by Brad Taylor
But he was wrong.
Sitting in a chair, flanked on each side by Aaron and Daniel, she repeated, “There is something going on here that’s more than just killing a Nazi. I looked into them. I saw. They’re evil, and they’ve got something planned.”
Daniel slapped the table hard enough to make her jump, shouting, “What the fuck does that mean? We have a mission. You accomplish the mission.” He glared at Aaron and said, “We’re done. Samson is done. All because of this idiot and her ‘visions.’ I’ll bet those Palestinians were terrorists after all.”
Shoshana seemed to suck the light out of the room, her visage turning feral. She turned to him and said, “I’m telling the truth. Those men at the table are going to murder someone, and it’s going to be significant.”
The glare was enough to stop Daniel’s outburst. In a softer tone, he said, “So you kill the fucker and disrupt the plan.”
She turned to Aaron and said, “You know it’s not that simple. If I killed him, I would have altered their plan, not disrupted it. I’d have driven them underground, or worse, made them attack early. They think they’re clean right now. And they’re in the final stages of an attack. We can prevent that. Prevent the death.”
Much more calmly than Daniel, Aaron said, “How do you know? What did you find?”
Shoshana closed her eyes, not answering. Aaron touched her hand. She opened them.
He said, “How?”
In a resigned way, she said, “I told you I can see things. I don’t know how. I just know.”
Daniel scoffed and stood up, pacing to the kitchen. Shoshana looked at Aaron, wanting his support. He felt her gaze, black orbs drawing him in. Reading him. She said, “You know I’m right.”
He said, “Bullshit. All you’ve done is put our mission in jeopardy.”
But for some reason, he did believe. She was unlike anyone he’d ever operated with, having a conviction that eclipsed rational thought. It was borne of something else.
She said, “I didn’t say that as a question.” She flicked her head at Daniel and said, “He doesn’t believe me. But you do.”
He chuckled and said, “How do you know what I believe?”
“Because I can see it.”
The statement was unsettling, not the least because it was true.
She said, “You are not like the others. I knew it the minute we met. You can lead me. Use my skills. Do so now, and we save someone’s life.”
Daniel returned to the table, saying, “You’re not buying into this bullshit, are you?”
Aaron ignored him, saying, “What do you propose? We don’t have a big enough team to conduct a full penetration of the Baumhauer family. We only had enough to kill him.”
“We go to the station chief. Tell the ramsad to set up a meeting. We get station assets on the family. Let them figure it out.”
“Using what? Your ‘vision’? Nobody’s going to buy that.”
She said nothing.
He said, “Look, how am I going to approach the ramsad and say that you’ve got a ‘feeling’ that something bad’s going to happen?”
She set her penetrating gaze on him and said, “Because you’re the team leader. The one I follow.”
He sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment, then said, “Daniel, get me the secure cell phone.”
9
Konrad took a sip of his espresso and glanced at his watch, seeing he was inside the window of the station chief’s habitual lunchtime. Today was the final day of tracking, and his path would determine where they’d tell Carlos to place the motorcycle.
Yes, motorcycle.
He was still aggravated about that. They’d spent days building the Renault car bomb, integrating the new cell phone initiator at the same time they tracked the station chief. The man had a habit of eating lunch on Florida Street, just a few blocks away from the embassy, but he varied his routes to get there. One place he was always located, for a brief moment in time each day, was the embassy’s main gate.
In Konrad’s mind, the most logical location for a hit was just outside the Israeli embassy on Avenue de Mayo. The chief had exited the main gate every day, not using any secret exit or driving out of the garage. He simply walked out, then turned left or right on Avenue de Mayo to walk to the restaurants on Florida Street.
It was the one place that they could guarantee a kill, but Carlos had demurred, stating that de Mayo would cause a massive amount of unnecessary death, as there was no way to prevent the VBIED from killing everyone around him. Carlos wanted something more surgical. Something that would keep the Argentinian government at bay, and the population less willing for a full-court press because of innocent deaths. And so they’d gone back to the drawing board, first analyzing the station chief’s movements, then building a device that was much more likely to kill only him. Not foolproof, but pretty close.
Each day the station chief went to lunch on Florida Street, taking a circuitous route to get there. Clearly running a halfhearted surveillance detection route, he ended up on the same section of street every lunch hour, but there was no prediction of how he would get there, and setting a bomb on Florida Street was impossible, as it was pedestrian only. There would be no parking a car on that street, even if they could predict the restaurant he would visit.
After day three, Konrad had picked out the pattern. The section of Florida Street he visited was north of the embassy, but the chief never took a direct route. He went east or west, then walked beyond the stretch of Florida Street he frequented, making a box before coming back south.
The one constant was Juan Domingo Perón Avenue. He always hit that going south to north, then went east or west until he came to Florida Street, depending on which route he’d taken. From there, he went south on the pedestrian avenue of Florida, finding a place to eat. Unfortunately, Juan Domingo Perón Avenue had no parking for cars. It could be used, but each side was hemmed in with iron posts and broad sidewalks. No way could they park a Renault on the lane without blocking traffic, notwithstanding the car would have to possibly stay for days, waiting on the target to enter the kill zone.
But they could park a motorcycle.
The avenue was blanketed with mopeds and motorcycles, all lined up in neat rows facing the sidewalk, which had caused the shift and reconstruction of the VBIED from the Renault to a late-model BMW bike, the charge located in the gas tank with the shrapnel of nails and ball bearings aimed directly through the handlebars. When it went off, there would be a forty-five-degree angle of destruction directly into the brick wall of the building fronting the sidewalk. About as surgical as they were going to get with an improvised explosive device.
Today was the final day of surveillance. They’d watched the station chief for a total of five days, and out of that time, he’d traveled east to west twice, and west to east three times. If he went west to east today, Konrad would recommend that as a choice spot for the bomb. If he didn’t, he’d leave it up to Carlos to decide. Either way, he and his family were out of the surveillance business.
Konrad caught movement behind the steel fence providing a buffer to the front of the embassy. He leaned forward, seeing two men exit. One said something and they shook hands. He recognized the station chief. The other was an unknown. They separated, the chief going west up Avenue de Mayo, then taking a right and heading up the thoroughfare known as Maipú.
With that route, it would be another west-to-east trip to Florida Street. Using a small walkie-talkie, Konrad called Carl, currently positioned on the eastern side in case the chief had chosen that route, redirecting Carl to intersect the target as he traveled north. That done, Konrad made sure Derek—positioned at the intersection of Florida and Perón Avenue and tasked with tracking the chief to a restaurant—had heard that the target was inbound.
Then Konrad simply sat, drinking his espresso and waiting. Eight minutes later he go
t the call he’d wanted. “Target has turned once again on Juan Domingo Perón Avenue.”
Yes. While he attempted to put some randomness into his walk, the station chief had gotten lazy. Probably told himself every day that this day would be different, and he would break his pattern. But he hadn’t.
Two more minutes passed, then Derek came on. “I have him. He’s walking by me now. He entered a coffee shop called Il Barista.”
Konrad said, “Good enough. Our work is done here. You guys head back to Mar del Plata and get the bike ready for transfer. I’ll set up a meeting with Carlos.”
Carl said, “Copy all.”
Derek said, “Konrad, the chief is meeting with the people from the restaurant.”
Huh?
“Come again?”
“Remember that hostess who screwed up with the pepper mill? The one the waitress yelled at because she’d brought an empty one?”
“Yes.”
“She’s inside talking to the station chief. And the man she’s with I could swear ate dinner the same time we did.”
The implications hit Konrad immediately. No way was this a coincidence. The waitress was a plant, and the man was probably Mossad. For the first time, he was glad Carlos had insisted that they conduct the surveillance. If Carlos’s men had, the connection would not have been made. The only question now was what they were up to. Why had they been in the restaurant? No way was it because of the planned attack against the Mossad agent. If it had been, the station chief would have been much, much more alert, and the meeting would have definitely been conducted in secret—not in a coffee shop.
Only one way to find out.
“Carl, Derek, I want you to remain. I’ll prep the motorcycle and get it to Carlos. Follow the two back to whatever transportation they have or whatever hotel they’re staying in.”
Carl said, “And then what?”
“Take them to the fortress and hold them. I’ll meet you there. Derek, do you still have that test cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Bring it with you, in case I have to contact you.”
“There’s no cell service out in the jungle.”
“Just do it,” Konrad snapped. “It’s better than nothing if I have to call you on the road.”
Carl said, “What do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”
10
“I don’t know what kind of strings you pulled to get me here, but I’m not wasting assets on a bunch of ghosts. I have my hands full with Hezbollah.”
Shoshana bristled at the words. The meeting was going nowhere, as she knew it would as soon as the station chief had entered the café. She’d known immediately that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about their information. Truthfully, no special skills were needed to see the indifference written on his face—mixed with aggravation at being forced into this meeting.
She said, “We wasted two days for this guy?”
“Hold on,” said Aaron, “let’s give him a chance.”
It had taken a day and a half to get through the bureaucracy to even set up the meeting, then another half day to work out the particulars of when and where—most of the time wasted because of the inefficient means of communication. Aaron’s team couldn’t contact the embassy directly and were forced to go through Tel Aviv.
Shoshana had watched the chief saunter over and sit down. He’d introduced himself as Gideon—a name everyone at the table knew was false—and then said, “So, a team that’s been in-country for all of five days knows more about the threats in this town than the Mossad station?”
It had gone downhill from there, with Aaron describing their requirements and Gideon refuting each request, until he’d finally told them his focus was Hezbollah, no matter what strings Aaron had managed to pull. He saw Shoshana’s aggravation and said, “You do realize there is a threat from Iran, right? Did you happen to hear about the suicide bombing here in ’94?”
Shoshana said, “We don’t need your sarcasm, we need your help. There’s an attack coming, and it’s going to be soon.”
Gideon leaned back and said, “Oh yeah, I heard. From Nazis.”
Shoshana started to snap at him, and Aaron touched her arm, keeping her quiet. In a calm voice he said, “There’s no reason to belittle us. The ramsad gave us our target here. We didn’t make it up, and we can’t help what we’ve found.”
“Which is what, exactly? You haven’t said.”
“We don’t know exactly. That’s why we’re talking to you. We need station assets to find out.”
“Well, at least tell me the parameters. What type of attack? How did you come across the information? Who’s your source?”
“As you know, we’re tracking Gunther Baumhauer. In the process of building a pattern of life, we came across indicators of operational planning. We don’t know who, what, or how, but he’s not a retired Nazi. He’s using his sons to develop an attack, and that’s all we know. I’d tell you the specifics of how we found the indicators, but I can’t compromise sources or methods, on order of the ramsad.”
Which was the only way he could think of to avoid saying it was nothing more than a feeling from a woman who appeared to be some type of empath, something that would guarantee they’d be shown the door. In truth, he was surprised the ramsad had even agreed to arrange the meeting, but the head of Mossad alone appeared to believe in Shoshana even as everyone else shunned her.
After spending a day and a half bouncing between offices, begging each one, Aaron had eventually gotten the ramsad on the phone. He’d explained that they’d delayed killing the target based on a greater threat they had discovered. The ramsad had questioned Aaron, of course, eventually getting to the point where, like the station chief now, he had pressed, asking, “How do you know? What asset gave you the information?”
Not being able to use any “sources and methods” excuse with the head of the Mossad, Aaron had gritted his teeth and said, “Sir, Shoshana met them at dinner. She says she . . . saw something in the father and the sons. It’s why she didn’t execute the mission.”
He waited on the backlash, feeling stupid he’d even bothered to call. After the words spilled out, he realized how ridiculous they sounded. But a part of him believed her conviction. To his utter surprise, the ramsad said, “Stand by your phone. I’ll set up a meeting with the Argentina station.”
It took a second for Aaron to find his voice. “Sir? Based on that?”
“Yes. Based on that. I told you she was special. It’s why I gave her to you and not another team.”
Not knowing what else to say, Aaron settled for “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Understand, I will defer to the station chief. He also has his orders, and they take priority over you.”
Now, sitting in the café with Gideon, Aaron wasn’t sure if it was the station’s priority that was affecting Gideon’s willingness to help, or the fact that the threat seemed outrageous. Aaron would have backed off at that point, except for the small fact that the ramsad seemed to believe in Shoshana.
Gideon said, “I know you have the ear of the ramsad, and you believe that gives you weight, but he’s also given me my targets. I’ve eliminated half of the cell from the ’94 bombing, and currently have two more in my sights. I don’t have the assets to divert to some decrepit Nazi based on indicators alone.”
Aaron said, “Maybe a trade then. I have a Samson team here. Targeted killing is what we do. I don’t have the sources in Argentina to investigate a threat, or the contacts to even begin penetration here, but I can certainly track a target.”
Gideon smiled at that and said, “I don’t need another Amman here.” He flicked his head to Shoshana and said, “Especially with her on your team.”
Aaron heard the words, the aggravation building from two different directi
ons. One, that his team was perceived as screwing up the Amman hit, and two, that Shoshana’s reputation had actually made it here, to this backwater station.
Shoshana started to rise from her chair, and he touched her arm again. She looked at him, the fury leaking out, and he said, “Not now.”
She jerked the arm away, but remained silent.
He returned to Gideon. Aaron said, “You have a problem here, and I’m willing to solve it. You cast aspersions on me and my team, but you have no idea of our history. You are looking at an attack. I want to stop it. That is all I want. To stop an attack against Israeli interests.”
Gideon said, “I deal with more threats on a daily basis than you could possibly conceive. I’ve handled them just fine. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it.”
Shoshana pulled out the vial that held the remaining poison and slapped it on the table. She said, “I was willing to kill for a purpose. You slander me as if what I’m doing is a joke. Keep this as a token. When you’re picking the bodies off of the ground.”
Gideon said, “Melodrama. About what I would have expected from you. We’re done here.”
He stood to leave and Shoshana grabbed his arm, saying, “Listen to us. Someone is going to die soon. It might be you.”
He pulled his arm away and laughed, saying, “I’m the hunter in this land. And I have a mission to continue. From the ramsad.”
He left the coffee shop without another word. Shoshana glared at Aaron, and he said, “We can’t dictate. We can only advise. And now we have to determine how to accomplish our mission, since we missed the chance at the restaurant.”
She said, “Eliminating that old Nazi will do nothing but provide mental satisfaction. His sons are going to slaughter people. I cannot understand how we don’t want to stop that.”
Aaron handed her the poison, then threw some cash on the table for the coffee. He said, “It’s not that they don’t want to. They don’t believe.”
