Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1)

by Dana Arama

  I suddenly saw a shadow cross over from above and whispered, “Someone is up there. Don’t move.” There was something strange about the belief that if one held their breath and didn’t move, one would merge with the thing one stood upon. The belief was based on the fact that the eyes see movement faster than a still background.

  In the earpiece I heard Zorro whispering, “A unit of three is on the path towards you.”

  She was right. Immediately after the first shadow, another two passed above.

  “They just passed us,” I whispered back. The information was important because it gave her our position.

  “How is she?” Zorro inquired.

  “I’m fine.” Laura answered. “I think I may have sprained my ankle, but the boot is preventing it from swelling up.”

  “You’ll need to take something for the pain. We still have a whole day’s walk ahead of us.”

  “I will take what is needed. Just as long as we don’t get caught.”

  “Zorro, did you see the Jeep that passed us by from your position?” I asked.

  “No.” From afar I could see her making her way through the trees towards us. “I have a feeling that they are on their way to the village to get backup,” she said.

  “Zorro, do you think they were expecting us?” Laura asked. It was also a thought that had crossed my mind since the first shooting.

  “Everything is possible. Everyone here can be bought, or intimidated. You can trust someone today, but not necessarily tomorrow.”

  “Did you tell the pilot or his son where we were aiming for?” Zorro asked.

  I cut the conversation short. “Before we chit chat, we have to change positions. Laura, I’m covering you. Make your way towards Zorro.”

  She did as she was told, managing to get up and off the slippery slope. She sat gingerly upon the ground. “Did you tell the pilot or his son about our target?” she asked again.

  “Of course not. It is none of their business and there is no reason to endanger us if they were tempted to sell the information.”

  I made my way towards the two women and sat next to them. I said, “It seems strange that they are so heavily guarded at night. Either they were waiting for us or something big is about to happen.”

  “I’m betting that something big that is about to happen,” Laura stated. We both stared at her. In the wan light of the new day, she looked even paler.

  “Are you saying this because you have information you are not sharing with us?” Zorro asked. “Because this is the time to prove you are a team player.”

  “We received information after the big raid in New York. The cartel is preparing a huge shipment. We know that the competitors are going to try and rob them.”

  “There is going to be a world war and you didn’t bother to inform us?” I looked at her with reproach.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that we have to reach him to get the information we need.”

  “No… It doesn’t change that fact, but it might have changed our preparation plan.”

  “Speaking of preparations…” Zorro pointed to my wounded arm. “We need to bandage you up before we start on our way.”

  I put my arm out in surrender and she took out a strip of gauze and bandaged my arm skillfully. “And you...” she looked at Laura, “You need to take a sedative and I want to set your ankle.”

  “I will take a painkiller. But I think it is better left in the boot.”

  She took out a splint and set it over the boot. “I hope it lasts. I didn’t bring an endless supply of bandages.”

  “If need be, we can cut off one of our sleeves and use that,” I said. “I want to get going.”

  After we had made it about another kilometer, which took longer than anticipated, a big smile appeared on Zorro’s face for the first time.

  I recognized the line of teeth in the dawn gloom and the look of satisfaction in her eyes. She pointed at the sign etched on the tree.

  “This is the first sign of El Desconocido,” she announced, happily.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Laura seemed frustrated, “This is chicken scratch.”

  “This is El Desconocido’s sign,” Zorro insisted, “And we are going to proceed according to these signs. Once the signs become more abundant, we’ll know we are getting closer to the forbidden place.”

  Despite Laura’s misgivings we continued in the direction Zorro had indicated and we soon arrived at a banana field. It filled our eyes with a brilliant green, as if fighting against the dimness of the forest. It seemed to encapsulate the human war against nature. We stayed hidden along the forest’s line and scanned the area.

  “The banana field is just a camouflage,” Zorro said. “Beyond this field is an even bigger field of marijuana. This village,” she pointed to a few houses at the end of the field, “has been known for years as a collaborator with the Sinaloa, but I don’t know what’s happening with them now. There are about four or five scouts in each town or village like this one, exactly because of people like us -- strangers who suddenly appear. We should try to avoid going through them. We will go around the other side of the field.”

  Laura looked at the area and the town. She said, “If we stick to the line of the forest, it’ll extend the journey by quite a bit.”

  I looked at her. If it wasn’t for her injury, it wouldn’t have been a factor. “I don’t see we have any other choice,” I answered. “This is the exact place where we must take extraordinary care.”

  “I believe that we won’t have to walk all the way along the tree line. It seems as if the banana trees are quite high, high enough to conceal us. We can cut through them. You’ll have to hunch in the areas the younger trees aren’t as high.”

  “The movement of people in the banana plantation can be seen in the village.”

  “So then let’s walk through the far side, which borders the marijuana field.”

  “Won’t there be more guards there?”

  Laura hesitated. “Okay… Let’s carry on along the tree line westwards and later cut southbound. I don’t feel like fighting everyone along the way.”

  In the end, we came across a thin pathway at the end of the field and decided to take the risk.

  We wanted to get to a spot where we could make camp, before it got dark, and sleep quietly. The thought of a nice ripe banana also stimulated my saliva glands. I reminded myself that leaving a trail of banana peels would be a mistake and we would have to take them along with us. The marijuana field spread out before us was enormous and reminded me of an old joke of a druggie who dies and arrives at heaven’s gates to find that hell is a field of marijuana weed without a lighter. I was happy that the field hadn’t been set alight. No fire meant that there were no local skirmishes and no skirmishes meant that we could progress faster. That was until we reached the forest, which was too thick to pass through.

  Laura Ashton,

  The middle of the Chiapas jungle, Mexico

  November 13, 2015, 2:45 p.m.

  The marijuana field ended at the entrance to a virgin forest. The only way through was to chop down branches to create a trail. We knew we had no choice but to go via the marked trails, where the chance of being found out was just as risky. I thought we must have walked about fifteen kilometers up the mountain when we saw our first obstacle. It was a barrier of rope stretched along the width of the road.

  “Rope barriers don’t usually worry us,” Zorro remarked quietly, but her body language told a different story. She bent down behind a cluster of bushes on the side of the road and told us to do the same. “A rope means it is a toll point for cars.”

  “But…?” I mumbled

  She smiled at me and answered, “You understand how it works here. But it could also be a checkpoint to kidnap or rob people.”

  “One way or the other, there will be people here that we don�
�t want to be seen by, or to notify anyone about us,” Guy said.

  “Yes. This is a strange barrier.”

  “Why?” Guy and I asked in unison.

  “Because if it is a barrier for kidnapping, it should be built out of stones or trees. Something that makes you get out of the car or to stop, because the road is not passable. At a toll barrier, there is usually a team before the barrier, which scouts the car, and a team after the barrier, which raises it and collects payment. From the general look at it, everything seems fine but…”

  “But if the barrier is up…” I said, and Guy finished my sentence for me, “We would expect to hear a car coming.”

  “Exactly. And we haven’t heard a car or any engine of the sort.” Zorro changed her position, still crouching behind a bush and added, “There is a good chance this barrier was built for us.”

  “What are we going to do when we find them? Kill them?” I asked. I wasn’t blood thirsty and didn’t like the idea of leaving a trail of bodies behind me, like my boss had said, but on the other hand, I didn’t want such a barrier to stop me from performing my mission.

  “I would prefer not to have to kill anybody!” Zorro reproached me into the earpiece. “Even though a person’s life isn’t worth much here.”

  “She’s right,” Guy whispered. “It’s best to bypass them.” I saw him scanning the area before adding, “Even though this is a very hard crossing point. Zorro, where do you think they are waiting?” While he asked, he lay down, with his rifle aimed at the barrier. He was trying to spot them through his telescopic lens. “Okay, I can see them. Two of them are sitting on folding chairs. Black uniforms. Either they are sleeping or someone has already shot them. Both have their heads back and their hats on their faces.”

  “We’re not going to get any closer to check,” I whispered. I felt like a rabbit under the eyes of a vulture. “You break it, you buy it. You didn’t shoot it, you don’t check it.”

  “But then who did shoot? And more importantly, is he still there?” Guy continued surveying with his telescopic lens and Zorro and I used binoculars to scan the area. Neither one of us saw any movement.

  “It looks clear,” Zorro whispered. “According to Kaibiles map, we have another marijuana field ahead of us. Maybe they are just guarding it.”

  “Maybe. Let’s advance as much as possible while we are hidden.” Guy got up from where he was lying and added, “We shouldn’t take into consideration fast progress on the main road.”

  “It will detain us a lot,” Zorro announced. “You must understand this. Also, that Laura’s foot will hurt even more.”

  “We have no choice,” Guy answered.

  They both looked at me and in response I said, “If we’re caught it’ll detain us even more.”

  As Zorro had said, as soon as we had passed the barrier of the forest, a fresh green field of marijuana was spread out before us. In contrast to what we had expected from the barrier before, the field was empty, and no one was in sight. No one worked in the field or kept watch. We passed through the area in peace and once again stopped at the edge of the forest. There was an eerie silence around us, as if all the people in the world had disappeared and we were the last three people left. I could hear the wind in the field chatting with the rustling leaves, the hum of bees proving nature’s work ethic, the noises of the never-resting forest. Only human beings were missing from the “scene”.

  “It’s too quiet here,” I noted the obvious to everyone. “It’s suspicious. I want to stop and make contact with my unit. Maybe they know something that we don’t.”

  “We will go into the forest and put up the satellite phone.” Zorro agreed. “It really is too quiet.”

  “Okay. Let’s go, let’s pick up some speed,” said Guy.

  I tapped into a new, unknown source of energy, and in no time, we found ourselves in the middle of a forest clearing, not a huge one, but large enough for some blades of grass to grown unshaded, and for us to set up the satellite connection.

  Zorro took the rifle and lay down in a strategic spot overlooking the way we came. Guy climbed up near me with the binoculars in his hand and I was left with the satellite device. “Hi Gordon,” I said, after the connection was made.

  “Where are you!?” he yelled as if his mother was being murdered in front of his eyes. “I have been trying to get a hold of you for the last half an hour! You have to come back to the office immediately. The French desk is on fire -- haven’t you heard the news? How could you disappear at a time like this?”

  “The French desk?” I asked, sure that he was mistaken. “You meant the Israeli desk?”

  “Not the Israeli… There is always someone there. I said French and I meant French. Where the hell are you?”

  “I told you I am tracking down the money trail.” And then I added, “What happened at the French desk?”

  “There was a massive terror attack in Paris, dozens of people killed.”

  “Dozens killed?” I mumbled and sat heavily on the ground, “You said dozens were killed?” I asked and in my head I thought, ‘shit, shit, shit!!’ This was a massive problem. Even if there had only been one killed, I should have been there, at the French desk. I looked around me. Zorro and Guy took their eyes off their targets and looked at me questioningly. What could I say to Gordon? That he was right? I should have been there to fulfill my job.

  “Gordon,” I tried to sound businesslike, but all that came out was a scared whisper. I cleared my throat and continued, “Gordon, I need to ask you a huge favor.” Without waiting for his consent, I continued. “You need to take charge of the French desk for me, for the next forty-eight hours.” I said forty-eight but that was wishful thinking. Who could promise me that in forty-eight hours I would be back?

  Gordon was silent. His silence was as surprising as his shouting. “Where are you?”

  I hesitated before answering. In the end I breathed in deeply and whispered, “In Mexico.”

  “I thought he commanded you not to leave the country.”

  “That’s correct. He did say that.” We both knew who the ‘he’ was who had ordered me not to leave the borders of the United States, and we both knew that I had crossed the red line and that when I got back, a letter of dismissal would be waiting for me on my desk.

  “Are you still babysitting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he drag you out there? Just tell me please that you did it so as not to lose him…” This was the third surprise in this conversation. Was Gordon prepping me and giving me a cover story for when I get back, so that I’d have a good reason to have violated a direct command?

  “Can we talk about it when I get back?”

  “We can talk about it whenever you want…”

  “Do you know of any missions or actions going on in Mexico right now?”

  “Not offhand…” I heard him typing something. “And nothing on the regular news either. Would you like me to try and find out?”

  “Only if it won’t arouse any suspicions,” I answered. I was already sorry I was getting him involved. Still, I said, “Can I trust you to take over my desk?”

  “While we have been talking, I sent an email to Monsieur Hartley, the French ambassador, so I think you can trust me.”

  “Is there any news about Jonathan Niava?” I asked

  “No,” he answered briefly. “Your teams are still investigating.”

  “We need human intelligence there, Gordon.”

  “I will check with my connections in the CIA and see what I can do about the Albanian mafia and the same about the terrorist organizations. We’ll hunt down every tail we get… in the end we’ll find a rat.”

  “I owe you, Gordon.”

  “You owe me big time.” As he said it, I could hear a smile in his voice. “I think you can repay me with dinner.”

  “I think that I may fina
lly agree.” The fact that I was at his mercy was a bit intimidating, but also comforting. His ability to take hold of the crisis in the next few hours would determine my future at the organization. The only thing that could cover for Gordon’s operation of the French desk would be my success here. Which meant that more than ever I needed to supply my uncle with the goods.

  Guy Niava,

  Chiapas, Mexico, November 13, 6:20 p.m.

  About twenty minutes had passed since I’d learned about the terror attack in Paris and we were still silent. We had nothing to say so we carried on walking, wordlessly. Paris was a joyous place, one of celebration and comfort. Not like Jerusalem, which bleeds often. And now, terror had also reached Paris. My first thoughts were about Gabbi and Pierre. They were my pillar of strength and comfort for a period of time after Hadas’ death. And now, when they were in the heart of darkness, I was not able to be there for them. To me, they were the essence of France, and especially Paris. Even though Pierre had an exquisite home outside of the city, they mostly lived in Gabbi’s luxurious apartment, in one of the most prestigious arrondissements. They were well known in the social circle that dealt with art, restaurants and the high life. They were Parisian. I’d met Gabbi in Israel, before I became a Mossad agent. To that day, she wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected she had her hand in my summons to the Tel Aviv branch to start the course to become an agent. It had happened shortly after she had broken off our affair. Maybe that was her farewell present.

  My thoughts wandered to the Muslim community in Marseille, whom I had gotten to know while I was undercover, posing as a sports coach. Had they been involved in the attack? I knew that if I came across one of their names in one of the articles reporting on the incident, I would be disappointed. I had a soft spot for the younger generation. They were lost kids and my presence there, even if they didn’t know it, was for intelligence purposes, but was also good for them. Maybe, very carefully, I had managed to give them a purpose in life that had nothing to do with making bombs. Maybe ten of them would go on to have a career in sport. If I saw any one of them progressing in the sports world and becoming an example for the rest, what harm can that do? I had an unsettling thought that that the attack meant we might lose the help we got from Laura Ashton’s department, immediately followed by the comforting thought that maybe, on the other hand, this terrorist cell that had popped up in America, under their noses, would now get top priority.