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

meet the professor in a few minutes. Talk to the one in charge of the team. I want them to draw him out to the farm, tell them not to interrogate, I want his car to be the only thing left that belongs to him. When they arrive at the farm, I want them to bury him there. He will be the first victim that will start this massacre and it won’t stop, even if we all die here in this room.”

“You are diverting their route and their timetable. They are supposed to be in Florida.” Karrol reminded him and then asked, “Do you really want to risk this whole operation? It can be done another way.”

“How?”

“Give this job to someone else. Do you remember your meeting with the Ku Klux Klan leader in Ireland last year?”

“I can get them to do it,” he said, unconvincingly, as if he didn’t have it in him to try and start the whole process over.

“They are under constant surveillance. They are a radical right-wing movement,” I said, “I heard about them on the news a few days ago.” They both looked at me as if they expected me to elaborate so I said, “Because of the upcoming elections and this character is said to be supportive of their activities.”

“He is right.” Karrol stopped looking at me and turned to Yassin. “It could put us at risk.”

I thought that maybe now I could do something good for the kid, at least try and save the father so I added, “You know that El Desconocido also has vast connections here and he still owes me, because the drugs haven’t reached the east coast yet. Would you like me to check with him?” Yassin stared at me with glazed eyes. I wasn’t even sure he had heard me. A moment of silence filled the room. It seemed that everything was in slow motion. Our thoughts, his reactions, the raspy sound of his son’s breathing in his arms. Then suddenly his son coughed and then it was as if everything came back to life.

“What drives your Mexican friend? Money? Ties?” Yassin was once again in charge.

“I think both.”

“Contact him. I want to explain the situation myself about what I want him to do there.” Yassin smiled and his smile was as frightening as ever. “Karrol will give you a secure phone and will listen in on your conversation. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m done with being forgiving.”

He looked at his son again and hugged him closely for a long minute. Only when he let go did he add, “I will handle the next phone calls myself. Whoever decided to hurt my son doesn’t know who he is dealing with and what price he is going to pay. I’m starting from the top, with David Cameron.”

Guy Niava,

November 15, 2015

I made use of the break and bought myself some water and a sandwich and then went back to the car. I looked around. The car park was almost empty at this time of night but still I looked carefully in all the darkest corners. Only when I was sure no one had followed me did I get into the car. After hours on my motorcycle, it felt claustrophobic, but the mission hadn’t been planned according to my personal taste in vehicles. I positioned my brother’s phone on the dashboard and connected it to the charger. The screen still showed the destination he had received. I knew that soon the destination would change according to the information I received from Laura. There was no one waiting. Not even terrorists, representatives of the megalomaniac. The gas gauge showed that my brother had filled the tank before he stopped to freshen up. I moved the seat back and repositioned the mirrors. He was either shorter than me by far, or his driving habits were very different from mine. I changed the radio station and peeled the plastic wrap off the sandwich. Ten minutes later, as I searched for the garbage bin, I heard Laura’s voice in my earpiece.

“What have you done?”

“What happened?”

“Besides a phone call from my boss, demanding explanations from his boss, Yassin has refused to let the medical team inside.”

“I hope you are not allowing him to let his doctor into the room,” I said and inside me a ‘red alert button’ turned on. Yassin Graham hadn’t acted as predicted. This wasn’t the time for him to become soft, despite the agony of the people in the room with him. I said, “He will be convinced in the end. He doesn’t want to die this kind of death.”

“Don’t try and calm me down and don’t give me empty promises. Do you want to know what happened between the time the son and wife walked into the room and when we knocked on the door?”

“What happened?” I cooperated with her.

“Gideoni threatened to contact him and he went through with his threat.”

“Why did he do it?”

“Because we received an order to shoot Yassin as soon as he was identified.”

“Without trying to find out if Jonathan was in the room?”

She didn’t answer me, and I understood the problem. Instead of answering my question she rebuked me: “Gideoni and, I think, you too, went behind my back. And worse than that, behind the backs of the United States of America and the UK. Two of Israel’s closest friends.” There was no acceptance or understanding in her voice and it grew icier as she said, “From now on you are neutralized. You’re removed from this mission. And if you try to do another thing, you will be put behind bars until the end of this affair.”

There was no use getting into a political argument with her or throwing quotes in the air like ‘For the wise counsel thou shalt make thy war…’ I kept quiet. She would have to work out the political mess. In the meantime, we had a different kind of mess here, one involving a kidnapped boy and a ticking bomb.