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

“Now I have received orders to stop everything and fold my forces until I can bring proof that the kidnapped boy is in their hands. In the meantime, I am sorry to tell you that all the cameras we did manage to get into the room show that Jonathan is not there.”

“We both know that Yassin is a ticking bomb, right?”

“You think that you know he is a ticking bomb. I know that he is a British citizen, made ill by a third country on our land.” She was silent for a moment and then added, “You should know that political pressure has been put on Israel from the highest levels to supply Yassin with the antidote.”

“Do I still have back up regarding the meeting I’m heading for?”

“Officially, you’re on your own.”

My brother’s phone rang, I glanced at it. I didn’t recognize the number. “Officially,” I noted, “my mission starts now.”

I pressed the button and answered, “Niava speaking,” as I’d heard my brother answer his phone many times in the past, as he must have answered these calls before I took his place.

“You are about to enter South Carolina.” I was surprised to hear a Southern accent. “I will send you a location.”

“Is my son there?” I asked, but there was no answer. The line cut off and a text message appeared with a landmark. I pressed on the link and prayed it was the final destination. I added a little hope to my prayer, that they wouldn’t realize immediately that there had been a switch.

Laura Ashton,

November 15, 2015

After my last conversation with Gordon, where he’d warned me about the pressure that was about to be put on me, I hesitated in calling him again. But he’d somehow turned out to be one of the only people I trusted. The waiting was nerve-wracking. Everyone around me was waiting for a piece of information which would send us in some direction. The special forces and the undercover agents milled around, waiting for any kind of hint from me. In the end I couldn’t restrain myself and called Gordon. The ring sounded longer than usual, and I knew the reason. Everyone was working round the clock. When he answered, I thought he sounded more tired than ever before.

“Hi Gordon,” I said. “I need new information. Give me something I can connect to Yassin before I give the order to clear away and fold everything.”

“Straight to the point, huh?” His regular provocativeness had been replaced with admiration which, more than ever, gave me a warm glow of happiness.

“The pressure here is tremendous. I need to come up with some cover, or something to tie him to hostile activity.”

“You can always break in, check and apologize afterwards.”

“Under no circumstances!” I was appalled. “You have no idea from whom I received a warning call about our target. It has reached the President of the United States. We have to prove his guilt beyond reasonable doubt so that we save our asses.”

“I know. The pressure you have to withstand is well known here in our office. There’s pressure here too to stop the investigation into Yassin Graham, but the Israelis are insisting that it is him. And… I believe they are right. Give me a few minutes to reassess his contacts. Maybe a cross connection with detainees from previous hostile occurrences will bear fruit.”

“Gordon, I’m --” I wanted to say ‘waiting for information’ but instead it slipped out. “Waiting for you.”

He answered, “I am waiting for you too.” His voice softened and he added, “It’s boring without you here in the office. And in general, I am waiting for you to say ‘yes’.”

Instead of correcting him I just answered simply, “When we get back home safe and sound.” I knew that if he didn’t have any new information for me, I really would be coming home soon, but it surely would not be safe and sound.

***

Despite the pressure around us and the adrenaline coursing through my blood, I took advantage of the time to rest. I asked to be woken as soon as something changed. I needed to be on top of things, but I also needed to take advantage of all this down time and rest my eyes.

I woke to heavy boots running all over on the marble floor of the fancy hotel. I had enough experience with the sound, the pounding of army boots, the quickened pace of running and quick breathing from the excitement and the sound of the weapons handled by well-trained hands. Years of training and activity in the CIA had come down to five hours of waiting, twenty minutes of me trying to sleep, and ten minutes of me actually sleeping. It was a sleep which ended in me jumping up wildly. A face I didn’t recognize peeked around the door just as I was getting up from the chair I was sleeping in and called, “Their private doctor is upstairs.”

“Did anyone leave the room?”

“Trying to get the doctor in the room.” He waved his hands around, as if to get the words out faster. “Someone has just brought him over now, they have now left the service elevator with someone holding a gun to the doctor’s head. It is just as well we have security men on each floor.”

“So, he didn’t come of his own free will. Did you shoot his captor? In the head?” We walked briskly towards the conference room the team had taken over and turned into an operations room.

“Not only did he hide behind the doctor, he held himself close to him with an explosive device on him. If he’d detonated the device, the poor doctor and himself would have been blown up, and also a whole unit of security forces.” He sounded almost apologetic. “This was the only way to keep him alive.”

“You allowed the captor to bring him into the room?” I asked, not quite making sense of what he was saying.

“In a