Counter Terror (A Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series Book 13)

by Trevor Scott

  “It’s a loaner.”

  “Stolen,” Jake said with a smirk.

  “How do you say in English? Collateral for a debt.”

  “Makes sense. Why don’t you leave it here and drive with us. Ours is an actual rental. And I took out the insurance.”

  Alexandra chimed in. “Which doesn’t matter, since he used false credentials for a man that doesn’t exist.”

  Russo pointed his finger at Jake. “I like the way you work, Jake. We might have an opening for you in our organization.”

  “You can’t afford me,” Jake said.

  The capo flicked his spent cigarette and said, “You’d be surprised.”

  Jake pulled out the keys. “Let’s go.”

  29

  Crotone, Italy

  Elisa had finished her final watch at zero five hundred, before going back to sleep in her room. She didn’t wake until a little after ten, when her partner texted her and said their man was down in the restaurant eating a long breakfast. She wasn’t exactly pissed, since Vito was supposed to let her sleep for only a couple of hours, but she was a little disturbed that the man had not followed her orders.

  She showered quickly without washing her hair, got dressed and gathered her stuff into her bag, and checked out. Elisa had a feeling this guy would be on the move soon. Once she checked out and dropped her bag at the car, she went into the restaurant and sat alone, with a view of both her partner and Zamir. Luckily the buffet was still open. She ordered a cappuccino and got a plate of meat, cheeses and some bread. Before eating, she texted her partner to gather his things and check out of his room. She would keep eyes on their man. Besides, she thought, they still had the new tracking device on Zamir’s car.

  Vito got up and tried his best to not look at her as he departed the large restaurant. But she did notice that Zamir watched Vito leave. Interesting, she thought. Perhaps the man liked men. She kind of thought that might have been the case even back in Athens.

  She was able to eat her meal and drink her coffee before her target got up to leave. As the man passed through the restaurant, he didn’t even look in Elisa’s direction. She texted Vito that Zamir was on the move back to his room.

  Elisa finished and then wandered out to the car, where she sat behind the wheel with her phone out. Now she sent a text to Jake Adams, saying the man would be on the move soon.

  No answer. She waited. He could be driving already, she thought. A minute later she got a simple OK from Jake.

  Vito was the first to come out of the hotel, carrying his bag over his shoulder. He was pretty, she thought. But too much into himself. He stuck out too much to work surveillance. One needed to blend in better to the background, and that only happened with average appearance. That’s why she used minimal makeup and dressed in clothes like the locals.

  Her partner threw his bag in the trunk and got in to the front passenger seat. He lowered his sun glasses and checked her out. “You look tired.”

  “You’re an asshole. Never tell a woman that.”

  “I don’t think of you as a woman,” he said. “You are my partner.”

  “Why did you let me sleep so long?”

  “You know. You are older and I figured you needed your beauty sleep. Turns out I was right.”

  She punched him hard in his arm.

  “Ouch,” he said. “The girl can hit.”

  “If I thought you had any balls, I would have hit you there.”

  “That hurts even more than the punch,” he said. “If you’d like, I’ll show you how much I have.”

  “If you haven’t figured it out by now,” she said, “I don’t exactly like men.”

  He pointed at her. “I knew it. There’s no way you wouldn’t want some of this.”

  She smiled. “Right. I’ll tell you who has been checking out your ass. Zamir. He wants to pound your ass until it bleeds.”

  Vito turned away. “That’s disgusting. You really think he’s gay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Speaking of which, here he comes.”

  They watched as the Iraqi from Athens got into the Fiat Panda. Last night, the Iraqi had dropped off the driver at an apartment in the downtown area of Crotone before driving himself to the hotel. Maybe the man would return the car. But Elisa remembered it was a strange thing to do. Why didn’t the driver simple drop off Zamir at the hotel before driving to his own apartment? Or, why not just let Zamir stay at his place for the night?

  Elisa started her VW Passat and waited for Zamir to pull out. “Do you have the GPS working?” she asked.

  Vito’s eyes gazed at his cell phone. “Yes, boss.”

  “Good. I’m going to stay back and follow from a distance. But I’ll bet you he doesn’t go far.”

  “What would you like to bet?” Vito smiled.

  “A cappuccino,” she said. “A good one. Not the autostrada type in a plastic cup.”

  “Those aren’t so bad.”

  She shook her head and pulled out after the little red Fiat Panda. They wound through the outskirts of Crotone, up the hills away from town. But not very far. She would win this bet. After only a few kilometers, Zamir pulled through an electronic gate and drove into an estate lined with olive and lemon trees.

  Elisa parked down the street with a long distance view of the place. Jake Adams had been right. This was the address for the professor. He had to be in charge, she thought.

  As she sat watching the front entrance, the rain started to fall. First it was a light sprinkle. That soon turned into a heavy downpour. She texted Jake, letting him know she was sitting on the professor. Zamir had driven right to the man’s estate. A few seconds later and she got a response from Jake saying he was on the way and would be there in a couple of hours, depending on the weather.

  •

  Antonio Baroni was in front of his large whiteboard considering what to do with a few new variables. Late last night he had gotten word that his man from Geneva had been picked up in Rome, along with the Serb. That meant two of his cells were out of commission, or at least diminished somewhat. Now they had no choice. They had to move up the schedule. The best time to strike would be the holy season. The second best time to strike was any other day. He plotted those factors into his equation and started to see a favorable pattern. This is quite simple, he thought. A squared plus B squared equals C squared. The only potential change he had for Rome was an alternative point to the A variable, depending entirely on circumstances on the ground. He pulled a small device from his pocket and pressed the largest button. Normally this device simply opened a garage door. But he had programmed the toggles inside to Pi, and his assistant had a buzzer with that same code.

  Moments later and his assistant came in, closing the door behind him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did our man from Athens show up?” the professor asked.

  “He just arrived.”

  “Good. Gather the men. We have to discuss our next move. How fast can we get the protests together?”

  His assistant shrugged. “Almost with no notice at all.”

  Of course, Baroni thought. Most of them had no jobs, no prospects, no futures. Unemployment for young men in southern Italy was nearly seventy-five percent. Their government had deceived them and let them all down. That was the horror of Capitalism. Only a few got rich. The rest were relegated to scrounging for scraps like rats in the ally. Collectivism was the only true form for any just society, where the individual was only as important as the whole group. Governments were an abomination of dictatorial ambition.

  “Sunday,” the professor said.

  “But sir, that will anger the entire Catholic religion in Italy and abroad.”

  Baroni smiled. “It will have the largest impact.”

  “I understand. They will blame the Muslims. The recent immigrants.”

  Shrugging, the professor said, “They have been wanting to strike Rome for years. We will make it happen for them. The bombers will all be from Muslim countries. The explosives will be from Balkan Muslims.�
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  “What about the Serb they picked up in Rome?”

  “He was just one of our contacts. And he will not talk.”

  “I see.”

  “Individuals are not important. Others must stand up now and take their place. Gather the men in the courtyard in one hour.”

  The assistant was about to leave, but he hesitated and asked, “Sir, how will we get word to Rome? Through usual channels?”

  “No. Those have been disrupted. Everything will be done in person from now on. We will disburse our people. That’s why I sent Zamir back to Taranto yesterday. We couldn’t afford to make normal calls.”

  “That only gives our bomb builders two days.”

  “They need just one to complete the process,” Baroni said. “The devices are already built to the proper specifications. We just need our experts to add the electronic triggers.”

  “They picked up our man from Geneva,” the assistant reminded the professor.

  “This is redundancy theory. We still have our man from Athens and one more who is already in place. Two will be enough.” The professor checked the large clock on the wall above his main whiteboard. Then he turned back to his assistant, Marco. “Thirty minutes in the courtyard.”

  His assistant nodded and left.

  Antonio Baroni smiled as he glanced at his whiteboard again. How is a government brought down? From within. That is the easiest way. The government had opened the gates to the invading hordes, and now he would make them pay for their stupidity.

  30

  Jake Adams got to Crotone by late afternoon. They had stopped at a seaside restaurant for a large lunch, not knowing when they would get their next meal.

  A light drizzle fell upon the city, the gloom of cloud cover bringing the hillside above the town to near darkness.

  Jake pulled up behind a car and got out. He glanced back inside at Alexandra and Russo and said, “Do you know how to get to our meeting place?” he asked Russo.

  “Of course,” Russo said. “It’s not far.”

  Nodding, Jake quietly closed the door and approached Elisa’s car, a dark green VW Passat she had rented after their event on the Amalfi Coast. Elisa got out and closed the door behind her, leaning against the side of the car.

  Elisa kissed Jake on both cheeks. “They are still inside.”

  “No other way out?”

  She shook her head. “I walked the perimeter as far as I could, but the estate butts up against the hillside. I guess someone could escape that way. But if we closed off the streets leading in here, they would not be able to go far.”

  “What about roads above the estate?”

  “No. There is nothing there. In theory, one could walk all the way up into Sila National Park from here. There is a road about seven kilometers to the east. But that is through very rough terrain and a number of gorges.”

  “That’s where I would go,” Jake said.

  “True. But not everyone is as crazy as you, Jake.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad your sense of humor is intact.”

  “That’s the only thing I seem to have going for me these days.”

  “You have many fine assets.”

  Her eyes shifted back to Jake’s car, probably concentrating directly on Alexandra. Then she turned back to Jake and said, “How do you want to handle this?”

  That was a damn good question. “We could go in there guns blazing. Kill a lot of bad guys. But we’d also probably get no intel. We have to assume this is their command and control. They could be getting desperate, now that we’ve taken out some of their people.”

  “That’s my concern as well,” she said.

  “I’m guessing they’ll push up their timeline for a strike.”

  “I agree.”

  Jake looked around her at her partner in the car. “Has he kept in contact with his people in Rome?”

  “I told him not to say anything until we know what we have.”

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure I trust that young punk.”

  “He’s all right. A bit cocky. Probably like you were at his age.”

  “I was a captain in our Air Force at his age.”

  She nodded understanding. Then she said, “I’m getting wet.”

  Now Jake glanced back at Alexandra before turning again to Elisa. “You know I’m with Alexandra.”

  “No.” She hit Jake in the arm. “I mean the rain.”

  Right. He knew that. “All right. Why don’t you come with me. I’ll leave Alexandra with your boy toy to watch the estate.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We have a man with the Calabrese Malavita with us,” Jake said. “He’s been very helpful so far. He has a number of assets we can use here in Crotone.”

  Elisa thought it over. “Vito won’t go for that. He’ll insist on bringing in the Polizia or the Carabinieri at the minimum. Or even his people from Rome.”

  “I don’t give a shit what he wants,” Jake said. “He responded like a dazed tortoise on the Amalfi Coast during that shooting. He doesn’t get a say.”

  “I understand,” she said. “But as you know, our organization doesn’t have a mandate to act on Italian soil. His agency is my only cover.”

  “I have no cover. Your government can kick me out at any time. Or throw my ass in jail.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” she said.

  “Good to know.” Jake turned to his car and waved for Alexandra to come out.

  His girlfriend came over and simply stood for a moment.

  “I want you to stay here and babysit our AISI officer,” Jake said.

  “You aren’t going in there alone,” Alexandra said.

  “No. We’re going to meet with Russo’s men. But we need eyes on this place in case they make a move. Text me if anyone moves.”

  Alexandra understood with a simple flick of her chin. She took the car keys from Elisa and got into the driver’s seat next to the young officer.

  Jake went back to his car and got behind the wheel, while Elisa found the seat next to him. They pulled out in Jake’s rental Fiat Tipo.

  Russo was right. The location of their meeting with the local Mafia was only a couple of kilometers away. It was a large house with a nice view of Crotone below.

  The three of them got out and went to the front door of the house. A man in his early thirties opened the door. He was wearing a green soccer jersey with white numbers on the chest. He was number one. But he had a semi-automatic handgun strapped to his right hip and an MP-5 submachine gun slung over his shoulder.

  Russo kissed the man on both cheeks before introducing Jake and Elisa. The Malavita capo didn’t mention affiliations for either of them. Smart move. Jake had a feeling that these men had nothing to do with the local soccer team, and would have wanted nothing to do with Elisa’s agency. Russo’s contact, the local leader, was simply referred to as Pepe.

  They wandered into the main living area of the house and at least a dozen men sat around the room, some on the floor, and all heavily armed. They also wore green jerseys with white numbers. The men were watching a soccer match on a big screen TV.

  Pepe introduced Jake and Elisa without using names, but all deferred considerably to Russo, standing up when he entered the living room.

  “Come to the kitchen,” Pepe said. “You have to try my wine. It’s from my own vineyard.”

  They all went into the kitchen, but could still hear the soccer match and the occasional cheer when someone on their team did something other than run and kick the ball.

  The local Mafia leader poured glasses of wine for all four of them. They all agreed that his red wine was great. But Jake checked his watch. They needed to get a plan going now.

  “You are in a hurry?” Pepe asked.

  “We’re a little under the gun,” Jake said. “I’d like to be in place by dark.”

  “Of course,” Pepe said. He pulled up an actual map of the city of Crotone and surrounding area, s
preading it across the kitchen table. He pointed out the professor’s estate, along with any potential escape routes. “My men will set up here and here. They wear the same jerseys so you don’t accidentally shoot them.”

  That got Jake thinking. He found his phone and took a quick picture of the jersey, but not the face, of the Mafia leader. Then he texted that to Alexandra, telling her to show it to the young officer, and to not shoot anyone in these jerseys.

  “How many people do you have?” Pepe asked.

  “The three of us and two more on site watching the place,” Jake said. “A blonde woman and a young Italian man. But they should be remaining in the car.”

  “What about communications?” Russo asked.

  “All of my men have ear pieces,” Pepe said. “We will just need to coordinate the channel.”

  “Good,” Russo said. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Pepe smiled. “I was hoping we would just go in and kill them all. These foreigners are taking over our country. It’s hard to find a real Italian in Crotone. They come by the boatload and our government simply opens their arms to these men. First, we should never let the ships touch the Italian shore. And if they do somehow get here, we give them just one thing. Fuel for their boat. Maybe a little food. Then we turn the damn boat around and send it back to the Middle East or Africa.”

  Jake thought that was a good plan. If they did that enough times, they would stop coming. “It’s a big problem in Tropea as well,” Jake said.

  “He’s right,” Russo agreed. “Our people there are willing to act to stop this invasion.”

  “Let’s start here,” Jake provided.

  Both Italians agreed, while Elisa seemed off in her own world. Jake wasn’t entirely sure where she stood on the immigrant issue.

  Jake continued, “What information do you have on Pythagornuts?”

  Elisa laughed now. “Is that what you’ve come to call him?”

  “Seemed appropriate,” Jake said.

  Pepe found another piece of paper a little larger than the map. It was a builder’s sketch of the compound.

  “How did you get this?” Elisa asked.