The Reluctant Assassin Box Set

by Lee Jackson

  Bryk sat upright in his chair, his attention now fully engaged. He picked up the pictures and studied them again, one by one. “Where is he now?”

  “We don’t know for sure. We have sightings of someone who looks like him in the Sudan training camps, but no confirmation that he’s there.”

  “How did you come across him?”

  “A retired CIA friend was brought in twice to stop this guy. He contacted me about Klaus, who disappeared after each attempt and stayed hidden until the next attack. Klaus almost detonated one in the oil well fires in Kuwait last year, and then in Texas a few weeks later.”

  Bryk’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about that one in Kuwait. Is he part of Hezbollah? They claimed bragging rights for the embassy job.”

  Eitan sucked in his breath and blew it out. “Well, no. He’s Sunni.” He watched Bryk’s reaction. “We think Klaus is closer to Al-Qaeda, but in fact, he’s somewhat of a lone operator. He could be a catalyst for more cooperative action between Hezbollah and Al-Qaeda.”

  “Hmm.” Bryk examined the clearest photo. “The CIA thinks he’s the guy in those pictures in Buenos Aires?”

  “That’s jumping a little ahead. Since the Texas event, the Americans kept up an active search for him, but until this came in, they didn’t know where to look, and we didn’t know about him.” Eitan indicated a few pages stapled together in the file folder. “I’ve summarized the situation for you in this report.”

  Bryk scanned the first page. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Assign me to the case. Let me meet with my CIA contact. I’ll suggest to him that we go together to Buenos Aires to see what we can figure out.”

  “What specifically are you looking for?”

  “We need to understand the tie-ins. The Buenos Aires operation belonged to Hezbollah. If that was Klaus, then he links Al-Qaeda to Hezbollah. Hezbollah’s focus is Lebanon, but now they’re hitting us in Argentina. That means two things: Hezbollah is going for a global strike capability, and they are moving toward cooperation with Al-Qaeda. That should be worrisome. The two organizations are fierce enemies on opposite sides of the Sunni-Shia split. If they start collaborating...”

  Bryk sat forward, disturbed. “What do they bring to each other?”

  “As the old saying goes,” Eitan said, “‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ They both seek the destruction of Israel and the US. Al-Qaeda brings lots of money. Hezbollah contributes training and technical experience. They might revert to fighting each other at some point, but between now and then, they can wreak havoc on us and our allies.”

  “Any chance that Klaus was in Buenos Aires on his own? He seems to offer know-how.”

  Eitan pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t see it. For him to be there at the precise moment of the bombing, he had to be informed by Hezbollah. Despite his technical skill, he’s a newcomer on the terror scene. He wouldn’t have the contacts to know about that hit on his own. A Chechen wouldn’t gravitate to Hezbollah because of his Sunni background. Regardless, he has suitcase nukes, and that should worry us.”

  “Because you think Klaus will eventually make his way to Israel with his bombs?”

  “That’s a given. My CIA friend thinks he’s Al-Qaeda, and he has the ability to devastate us in our homeland.”

  “If he can get through our defenses.”

  “Many have.”

  Bryk eyed Eitan. “I thought your CIA friend was retired. What’s he doing in the middle of this?”

  “He is retired. He was a senior officer and goes active on a contract basis for specific missions. He was on the case for each of Klaus’ previous attempts and helped thwart him. This tie-in to Buenos Aires was generated by his own initiative. He knew about the bombing and got curious—a ‘leaving no stone unturned’ inquiry. He pointed me in the direction of what to look for.”

  “Why not let the Mossad teams down there handle it?”

  “Because they’re concentrating on Argentina and the Muslim population in the Brazil/Argentina/Paraguay border region. This looks like a global thrust, and we’re still gathering information. There’s no operation on the table yet, and I know the background and parties. Faster ramp-up.”

  “What about the Sudan connection? Who found Klaus in the training camps?”

  “We did, but we haven’t confirmed the ID yet. My CIA friend doesn’t know about that detail. Since the US is moving toward electronic snooping, with less reliance on boots on the ground, we have more access into Sudan. I sent several of these images to operatives in Kabul, and they located the man we think is Klaus in one of the camps.”

  Bryk scanned the remaining two pages of the report. “You’ve been busy. When did you want to leave?”

  Eitan grinned. “I have a reservation on El Al for this evening.”

  Bryk smacked his lips skeptically as his eyes bored into Eitan’s. “Keep in mind who you work for. Give up as little information as possible and get all you can.” He signaled his approval with a nod and a wave.

  Eitan rolled his eyes even as he shot Bryk a thumbs-up on the way out the door.

  Burly called Atcho’s office on a secure line from an FBI field office outside Washington, DC. “We might have a nibble in Buenos Aires.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “You tell me. You could be gone a while. Do you have someone who can run the company in your absence?”

  “He’s already on the job. Let’s leave tonight.”

  4

  Iguazú Falls, Argentina

  Four days later

  Atcho gazed across the magnificent Iguazú Falls spanning the border between Argentina and Brazil. Tons of water rushing furiously over rugged cliffs on both sides of the river created clouds of spray as far as he could see, their pounding on the surface below filling his ears. The resulting droplets worked their way into his hood and down his back, soaking his shirt despite a heavy rain slicker. He shivered.

  Only ten miles to the left of where he stood with Burly and Eitan was the border of Paraguay. “This is gorgeous,” he yelled at Eitan over the roar of the falls, “but what are we doing here?”

  “Enjoy,” Eitan called back. “We’re tourists, and we need to look like tourists. Smile, take pictures, look amazed. Point at things. We’ll talk later.”

  Atcho’s shoulders slumped. As he turned to view the falls again, he caught Burly’s eye and telegraphed his skepticism.

  The three men sat in a small hotel in Puerto Iguazú, Argentina, on a veranda away from prying ears. Two hours had passed since their trip to the falls.

  “Why are we here?” Atcho asked politely, though his impatience showed. He refrained from glaring at Eitan, who appeared twenty years his junior.

  Startled, Eitan shifted his eyes toward Burly. “I thought you wanted to track the man you showed me in the picture.”

  Burly leaned back and smiled. “Sorry. Atcho flew down from Texas, and I came in from DC. We flew separately from Buenos Aires to the Tri-Border Region. We haven’t had a lot of time to talk.”

  Eitan looked back and forth between Atcho and Burly, his expression inscrutable. “I know some of your background,” he said to Atcho. “Burly sent a summary and I went through what’s in the public record. He told me some of your training and operational experience. I’m taking his word that you can handle yourself. I should tell you that we are already in the middle of intelligence gathering, and mistakes here could be fatal.”

  Atcho sat back, feeling chastised but not quite understanding why. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm, “but we’re after a man with powerful weapons intending to lay waste to both of our countries. He specifically threatened me and my family. I don’t have time for sightseeing.”

  Eitan fought down exasperation, but his expression did not change. He turned to Burly. “Are you sure he’s up to this?”

  Burly froze, and so did Atcho. Burly alternated his view between his two companions. The air suddenly felt thick de
spite the seasonal chill of approaching winter and the high altitude. “This is my fault,” he said. “Atcho is new to working with the Mossad. I should have taken time to explain.”

  “Then let me enlighten at the outset,” Eitan cut in, his voice icy. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation here, in this place, if members of the local team hadn’t already cleared it. I don’t know who they are, and we’ll probably never meet, but if we do, we’ll use aliases. They are out now, as we speak, gathering the intelligence we need, and they’re doing it at personal risk. I’ll get a report tomorrow via a dead drop.

  “Meanwhile, our job is to get a ground sense of the area. We’re tourists, and we’ll drink and laugh and act silly, but not so much that we draw attention. While we do that, we’ll take in every detail we can. Do you know anything about this place you’re in?”

  Dumbfounded, Atcho returned Eitan’s steady gaze with an unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty. “I-I can’t say that I do. I—”

  With barely concealed disgust, Eitan cut him off. “Then let me educate you. It’s important for you to know what you’ve wandered into.”

  Atcho leaned forward. “Go ahead,” he said evenly.

  Eitan glanced quickly at Burly before addressing Atcho. “This area is called the Tri-Border Region because—”

  “That much I know,” Atcho said. “It’s bounded by Puerto Iguazú in Argentina, Foz do Iguaçu in Brazil, and Ciudad del Este in Paraguay.”

  “Exactly,” Eitan said, his agitation ebbing a bit, “and if not for the borders, the three towns would almost form one good-sized city. This is an area where all three countries are sovereign, but no one rules. Laws are not enforced except as required to protect the tourist trade, and the bad guys will even help out on that when needed, like the mob did in the early days of Las Vegas. The intent is to keep tourists in the dark about nefarious activity.

  “This is where Nazi war criminals escaped to after World War II to evade trial, so it has a history. The borders create opportunities and attract illicit activity. Hell, you can walk between the three countries here without carrying papers.”

  Eitan paused, gathering his thoughts. “Most people can’t show you on a map where Paraguay is, but this Tri-Border Region is a big deal. The population is over half a million and growing at boomtown rates. It’s a free-trade zone with established banks, but the area is largely lawless, a great environment for terrorist and criminal activity, and when their interests meet, well…” He shrugged. “The Brazilians and Argentines like it because it’s a cheap place to buy electronics. The region is a melting pot of cultures, including Portuguese and Spanish, of course, but also Chinese and Korean.

  “One of the largest Muslim populations in South America is here too; most are from Lebanon, but a lot are Palestinian. They have their own schools and clubs, and they live in gated communities, so penetrating them is difficult. We have specialists who take care of that. On the Brazilian side are Syrians, Egyptians, and some from other Arabic countries. They are prosperous and influential here.

  “We’re getting reports of duty-free transactions conducted by both Hezbollah and Hamas. They supply Colombian consumers with cheap products, and the profits fund their terror enterprises.” He leaned back and wiped his eyes as if to shut out the scale of what he had described.

  “Tourism is big,” he continued, “especially with the Iguazú Falls only ten miles away, so the population is always transient. That’s the legit side, and the authorities, such as they are, cooperate with the darker elements to ensure an atmosphere that won’t turn tourists away.

  “On the illegal side, drug smuggling, money laundering, gunrunning, prostitution, human trafficking, and document forgery are everywhere, but most of the money coming into the area is from Lebanese donations—Hezbollah. Paraguay has a weak, corrupt government, and all three countries have poor banking transparency laws. That makes this a perfect place for terrorist and organized crime financial networks to operate undetected, exchange tactical tradecraft, raise and launder money, and cover their trails, with huge sums sent out every day. In fact, we’ve identified local agents of Al-Qaeda, Hezbollah, Al-Jihad, and al-Muqawama. Iran’s active here too.”

  “I get the picture,” Atcho broke in. “What does that have to do with us?”

  Eitan inhaled, curbing a retort. “We think this is where the planning and coordination for the attack in Buenos Aires took place. If Klaus had any involvement with it, he would have been inserted into the operation here.” He stopped talking, eyeing Atcho in silence.

  Atcho leaned back and stretched, looking out at the cold night sky. “I understand. Now, will you tell us what’s going on while we’re being tourists?”

  Eitan smiled wanly. “Burly told me some of your story. I know you came from Cuba, and about your actions at the Bay of Pigs, your years in prison, and the assassination plot you aborted. I know what you did in Siberia, in Berlin when the Wall came down, and what took place in Kuwait.”

  “That’s great. I know nothing about you.”

  “I’m not important. What is important is that you understand how Mossad works. We admire your confidence and successes, but if we were to describe them in a word, it would be ‘cowboy.’”

  Atcho chuckled. “A Cuban cowboy. You wouldn’t be the first. My wife accuses me of rushing in where only fools go. In my defense, I didn’t get involved with intelligence willingly, and I never sought out a mission. They always seem to find me.” He tilted his head in contemplation. “Come to think of it, I did set out on this one deliberately. We have to find and stop Klaus. Get those bombs away from him.”

  “I’m going to brag on you a bit, Eitan,” Burly interrupted. “I think Atcho would feel a lot better knowing your pedigree.” He chuckled. “You do look a little wet behind the ears.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to Atcho. “Are you familiar with the Kidon?”

  Atcho shook his head.

  “‘Kidon’ means ‘the tip of the spear.’ It’s the name of the most secretive department of the Mossad. There’s a lot of myth mixed in with some truth about foreign operations, assassinations, and the like, but when those activities are ascribed to Mossad, most people don’t know that they mean Kidon. To apply for Kidon, a prospective recruit will have been active in the Israeli Defense Forces for many years, culminating in training and serving with the Israeli special forces. Out of the best of those, Kidon takes its few. Eitan is one of those.”

  Atcho turned to study Eitan while Burly continued.

  “Once selected, the new Kidon recruit goes through two years of extensive training on surveillance, counter-surveillance, and hand-to-hand combat more intense than your basic commando. They learn and practice spy craft from every angle, and when finished, they’re assigned to teams, mostly operating far from home, and usually for a three-year stretch.

  “The Mossad believes that the people at the top must come from field operatives, because only then can they make smart decisions based on first-hand experiences. They know what their people in the field go through.

  “Eitan has already done all that. He’s assigned to headquarters because it’s his turn. My point: he knows what he’s doing.”

  For a few moments, the veranda was quiet. Atcho regarded Eitan with new respect.

  “Wow,” Eitan quipped, breaking the silence. “I’m impressed.” He laughed. “Burly, how much do I owe you for that story? I don’t know where you’re getting your information and I won’t confirm any of it.” He turned back to Atcho. “Seriously, our service is charged with gathering intelligence and executing operations to keep our tiny country safe, and we’re surrounded by people who openly swear to wipe us off the map. We can’t take unnecessary chances. Sometimes, we seem slow and overcautious, but we get the job done, and usually, our people come home.”

  Atcho held his gaze. “Tip of the spear, huh?” he muttered, then broke into a wry grin. “So, now will you tell me why we’re just twiddling our thumbs?”

  Eitan laughed. “F
air enough. I’m a guest here during our Mossad team’s intel gathering mission. The members know the streets, the personalities, and the locations. For me to insert myself would be the height of arrogance and could prove counterproductive, if not catastrophic, to our undercover guys. We provided them with all the information they needed to find out what we want to know. Tomorrow, they’ll give back a data dump of everything they’ve learned. Specifically, they’ll find out if Klaus was here, and why.

  “Meanwhile, we acclimate. This region is unlike any other. Not everyone thrives here. More crime of every sort is probably committed here per square mile than any place in the world, including terrorist activity, but because of the tourist trade, the local powerbrokers keep a lid on it. It’s a good place for introductions into the underworld.”

  The next evening, the trio met again on the same secluded veranda. “This is what we know, but it isn’t much,” Eitan said, opening the conversation. He pulled out a clear photo of Klaus. “He was here. That’s been confirmed. He was seen by two of our operatives and a few of their informants. He was here only a day or two, but he sat in on a couple of the coordinating meetings before the Buenos Aires bombing.”

  “Do they know where he went from here?” Burly asked.

  Eitan shook his head. “Obviously he went to watch the mission, and that’s why he was here—strictly to observe. We don’t know where he went after that. His presence is significant, though. It’s the first known instance of Al-Qaeda and Hezbollah collaborating. And we suspect we know his current location.” He put another photo on the table between them. “This was taken at one of the Al-Qaeda training camps in Sudan.”