flourish, as both men laughed.

CHAPTER
TEN