Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (e reader for manga .txt) 📗

A hint of a smile crossed his lips, “We have already tested it. That’s the reason I requested those specific bullets. And thanks to these bullets you’ve supplied me with….”

“The whole building will collapse!” I interrupted.

“Exactly. The whole building will collapse and with it, the embassy. The whole building will collapse on all the security forces in the vicinity. There will be much damage.”

“Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles.” He pointed at the next screen. “A very long street.” He accentuated the word ‘long’ like a broken record. “Do you have any idea how many consulates there are along this street?” He looked at me. “I have done my homework properly.” He lifted his hand and counted on his fingers. “Argentina, Columbia, Germany, Greece, Croatia, Bangladesh, Italy, and many more. But, most importantly to us, the Israeli consulate is there too.”

“How will you get there?”

“The building next door is the post office. A very interesting parcel is about to arrive there.”

“Are you going to blow up that building too?” The feeling I had was somewhere between nausea and admiration. He was insane, but a genius, nonetheless.

“No. But as soon as the parcel, which contains suspicious white powder, arrives, they will evacuate the whole area, along with the embassy workers.”

“And then the sniper…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“And then the sniper will start shooting at the people, the security forces will come. The real fun starts when the post office van blows up.”

I looked at the darkened television screen and saw my reflection. Before Yassin reentered my life, I’d known exactly what I wanted to do. Everything I did was in service of that goal. But I had been drawn into the whirlpool and was now in way over my head. How could I, a small time crook, stop these forces? I thought about my father, sitting in England, satisfied that his son had been saved from the Red Mafia. What will he say about me now, when he found out I was involved in this shit?

“What is the plan with the rest of the consulates?” I asked tiredly and pointed at the rest of the screens. Deep down I hoped that his plan would leak, and it would be stopped in time. I couldn’t understand how someone could climb a tree and put a camera there without anyone stopping him from doing it. How can one organize a march without someone understanding who was behind it. And a movie in a building exactly opposite the consulate… Would the Israelis do the math and realize that something big was about to happen?

“Philly.” He smiled smugly. “Look how even the weather is smiling upon us there.” He pointed towards one of the screens. “The same story is about to happen there too. A sniper will shoot people randomly on the street, the security forces will close off the nearby roads and a car, already parked there, will explode.”

“Which cities are those consulates in?” I asked and pointed to two more screens where the pictures looked greyer.

“Boston. Heavily clouded. Chicago, cloudy.”

“Besides the clouds, it seems as if the skies are in your favor,” I noted. A cold spell and some snow might keep the protesters from going out in the street and the citizens from going out and getting gunned down by a mysterious sniper.

“It’s Allah smiling down upon us,” he answered with a satisfaction that was so typical of him. “But also brilliant planning. A week later and the weather would not have been in our favor. That is why the timing of the delivery of the rifles was so important.”

“And this one?” I pointed at a white high-rise building.

“Atlanta. We thought there may be a problem there. Did you know that until the Olympics, there were less than forty consulates? Since then, there are over seventy. In this building the only consulate there is the Israeli one. The building is quite isolated, in a residential neighborhood. But there’s the penthouse of this tall building here.” He pointed on the map to another tall building. I could see that there was only a street and a small, low structure with a “For Sale” on it, between this building and the consulate.

“Did you buy it?” I asked. No price was too high for him to pay, apart from the paper trail it might leave.

“I have rented it in order to become familiar with the area. Or, to be more precise, my sniper rented the place and he will disappear from there when everything is over.”

“Park Plaza Building.” I pointed to the next screen. “Where is that?”

“Boston,” he answered. “Do you see the coffee place below? On sunny days, it is overflowing with customers. Today it is cloudy, but tomorrow, Allah willing, the sun will be shining, and the coffee house will be full. Full of Israelis, too, and there will be a car accident. A car will drive on the pavement and run over the customers sitting there in the coffee shop. Of course, the first question will be if this an innocent car accident or a vehicle-ramming attack. The security forces will arrive, ambulances will fill the street, but then someone will shout ‘Allah Akbar’. The Israeli security forces from the embassy will take hold of him, more security forces will arrive and then we will blow up the car already waiting there.”

“Chicago. The city of iron and mafias.” He smiled, and added, forcefully, “And after tomorrow a city of terror as well.” He stood next to a screen which showed the picture of the arched entrance to a building. He put his hand on it. In the middle of the arches there was a sign which said ‘500 West Madison’.

“What are you planning to do in Chicago?” I already knew the answer. They were most likely going to use snipers. I knew that protests wouldn’t work there. No people sitting at coffee shops either because the weather wouldn’t be good.

“The same scenario will work there. Sniper, citizens falling down in front of the