by Brian Drake
“How did you get involved?”
“A boyfriend recruited me.”
“Your boyfriend in Germany?”
“It’s a long story. Do you want to sit here all night?”
The server arrived with Raven’s prime rib.
“No,” he said, as the hot plate was set in front of him. “I want to enjoy my dinner.”
The server said, “Will your guest be having anything?”
“A separate check,” Raven snapped.
Tanya spoke an order in a voice tinged with anger. The server nodded and departed.
Raven’s mood changed as he cut into the soft meat and speared a piece of fried potato on his fork. The prime rib was perfectly pink with not a lot of fat around the edges or the center. It was always a hit or miss meal with him. Too many places served prime rib with more fat than meat and you left 90% of it on the plate.
“Mmmm,” he said, swallowing. “Very good.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“You have a bit of a complex, don’t you?”
“I need your help, Mr. Raven.” Her face softened. “Please. I can’t go back now.”
“Marked for death, are you? Assassins in pursuit?”
“Exactly.”
“Funny they haven’t found you yet.”
“I’m good at what I do, Mr. Raven.”
“Do?”
“Did.”
“Uh-huh.” He ate some of the mixed vegetables on the side of the plate. They crunched as he chewed. “Tell me what you have to trade.”
She scooted closer, lowering her voice. “The identity of the White Widow.”
“Never heard of her.”
“She’s in charge of the Islamic Union.”
“They let a woman give the orders?”
“She’s the wife of our late leader.”
“Our?”
“Goddammit, Raven—” she stopped, lowered her voice. “It’s a hard habit to break, okay?”
“No mister this time?”
“Are you going to listen to me?”
“I eat, you talk.”
She swallowed a mouthful of her Cosmo. She set the glass down hard enough to swish Raven’s martini.
“Don’t spill my vitamins,” Raven said.
“You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m hungry.” Raven ate some more.
Tanya Jafari stared at him with hot eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat, shifted, and looked at the table.
“The White Widow is a woman named Francesca Sloan. She’s British. Recruited the same way I was, through a boyfriend. The organization promoted him to leader after the death of their founder.”
“Then what happened?”
“Francesca and her husband moved to a camp in Jordan to direct operations.”
“What happened to Hunky Dude?”
“Killed in a US raid.”
“In Jordan?”
“In the field.”
“And his old lady took over?”
“She had to fight for it. The second- and third-in-command didn’t want a woman. We were all surprised they finally said okay. The IU is trying to prevent the mistakes of ISIS and al-Qaeda.”
Raven chewed a piece of meat. He had to admit the Islamic Union had done well in keeping a low profile. Their operations had been few and far between. They preferred to strike with precision rather than mass casualty attacks. A bomb here, a shooting there, a phone call to claim responsibility. Always high-profile military or civilian targets, the deaths of which made the news. Always.
“How does having the White Widow in charge avoid mistakes?” Raven said.
“She thinks like her husband. The leadership council wanted to maintain the command style.”
“If she knows you’re gone,” Raven said, “she’s not going to be where you say she is.”
“But I know her face. I can identify her.”
“The intelligence community can’t?” Raven said. “If they know her name—”
“You don’t understand. Her name is not known. You are the first person to ever hear it.”
“Other than her family and presumably her husband.”
“You know what I mean.”
Raven sipped some water this time to wash down his last bite. He set the glass down. “All right. Suppose I do help. What do you want?”
“An escort into the CIA.”
“I’ll call and ask them to send a representative. If you’re concerned about your safety, stay with me until they pick you up.”
“But—”
“You don’t need me to take you in. Let them come to us. Much easier.”
“For you?”
“What did I tell you about being tired, Miss Jafari? You want my help; this is what I’m willing to do. What’s the difference?”
“Well—”
“If you don’t like the deal, you can always email them. The CIA has a link on the website. Might take a while for somebody to get back to you—”
“Can you at least take me to the embassy?”
Raven decided it was a fair compromise. He nodded. “Yes, I can take you to the embassy.”
He looked up as the server brought her meal, roasted chicken with rice. The aroma was amazing.
“Anything more?” the server said.
“Go ahead and add this to my check,” Raven told him. “Never mind what I said before.”
“Very good, sir.”
He turned to Tanya.
She said, “Thank you, Mr. Raven.”
“Shut up and eat.”
4
Raven swallowed the last of the fried potatoes, drank some water, and pushed his plate away. He wiped his mouth.
“Can you sit tight a moment?”
“Sure,” she said.
Raven left the table. At the bar, he asked Sven if he could slip into the back office to make a call. The bartender agreed and showed him to a room behind the bar. It was a storage room full of boxes containing liquor bottles. A bright overhead bulb shined.
Raven dialed a number on his cell and hoped the man on the other end picked up.
He did. “Wilson.”
Clark Wilson, Senior Staff Operations Officer for the CIA’s Special Activities Center, was one of Raven’s contacts at the Agency, and an old friend. But Raven would be the first to admit he hadn’t kept in touch as much as either would have liked.
“It’s Sam.”
“Howdy.”
“I’m in Stockholm with a young lady.”
“Congratulations?”
“No, it’s work-related. Does the name Tanya Jafari mean anything to you?”
“Not at all.”
“She’s a German woman who joined the Islamic Union. She wants to defect.”
“What is she trading?”
“The identity of the White Widow.”
“Wow.”
“Something you’re looking for?”
“If she can give us a picture and a name, we’ll give her whatever she asks for. You have no idea how long we’ve been trying to figure out who she is.”
“All right. I’ve agreed to take her to the embassy. Can you make sure we can get in the door?”
“I’ll arrange it right now,” Wilson said. “Don’t waste time. Go tonight. Ask for Russell Dillon at the gate. He’ll be expecting you.”
“Perfect.”
He could drop Tanya at the gate and go home. Easy evening.
“Thanks for doing this, Sam.”
“Be seeing you.” Raven hung up and left the storage room.
Raven returned to the table. Tanya had a fresh Cosmo and the dinner plates had been removed.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Grand Hotel.”
“We can go back for your things, and then we’re going to the embassy.”
“You work fast.”
“As soon as I mentioned your White Widow friend, my contacts became very interested in what you have to share.”
“I told you.�
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Raven downed what remained of his martini.
“Do you have a car?” he said.
“A rental, yeah.”
“Good. I don’t have one.”
“No?”
“I refuse to pay the road tolls.”
She laughed. Her laugh sounded like wind chimes. She looked normal when she laughed. He had to put her background out of his mind and get her where she needed to go. Then he could continue his much-needed R&R.
He told her to finish her drink and then they’d leave.
Raven held Tanya’s left elbow as they went down the steps to the parking lot. Footsteps shuffled behind them. Tanya turned her head, and yelled, “Raven!”
Raven pulled his right hand from the pocket of his jacket. He gripped his leather sap, pivoted on the middle step. The man behind them had a gun halfway out, the snout of the pistol extended with a suppressor. Tanya screamed. Raven raised the sap and struck hard, once, twice. The gunman tumbled down the steps, landing on his belly. Raven scooped up the man’s Glock 19X as a compact Mercedes screeched to a stop.
Tanya ran for the bushes along the wall. Raven remained in a crouch as two men piled out of the car.
Bystanders nearby screamed. Raven shouted for them to get down, get away. He lived by two rules. Rule One was no gun fights in public. The danger to innocents was too high. But he had no choice this time. The enemy had chosen the battle, and he had no time to lead them away.
All he could do was shoot fast and end the threat.
The driver remained behind the wheel, and he and Raven locked eyes. Dark hair, glasses, leather coat. The boss. Raven lifted the Glock and fired twice. The phuts from the suppressor made little noise over the commotion. One of the gunmen fell against the car and slid down, leaving a smear of red on the passenger side.
The second gunner, lifting a submachine gun, leaned into a firing position. Raven rolled right as the burst chewed into the concrete and ricocheted with a sharp whine. Raven fired again. The gunner’s head snapped back. As he shifted to the driver, the man with the glasses put the car in reverse and backed away with a screech of rubber.
Raven fired again and again, tracing a line of shots across the windshield. The driver executed a screeching bootlegger turn and powered across the lot.
Tanya emerged from the bushes, dress and hair a mess, her mouth open in shock. She still clutched her purse.
He ran to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled hard. “Where’s your car?”
She ditched her heels and took the lead, running hard across the blacktop, Raven staying back to cover her. No other threats showed themselves, but the man with the glasses hadn’t departed either. He saw the car moving among the lot. A shark on the hunt.
Raven and Tanya dodged between vehicles, stopped at a silver Nissan. She popped the locks with a remote and dropped behind the wheel. As the lead killer powered his car down the aisle toward them, Raven ran around the back of the Nissan. He fired two more shots. The driver stuck a pistol out the window and returned fire, Raven staying low as the unaimed shots flew wide. He pulled the trigger again as the car passed, firing fast to try and hit the driver. No dice. The Glock’s slide locked back over the empty magazines. Raven tossed the gun and ran to the passenger side.
Tanya peeled out of the parking space and took off in the opposite direction of the killer’s car.
The tires screeched as the Nissan hit the street, Tanya making a sharp right turn into traffic. She sped through a changing light, crossing the intersection. Shifting lanes, she made the next left. The turn threw Raven against the door. He buckled his seat belt.
“Know them?”
“Not the shooters,” she said. “The driver is Sila Kaymak. Turkish. Top killer.”
“He missed tonight.”
“He’ll be back.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“Little Beretta in my purse.”
Raven grabbed the purse from the center console and flicked it open. He laughed. She’d given him an apt description. The “little Beretta” was a .25-caliber 950 BS. Hardly useful in the kind of fight they faced. It was a hideout gun. A last resort.
He closed the purse and put it back on the console.
“Straight to the embassy?” she said.
“Yes.”
“Tell me where to go.”
“Let’s make sure we’ve lost our killer first.” Raven told her to make the next right.
He pushed the seat back for more legroom. The Nissan was too cramped for his height.
“How do you get around if you don’t have a car?” she said.
“Stockholm has an amazing public transportation system.”
She laughed. “You’d rather pay bus fare than road tolls? What’s the difference?”
“The truth is,” he said, “I’m home so little having a car doesn’t make sense. It would sit parked most of the time and probably not start when I returned.”
“I see. You want something to complain about.”
“You mean about the tolls?”
“Yes.”
“I’m an American abroad,” Raven said. “Americans complain about free meals.”
“Germans do too.”
“Human nature, I guess.”
Raven shifted in the seat. Tanya performed counter-surveillance maneuvers like a pro. She made several turns, Raven checking their backside for the Mercedes. Convinced they were clear, he told her how to get to the embassy.
She stopped for a red light. “It’s not a good life, is it?”
He turned to her. The glow of the stop light tinted her face red.
“What isn’t?”
“What we do.”
“There’s a big difference between what you and I do, Miss Jafari.”
“We both fight for a cause.”
“Right. You kill people for not following your religion and I try and stop you.”
“No! We’re defending our religion and our land from people like you who want to take it!”
Raven laughed. But it wasn’t the time to point out she hadn’t been born in the land she zealously defended. “Nobody wants your land, Tanya. Nobody cares about your religion, either. We want you to stop strapping bombs to your back and walking into airports.”
“And you bomb us to stop us. You invade our land and kill our children.”
“Tell me another way. Seriously, I’m open to suggestions. Talking sure as hell hasn’t helped.”
“My point is we’ve both dedicated ourselves to righting injustice.”
“You expect me to buy what you’re selling? Because I’m not. We didn’t start the fight, Tanya.”
“My question, if you can stop arguing with me for a moment, is what has the fighting taken from us?”
“That’s your question after your epiphany, Tanya?”
“Why are you attacking me? I’m trying to come clean with you, so you understand—”
“My fight hasn’t taken anything from me, Miss Jafari.” If you only knew... “Sounds like you’re talking about yourself.”
“Maybe I am. It’s why I’m here.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Tanya stayed focused on driving.
“How long were you in the Middle East?” Raven said.
“Five years.”
“Not very long.”
“The first year and a half was training,” she said. The light changed and she drove forward. “They broke us down and built us up again. We needed to get the poison of the West out of our systems.”
“I understand the process.”
“I’ve only been a field soldier for two years.”
“They sent you out on a mission, you killed somebody, and decided the romance was gone?”
Her jaw tightened. Her slender fingers gripped the wheel hard. He didn’t feel bad needling her. He was testing her reactions. If she were lying, she’d crack. If she wasn’t, she’d reaffirm her resolve with increased vigor. And vitriol because he had to be making her mad.
> “Why don’t you believe me, Mr. Raven? Why send four men to kill me if I wasn’t telling the truth?”
“Do you know how many jihadists have tried to penetrate the CIA by pretending to defect?”
“Since I have no CIA agents to talk to, no, I’m not aware.”
“Enough. If I hand you over to my friends, I need to make sure you’re telling me the truth.”
“And if not?”
“I’ll kill you myself, Tanya. I’ll shove a knife into your belly and get a snack after.” Raven glanced ahead. “Make a right, then the next left.”
She complied.
5
Two Marines stepped out of the guard building at the embassy driveway. Both carried sidearms and appeared ready to use them.
Raven powered down his window. While one Marine stayed on Tanya’s side, the other approached Raven with a flashlight. The beam landed on Raven’s face.
“I’m a US citizen,” Raven said. “This is an emergency. Russell Dillon is expecting us.”
“Who?”
“Russell Dillon. Call it in. He’s waiting for us.”
The Marine glanced at his partner. The second Marine remained quiet.
Raven said, “Dillon works in the basement, get it?”
The Marine returned to the building. His partner remained on Tanya’s side. She kept her hands on the wheel because the Marine kept his right hand near his gun.
Raven sat still. The Marine in the guard building spoke on a telephone. It was a short conversation. He returned to Raven’s side.
“All right. Go through the gate and wait in the parking lot. Dillon isn’t here yet, but Eva Yoshino will be out to get you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
Both Marines returned to the guard building. The gate in front of them lifted. Tanya drove through, made a right into the parking lot, and stopped the car. She didn’t turn off the engine. Raven told her to wait.
After a few minutes, a woman in a skirt and blazer combo exited the building and stopped at the car. She leaned in Tanya’s window.
“Are you Sam Raven?”
He passed her his identification. Tanya snapped on the overhead light.
“Okay.” She passed back the ID. “I’m Eva Yoshino. I work with Russ. He is on his way. Park over there and let’s go inside.”
