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

A male voice responded with a ‘yes’, and after a pause, added some more information as the prime minister had requested.

At the other end of the room, David Gideoni stood behind the attractive visitor. “What are your plans now?” he asked, holding the everpresent whiskey glass.

She raised her heavy glass, turned to him and took a sip of the rest of the golden liquid in her cup. Then she smiled at him and whispered, “Now, I have a date in Tel Aviv, and afterwards, who knows?”

“Now that you are privy to one of the topmost guarded secrets in the country, who knows if you will be allowed to leave?”

She replied, “After my date in Tel Aviv, who knows if I will want to leave?”

Laura Ashton,

December 2016

“Laura Ashton?” The voice was male, polite and carried a heavy Mexican accent, evident even in those two words.

“Speaking,” I answered and immediately sat up in bed. Gordon also sat up and grabbed his beeper from the bedside table. I shook my head at him, and he laid it back down. If it was an important message from work, his device would have beeped the same time as mine.

My heart quivered. I feared this was a personal disaster and the feeling came true when the voice said, “It is about your sister…”

“What happened to her?” I asked. Gordon sat down next to me and put his ear to the phone too.

“Your brother-in-law wants you to know that she has had another breakdown.” He was silent for a moment before he continued, “Your brother-in-law said it is because of the holidays.”

“Did he get to her in time?” I asked and sent up a silent prayer. Dear god, please don’t let her succeed in committing suicide this time… please keep her alive.

“Yes, she has been admitted to the hospital and is asking only to see you.”

“Where?” I asked.

He answered, “A private hospital. If you agree to come, a private jet will await you at any airport you request.”

“Of course,” I said and added, “Washington, I’m in Washington at the moment.”

“The plane will be there in half an hour.”

“So will I.” I hung up. Gordon hugged me and then said what I was afraid he was going to say, “You know it is a trap, right?”

“Maybe.” I gave him a wry smile and added, “But she is my sister and I have to be there. Christmas has always been hard for her.”

“They have already gotten back at Zorro. Burned her place down, sent a message that they will hunt down the Mossad agents. You are not immune, my love. Please don’t go.”

I shifted in bed and turned to look into his eyes, I laid my hand on his cheek. “I am happy you are part of my life. I really am. It is important for me to tell you that, in case I don’t make it back.”

“I am begging you… Don’t fall into their trap.”

I hugged him and whispered, “My sister is calling for me. I have to go.”

My heart felt torn. I wanted to stay safe in the arms of this amazing man, whose wonderful love had allowed me to regain my trust in humanity. But I couldn’t abandon her again. She would know that I would walk into danger with my eyes wide open, on the slim chance that it wasn’t a trap and she actually needed me. I needed her to know that I was willing to die for her, without hesitation.

***

He stood, arms crossed, and watched her while she was sleeping. He let the tears roll freely down his face, without trying to hide them, which made him look more manly than ever. For a tiny moment I envied her. I also wanted a man to take care of me like that. I wanted a man whose face would crumble if I were in danger, who would cry if I came to harm. And then I remembered Gordon and the last weekend we had spent together with his family, and the warm feeling they’d given me, welcomed me with, the rolling laughter around the table, the farewell full of hugs and kisses and promises of many more get togethers. I remembered his face crumbling as I left the house the other night. I was happy for my sister.

His tears stopped and he whispered, “Him, your uncle, hurt my girl.”

I nodded without managing to stop my tears. That uncle of ours had deeply hurt the woman lying in front of us. My sister had grown up, but became a girl once again every Christmas, the little girl who’d lost her parents and stood helpless against a molesting uncle.

“And that is why he will pay the price.”

“You are planning on killing him.” There was no question in my voice.

“If I kill him and if the world finds out that the head of a drug cartel killed the head of the Anti-Drug forces, he will become a national hero. I wouldn’t want that. I want the whole world to know that he is a pedophile bastard. I will ruin his reputation, his trustworthiness, and he will be a pariah in all circles.”

We both looked at the pale woman lying under the white sheets, her wrists bandaged, and I asked, “What can I do to help?”

He looked at me then turned to look at my sister once again, “Do you know the slave island affair?”

“Slave island?” I asked not quite understanding, and then, sudden realization hit me. “You mean the Podasta affair?”

“Exactly. I have already started publicizing what I know about this island of sex slaves. Boys who are sex slaves. The island that every sick pedophile loves to visit from time to time.”

“How do you know that it really exists?” I asked.

“It exists because I supplied them with drugs. You will soon hear about your uncle in the headlines. I managed to get some of my men over there and I will prove he