by Trevor Scott
“You’re crazy,” Baroni said. “I will not participate.”
“You won’t have a choice. Are you all right? You seem to be a little thirsty.”
“I could use a drink,” the professor said.
Jake leaned forward and said, “Isn’t there some water up there?”
Elisa reached under the front seat and produced a bottle, opening it and handing it back to Jake.
With the professor’s hands bound, he couldn’t drink on his own. So Jake helped the man. The professor sucked down most of the water and sat relieved.
By now they were on the outskirts of Naples, but Mount Vesuvius was in the way from seeing most of the lights, since they drove around the back side of that famous mountain.
Jake watched as the professor quickly drifted off.
“How much sedative did you use?” Jake asked Elisa.
“Enough to knock out a horse,” she said. “He’ll be out for hours.”
“Cool.” Jake got on his phone and first called Kurt Jenkins, telling him that the professor had tacitly confirmed the strike would happen on Sunday. Kurt also explained that Jake was now only about twenty kilometers behind the Iraqi from Athens. Then Jake made a call he had been putting off for some time—to his benefactor, billionaire Carlos Gomez.
The Spaniard answered with a groggy greeting. “It’s the middle of the night, Jake.”
“I’m sorry, Carlos. But terrorists never sleep.” Jake explained what had happened in the past few days, right up to their current condition.
“You’ve been busy,” Carlos said.
“You could say that. Do you have any sway with the Italian government?”
“Of course. I have many business dealings in Italy.”
“Could you get them to strike the locations and pick up these assholes.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Carlos said. “By the way, I have friends with INTERPOL. One of their men from Switzerland followed a potential bomber from Geneva to Rome. Eventually they hauled the man in, along with a Serb.”
“We heard about that,” Jake said. “What about him?”
“You should meet him in Rome. He might have more information for you. His name is Derrick Konrad.”
Gomez sent Jake the man’s number and the hotel where he was staying, along with a photo of the Swiss man.
Jake thanked the man and tapped off his call.
“Everything all right?” Alexandra asked, her eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah. Carlos wants us to meet an INTERPOL guy in Rome. He might have some insight for us.”
“What about Kurt?” Alexandra asked. “Where’s our Iraqi dirtbag?”
“Twenty kilometers ahead. We should catch him before Rome.”
Alexandra hit the gas, increasing their speed. It wasn’t like they needed to catch the guy before Rome, but they needed to track him once he got there.
Jake pulled out his phone again and considered texting Kurt Jenkins to look into the background of the INTERPOL officer, Derrick Konrad. But Kurt was busy with other things. So instead, he texted an old friend in France to vet the man. He liked to know the people he planned on working with, especially under these circumstances. Considering it was the middle of the night, he guessed that help might take a while.
Finally, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to get a little rest before Rome. The sound of the road blended with the light snoring by the professor. Jake thought about the young AISI officer, Vito Galati, who was still missing. Had he been taken? Or did he simply abandon his post when the shooting began? Time would tell. Elisa had put a search out for their rental VW Passat, but they had not traced the GPS for the car yet.
35
Jake woke to the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket. In the darkness he wasn’t sure where he was momentarily. He had been dreaming of being trapped in a building with a black apparition floating above him, and he was helpless to respond. When he tried to yell, his throat seemed to collapse and no words came out—as if a demon had taken control of his body.
His heart raced out of control and he took in deep breaths of air. Then he remembered his phone and he checked on the caller. It was Kurt Jenkins saying the car had turned off the main autostrada west of Rome. He glanced about, seeing that Elisa was also asleep in the front passenger seat.
“Where are we?” Jake asked Alexandra.
“On the outskirts of Rome. I was about to wake you for an update.”
“The car turned to the west toward Fiumicino Airport.”
“That’s just four kilometers ahead,” she said.
Elisa stirred and woke, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “We’re in Rome.”
“The car is heading toward Leonardo Di Vinci,” Jake said.
“There were two cars,” Elisa reminded them.
“I know,” Jake said. “But we have no idea if they’re still traveling together.”
Jake made a quick call to Kurt Jenkins, who answered on the second ring.
“You’re close now,” Kurt said. “Looks like they’re heading toward the international airport. Could that be their target?”
“It’s possible,” Jake said. “But I have a feeling they want a bigger impact than that. The professor was coordinating a number of cells. Each one was headed up by a local Italian. An anarchist. But I believe, based on those we killed in Crotone, that the majority of the terrorists are from Muslim countries.”
“Do you have word on the status from Crotone?” Kurt asked.
Jake leaned forward, tapping Elisa on the shoulder. “Any update on Crotone?”
Elisa checked her phone. “I’m sorry. I missed these texts coming in.” She read through her texts and said, “The local authorities moved in once the shootout stopped between the Malavita and Baroni’s men. They’ve taken just a couple of men into custody. All of those taken in and dead hold Middle Eastern passports.”
Getting back on his phone, Jake said, “Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” Kurt said. “Thanks. I’ll pass that along.”
“Any word on your partner?” Jake asked Elisa.
She shook her head.
In the phone, Jake asked, “Where are they now?”
“Instead of going to the airport, they turned south into what appears to be a residential neighborhood.”
“South of Fiumicino Airport?” Jake asked.
Kurt directed them on which road to take. Jake passed this on to Alexandra.
“That’s Isola Sacra,” Elisa said. “Lido del Faro. The Tiber River splits off a canal a few kilometers up stream, making the area an island of sorts. It’s mostly working class people living there. Airport workers.”
“The car has stopped,” Kurt said into Jake’s phone. Then he said the address, which Jake relayed to Elisa, who put it into her phone GPS.
Jake checked his watch and guessed the sun would be up in about two hours.
“Thanks for the help,” Jake said. “We’ll take these guys down.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for backup?”
“From who?”
“Right. Good point. The Italians are still sitting on the other locations you gave them.”
“And the Agency? Are they being brought in on this?”
Hesitation from Kurt. “We think so. The Italians know you have the professor. They got the photos sent from their officer showing the man’s mathematics, which they don’t understand.”
“That’s because the professor is nuts,” Jake said. “But somehow he has learned how to herd cats, coordinating the efforts of radical Italian anarchists and Muslim extremist terrorists. This is a deadly combination. If the Italians won’t act, I will.”
“There are too many cells, Jake.”
“Perhaps. But my guess is they have destroyed all of their communications devices. Now everything will be done by personal messenger.” Of course, he thought. That’s what was going on with the two cars. These were messengers.
Jake leaned forward an
d asked Elisa to show the location on her electronic map for the cells they had identified. All of them were more in the downtown area, close to soft targets. Ancient Roman cites.
“All right,” Jake said, into the phone but also to the two women in the front seat. “We will find only one car from Crotone here.”
Elisa turned to Jake. “How do you know that?”
“Because one car had personal couriers with orders from Baroni,” Jake said. “And the one we’re following is something else. Based on the man you followed from Athens. The Iraqi bomb builder.”
“Zamir,” Elisa said.
“Right. That dirtbag. He will be setting the trigger mechanisms. Probably at this location on the lido.”
“That makes sense,” Elisa said. “Then they can combine the triggers with the main explosives sometime today and ready them for use tomorrow.”
“That’s right. We forced them to move up their schedule. We can’t let this Zamir escape.”
“Which way?” Alexandra said, coming to a street light.
“Sorry,” Elisa said. “Turn right. Then it’s three blocks and turn right again.”
Alexandra did as she was told. The streets were nearly empty at this hour.
“What do we do with the professor?” Alexandra asked.
Kurt spoke in the phone to Jake. “Turn him over to our Agency folks.”
“That won’t go over great,” Jake said to Kurt.
“What?” Alexandra glanced at Jake in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll shove him in the trunk. How much longer will he be out?”
Elisa turned and smiled. “I’d guess four to six more hours.”
“Guys,” Alexandra said, slowing the car. “That’s the Fiat Tipo ahead. Two blocks. Just like our car. Even the same color.”
“Pull over,” Jake said. Into the phone he said, “Gotta go.”
“Be safe,” Kurt said.
Then they both hung up.
Here the streets were dark, without street lights. It was a residential area with mostly single-story houses. Jake knew that they didn’t have a lot of time to surveil the house where the car sat. If the bomber simply grabbed his triggers and took off, they might lose the man—especially if he decided to leave his backpack behind. Just in case, Jake had an idea.
Elisa had pulled the tracker from the old red Fiat Panda at the professor’s house, so Jake got that from her.
“What’s the plan?” Alexandra asked.
“Just in case. I need to place this on the Fiat Tipo. Zamir could leave his backpack behind and then we’d have no way to track the guy.”
“We’ll gag this guy in case he wakes up,” Elisa said. “And shove him in the trunk.”
Jake got out and flipped down his seat. “Shove him through here in case the neighbors are up and nosey.”
Then Jake wandered down the street toward the Fiat Tipo. He would casually place the magnetic tracker under the back bumper and then continue on, making sure to check out the surrounding area.
As he got closer, he could see lights on in the single-story house. Then a dark figure slipped past a curtain and Jake couldn’t help thinking about the unsettling dream he had just experienced. Continuing on, he stopped briefly and stooped down to tie his left shoe. While he did so, he swiftly placed the tracker before getting up and strolling down the sidewalk. To anyone watching, it would look like Jake was heading toward the sea for a morning run.
Once he had passed the house, he had two choices. He could turn around and walk back to the car, or he could sit on the place for a while to see what was going down. But there was no good vantage point out on the street. Most of the yard in front of the house was covered by a tall hedgerow, the deciduous leaves still hanging on strong to the branches.
He stopped and glanced back toward their car, seeing that Elisa and Alexandra were done stuffing the professor into the trunk and were heading up the sidewalk toward him.
Just then the front house door opened and a man headed out to the street. Jake was stuck. So he walked toward the Fiat, getting to the car at the same time as the man from the house.
Somehow, the man was spooked and started to run back toward the house. Jake ran after him, tackling the man and bringing him down in the dewy grass. Wrapping his legs around the man, Jake put the man into a sleeper hold. The smaller man struggled beneath Jake, but every move the man made brought a tighter hold around the man’s neck—like a python tightening his grip on a rat. But the man wouldn’t give up. When the guy tried to pull a gun from a holster under his arm, Jake twisted hard away from the man. Hearing that familiar snap was surprising and disconcerting. The man went limp in Jake’s arms.
Oops.
Jake unwrapped himself and got up. As he did so, Elisa and Alexandra rushed to him, their guns out.
“Is this Zamir?” Jake whispered to Elisa.
She shook her head no.
“Let’s go,” Jake said, shifting his head toward the house and pulling his gun out.
36
Jake knew that it was not smart moving on a target safe house without proper backup, but he also knew that since leaving the Agency he had rarely had that luxury. He did know that they had one less man to take out now, since he had killed the man in the front yard.
Elisa went around back, while Alexandra took up a position behind Jake as they entered the house, their guns out and comm units on.
“In place,” Elisa said in Jake’s ear piece.
He moved into a long hallway. Ahead he could see what must have been the kitchen. The two of them passed a dark living room and continued stepping toward the light.
A man appeared, looked shocked, and retreated into another room.
“One target,” Jake said, still moving forward.
Suddenly the man came around the corner and opened fire on them. Jake shoved his body against the right wall, returning fire. He could feel Alexandra right behind him.
Without turning his head, Jake said to Alexandra. “Retreat to the living room. See if it comes through the other side to the dining area.”
Alexandra tapped Jake on the back and took off. Just as she rounded the corner into the dark living room, the man scooted out again, firing wildly toward Jake.
But Jake was waiting for the man. He fired three times. The first bullet struck the man in the right shoulder, seeming to pull him out from behind the wall more, and the next two rounds struck center mass somewhere, dropping the man to the floor.
Now Jake said, “Second man down. Moving forward.” Which he did now with purpose, stepping over the dead body and kicking the guy’s gun away.
Once Jake got to the kitchen, lit by a small light above the stove, he moved his gun around the small room, seeing that there was a passageway leading to a back section of the house, which could not be seen from the road. This place was larger than Jake had thought. Where was the back door?
“Status in the back?” Jake asked Elisa.
A figure appeared to his left and Jake trained his gun but held his fire. It was Alexandra, who had made her way from the living room, through the dining room, and back to the other side of the kitchen.
Gunfire from another area. The back door?
Jake repeated his request for status from Elisa.
Finally, Elisa said, “One more down back here.”
Nodding his head to Alexandra, she followed Jake toward the back section of the house. Coming to a corner, Jake hesitated. With a quick look, Jake saw a man waiting to shoot. Just as he pulled his head back, a dozen bullets struck the wall behind the corner. This guy had a submachine gun, Jake thought.
Jake’s heart raced now, but his mind only registered ringing and his nostrils filled with gun smoke. He tried to remember how many shots he had taken. He was still good.
With one quick move, Jake got to the floor and dove out slightly, his gun aimed down the hallway. His mind registered movement and flashes almost simultaneously. He fired a number of times. The man fell to the floor and Jake kept on
firing until the slide on his Glock locked back to empty.
Pulling himself back to a sitting position, Jake dropped the empty magazine to the floor and shoved a fresh one with 17 rounds into the handle. Releasing the slide, a round slapped into the chamber.
“One more down,” Jake said into his comm, and also to Alexandra next to him.
How many more could there be? Two? “Status?” Jake asked into the comm.
“Holding at the back door,” Elisa said.
“Still haven’t found Athens,” Jake said.
“There’s a dim light on in the far back room,” she reported.
“All right. Moving in.”
Jake scooted out around the corner and back again. Nothing. He glanced at Alexandra and tapped his back, meaning to watch his six. She nodded.
Together, Jake and Alexandra moved down the corridor. They were at their most vulnerable now, since they had nowhere to go if someone shot at them now. When they got to the dead man, Jake saw that he had hit the man in the leg, the chest and through his nose.
Alexandra cleared the room where the man had taken up his position. Then she came back behind Jake and the two of them moved toward the last room.
Now Jake saw the back door. Into the comm, Jake said, “Moving to the back door.”
“Got you,” Elisa said.
Jake looked at Alexandra and whispered, “Swap positions with Elisa.”
“Why?”
“She’s been on this guy since Athens.”
Alexandra did as he said, moving out the door and letting Elisa inside.
The Italian intelligence officer mouthed the word ‘thanks.’
