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

“And what would help to solve this complexity faster?”

“More manpower,” she answered quickly without hesitating.

“I will transfer more manpower for this purpose. Find me the ship. Any ship. Any connection to the ship will make my day,” I begged.

She smiled and corrected me. “Your night.”

Guy Niava,

Niava family home, November 15, 2015, 3:30 a.m.

“Guy!” The scream was heart rending. I could hear her from the bottom of the stairs. I jumped out of bed.

“What happened?” I called out to her from the top of the stairs and, without waiting for an answer, I leapt down the stairs. The police officer still on duty stood by the door, his right hand waiting to pull out his gun. A look of total bewilderment was in his eyes.

“He’s gone to him…” my sister in law, Michelle, cried uncontrollably. She held her cell phone in her hand. “He didn’t go to the university; he went to him.”

“Let me see what he wrote,” I asked, and she dropped the device into my hand as if it burned her hand.

“Bring them back to me, Guy,” she sobbed quietly. “Bring them home.”

The text message was short and to the point: “I received an email from Jonathan. If I don’t go to the place they specified, they will kill him. I am sorry, Michelle, I have to go and help him.”

“Did he leave his laptop here?” I asked, already on my way to his study.

“I think so,” she whimpered from behind me.

“We have to disconnect the laptop and take it to a lab to be checked out.” I went over to the table and unplugged his computer. “I am sure he did it on purpose. The lab could do something with the origin of the email.”

“What can they do?”

“They can find the IP address. The authorities, together with the internet supplier could get the name of the customer and his location…” I gave her an encouraging smile and added, “Even if the message is from Jonathan’s computer, he was physically at that specific landmark. We will search for that mark.”

I went upstairs to my room, taking the stairs three at a time, grabbed my phone, and made my first call. “Laura, I have some bad news.” Immediately afterwards, I dialed an emergency Israeli number. My boss answered immediately, and I notified him of the situation. “There is a possibility that it is all a cover to reach my brother. He is on his way to the kidnappers.”

“You must stop him. I don’t know what his exact job is, but it is something significant and you must stop him!”

“I’m getting on my motorbike now.”

“Keep me updated. I will try to find out with the satellite experts what the danger is, and I will notify you.”

While I spoke with him, I dressed in my war clothes; my motorbike clothes, which were suited to the harsh weather outside. Soon I was on my bike, speeding towards the university. As I reached the main road, I got a message saying that someone from Laura’s team had picked up the laptop.

Murat Lenika,

The middle of the ocean, en route to an unknown destination, November 15, 2015, 3:30 a.m.

“From this moment onwards, we are disconnecting any internet communications. This applies to each and every one of us and includes disconnecting the AIS which is used by all the sea vessels. We are increasing engine power to reach the shore in time. These are our technical next steps. But before we reach the shore, we have steps for the soul. A prayer to Allah, who gave us this chance to punish all those numerous infidels, the brain to do it with wisdom, and the courage to be shahids, to enhance Allah’s name and that of Muhamed, his messenger.”

Yassin lifted a piece of paper and continued, “I want to read to you the last words of Samich El-Qassam, from the ‘The Quran Of The Death and the Jasmine’:

‘Don’t wait any more, don’t wait!

Take off your nightgowns

And write to yourselves

The letters you wish…’

He raised his eyes and looked into those of his men, who stared back at him. I hoped he didn’t see my feeling of helplessness in my eyes. He said, “We are pacing in the path of great shahids. We will not disgrace their memory! Each and every one of you will leave his devastating mark on the western world. Your names will be mentioned in every silent prayer of each Muslim girl and boy, because your actions will glorify Allah and Muhamed his messenger.”

The ship’s engines made a low rumble, like a giant waking up from a deep slumber. It grew into a continuous, straining growl, as if the giant was angry, and it seemed the engines would explode any minute. We progressed rapidly, toward some destination I had no knowledge of, beyond the fact that I had no interest in arriving.

“We need to take advantage of these hours to pray to Allah, so he can guide us to do the right thing in the war against the infidels.” A general hum of consent was heard in the group of men standing before Yassin.

“We need to ask him to strengthen our hearts.” He laid a fist on his heart. “And blind the eyes of our enemies from seeing us getting closer. May they only open them just to see the fire spread upon them.” His body language emphasized his words and the men surrounding him were clearly entranced. Only I pondered what could I do to stop the madness. Yassin turned his back on his men and got down on his knees, his face turned towards Mecca, thousands of miles away from where we were. We all copied him and started to pray.

I had no idea if there was a specific prayer to be said for such a situation, but I had my own: “Dear God in the heavens... Or Allah, if you are listening to me