JET V - Legacy

by Blake, Russell

  The men led him downstairs while the housekeeper stood with a fourth operative who was taking her into custody – they weren’t taking any chances of Jacob’s plight being communicated to anyone. She would be detained until the crisis was over, with no contact allowed with the outside world.

  The team led Jacob to a black van parked by the service entrance and loaded him into the back. The two silent operatives took seats on the bench next to him, with the agent taking one across from him.

  “Did you really think you would get away with this? I gave you a chance and you spit in my face. Now we’ll see who’s all high and mighty by the end of the night. I’ve seen battle-hardened true believers cry like newborns after the interrogation team gets through with them – assuming they live through it. You? You’re old and weak and soft. My guess is you’ll be spilling your guts before they’re done with the cattle prod to your genitals, much less the rest of it.”

  The man saw the reaction he was looking for in Jacob’s eyes – pure, unadulterated terror. That was good; the desired response. He would break much faster if his mind worked against him, playing the horrific scenarios in his head. It was all part of the drill, but he was enjoying his role, perhaps more than in most cases. That this wealthy industrialist – who had made fortunes more vast than he could imagine – would plot to create a terrorist event that could bring the country to the edge of disaster was more loathsome than a suicide bomber or a rabid cleric spewing hate and intolerance. This man had benefited in every way by his associations and his position, and he had betrayed them all.

  The van rolled onto the street and wound its way from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, Jacob turning increasingly white as the journey continued. The prisoner was clearly panicked, which was the whole point to the exercise – they needed him to be pliant when the interrogation began.

  Eventually they pulled to a stop outside the darkened warehouse where Ben had been questioned, and the rear doors swung open, held by two somber operatives, their suit jackets bulging from their concealed weapons. One of them muttered into his cuff, and then the men in the van unloaded Jacob and began walking him to the rear entrance.

  Gunfire exploded from the gloom; the man holding Jacob’s right arm went down with a groan. Another burst echoed from the between the buildings, and the agent fell forward in an explosion of blood. The other operative holding Jacob released him and drew his pistol. The rapid burp of an automatic weapon shattered the night again, and he fired at it even as he was hit and fell into a heap at Jacob’s feet, blood soaking the white shirt beneath his suit. The two remaining operatives crouched and shot at the assailant, but the incoming fire was too much to overcome, and in seconds they too were lying dead.

  Jacob spun around, his eyes searching furiously for the threat, and then a black-clad man came running at him carrying an MTAR-21 assault rifle, a trickle of blood running down his right cheek from where a bullet had grazed him. Jacob froze, waiting for the death shot, and then the man whispered at him.

  “Come on. Can you run?”

  “What?!”

  “Can. You. Run? We’re going to be swarmed with operatives any second, so make up your mind.”

  As if to highlight their predicament, two men appeared in the building’s doorway, and the black-clad man crouched and emptied his weapon at them, hitting them both with a sustained burst before ejecting the spent magazine and slamming a fresh one in place. His gaze swept the parking area before returning to Jacob.

  “Last time I’m going to ask.”

  “Yes, I…I think so…”

  “Good. Let’s go,” the man said. He tugged Jacob’s arm and sprinted for the shadows behind another of the massive buildings. Jacob hesitated for a second and then followed him, anxious not to be left behind. After a final look at the corpses all over the lot, he ran behind his rescuer, the dim lights behind him fading as he picked up his pace.

  “Over here,” the man called, and Jacob saw him standing near a black Mercedes G550 with no plates. “Hurry. We’re out of time. They’ll have helicopters here soon, and then we’re dead.”

  Jacob approached the vehicle as the man cranked over the big engine, then leaned over and opened the passenger door for him. “Now. Man, you’re slow. Do you want to be tortured and killed? Move, damn it,” he hissed.

  Jacob pulled himself into the seat and then got the door closed – difficult to do with his hands cuffed, but he managed. His rescuer floored the accelerator and they surged forward, cutting across a dirt field, bouncing over ruts, and then slammed through a chain link gate and merged onto an empty access road that paralleled the freeway in the near distance to their left.

  “Are you all right?” the driver asked, eyes locked on the road in the darkness, running without lights by the faint glow of the moon.

  “Ye…Yes, I think so.” Jacob paused and took in the man’s bleeding profile. “Who are you?”

  “A friend. The group hired me to extract you. They got a tip that you were to be taken tonight, but there was no time to warn you. Sorry about that. You’re lucky I made it before they got you inside. Nobody ever walks out of there. Nobody. It would have been impossible to save you then, so this is your lucky night.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “That’s because you didn’t make it into the building. Trust me. You narrowly missed your worst living nightmare in hell. I used to work for them. I know.”

  “You’re ex-Mossad?”

  “No, I’m a dentist and you’re late for your cleaning. What the hell’s wrong with you? What do you think?”

  Jacob jolted as they hit a particularly nasty rut, his mind churning. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace safe. We need to get you out of the country. They’ll be scouring the Earth to find you.”

  “But–”

  “No buts. Do you want to live? If so, you’ll do exactly as I say. Now stop being an idiot and listen up. First, what did they tell you?”

  “Not much. That I was being charged with treason.”

  “That’s it? And what did you tell them?” he demanded as he veered left down a drainage ditch.

  “Nothing. I told them nothing.”

  “Jacob. This is very important. You didn’t tell them anything about the bomb? Not even a little hint to make things easier for you? You can be honest with me. Really. I understand what you have to do when in a crisis situation, more than most. What did you tell them?”

  “I told you – nothing.”

  “You expect me to believe that? My instructions are very clear – to get you out of this mess, and verify how much you told them so we can take evasive action. But you have to help me, Jacob.”

  “How do you know about the bomb?” Jacob asked, suspicious.

  “I’m part of the team that’s going to deal with it, you dumb bastard. Now answer my question – did you tell them where it was to be detonated? Or when?”

  “No! How the hell could I? I don’t have any idea where it’s going to go off. All I know is that it’ll be soon. How would that help them?” Jacob spat, seething at the man’s tone.

  They hit another bad pothole, jarring them both, and the man twisted the wheel to the left again.

  “They’re going to be all over us, Jacob, so I need to be able to trust you, and know you aren’t going to crumple on me in the clinch. Don’t you dare lie to me. I’ll find out eventually, and if you’re lying to me, there’s no place you’ll be safe. Ever.”

  “I swear I’m telling you the truth! How could I tell them what I don’t even know myself?”

  “So you say. You must have some suspicion, some clue. What did you tell them, Jacob? Shit. Get down. Duck out of sight,” the driver ordered, his brow furrowing. Jacob obeyed, slouching down into his seat so his head wasn’t above the door panel.

  “Can you reach the lever on the right side at the base of the seat? If so, drop the back as far as it’ll go and stay down.”

  Jacob strained as the rough terrain jostled the vehicl
e when the man increased his speed, and his groping, cuffed hands finally found the handle. He reclined with a jolt, almost prone, and the driver nodded, his eyes still on some distant object.

  “Last time, Jacob. What did you tell them? Look at you. You aren’t bloodied. Why wouldn’t they have already started on you? Because you talked. Now so help me, you tell me what you said, or I’ll dump you off here and you can take your chances with their dogs and patrols.”

  “God damn it! I told you, I didn’t tell them anything! Shit, if I did, it would be pure guesswork. An invention. Nobody knows where the bomb’s going off except for the inner circle of The Council. Didn’t they fill you in?” Jacob snapped.

  “They don’t tell me everything. Just what I need to know,” the driver said, and then jerked the wheel. They pounded over some ruts, and then the way smoothed out.

  “How much longer until I can sit up?” Jacob asked, his back beginning to cramp from the position.

  “A few minutes. Stop complaining. I’m going to make a phone call, and tell The Council what you said, and verify that you don’t know the details of the operation. You sure you don’t want to change your story?” the driver asked, fishing a cell phone from his pocket as his left hand gripped the wheel.

  “Positive. They’ll confirm it. I’m not worried,” Jacob said.

  “All right, it’s your funeral,” the driver said, and then his eyes widened and he dropped the phone into his pocket. “Oh, shit. Hang on,” he warned, and then they were twisting and being knocked to and fro as he negotiated a particularly rough patch of terrain. The jostling went on for some time, and the big motor groaned as the driver modulated the gas to better manage the difficult ground.

  Eventually, the vehicle began to slow, and then lights illuminated the cab as the tires found pavement.

  “Are we clear?” Jacob asked, but the driver didn’t answer, his attention elsewhere. Jacob debated asking again, and then his rescuer stomped on the brakes.

  “Okay, you can sit up now,” he said, and Jacob was fumbling for the handle when his door flew open and strong hands pulled him from the seat. He barely had time to react when he saw that they were back at the industrial building, the dead men miraculously walking, apparently no worse for their experience. “Amazing what a few blood squibs can do, isn’t it?” the driver chuckled, seeing the look of shock on Jacob’s face.

  “He doesn’t know anything. I think he’s telling the truth,” the driver said to the agent, his shirt still stained crimson, splatters of theatrical blood still staining his profile. “But take him into the interrogation cell anyway. I’ll start with a drug cocktail, and then move to torture – we need to be sure.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened as he heard the final words, and he struggled in a panicked frenzy when he realized that his ordeal was only beginning. The driver shook his head as two operatives half dragged him toward the door, and then he turned to the agent.

  “This may turn out to be a big waste of time. Hope the old man has a plan B for him, because my money says he doesn’t know much more than we do.”

  “Only one way to find out,” the agent said.

  The driver looked at the distant lights on the freeway, his expression pensive.

  “You got that right.”

  Chapter 27

  Eight hours later, the interrogation concluded. Jacob had been telling the truth – all he knew was that there was a bomb, and that it was going to be used sooner rather than later. For what precise purpose, or where, he wasn’t privy to, and while he had been told to anticipate something shortly, he had nothing more solid about the timeframe.

  The director watched the last of the video of the questioning and sat back heavily in his chair, thinking. After a few minutes, he called Jet and explained the situation, and told her he would have a car pick her up in half an hour.

  When Jet arrived she looked rested, a long night’s sleep having worked its magic, and when the director briefed her on what he wanted her to do, she nodded.

  “Are you serious about the deal?”

  “That’s why I want you to make the offer. Something about deniability, I think you mentioned?”

  “Ah. Crafty. I like it. I was going to say, he deserves no mercy, but it sounds like we’re on the same page there,” she said, an edge to her normally calm voice.

  The director pointed to the door. “Like minds think alike. Just get him to play ball.”

  “That’s my specialty. Or one of them. Consider it done,” she said, standing.

  “I’ll be listening.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” Jet said, then exited the office and walked down the hall to where two operatives were guarding one of the steel doors. She stopped in front and the taller of the pair unlocked it, offering a wan smile. She didn’t return it, preferring to stare straight ahead as she mentally prepared for what was to come.

  Jet entered the cell and moved around the chair until she was just a few feet from Jacob and regarded him without expression. He raised his head, his skin pasty, groggy from the lingering effects of the drugs, and looked at her. His eyes registered surprise at the presence of an astoundingly beautiful woman, but then the light faded from them.

  “Jacob Weinstein, I’m here to offer you a deal. I have a proposal for you, and I want you to listen carefully so you get it all the first time. Do you understand? Can I get you something? Water? A trip to the restroom?” she asked, and he became more attentive.

  “I could use both,” he said simply, sounding defeated.

  She walked behind him and knocked on the door. A few moments later it was unbolted, and she ordered one of the guards to uncuff the prisoner, take him to use the toilet, and bring him a liter bottle of water.

  When Jacob returned he looked better, although still a shell of the powerful man who had been lying in bed only a short time before. He accepted the water with trembling hands and drank greedily from it, dehydrated from the drugs as well as the near-constant sweat of fear. The guard let him drink, and then sat him back in the chair. He was about to re-cuff him when Jet shook her head.

  “I don’t think we’ll be needing those. There’s been enough barbarism for one night,” she said, cocking an eyebrow as she locked eyes with Jacob.

  The guard appeared to hesitate and then shrugged, deferring to her. He handed Jet the cuffs, then returned to the door and left.

  “Mr. Weinstein, I want you to carefully consider the position you’re in, as well as my suggestion for how you can extricate yourself from it. You are guilty of treason. You’ve admitted it. We have it on tape. Your guilt is not subject to debate – you’re guilty. The penalty for treason is life imprisonment, but in this case, it will be death. There’s no way for you to escape that fate – no lawyering, no amount of money, no connections will allow you to dodge it. Do you understand? In fact, they’ll probably just haul you to the nearest field and put a bullet in your head rather than having to suffer the public humiliation of one of the country’s most respected citizens being branded a traitor.”

  Jacob nodded silently.

  “The only way that you can atone is to help us avert the terrible event you’ve put into motion. But you don’t know enough to do so. Which means there’s only one way to help – you need to call a meeting of The Council and find out what’s planned, and when. If you refuse to do so, you’ll die. Probably before the end of the day. Nobody will mourn you or notice your passing – you’ll simply cease to exist. Your legacy will be lost, and you’ll be just another forgettable businessman who made a few bucks and then faded into history – into obscurity. You’ll die cold and alone, probably in a drainage ditch over in the field you drove through, and your remains will rot buried under a thin blanket of mud. But before that happens, they’ll proceed to physical torture you can’t even imagine. You’ll beg for death before they’re done. Am I getting through to you?” she asked, her voice melodious to his ear, her cadence almost hypnotic.

  Jacob nodded again, and then answered, “
Yes.”

  “What I’ll need you to do is make a call, or calls, and convene a meeting. You’ll be wired, so we’ll hear everything you say. You need to find out what’s planned. That’s it. Once you do, we’ll take the rest of the members into custody, and only you will leave a free man. That’s the only deal being offered.”

  He glared at her. “You want me to betray the men I’ve worked with for decades – to build a better nation? Because that’s what all of this is about. Building a stronger country. A country that isn’t divided, filled with recriminations and acrimony and self-doubt. That’s why I did all this.”

  “Mr. Weinstein, save the filibustering for someone who cares. You don’t even know what it is that you’ve done. You’re so deluded that you’ve gone along with a plot, and you don’t even know exactly what the plot is. For all you know, they’re planning to detonate the bomb in downtown Jerusalem to stoke outrage over terrorism and prod the government into laying waste to millions of innocents. You’re in way over your head, and the destination – the only end point for you on this road – is death before nightfall, after hours of unspeakable agony. I’m offering you a way out. Help us stop whatever atrocity these madmen are planning. And then walk away, free and clear. The country doesn’t need brinksmanship or Armageddon to prosper. That’s delusional thinking, and I think part of you knows it.”

  Jacob appeared to consider her words, and Jet gave him time. He needed to arrive at the correct conclusion himself, without too much prodding. She deliberately took a few steps away from him, allowing him to regain some self-respect.

  Carrot and stick. Betray your friends like you betrayed your country, or be executed and forgotten. Momentary unpleasantness exchanged for survival. An irresistible offer.

  It wasn’t a lock, but she had seen what she had aimed to establish in his eyes – a glimmer of hope, and then of calculation. She paced for a few moments, and then stopped and faced him, addressing him by his last name again a part of her tactic.