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

I was weighing the possibilities of telling her now or not, and then decided to tell her. “You should check the computer thoroughly, because it turns out that this gang, together with El Desconocido’s organization, have someone running for the White House.”

“I want you to get to this location point I just sent you. A light aircraft will wait for you there. I am also organizing for someone from the CIA, who will be there to receive the computer from you. It is too important to wait till later to deal with it. The candidates are gathering votes daily.”

“How long will it take for me to get to you?”

“You will still be in the air at noon.”

“If the mess starts then, I don’t even know where you will be able to land.”

Laura Ashton,

Israeli embassy, New York, November 16, 2015

The figures of the man and the limping boy moved quickly away from the entrance of the hotel and blended in with pedestrian traffic. If it had not been for the stumbling boy next to him, the Russian would have melted into the background; he was a chameleon, clearly a professional. I watched them through the cameras. They reappeared outside the gates of the Israeli embassy. Whatever occurred inside the embassy couldn’t be seen on camera and I knew I had to rely on the reports the Israelis would supply.

The Russian refused to give his name, but he delivered the goods. He returned Jonathan safely to the Israelis. But then, so I was told, Jonathan lost consciousness. I wanted to be there, inside the embassy, to know if the Israelis were avoiding full cooperation. Were they divulging all the information they were receiving? Had Jonathan really lost consciousness? The Israelis had agreed to stream the interrogation live so I could take part, but that didn’t happen. Jonathan had fainted. The timing was suspicious. I reminded myself not to be so suspicious. He had been through a trying time.

I sat by the computer and waited for the boy to regain consciousness. Meanwhile I spoke to someone at the Israeli embassy.

“Have you identified the Russian?”

“He refuses to give his name, but our profile identification program gave us a lead.”

“Who is he? What do you know about him?”

“He’s former KGB. Still keeps close contacts with the Russian intelligence services.”

“How did he get to them before us? What is his connection to this affair?”

“He was Murat Lenika’s bodyguard. Like Murat Lenika’s field commander. He was the one that put the other tracking device in the vehicle. They took the vehicle which had the rifles, the ones stolen from Germany.”

“It is a pity he didn’t put tracking devices in the rifles themselves,” I said.

“He actually thought of it but decided against it. He had a sniper prepared to shoot a tracking device on their car but didn’t use it in the end.”

“Why not? It would have saved us much time and work.”

“Because they didn’t transfer the rifles into their cars as he expected and for some reason, they forgot about the tracking device in the car itself.

“That explains the delay. He was supposed to break into the company’s system to get information. It is a pity he didn’t stick with his original plan. But sometimes the good guys get lucky because the bad guys ignore the obvious,” I noted.

“All we needed was one mistake on their part and it was sheer dumb luck. He could have ignored the boy. By the way, what’s going on with Murat Lenika?”

“Do you know the saying ‘Zed’s dead’?

“From Pulp Fiction? So Lenika is dead. It’s a bit difficult to make a deal given this new development.”

“Offer a body. We are prepared to give it up.”

He answered, “Will do,” then hung up, but not before promising to get back to me with details of the investigation with the Russian.

Jonathan, now awake, and the person from the Israeli embassy appeared on camera a few minutes later. “He has requested that you return the body to the family and asked to be allowed to disappear. I have guaranteed that we will respect his wishes,” said the investigator.

I answered, “We’re on it,” and then added, “Welcome Jonathan. We are very pleased to see you’re back safely.”

The boy didn’t look very well. I could see that they had bandaged his injured foot. It rested gingerly atop the plastic chair in front of him.

I continued, “I know you have been through a few rough days, but we have little choice right now. I have to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”

He looked at my image on the screen and then at the Israeli. Only when the agent nodded and smiled at him in confirmation did Jonathan answer, “Yes, it’s okay.”

“Let’s start from the end. Do you know what is supposed to happen at noon?”

“The British man told the guy that was supposed to kill me that at noon everyone would start shooting and then when the security forces started coming, they were planning on blowing up a few cars with explosives in them and things like that.” The sentence was incoherent. The kid had clearly been subjected to some trauma. How much of his testimony could I rely on?

But besides the horrific information he had divulged, he asked an even more horrific question: “Have you stopped the buildings from getting hit?”

The question curdled my blood and I hoped I misunderstood, or that maybe he was hallucinating. Still I inquired, “Are you sure he was planning on blowing up buildings?”

Jonathan nodded and his face suddenly distorted in pain. The spasm passed, and he stared at me silently.

“Do you understand what I am asking?”

Another second passed and he remained silent.

“Are you sure about the buildings?” I repeated the question slowly.

Jonathan closed his eyes tightly, and, as if to emphasize his answer, he nodded his head. Another spasm of pain crossed his face.

This mentioned was vital information, but it contradicted the intel I had on hand, and so I pressed on. “What about the terror attacks on