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

“Weed and Captagon are not the same thing,” I stated, but my words were heard by the person who already knew that.

“Don’t forget to spend some time in the sun. Make use of it before you start your office job. I am preparing your desk with your name on it.”

I glanced outside. The skies were clouded over, hinting at the oncoming rain. “If I wasn’t slated to enter into an office job, maybe I wouldn’t think of retiring.”

“Your retirement is not final ‘until the fat lady lies bleeding on the stage.’”

I smiled. That was his combat opera, a soldier’s idea of a joke. “The fat lady doesn’t have to stop singing… I gather that I have no chance of continuing the same mission then?”

“You can understand that you are on vacation and when you get back we will think what is the best thing to do. For now, I think returning to the same mission would be a great mistake.”

“Yes, you would think?” I said, somewhat sarcastically. After three years, numerous warnings about predicted terrorist attacks and a big, successful mission, this vacation was necessary. The last mission had been a success, which was a good feeling, as if the situation in Iran would change for the better because of what I had done. I felt improved, that I had become once again a fighter who can be depended on, and not the wreck I had been after Hadas’ death. I loved my job, but I was not sure I would like to be an undercover agent, sitting under fluorescent lights at a desk, staring into a computer all day. I ended the conversation with a non-committal, “Talk to you later,” and then hung up.

I approached Jonathan’s room. His computer was off. I switched it on, and it prompted me to enter a password. Damn it. There was no chance that I would be able to hack in and find out what he had been working on over the last few hours. I needed Ariel, the Mossad’s cyber expert, a man who had also become a good friend over the years. But Ariel was enrolled in another mission in another spot on Earth. I was afraid that if Jonathan managed to find Ashley’s father, and if I saw the signs that he had the hots for the girl, it would all point to my nephew being on his way over there now.

I glanced around a bit more to see what more I could learn. Jonathan’s cell phone was on his bed, most likely forgotten. I turned it on. It had no passcode. As I had thought, his last conversation was at eight thirty in the morning, with Ashley. How did he make arrangements with Jeremy? I hoped he hadn’t made the same mistake as yesterday. Maybe he really was on his way to his friend.

A few hours later, when the heavy clouds had subsided and the rare winter sun was shining, I sat with my brother on his patio, a glass of whiskey in my hand. That was when Jeremy called and asked to speak with Jonathan because he wasn’t answering his cell. Once again, I found myself grabbing my keys. This time I took my helmet. Once again, I mumbled something to my brother about a meeting and drove to the same address that was already saved in my head.

When I arrived at Ashley’s apartment, I recognized Jonathan’s car parked near an adjacent building. The aggressive skid marks on the road near his car bothered me. I entered the building. Like yesterday, the door of the lobby was open, and the sharp scent of urine hung in the air. As opposed to yesterday, Ashley’s door stood wide open. I found Ashley lying unconscious on the floor. I touched her arm. She was ice cold. I knew it would be better to lay her down on her bed. How many hours had she been lying like that? I bent down again and checked her pulse. It was quick but faint, but there definitely was a pulse. That was the first good sign. Bruises had begun to show themselves on her pretty face. On the side of her jaw the skin was blackening and the left eye looked red, like soft meat pulp. It appeared as if they had hit her there several times.

I thought that if they beat her in her face, there would be no reason not to beat her all over her body. I opened her robe and checked for internal or external bleeding. I passed my hand gently over her back. I didn’t see any bleeding, then I turned her over gently onto her side. Some reddening appeared there too, and it was possible there was internal bleeding as well. Damage to the kidneys could be very bad. Her black wig was still sitting askew on her head. I carefully took it off and laid it down on the floor. A wig can be a prostitute’s most important possession, and the accessory that separates her identity as a sex worker and her real identity. Was she on her way to a client or had she just come back from one? And Jonathan, was he with her? She moaned and began to cough. I stopped ruminating and watched her come to. She opened her blue eyes. I remembered them as beautiful, but in this moment they only radiated pain.

“Everything hurts,” She murmured. I thought her jaw might be broken because her words were unintelligible.

“I am going to pick you up and put you down on your bed, okay?”

She said, “Okay,” or something to that effect, and I lifted her almost weightless body gently and laid her down onto the bed.

Between moans she tried to say something.

“Water?” I asked. She shook her head just once to indicate that she didn’t want any water.

I glanced towards her. “Are