Breach of Protocol

by Nathan Goodman

  Nathan Goodman

  Breach of Protocol

  First published by Thought Reach Press in 2018

  Copyright © Nathan Goodman, 2018

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Novels in The Special Agent Jana Baker Spy-Thriller Series, by USA Today Bestselling Author Nathan Goodman

  Protocol One

  The Fourteenth Protocol

  Protocol 15

  Breach of Protocol

  Rendition Protocol

  Get a free copy of book 1 of this series, Protocol One.

  More information inside.

  I

  Breach of Protocol

  1

  A COLD VOICE

  The Camino trail, western Spain. About one mile from the town of Melide.

  There’s not much of a cell signal along the Camino de Santiago, a five-hundred-mile trail known as The Way of Saint James, that runs through Spain’s rural countryside. So when the phone vibrated, it startled Jana. It had been her habit to leave the phone off until she found a hostel to sleep for the night. As it was, she was high on a bluff near Melide, just two days’ hike from the town of Santiago de Compostela, terminus of the Camino trail.

  “We have a cell signal up here? Hang on,” she said to Gilda, a fortysomething hiker from Berlin she had befriended on the trail. “I thought this thing was turned off.”

  “Probably that boyfriend of yours,” Gilda teased. “And don’t forget, it’s your turn to buy the wine tonight.”

  “Oh no. Last time I did that, you got hammered.”

  “Me?” Gilda laughed. “You were singing karaoke in Spanish, and you don’t speak Spanish.”

  Jana laughed as she fished in her backpack for the phone. “Oh yeah. What was it you said I told the waiter? That I wanted to sleep with him?”

  “Took a while to convince him you didn’t exactly have a command of the language.”

  Jana looked at the phone. The caller ID said “Unknown.”

  “Yeah, must be Cade calling me from his work,” she said. “But why would he not just use his cell phone?”

  “He probably found out you made a pass at that waiter,” Gilda said with a smile.

  “Remind me to smack you later.”

  “Hello,” Jana said into the phone, but the only thing she could hear was the hollow sound of someone breathing. She looked across the surrounding hillsides, unsure why her nerves were suddenly on edge.

  “Enjoying your little walk, Agent Baker?” a cold Middle Eastern voice said.

  Ice raced into Jana’s bloodstream and her mind locked.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, but, Miss Baker,” the man said, his throat raspy and deep. “I would have thought you people would have my voice memorized by now.”

  Her eyes scanned the horizon as if they might uncover someone watching.

  Gilda put her hand on Jana’s arm. “Is everything okay?”

  Jana stepped away and continued to look in all directions.

  “I asked who this was.”

  “Oh, I think you know,” the man said through a laugh. “Say it. Say my name, Miss Baker.”

  A wave of terror leaked into Jana’s veins as she grabbed Gilda and yanked her to the ground.

  “Jarrah? Waseem Jarrah?”

  “What are you doing?” Gilda said as her body folded underneath Jana’s pull.

  “You are probably wondering something pointless, Agent Baker, like how I obtained your cell phone number. And that leads you to what must be a very terrifying thought: whether or not I am also tracking your movements with it, or perhaps if I am watching you right now.”

  Jana’s breathing rate went into overdrive.

  “I have come into a great deal of wealth, Miss Baker, and can obtain a great many things. But it is information that I value most. Information is a most valuable commodity, don’t you think?”

  Jana leaned across Gilda, hoping to shield her from the rifle shot she feared was about to come, then began a frantic search inside her backpack for anything she could use as a weapon.

  “I’m going to find you, Jarrah. And when I do—”

  “You’re going to what?” he interrupted. “Kill me? Well, after I successfully vaporized your CIA headquarters a few months ago with a nuclear weapon, I would think you would want to do more than just kill me. I would think you’d have more concern for predicting my next target. Maybe you should be protecting your FBI headquarters, or the White House? Perhaps I sold the warheads? Perhaps not. I cannot recall. Hmmm, where did I put those warheads?” he said through a grin Jana could feel across the phone. “But, I digress.”

  Jana began piecing together the thoughts streaming through her mind. Where the hell is he? Is he watching me right now? I’ve got to think . . .

  He continued. “I spent many years in your country, Agent Baker.” His tone deepened. “And I’m still trying to wipe the stench from my skin.” Then he almost yelled, “The CIA, the beast, got what it deserved, and Allah was pleased.” Jana heard him take a deep breath. “However, I didn’t call to tell you to be careful and avoid twisting an ankle as you finish your hike. I called to tell you that it’s more personal this time. In my previous attacks, I was unconcerned about who got in my way. But now I’ve taken a liking to you. You killed someone very dear to me, and I will ensure you feel the pain of your transgressions.”

  Gilda squirmed underneath Jana. “What is wrong with you? Get off of me!” But Jana leaned her weight on top to keep the woman shielded from the potential threat.

  “Stay down, Gilda,” Jana whispered. “Personal, you say?” she said into the phone. “Personal? Two years ago, you were the one that sent Shakey Kunde to detonate a nuclear weapon on US soil. What did you think I was going to do? Sit there and let him murder sixteen thousand innocent Americans? You sent him to die. He may as well have been dead before he entered that festival. And you blame me for his death? Our psychological profiles were right. You are insane.”

  “Watch your tone, Agent Baker,” Jarrah belted. “You might be surprised at how inaccurate your little psychological profile is. I’ll admit, I was focused on wiping the CIA from the face of the earth. But when my second nuclear device detonated, I felt a calm inside myself unlike anything I could have imagined. Destroying the CIA was the realization of a dream.” Then the vinegar returned to his voice. “My path is set, Miss Baker. I have chosen my next target. Shortly you will witness the beginning of a game you and I are to play, a game of death, and the stakes have never been higher. Someone very important to you will die. You should consider their death to be a small atonement in the debt I intend to extract from you.”

  Oh my God. He’s going to kill Cade.

  “I do have one more thing to say to you, and it is this.”

  Jana could almost feel his smile again through the phone, but then his voice became stilted.

  “I heard one say in a voice like thunder, ‘Come!’”

  To Jana, it sounded scripted, as if he was quoting something from memory or reading the words off a page.

  “And you needn’t bother trying to trace this call,” he said. “I only use a cellphone once, then it gets destroyed. I am not stupid, you should know that by now. Say goodbye to your loved one, Agent Baker.”

  “What the hell does that mean? A voice like thunder? Come?” Jana paused. “Jarrah? Jarrah?” The call went dead. “Prick.”

  “Get off of me.” Gilda squirmed. “You’re crushing my ribs!”

  “Sorry, Gilda. I thought he was here. I thought he was watching us.”

  “Who? Who’s watching us?”

  “I’ve got to call Cade.” Jana’s fingers shook as adre
naline surged into her veins. She navigated her list of contacts on the phone to find his information. “Dammit!” she yelled as she tapped on the wrong contact.

  “Jana, you’re scaring me! Here,” Gilda said, “give me the phone. Who do you need to call?”

  “Cade! I need to call Cade right now!”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down. Here’s his contact. It’s dialing now.”

  Jana yanked the phone back.

  “I’m not hearing anything. It’s not ringing. Come on, Cade. Pick up, pick up.” But there was only silence. Jana looked at the phone. “The signal. It’s down to one bar and even that keeps disappearing. The call isn’t going through!”

  “Well come on,” Gilda said as she grabbed Jana’s backpack and began to jog. “The town of Melide is just down the hill. We’ll get a signal there. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  Jana squelched tears before they could form as the two friends ran downhill in the direction of the town.

  2

  TARGET ACQUIRED

  Melide, Spain

  By the time they reached the edge of town, a faint cell signal had emerged. Jana panted in exhaustion but wasted no time placing the call. This time, the phone rang.

  “Come on, Cade. Pick up.”

  On the fourth ring, he answered.

  “Well, if it isn’t my—”

  “Cade! Whatever you’re doing, get to a safe place. Don’t question me! Do it now!”

  Gilda could see the terror in Jana’s face and held her hand over her mouth.

  “Jana,” Cade said, “what are you talking about? I’m in a perfectly safe place. What’s the matter?”

  “Where are you? Tell me where you are!”

  “I’m at The Box, NSA headquarters. I work here, remember? What’s the matter? I’m in the operations center. Where did you think I was? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Don’t leave the building, Cade. Stay at NSA. Do you understand me?”

  “Babe, sure, I understand. But what’s happening? Is this another one of those top-secret things you’re not supposed to tell me about? You know that my security clearance is higher than yours, right?”

  The attempt at levity went nowhere as Jana’s emotions overwhelmed her. She slumped to the ground and her throat locked tight. Gilda knelt beside her and put her arm around Jana.

  “I thought . . . I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Why?”

  “Jarrah! Jarrah is in the open. Somehow he got my cell number and I think he knows where I am. He called me, Cade. He said he was going to exact revenge on me for killing Skakey Kunde. He knows I’m on this hike and said he was going to kill someone close to me.”

  “Okay, now calm down. I’m fine, okay? Nobody can get to me in here. It’s you I’m worried about. Where are you right now?”

  “We’re in a little hamlet called Melide. It’s about—”

  “It’s four hundred and eighty miles from where your hike started, and twenty miles from where it ends, I know.”

  “How do you know that? Is NSA tracking me? Do you have a drone up there or something?”

  “A drone, that’s not a bad idea. Why didn’t I think of that? No, of course I don’t have a drone tracking you. A guy could get in trouble for tracking his girlfriend with a government-owned surveillance drone.”

  “Cade, my cell coverage sucks out here. You need to call this in. You need a security team around you. This is not a joke.”

  “I hardly think Jarrah is going to go to all the trouble to kill someone like me, Jana. It’s too risky. Besides, Jarrah isn’t into that. He masterminded the only nuclear attack that’s ever happened on American soil. Killing someone like me isn’t his style.”

  “You didn’t hear his voice. And besides, he’s a nutjob, remember? He’s completely insane. I’m telling you, he’s going to kill someone close to me. He sounded like he was going to do it immediately. If not you, who is he talking about? My parents died when I was a child. My grandparents are gone . . . and Jarrah wouldn’t have called and given me much advanced notice. He would have waited until the last second, right before he did it, you know? Cade, if it’s not you, then who? Jarrah is about to kill someone. We have to think!”

  “It could be Kyle,” Cade said. “But hold on, I think he’s still here too.”

  “Still there? What do you mean? Kyle is FBI. He doesn’t have an office inside The Box.”

  “Jana, you and your gorgeous blonde hair have been out of circulation for two months, traipsing your way across the Camino trail in Spain, remember? You’ve been away from me for two months, which I’m still mad at you about, by the way. Kyle is not FBI anymore. Not that it matters much. In the wake of the nuclear attack, the lines between what is FBI, CIA, and NSA are blurring. He’s technically considered CIA now. He was appointed four weeks ago. Has his own team.”

  “CIA? Kyle hated those guys.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Cade said. “Once the majority of CIA’s leadership was gone, killed in the blast, the power vacuum started. The whole organization is a shell of its former self. And, it’s different. Kyle will be doing field work. He’s a very focused individual, if you recall.”

  “All right, all right. Find him, right now. Make sure he’s okay. And have Uncle Bill get on the line to Director Latent. We’ve got to get the full weight of the FBI on top of this thing—” But before the rest of the words could roll off her tongue, a thought hit her, freight train-style.

  “Oh my God. I know who he’s going to hit!”

  3

  AN OCCUPIED ROOFTOP

  Across from the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center, Midtown Manhattan, New York

  Rafael pulled a piece of plastic sheeting over his body and that of his weapon, a custom-tuned Middleton model 415SS crossbow. The weapon was capable of delivering a carbon-fiber crossbow bolt tipped with a razor-sharp 100-grain broadhead at over five hundred feet per second. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the last thing he wanted was to acquire his target through wet optics.

  He’d never been tasked to carry out a hit using such a weapon, and had spent lots of time training with it. In the past, his typical weapon of choice was a Zastava sniper rifle. Zastavas are Serbian built, and he had used his favorite, chambered in 7.62x51 mm, to assassinate several dozen high-ranking officers in the war with Croatia.

  When his new employer contracted him to carry out today’s mission, very little had been said of his assigned target. At that time, all he’d been told was to proceed to the Northeastern United States and wait for further instructions. Before details were made clear, he’d even shipped the sniper rifle, which itself had made quite a journey. He had broken the rifle into parts and placed it inside a steel drum while he was still in Oman. The drum was one of about a thousand which were about to board a freighter bound for New York. When it reached the United States, the ship docked at the Columbia Street Waterfront, within sight of the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Rafael had discarded the rifle scope that was originally attached to the Zastava, an old ZRAK ON-M76. He replaced it with something he was more comfortable with, a $2,700 Leupold model that had a much wider field of view and illuminated crosshairs. Once sighted in, the rifle had become capable of driving a tack into a target at five hundred meters.

  But when his employer, Waseem Jarrah, had provided more details about the assignment, the instructions were very clear—the weapon for this particular hit was to be a crossbow. The instructions further stated that failure to use a crossbow would result in his not being paid. Thus, his archery training had begun.

  Locating a suitable crossbow had not been difficult. He was able to locate it at a gun show in West Virginia and the purchase was untraceable. It would never have occurred to the man sitting behind the table that it would be used for any purpose other than hunting whitetail deer.

  Rafael then took the crossbow to have it tuned. The archery specialist replaced the factory limbs on the weapon with those made of customized tungsten alloy. The man said it was t
he most powerful crossbow he’d ever constructed. Once the Leupold rifle scope was mounted, Rafael’s ability to place an arrow into the center of his target became an act of simplicity.

  The early afternoon sky was a dreadful mix of grays dappled with the black of the storm. The rain droned on, but sitting atop a building just across from the main entrance to New York’s sprawling Jacob Javits Conference Center provided the perfect vantage point. His target would emerge, and once the one-hundred-grain broadhead bolt struck, the man would die before he hit the ground.

  As time ticked by, Rafael became bored and his focus drifted. He raised the weapon and looked through the scope at an apartment building behind him and peered into the windows. In the darkness of the storm, Rafael could see into the brightly lit units. His eyes wandered from one apartment to the next, seeking out what pleased him. In a third floor unit, a young woman entered her front door and dropped a soft-sided leather brief case onto the couch, then made her way to the bedroom. “My, my, what do we have here?” he said to himself with a grin. His grin widened as the woman flipped off a raincoat and ran fingers through her long wet hair. “Oh, we are soaked, aren’t we? Wouldn’t we be more comfortable in dry clothes?” His laughter started low, but became almost maniacal as the woman pulled her black, skin-tight dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. “How very nice. Little black dress, black bra, black panties. Yes, well, I should think you would like me to visit. And how skinny we are. I do love a flat stomach.” The woman reached behind herself and unhooked her bra, letting it, too, fall. Rafael’s eyes flared at the sight of her bare breasts. She turned and disappeared into the bathroom. “Perhaps I should pay you a visit. Yes, I think a visit is in order. There will be time later, and we will get to know one another.”

  With the temporary distraction gone, Rafael turned his attention back to his assignment. Initially, he hadn’t known who had hired him, and hadn’t cared. The first payment had been transferred into his Cayman Island bank account and that was all that mattered. That and the fact that this job was the heaviest hit he’d ever been hired to carry out. This one would bring down a lot of heat. In the past, he’d hit high-priority targets, but this was on a whole new scale. The response to this assassination would be swift, and he could not falter in his escape.