Jet (16 page)

She returned to the front room and checked the Glock – a 23, she noted by the .40 caliber rounds in the magazine – then slipped the chain lock into place on the front door. Glancing around, she spotted a chair in the tiny dining room, which she quickly wedged under the doorknob.

The windows were the only other point of entry, but after a cursory inspection to ensure that they were all locked, she realized there wasn’t anything more she could do to secure them. She pulled the shades down, darkening the rooms, and after a survey of the refrigerator’s contents to confirm that there was enough nourishment in the flat to last a few days, she returned to the bedroom with the gun and settled into a padded chair in the corner, listening to the sound of David’s steady breathing: only slightly labored, any discomfort eased by the narcotic drip that was helping his body recover from the battering it had endured.

~ ~ ~

When David awoke, it was early evening. Jet raised her head and studied him from her vantage point in the chair.

He tried to get up, with difficulty.

“Do you need help?” she asked.

He nodded. “I want to use the bathroom.”

She disconnected the IV and supported him as they shuffled to the door. He gave her a pained grimace.

“I can take it from here.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen the goods before, but okay. Scream if you need anything.”

A few minutes later, the door opened, and he stepped out, still weak.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“So-so. Rani told me to stay in bed. But it’s not every day that I have company over, so I thought I’d at least greet you…”

“With a forty-caliber welcome mat. Very touching.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Not that long.”

He returned to the bed and slid back onto it with a sigh of relief.

“Can you eat yet?”

“Given the injury, Rani suggested I stick to liquids for the first three days. Nothing too acidic. Vegetable and mild fruit juices blended with some of the protein powder and yogurt he’s got in the fridge.”

“Makes sense. He’s got enough food to sustain a small army in the cupboards, so you’re good.”

David smiled again. “Rani never liked to go hungry.”

“I know. I met him, remember?”

“That’s right. I’m sorry. I’m sort of out of it.”

“I noticed. But, David? We need to talk.”

“I know.”

“Maybe we can start with who attacked me.”

“I wish I knew. I have a suspicion, but that’s all it is.”

“Care to share?”

He reached out and grasped the hanging plastic tube and reconnected the IV.

“Later. I need to do some more thinking…but the ones that came for me spoke Russian. I heard one of them call out for help.”

“Russian?”

“I know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it will.”

“Will?”

He was starting to fade again.

“Can you please change the IV bag when it runs dry? Probably in another few hours.”

“What would you do if I wasn’t here?” she asked.

“Rani is coming by after work. He’s supposed to be here by seven this evening to check on me.”

Just then, she heard the front door push open against the chair.

She grabbed the Glock and dashed into the living room, where a quick glimpse at the screen confirmed that Rani was on the stoop. “Coming,” she called, then moved down the hall to the entrance, slipping the gun into the waist of her jeans and pulling her shirt over it. She removed the chair and unlocked the chain.

Rani pushed his way in a few seconds later, a bag of groceries in one hand and his physician’s bag in the other. She wordlessly took the food from him and carried it to the kitchen as he walked to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, he returned.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Healing. There’s a danger of sepsis, and he shouldn’t move any more than necessary for another forty-eight hours, and then slowly. The good news is that he’s in remarkable physical shape.”

“How long will he be on the morphine?”

“He can start easing off it tomorrow. Pain is the worst during the first twenty-four hours following the surgery. From here, it should get more tolerable. But bear in mind, I had to cut part of his guts out.”

“That’s the technical term?”

Rani smiled.

“There isn’t a lot anyone can do for him now, except wait. Time will heal him or kill him. My money is on a recovery.” Rani got a glass of water in the kitchen and then headed to the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow. If he starts presenting with a fever, call me – that could be infection, and we need to keep a close watch on it. Beyond that, try to keep him down and resting.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

He scowled as he opened the door and stepped out.

“Pray.”

Chapter 16

The next morning, Jet blended breakfast for them both – a combination of bananas, milk and yogurt – and brought the concoction into David’s room. He was still out of it, although his eyes seemed a bit clearer. They sipped their sustenance in silence, then Jet took the empty glasses back to the kitchen and rejoined him.

“Rani said he would come by again today to take a look at you.”

“I remember.”

“Do you remember where you said you would tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Sort of. That part is a little fuzzier.”

“See if this helps. Someone attacked me on the island where I was living, which nobody knew about except for you. I killed nine of them, but they kept on coming. I figured out pretty quickly that you were the only one who could have told them where I was, so I went to Yemen to find Rain – the only member of the team I thought I had a decent chance of locating. I had just gotten there when he was killed in front of me, but not before leaving the return to base signal. So then I snuck into Israel, only to discover you’d been attacked as well. Does that jog your memory at all?”

David looked at her and nodded.

“I originally thought that it was the terrorist cell Rain had infiltrated that killed him, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why?”

“Because someone killed the other members of the team within a day of his execution.”

Jet’s eyes widened. “They’re all dead? Everyone?”

“Correct. Someone eliminated a group that doesn’t officially exist, and that only a handful of top brass knew about. I found out about the others as information was coming in about Rain. It looks like it was a coordinated strike carried out by professionals.” David paused, frowning. “I have no idea how they tracked them down. Their locations and identities were secret.”

“Good Lord…”

“Then they came for me. To a safe house that nobody knew about. Loaded for bear. It’s only because I got lucky I was able to escape. The plan was for me to be dead, too. I took a bunch of them out, but two survived. So they know I’m still alive.”

“And you have no idea who these people are?”

“Like I said, the only thing I know for sure is that one of the group that tried to kill me was Russian. Probably all of them because he was speaking it into his radio. Did you get a good look at the men who attacked you?”

“They could have been Russian. All Caucasian.”

“So that fits. But it doesn’t mean that the Russian government is trying to terminate us. A lot of ex-Spetsnaz signed on for mercenary work once the wall came down, and that’s still one of the largest sources of mercenaries in the world.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“I’ve got to get healthy enough to be able to put out feelers to some of my non-Mossad contacts. But I can’t rule out that the team was terminated by someone in the Mossad, either.”

“Why would the agency we all worked for want to terminate everyone?”

“I don’t know. But the cleanest way of ensuring there are no loose ends to embarrass you is to end the project permanently, including all personnel.”

“Did you get a foreshadowing of anything like that?”

“No. But there’s always been an elephant in the room when it comes to the team. Operating hit squads on foreign soil, sometimes of friendly nations…to say that it would be embarrassing is an understatement. It would be disastrous for the current administration as well as the nation. I could think of a lot of people who would sleep better if it all just went away. Do I think Mossad is behind this? No. Is it possible? Anything is in this business. You should know that.” He was tiring again, eyes beginning to droop closed. He forced himself back to consciousness with an effort.

“There’s still the question of how they knew I was alive. How they knew where to find me,” she said softly.

“A month ago my condo was robbed. I hadn’t been there for about a week – I was running an op. Nobody knew about it – nobody – I’d only had it for six months, and I used a cutout ID to rent it. Anyway, my neighbor called the police, and by the time I made it into town, a lot of people had been through it: the crime scene techs, the police, the robbers. I’m thinking that they got the information on you when it was robbed. On the rest of the team, I suspect a mole within the agency…but no information existed anywhere about you being alive, nor about your location, so the robbery is the only answer I can come up with.”

“Why didn’t you try to warn me?”

“It never occurred to me. A few items were stolen – the stereo, some cash, a laptop computer, but there wasn’t anything else missing. The problem is that I wasn’t thinking about you when I was burgled.”

She moved around the bed to stare directly into his eyes.

“What did they find?”

“The postcard you sent. I kept it. It was stupid. Sentimental, I suppose. It was on my refrigerator. My guess is that they took photos of everything – you know how that works – and then somehow cracked the encryption on the laptop. It was military grade, supposedly unbreakable, but who knows?”

“You kept the postcard? But it was blank.”

“I know. And I didn’t have anything operational on the computer. But I think there might have been a few files related to my planning for your untimely demise. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. I’m the only one who knew about you, and I haven’t said a word, so it all leads back to someone staging a robbery and devoting insane levels of resources to finding a dead woman.”

She stared at a point on the wall, a thousand miles away.

“So they can kill her.”

David closed his eyes, exhausted.

“I can only think of one group, one man, who is Russian and would want you dead that badly. But then why eliminate everyone on the team? That’s the puzzle.”

“Who, David? Who are you thinking?”

“Mikhail Grigenko. He’s a Russian oligarch. Worth billions. He’s basically synonymous with the Russian oil industry, as well as the Russian mob. But he’d have no way of knowing about the team, much less want to have them executed. I could see how he would want you and me, but not everyone…”

“I don’t understand. Why would this Grigenko want to have me executed? What did I ever do to him? I’ve never operated in Russia except for that extraction – the diplomat we rescued from the extremists. What would the mob or some oil billionaire want with me, and why go to these lengths to find me once I was dead? None of it makes any sense.”

“You never know everything about the operations, of course. In this case, one mission in particular is germane and explains everything. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but you had no need to know.”

She took his hand. His palm was sweating – he needed to rest if he was going to heal. She held her fingers against his brow. At least he wasn’t feverish.

“Tell me what?” she asked.

“The Chechnya sanction. The man you executed at the villa outside of Grozny.”

“The file said he was involved in securing weapons of mass destruction for Al Qaeda. Suitcase nukes and bio weapons, if I recall.”

“That was true. He was. The sanction was approved at the highest levels of the government. There was no mistake…”

David wasn’t telling her everything. He probably never did, knowing him. It was part of the way he was. Compartmentalize. Segregate. Need to know.

She prodded him for the unsaid portion of the story. “And?”

“He was also Grigenko’s twin brother.”

Chapter 17

A Falcon 7 sat near the private jet terminal of Vnukovo 3 airport – more a small office with a waiting area than anything remotely resembling a true terminal. Eight hardened men sat in silence, waiting for the baggage to be loaded, their chiseled faces stony, veterans of the elite Spetsnaz GRU, now part of a private army of specialist mercenaries.

Light snow floated from the gray sky, the sinking sun having failed to warm Moscow that day. A stretch Mercedes limousine pulled to the curb outside the building, and a trim man in an expensive hand-tailored suit got out, the driver holding an umbrella over his head as he opened the door for the passenger.

The pair made their way to the twin glass doors of the waiting area, and then Yuri entered, the driver returning to the vehicle.

Yuri clapped his hands together to fend off the chill, brushed a few errant snowflakes from his shoulders, then walked to the front of the waiting area and looked at the men.

“Gentlemen. You will take off in fifteen minutes, stopping once to refuel in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Preparations have already been made for your arrival in Belize. Weapons have been sourced locally – there is no shortage of guns in Central America, so everything is ready. The temperature is ninety degrees with seventy percent humidity, so you’ll get a chance to vacation in the tropics on this one. Remember the rules. No fraternization with the local population, everyone stays in the camp unless specifically authorized to leave, and no conflicts of any sort. I want you in and out as quickly as we can manage this. You’ve been briefed. Are there any questions?”

The men sat silent, without moving a muscle. The leader shook his head.

“Good. I don’t need to belabor how important this operation is. You are the best of the best. Each one of you has been handpicked for this duty. Pay is double your usual rate. Feel free to eat and drink as much as you like on the flight, but once on the ground, you will remain dry until we are through. Pavel?” Yuri looked to the leader.