"The back and both sides are buried in the ground, like a root cellar. It has a shingle roof but the structure is plywood and rafters. It's pretty stout. I played on top of it when I was a kid. Our only way out is through that door."
Shannon slapped at her pockets. "He took my knife and my lighter. I don't think I have anything left."
"I have a dozen survival matches inside my belt. I can light one long enough for us to get a look around."
"Can we build a fire?" Shannon asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice.
"No way. There's not enough ventilation. We'd die from the smoke."
"Could we burn the roof off? Or burn the door down?"
"Shannon, you need to calm down and think this shit out," Ragus said. "There's not enough ventilation for a fire. We can deal with this but we have to be smart about it." He could hear her rapid breathing, the panic that verged on hysteria. He slid an arm around her and she yielded to his touch.
"I'm scared, Ragus. I'm scared this guy might come back. I'm scared we're going to freeze to death. I'm worried about leaving the compound unattended. My dad and Conor are going to be so mad."
"And your worry will accomplish nothing. We deal with this one step at a time. We figure a way out and then we'll deal with the rest."
42
Shani's Home
Jezreel Valley, Israel
Conor started awake, still on Shani's patio and stretched out in a lounge chair with a blanket thrown across him. It was morning and the birds were chirping, the sun stabbing him in the eyes like a rusty nail. He wasn't certain why he'd awoke so abruptly until he was kicked a second time. He opened his eyes again and noticed Shani's sister, Tamar, was standing beside him, a disapproving scowl on her face. Apparently, she'd come over to water the garden and had been greeted by this unpleasant sight.
Conor scowled back. He'd faced down some of the worst men the world had to offer and he'd be damned if he was going to let this sour-faced woman intimidate him. He raised a hand and shooed her away. "Get lost," he mumbled. "I'm sleeping."
Not to be outdone, Tamar turned the water hose on him. She cackled as he rolled to the ground and scrambled toward the house on all fours, moaning and cursing. She hosed him the entire way to the back door, smiling for the first time since Conor Maguire showed up.
He pulled himself up on the doorknob and slunk into the house, dripping onto the rug. Shani, Barb, and Abela looked up from their breakfast. Abela was the first to start laughing, then the rest of them promptly joined in.
Barb swallowed a mouthful of eggs and covered her grin. "What happened, Dad?"
"That...witch...accosted me. I was sleeping like an angel and woke up to one of Satan's own hoovering over like she was trying to steal me soul."
Shani slid back from the table and hurried off. "I'll get you a towel."
"Were you mean to Auntie Tamar?" Abela asked.
"Not at all. I just asked her to go away and let me sleep."
Abela went back to her breakfast. "She waters the garden every morning."
Conor scowled. "Well, this morning she watered me."
Abela cackled and her high laugh soon had Barb laughing along with her.
Shani was back in a moment and tossed Conor a towel. "How do you feel?"
Conor stopped to think about it. "Fine actually. No after-affects from the Tubi 60."
"That's what people like about it," Shani said, retaking her seat at the table. "No hangover. Now go take a shower. We have a meeting in two hours."
Conor gave her an indignant look. "I've not even had me breakfast."
"And you'll not have it looking like a drowned rat," Shani said. "Take a shower and I'll save you something."
Conor sloshed off, mumbling about the injustice of a cold breakfast and an innocent man ripped from his sleep by a cruel woman wielding a garden hose like a machine gun. He slunk into the guest bathroom and stripped off his soggy clothes, leaving them in the sink to drain. He started the shower, adjusted it to his liking, and climbed in, still mumbling about the cruelty that the world had dispensed upon him that morning.
Thankfully, the shower was rejuvenating, and when he climbed out he was ready to take on the world. He wrapped a towel around himself and ambled off to find the bag containing the spare clothes Shani had given him. Shortly, he was dressed, groomed, and all smiles, heading to the table for some leftovers.
Shani, Barb, and Abela were gone already, but the vicious Tamar was sitting at the table waiting on him with a cup of coffee in front of her. Across from her was a plate of bacon and eggs with half an avocado. There was a cup of juice and another of coffee. Seeing the tempting plate across from the woman who'd been so unpleasant with him since his arrival, Conor suddenly understood the dilemma of the mouse staring at the baited mousetrap. It was suspicious, dangerous even, but that meal was alluring.
His stomach growled, utterly betraying him. "Damn you, belly," he muttered, yanking out the chair and taking a seat. He tucked the napkin into the collar of his shirt, a gesture that drew a raised eyebrow from Tamar. Conor eagerly shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and glared at Tamar. She sipped at her coffee and assessed him.
Conor spread his hands in a questioning gesture. "What? You got more abuse lined up for me? You poison my coffee and you're waiting for me to start flopping and twitching?"
Tamar replaced her cup on the table in a very controlled and precise manner. "I've always wondered what you were like. I tried to imagine your face from Abela's."
Conor took up a strip of bacon and shoved it into his mouth like a wood-chipper devouring a sapling. He tried to ignore the woman. He wasn't going to ruin a good breakfast rehashing the past with a woman who wasn't even part of it. It was none of her business.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "You're thinking that I wasn't there and I don't know what took place."
Conor's expression indicated she'd hit the nail on the head. "Yeah, I was going to mention that."
"While I wasn't there, I know the story. All of it. Shani was very open about what happened and her role in it. I also know you didn't find out about Abela until recently. I cannot hold you responsible for that."
"Yet, obviously you have a burr under your saddle."
Her expression belied her unfamiliarity with the expression. Had this uncivilized man just called her a horse? An ass?
"I'm not concerned about what took place between you and Shani. You were adults, albeit immature ones. I am, however, concerned about what takes place between you and Abela. With Shani working so much of the time, I've raised that child like one of my own. I love her like a daughter and I would fight for her like she was one of my own. Were someone to hurt her, I'm not sure I could restrain myself. I expect I might kill them before I was able to stop myself."
Conor grinned. Now they'd found a common language. Merciless protection of family, the bond of blood, retribution by violence—those were things he understood. "I am not here to hurt Abela, but can you understand that I had to meet her?"
Tamar nodded. "I encouraged Shani to tell you about her years ago. I thought you should know, but she didn't want to and it wasn't my place to go against her wishes."
That bit of information was shocking to Conor and took him a moment to process, not that it slowed down his eating. "I wish I had known. I'd have asked to meet her."
"I understand you wanting to be part of Abela’s life, but all I ask is that you please go slowly with her. Choose your words wisely. Don't tell who you are and then disappear from her life. It's better she not know than to suffer your loss. Ignorance is better than rejection."
Conor frowned and shoved the plate away. He took a sip of his coffee, then drained the cup. "If I'm around and in her life when she's older, I'll tell her. That kind of information is beyond the comprehension of a child. She'd not grasp the complexities, wouldn’t understand our failures. Hell, I'm not sure I even understand what happened and I was there at the conception."
Tamar blushe
d and looked away. "Well obviously."
"You know what I mean, Tamar. I understand this isn't the time. There may be a time down the road, when she's older. I'll wait until then. However, please understand that I'll help protect Abela with all of my abilities. If you ever need me to swing a machete and stack bodies to protect her, I'll fucking do it."
Tamar allowed a tight smile at his words. "I believe you, Conor."
Conor extended a hand across the table. "Then you going to stop treating me like a...a…"
"A momzer?" she finished, taking his hand and shaking it.
He looked confused. "What the hell is that?"
"It's Yiddish for a person you have to keep an eye on. A shady bastard, you might say."
Conor smiled and pointed at Tamar. "Yeah, that. I'm not a momzer."
The back door opened and Shani stepped in from the patio. "No bloodshed?"
"Nah." Conor sat back in his chair. "Wooed her with me charm and she melted like the rest of the babes."
Shani's eyes grew wide. "I'm not even sure what to say to that, Conor."
He winked at Tamar. "See, I keep 'em guessing. That's what they like about me."
"Well, Casanova, be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.” Shani rolled her eyes. “We've got a meeting to get to."
43
Ramat-Yishai
Northern District, Israel
The town of Ramat-Yishai was a former Arab village located south of the highway between Haifa and Nazareth. Shani navigated her Jeep down the dusty, narrow streets, past a massive construction site to an automotive junkyard on Ekaliptus Street. The property was surrounded by a battered fence made of steel roofing panels. Shani pulled inside the fenced lot and parked her Jeep around back of the building.
Conor took a look around. "Should I be worried? This where you guys dispose of bodies?"
"Nonsense. Crushing bodies in cars is strictly amateur. We have much better methods at our disposal. Alligators, caustic soda, acid, sharks. The list goes on." Shani opened her door and climbed out. "Come on."
Barb and Conor fell in behind her, entering a shop building through a rolled-up door. The building had an oil-stained concrete floor and a pair of automotive lifts with cars on them. As soon as they were inside the building, the garage door began rolling shut with a loud clatter.
Conor gave no outward sign of alarm, but he was feeling a little jumpy. He had no weapons and only the vaguest idea of where he was. He was certainly in no position to pout and walk home. He thought for a moment about how naked and vulnerable he felt without a weapon since he usually carried a couple every single day.
When the door finished closing a man stepped out of a room at the back of the garage and opened his arms. "Shani!"
"Uzi Weiss," she replied, wrapping him up in a warm hug. When they broke apart, she gestured at her guests. "This is Barb and Conor. Friends of ours from America. As I told you on the phone, they need our help."
Uzi shook hands with Conor and Barb, a warm smile on his face. "We've had people on it all night and we might have some useful intelligence for you. Step into the briefing room."
The briefing room clearly served multiple purposes. The pile of extra napkins, ketchup packets, and plastic forks in the center of the table indicated it was used as a lunchroom on a regular basis by the people who worked in the garage. Two men and another woman who were seated at the table stood to introduce themselves. Like Uzi, the woman was Mossad. Her name was Caro. The two men, Sydner and Sandy, were Sayeret Matkal soldiers.
"Be seated. Let's get started." Uzi took a seat at the head of the table and turned a laptop to where everyone could see the screen. "After your hasty departure from the Shandong yesterday, all of the remaining Americans were transferred to the Saudi destroyer, along with Prince Abbas. The rumor spreading in the Saudi government is that there was a terror attack on the ship. A suspected American terrorist killed several passengers and would have killed more if not for the fortuitous appearance of a Saudi destroyer that just happened to be in the area. There's been nothing on Saudi news about the event. Our operatives inside Saudi Arabia say the Americans were delivered to a private resort on the coast north of Jeddah last night."
"Have they been reunited with their families yet?" Conor asked.
"Negative," Uzi said. "This is only a guess on my part, but I assume Abbas will meet with them to take measure of their resolve, making certain the remaining folks are still onboard with the mission."
"Without Congresswoman Shoe as a unifying force, he may need to offer new incentives," Shani remarked.
"Or new threats," said Sydner.
"I want Abbas," Conor stated. "It's a house of cards. We pull Abbas out of the picture and the rest of the house falls. At least the international side of it. We'll still have housekeeping to do in America."
"If you're serious about this,” said Uzi, “it needs to happen tonight. Any move on that resort will be much more complicated once the families are brought in. That's almost one hundred more people according to our sources. One hundred more people in the way. One hundred more people who might spot you sneaking around. One hundred more human shields."
"Can we pull an op together that fast?" asked Conor.
Shani smiled at Uzi, then turned her eyes to Conor. "My guess is there's already an op planned out. They just want your blessing."
"Is that true?" Conor asked.
Uzi gave a satisfied nod. "You can leave from here immediately to catch a chopper in Haifa. They'll deliver you to Eilat, where you can board a Shaldag MKII Fast Patrol Craft. The patrol boat will deliver you down the Gulf of Aqaba to the Red Sea. I can arrange for a small Saudi fishing boat to rendezvous with the patrol craft off the coast of Dahaban. You'll have to dress as local men but it's a technique we've used to embed folks before with great success."
"Who's going?"
"I'd love to go," Shani said. "I'm still recovering from my injuries though. I'd be more of a liability on this op."
Uzi pointed at Conor, then Barb. "You two, of course. Then Sydner and Sandy." Uzi indicated the two Sayeret Matkal soldiers. "Their unit has an extensive network embedded around Jeddah. We always like to know what's going on with our neighbors."
Conor was mulling it over. "Not to sound like an ass, but who's in charge of the operation? I like to know who's giving the orders."
"Sydner is in charge of getting you to the resort. He has extensive experience in this field. Once there, these two will yield to your direction. When the work is done, Sydner will resume the yoke and get you out of there alive. That acceptable?"
Conor was satisfied with this. "What's the exfil plan?"
"The resort has a fleet of jet skis on the beach. Surveillance was able to pick up the model numbers so we obtained master keys," Uzi rattled off. "After the op, you use the jet skis to rendezvous with the patrol boat and they'll bring you home."
"And I'm assuming we'll get back to America one day?" Barb asked.
"Working on it," said Shani. "By the time you guys are back at my place, I'll have something worked up."
"Then let's get a move on," Conor said. "We're burning daylight."
44
Conor's Compound
Jewell Ridge, Virginia
Wombat couldn't remember the last time he'd lived so high on the hog. He was sitting on Conor's couch in his long underwear, a roaring blaze going in the stove. He was eating some kind of tenderloin he couldn't identify but it was incredibly delicious. It had been marinating in the kitchen when he found it, so all he had to do was cook it in a Dutch oven on the woodstove. Several times it crossed his mind that it was very nice of those young people to have the house warm and his dinner prepped for him.
The meat was the size of a deer tenderloin, but he couldn't help but wonder if it came from one of the goats wandering around the place. It didn't make any difference to him. He couldn't imagine eating a dog, a cat, or a person, but nearly everything else was fair game. Meat was meat.
Along with the
tenderloin he'd cooked up some biscuits in a second Dutch oven, using a powdered mix he found in one of the cabinets, along with some buttered peas and boiled noodles. He also found some weird booze in the cabinet. He'd have preferred a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon or a bottle of Jack Daniels but there was no room for being picky. He'd take what was available to him at this point, unless it was tequila. He couldn't even think about tequila without his stomach knotting in protest.
He'd found a collection of DVDs and decided that watching a movie was about the best use of his newfound electricity that he could think of. He couldn't remember the last time he'd watched one, though he assumed it was in his camper in Ohio, back when he was pipelining. He wasn't familiar with a lot of the choices in the collection but settled on a movie called Porky's, a raunchy comedy from the 1980s. It was hilarious and he brayed with laughter as he watched it.
The dogs had been left outside to do their dog duties, protecting the compound against people like him. He didn't want them to forget the tentative truce that he had with them, so he made sure to toss them a treat when he was done eating. They each got a little piece of the tenderloin and a biscuit.
Standing in the doorway in his long underwear and boots was the first time he'd considered how difficult it would be to defend this place. It was right on the road so people would pass by and notice it. A place this size would attract attention, much as it had attracted his. He would have to up his game if he hoped to hold onto the property. That thought made him wonder if he should move all his gear here or leave it at the cabin, using that place as a fallback location if he got driven out of here.
Wombat caught a chill and hurried back inside, slamming the door behind him. As a man used to being relaxed and comfortable, he was unaccustomed to the feeling of vulnerability that came with these new surroundings. He'd never felt that in his other cabin, but he felt it here. He needed to do something to get his mind off it, so he put his clothes back on and decided to do some more exploring. In particular, he wanted to spend some time in an area of the building that had stumped him thus far.
Punching Tickets: Book Five in The Mad Mick Series Page 22
