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

I had known that Murat Lenika was a source of information who had turned from hostile enemy to collaborator, I might have been less assertive in my answer. But that was information I learned about much later.

“Checking the area,” the commanding officer reported as he went from room to room. He turned on his flashlight in the dark room and saw the wife lying on the bed. “I want the doctor to come up with the antidote and a bomb disposal squad team.”

“We will start with the bomb disposal team so that we can turn on the lights and get the doctor inside without endangering him,” the coordinator answered calmly.

“Take note of the computers. The orders are not to disconnect them and not to touch them. They may have a self-destruct mechanism, so leave them as is.”

“It is a good thing you said something,” said the coordinator in his calm voice, “Because the next step was to disconnect them.”

***

“Send everyone out!” Major Key ordered and he and his fighters started moving Yassin, his son, the kidnapped doctor and Dan, the injured fighter, outside. The three bomb disposal agents wearing protective gear and gas masks entered the suite. They were a veteran team who’d dealt with disposing of bombs for many years. They approached the darkened room as if by unspoken agreement, because the most important task was to neutralize the explosives around the sick wife’s body.

I stole a look at Linda. Her eyes were locked on the screen. She stood, leaning forward, fingers gripping the back of the chair tightly. Her body language signaled the tension everyone in the room felt and, as if by its own accord, my hand touched her shoulder. I murmured, “It’ll be okay. You’ll see it will all be okay.” Was I trying to comfort myself as well?

We both continued to swallow up the screen with our eyes. The bomb disposal team split up. One of them turned directly towards the wife and checked the wiring on her body, while the others carefully and skillfully checked the rest of the room. When they didn’t find anything, they turned on the light and examined the rest of the suite.

The day Gail was born, I went with my father to see her at the neonatal intensive-care ward. The nurse taking care of all these premature babies lifted Gail’s little body with such tender gentleness, yet with practiced skill. The bomb disposal agents reminded me of that nurse. It was nerve-wracking but we soon received the okay from the bomb disposal agent next to the wife’s bed. He lifted his hand to signal that he had finished the job, like he was in a chess competition. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed. The doctor had finished injecting the little boy and Yassin with the antidote, as well as checking up on the kidnapped doctor. He now waited for the ‘okay’ to inject the wife.

The bomb disposal agent who’d raised his hand joined his teammates in examining the rest of the suite. Each room of the suite had a different team working in it. One of the agents examined the dead bodies to make sure that they weren’t wired with explosives, the second agent checked the electricity system to make sure that there was no tripwire, and the third agent made sure that the computers weren’t tripwired either. Only after we received the ‘okay’ from all three of them did I permit the NSA to enter the room to start extracting the data from the remaining computers.

Guy Niava,

November 16, 2015

It was morning and with it came the hustle and bustle of a normal day. The puddles of water that had formed from the rain of the last hour were drying up. People were awakening to the false security of a regular, routine day, while others, somewhere nearby, were buying a plane ticket for a flight destined to take them to hell. According to information I had received from the security forces, a plane attack was imminent. There was a high alert but a lack of information. How many planes were going to blow up? Which airlines? When? Thanksgiving was in ten days’ time, and in the meanwhile the flights filled up with thousands of people planning on seeing their loved ones, families expecting to reunite for a festive dinner. Who would get to sit with their loved ones and who would fall?

The break-in plan had proved efficient. In less than thirty minutes, I’d received the information that Jonathan was not among those present in the suite and that Yassin had been arrested. The wife and child were removed from the scene and sent to a secluded hospital. They had received the antidote but had been separated far from Yassin Graham’s sight. The knowledge that they might die was a trump card too good to immediately give up.

Yassin was not only the single terrorist left alive but also the last link to Jonathan. He also had exclusive knowledge about the planned attacks. Breaking Yassin was vital. Even though I wanted to backtrack, I knew that I couldn’t be of any help there. Somehow, there was still a slim chance of finding Jonathan at the place I was aiming for.

“Do you know what I learned from this event?” David Gideoni asked me in an amused tone.

“What did you learn?” I patiently complied.

“That you have matured. You aren’t looking just for the action and it makes you more levelheaded. You, sir, have the makings of a great office clerk.” I wondered if he was smiling as he said it. I didn’t answer and then Gideoni added, “I am not letting you go.”

An hour later I realized I should have remained a field agent, whatever Gideoni thought. I paid the price for not working out in so long when Yassin’s thugs attacked me.

Laura Ashton,

November 16, 2015

In the building that never slept, the lights were on even at night. But now, the morning of doomsday, new forces joined with fresh ideas.