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Authors: Rob Sinclair

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BOOK: Dance With the Enemy
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Chapter 12
7th October

Logan tried his hardest to scream. But there was nothing left in his lungs now. The girl lay butchered in front of him. Lifeless. Her naked body almost completely black from the dried blood.

They grabbed him from behind and flung him to the ground. His face smashed on the hard concrete floor. A deep gash opened above his left eye. Warm, thick liquid gushed out over his face. They had him pinned to the ground: four men, each forcing their weight on one of his limbs, and a fifth man driving a knee into the small of his back.

He tried again to scream. Tried his best to struggle, to break free. But the days of endless torture and beatings had taken their toll. He could manage nothing more than a pathetic squirm as Youssef Selim, sword in hand, came into view, a look of quiet satisfaction on his bearded face. His blood-soaked clothes glowed in the electric light.

‘This is it for you, my friend,’ Selim said to him, in his almost surreally perfect English.

The blade of the sword glistened as he moved it through the air. The men began chanting in a language Logan didn’t recognise. He tried again to scream. He wasn’t sure whether anything came out. If it did, it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise from the men.

Selim kneeled next to him. He placed the cold steel against Logan’s neck. For a few seconds, the feeling of metal on skin was the only sensation that he was aware of. Gone was the pain.
Gone was the chanting. Gone was the smell of blood, sweat and vomit. But it didn’t last long. Seconds later, there was a whole new pain.

The sword began cutting into his neck. Slicing through his flesh. The cold metal moved back and forth, pushing its way deeper and deeper. He tried again to struggle, to shout. But his body lay silent and still as the life was cut from him.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a shriek of pure terror.

Logan opened his eyes and realised the scream was coming from his own lungs.

Selim was gone. And so were his men.

He lay still in his bed while his mind recovered from the nightmare. As always after the dream, his breaths were coming deep and fast and his skin was moist. He was lying on his side in the foetal position, his legs curled up to his chest as though that would protect him from the horrors. Instinctively he raised his left hand to his neck, where the cold steel had been sawing away just a few seconds earlier. His body was trembling and he fought back the urge to cry. It took a few minutes before he started to regain his composure.

The nightmare came every time he slept. But it had become worse recently, twisting reality into a whole new horror. He prayed for just one good night. So far, his prayers had not been answered.

Answered by whom? Logan wasn’t a religious man, never had been. But the things he had seen, had been subjected to, had given even him the need to call upon a higher power to save him. It was nothing short of desperation.

As he regained his senses, Logan’s thoughts went back to last night and the discussion with Mackie.

Youssef Selim.

Selim being in Paris had changed everything. When Mackie had left the hotel room, Logan’s mind had been racing, thinking about was what he was going to do if he came face to face with Selim again. No, not
if
, but
when
. A whole host of emotions had swept through him, from joy, at the unexpected prospect of defeating his foe, to pure dread. He’d hardly slept for most of the night, only nodding off in the last hours of darkness.

When Logan had arrived in Paris yesterday, his heart had still been in Vegas. His mind had still been focused on his recovery,
on figuring out a way to get his life back together. Today, his heart was in Paris. He had unfinished business. And that business was now right here.

Mackie had been understandably wary about telling Logan about Selim. After all, he knew every last detail of what had happened on Logan’s last mission. It was Mackie who had sent him after Selim in the first place. And it was Mackie who’d had to pick up the pieces afterwards.

‘Why wasn’t I told sooner?’ Logan had said to Mackie, not attempting to hide the obvious anger in his voice.

‘Why? Because we can’t afford for you to lose your focus on this. Frank Modena is the goal here. Not Youssef Selim.’

‘Then why did you tell me at all?’

‘Because I had to have you engaged in this case. You were going to find out sooner or later. It’s better you hear it from me now than from someone else at some point down the line. The police are putting all of their eggs into one basket on this. They’re convinced Selim is involved.’

‘How did he get into France?’ Logan said. ‘He’s one of the most wanted men in the world.’

‘He came in through Algeria. An Algerian passport in the name of Rabah Assad. It’s a fake, obviously. We don’t know how he got to Algeria, but it doesn’t appear to be through any major airports. Our guess is that he was smuggled in. Some of those countries don’t exactly have tip-top border control.’

‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ Logan said, shaking his head. ‘How did they let him through into France? Even on fake documents. It’s Youssef Selim, for God’s sake! He’s one of the biggest arms dealers in the Middle East. He’s linked to who knows how many extreme Islamic organisations. The man doesn’t just recruit, he trains terrorists and insurgents. It’s not like he isn’t on the radar!’

‘I don’t know how they missed it,’ Mackie said, staying calm, in contrast to the obvious emotion that Logan was feeling. ‘There’ll certainly be some heads rolling somewhere because of this, though. Not that that makes the situation any better.’

Mackie’s calmness seemed to do the trick and Logan’s anger, his exasperation, went down a notch.

‘If they didn’t know it was him when he arrived, then how the hell have they figured it out now?’ Logan said.

‘The answer’s pretty simple. When Modena went missing the French police immediately suspected a foreign influence. What with Modena’s speech about Gitmo and everything. Amongst God knows what else, they’ve trawled through the details of every Arab male who’s landed in France in the past month. Eventually they came across Assad. They’re certain it’s Selim.’

‘If Selim’s here, I’ll find him,’ Logan said. The venom in his voice was clear.

‘No,’ Mackie responded, raising his voice. ‘You have to remain focused. You find me Frank Modena. If this thing goes south, it’s bigger than you and me. Just remember that. Remember what we’re dealing with here. The JIA is not about personal vendettas.’

‘You’re right. It’s about doing the right thing. Protecting innocent people from the likes of Selim.’

‘No, Logan. It’s about carrying out orders. And our orders are to find and rescue Frank Modena. If Selim gets in the way of that, then fine. But you are
not
here on a personal mission. You are not here for anything other than Modena. Have I made myself clear?’

‘Crystal,’ Logan said.

And that had been the end of it.

But that was last night. Today was a new day. And sitting on his bed now, Logan was having a hard time believing the assurances that he’d given to Mackie. This might be about Modena, but Selim being here changed everything for Logan. The memories of what happened on his last mission haunted him every day. And a day didn’t go by without Logan contemplating what he would do when he came face to face with Selim again.

He wanted his revenge. He wanted Selim dead.

Selim was his.

And there was no way he would let that lie.

Chapter 13

Mackie slumped down on the dark-brown leather arm chair in his office. It was now almost ten a.m. He’d taken the train back to London from Paris first thing in the morning and he was tired. He’d barely slept and was still mulling over the conversation he’d had with Logan the night before. When Mackie had first heard about Selim being in France, he’d felt a strange sense of elation. Because he wanted to finally get that man almost as much as Logan did. Mackie had been tracking Selim for over ten years and had lost two good agents in the process. Logan had been closer to anyone else before to finally bringing that monster to justice. But then it had all gone wrong.

And Mackie knew he himself wasn’t blameless for that.

Mackie had nearly sacrificed his agent just to further his own desires. He’d known Logan’s cover had been blown, but he’d left him in there hoping – no, praying – that he could still get the job done.

But Logan’s mission hadn’t worked out like that. And Mackie’s decision to not pull Logan out when he had known Selim was closing in had turned out to be one of the biggest regrets in his life. Because Logan wasn’t just another agent to Mackie. Logan had worked for him for eighteen years. He was like the son he had never had. The son he wished he could have had.

And so it was only right that Mackie had been there to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of Logan’s ill-fated mission. To try to get Logan back on his feet again. And to give him another shot when almost everyone else thought he was a spent force.

But Selim’s involvement in Modena’s kidnapping had been a
truly unexpected twist. And Mackie had been dreading telling Logan about it. He was desperate for Logan to prove himself on this case, and the last thing he wanted was for him to let his mind be further clouded by the need for revenge on Selim that now drove him.

Mackie stood up and walked over to his desk. He picked up the phone and began to dial the number for the conference call that had been arranged by the JIA committee. Lindegaard had requested the meeting, having been dissatisfied with the vague update that Mackie had requested Winter provide the previous night.

Mackie finished dialling and the call connected, but there was no-one else on the line yet. After a couple of minutes Mackie sat down at his desk, phone pressed to his ear, and fired up his desktop. It was unusual for the committee members to be late and he began to wonder whether maybe he’d got the time of the call wrong. It was, after all, another early start for the American duo.

He was just clicking through into his calendar when there was a knock on the door. Mackie opened his mouth to speak but before he could the door swung open and in strode Lindegaard.

‘Good morning, Charles,’ Lindegaard said merrily.

Mackie sat open-mouthed for a few seconds, unsure what to think.

‘Jay, I … er, good morning,’ Mackie said, placing the phone back down.

‘Is something wrong?’ Lindegaard said, sitting himself on a chair in front of Mackie’s desk. He had on a tight-fitting lightgrey suit that clung to his obviously muscular physique and matched almost perfectly his closely cropped grey hair. In his late forties, Lindegaard looked more like a movie star than a CIA agent and his confident swagger told the world that he knew it. His whole appearance was some sort of gimmick to make him seem more important, more special, than he really was. It made Mackie despise the man all the more.

‘No, nothing wrong,’ Mackie said, slowly regaining his composure.

‘You were expecting me, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just in the middle of something.’

Lindegaard didn’t look convinced but he didn’t push it.

Mackie was embarrassed but he hoped he’d managed to hide it. He wasn’t sure where the lines had got crossed, but the last thing he had been expecting was for Lindegaard to be in his office. In fact, in Lindegaard’s seven years in his role, Mackie wasn’t sure the man had ever been in his office.

Mackie knew what this was about. Lindegaard’s presence was intended to put extra pressure on Mackie. And he didn’t like that.

‘So I’m assuming he knows?’ Lindegaard said.

‘Who knows what?’ Mackie said, deliberately feigning ignorance.

‘Does Logan know about Selim?’

‘Of course he does,’ Mackie said, faking surprise at the question. ‘Why would I keep something like that from the lead agent on the case?’

Lindegaard didn’t look convinced but Mackie wasn’t going to give him any wriggle room. Whatever his own thoughts were on the matter, he wouldn’t delve into them with Lindegaard or the JIA committee, or anyone else.

‘And how did he handle it?’

‘How I would expect a lead agent to. He took it on board and I’m sure he’ll be looking into the connection to Selim.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I think you know that.’

‘Look,’ said Mackie, leaning forward towards Lindegaard, his tone blunter now, ‘I’m not entirely sure what you want me to say here. Logan knows. He was working the case before we found out about Selim. And he’ll work the case the same now. There’s nothing more to it. And, quite frankly, I’m getting just a little bit perturbed by your constant badgering.’

Lindegaard didn’t respond to Mackie immediately. The two men stared at each other, as if competing as to who would look away first. Eventually Lindegaard did. He turned his head this way and that, looking around the room.

‘It’s a nice office you have, Charles,’ Lindegaard said, his insincerity riling Mackie further. ‘Very nice indeed. You’ve done well for yourself.’

‘Thank you. That really means a lot to me.’

Lindegaard sighed. ‘Charles, I’m going to be very frank with you. You know we weren’t convinced by Logan being brought back for this case. And, well, that was even before we found out
about Selim. And before Logan’s little antics at Saint-Joseph. So surely you can understand that we’re even more uncomfortable now?’

‘Jesus wept. Logan’s been in Paris for twenty-four hours. He’s actually made good progress in that time. He –’

‘Good progress?’ Lindegaard interrupted. ‘You mean him running around a busy hospital, making himself a person of interest in a murder inquiry?’

Mackie glared daggers at Lindegaard. ‘The fact he was there at all was because of his own intuition,’ he said, trying his best to defend what he knew had been an error by Logan.

‘Yes, and I’m sure he’s still got certain talents. And I’m sure, in his own way, he could get to the bottom of this mess. It’s not like you can forget how to ride a bike. But you know, Charles, I’ve lost men before as well. Selim isn’t just a big deal to you and Logan. Do you know how many agents we’ve lost going after him?’

Mackie assumed Lindegaard’s ‘we’ was referring to the CIA. ‘That’s got nothing to do with me or Logan.’

‘I’m just setting the scene here. I want this to work out right just as much as you do. But for that to happen, we have to run this case through properly. I’ve had to call it a day on many good agents who lost their way. Personal feelings shouldn’t come into this. Logan is a loose cannon. God knows what damage he could cause us, you, in the process of getting the job done.’

‘So what are you proposing?’

Lindegaard shifted in his seat, looking just a little nervous for the first time in the conversation. And Mackie knew that he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

‘I’m sorry, Charles. The decision has already been made. Logan’s got twenty-four hours. And then we’re sending in someone else.’

BOOK: Dance With the Enemy
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