by Ty Patterson
The Peace Killers
Zeb Carter Series, Book 2
Ty Patterson
Contents
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Copyright © 2018 by Ty Patterson
Books by Ty Patterson
Acknowledgments
Dedications
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Epilogue
More Books
Bonus Chapter from Burn Rate
Author’s Message
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About the Author
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Copyright © 2018 by Ty Patterson
All rights reserved
The Peace Killers is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Three Aces Publishing
License notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If the author gave you an advance reader or a beta reader copy, please do not share it with any other person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Books by Ty Patterson
Zeb Carter Series
Zeb Carter, Book 1
The Peace Killers, Book 2
Burn Rate, Book 3
* * *
Warriors Series
The Warrior, Warriors series, Book 1
The Reluctant Warrior, Warriors series, Book 2
The Warrior Code, Warriors series, Book 3
The Warrior’s Debt, Warriors series, Book 4
Warriors series Boxset, Books 1-4
Flay, Warriors series, Book 5
Behind You, Warriors series, Book 6
Hunting You, Warriors series, Book 7
Zero, Warriors series, Book 8
Warriors series Boxset II, Books 5-8
Warriors series Boxset III, Books 1-8
Death Club, Warriors series, Book 9
Trigger Break, Warriors series, Book 10
Scorched Earth, Warriors series, Book 11
RUN! Warriors series, Book 12
* * *
Gemini Series
Dividing Zero, Gemini Series, Book 1
Defending Cain, Gemini Series, Book 2
I AM Missing, Gemini Series, Book 3
Wrecking Team, Gemini Series, Book 4
* * *
Cade Stryker Series
The Last Gunfighter of Space, Book 1
The Thief Who Stole A Planet, Book 2
Warriors Series Shorts
Zulu Hour, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 1
The Shadow, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 2
The Man from Congo, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 3
The Texan, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 4
The Heavies, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 5
The Cab Driver, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 6
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Acknowledgments
No book is a single person’s product. I am privileged that The Peace Killers has benefited from the input of several great people.
Mandy Walkden-Brown, Paula Artlip, Sheldon Levy, Molly Birch, David T. Blake, Tracy Boulet, Patricia Burke, Mark Campbell, Tricia Cullerton, Claire Forgacs, Dave Davis, Sylvia Foster, Cary Lory Becker, Charlie Carrick, Pat Ellis, Dori Barrett, Simon Alphonso, Dave Davis, V. Elizabeth Perry, Ann Finn, Pete Bennett, Eric Blackburn, Margaret Harvey, David Hay, Jim Lambert, Suzanne Jackson Mickelson, Tricia Terry Pellman, Jimmy Smith, Maria Stine, Theresa and Brad Werths, who are my beta readers and who helped shape my book, my launch team for supporting me, Donna Rich for her proof reading and Doreen Martens for her editing.
Dedications
To Michelle Rose Dunn, Debbie Bruns Gallant, Tom Gallant and Cheri Gerhardt, for supporting me.
If you want to make peace, you don’t talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies.
— Moshe Dayan
Chapter One
Jerusalem, Israel
* * *
Eliel Magal woke up when the city was still dark.
No, he corrected himself, when he cracked open the window and peered out at the quiet neighborhood. It was grey. Dawn was approaching fast.
Five-thirty am. He didn’t have to look at the bedside clock to know what time it was. He always woke up at that hour, a deeply ingrained habit.
He padded to the small bathroom and, when he emerged, knocked on the door down the hallway. Navon Shiri opened it instantly, eyes alert, hair brushed neatly, dressed in plain white.
The two men went to the kitchen and prepared breakfast. Warm milk for Magal, cereal and a banana for Shiri, who took his bowl to the living room and turned on the TV, to the Palestinian Broadcasting Corporation, PBC, channel. The programming wasn’t available in Israel, but the two men had piggybacked on an illegal feed and were able to watch the content.
Magal joined him on the couch, and the two watched the news in silence.
The two men could have been brothers. They weren’t
. They were lightly tanned, with dark eyes, short cropped hair, clean-shaven. Five feet, six inches tall. No distinguishing features. Nothing about them stood out.
Magal’s glass clinked when he placed it on the table as he watched the screen.
Gaza was burning, as was the West Bank.
The United States had opened its embassy in Jerusalem, and that had triggered intense outrage and violent protests in Palestine.
Thousands of Palestinian protesters had gathered at the border fence and had thrown Molotov cocktails, burning tires, stones, whatever missiles they could find, at the Israeli Defense Forces, IDF, on the other side of the fence. The IDF had fired in return, and dozens of people had been killed.
Shiri peeled his banana and flicked to another news channel. Different reporter, same coverage. He went back to the previous one and bit into his fruit.
The two of them didn’t need to discuss the riots. They knew what had happened. Every person in Israel and Palestine knew of the region’s history and that of Jerusalem in particular.
Palestinians believed they were an oppressed people, Israel the oppressor. The majority of Israelis believed they were defending their country and their land.
Nabil and Shiri didn’t look at the screen when the reporter brought up a map and went through a history recap.
In 1948, Israel declared itself an independent state. The next day, war broke out between a coalition of Arab nations and the newly formed country. Jordan occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem. Egypt took over Gaza at the end of the war.
In 1967, there was another war, at the end of which Israel occupied East Jerusalem, Gaza, Golan Heights and Sinai. In 1979, Israel and Egypt signed a historic peace treaty and Sinai was returned to Egypt.
That eventually led to what the Palestine state currently was, a country in two geographical parts. West Bank, bordered by Jordan to the east and Israel in all other directions, and the Gaza Strip, which had the Mediterranean Sea behind it, Egypt to the south and Israel at the north and west. Palestine’s two regions did not share a border between them.
The politics and governance of the state were divided, too. The West Bank was administered by the Palestinian National Authority, while Gaza was ruled by Hamas, which, Israel, the United States and the European Union regarded as a terrorist organization.
The reporter droned on about the status of Jerusalem, that East Jerusalem was claimed by Palestine but was controlled by Israel. Shiri tuned to Kan TV, the Israeli channel. Similar news, with an Israeli slant. He grunted in disgust and was about to turn off the TV when Magal raised his hand.
The reporter went into breathless excitement mode.
‘There are several rumors,’ she said, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling, ‘that Israeli and Palestinian negotiators are meeting in secret to work out a historic peace accord. Government officials on both sides have declined to comment on this.’
She went on about the significance of the development, if true, and at that point Shiri turned off the TV. He finished his cereal and went to the kitchen, where he washed and rinsed his bowl.
Magal yawned and stretched. ‘I’ll get ready,’ he said.
Shiri grunted and peered out of the kitchen window. It was seven am. Light traffic outside in German Colony, the Jerusalem neighborhood they were in. He went to his room and changed into a white shirt and khaki trousers. Walking shoes over his feet. A Glock 17 went into a holster attached to his belt. He adjusted his loose shirt to ensure the gun wasn’t visible to the casual eye. In his trouser pockets went several spare magazines.
He emerged from his room to see an old woman in the hallway. She was in a patterned dress that fell below her knees. Hunched over, her white hair tied in a neat bun. Glasses on her wrinkled face. Left hand trembling as she held a walking stick. Right hand clutching a large bag, which seemed heavy.
Magal, the woman in disguise, placed the bag on the floor and flexed his fingers. Shiri toed it and felt something hard inside it. He peered down and nodded in satisfaction when he saw the shape of a Galil MAR, an Israeli automatic rifle.
‘Ready?’ he asked in Hebrew.
‘Let’s go,’ Magal replied.
Chapter Two
Kadikoy, Istanbul
Three Days Before
* * *
Zeb Carter was breaking into a hotel room rented by two Mossad kidon. Mossad was his closest ally, but on this particular mission, he wasn’t sure.
* * *
It had started a month ago, in New York.
He had been on the trail of one Uzair Hussain, a Pakistani nuclear scientist. Hussain’s international travel had been flagged by his team’s supercomputer. Werner.
The scientist traveled often to Europe, which in itself wasn’t a big deal. What was interesting was that, once on the continent, he seemed to drop off the radar and surfaced only when returning.
Beth and Meghan looked into it. The twins oversaw the Agency’s intel gathering and analysis, along with Broker. Cracking into airline databases and Pakistani networks wasn’t hard for them.
‘Six visits to the Middle East in two years,’ Beth had told Zeb, a month earlier.
‘Middle East? I thought he went to Europe.’
‘That was the entry point,’ she explained patiently. A lot of it was needed when dealing with Zeb. ‘He flew into Paris or Amsterdam or any one of the large hubs. From there he took trains. Used fake IDs. Good trade craft. But not good enough to escape all the security cameras in Europe.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Turkey. Istanbul.’
‘All six times?’
‘Yeah. Fewer cameras in that country, but we ran facial recognition on the CCTV feeds in their train and bus terminals and got these.’
She dumped a bunch of photographs on his desk. Zeb flicked through them rapidly. Blurred images in several of them, but clear enough to make out Hussain’s profile.
He looked up when Meghan joined her sister. Something in their faces…
‘What’s up?’
‘There’s a café in Kadikoy, which is in—’
‘Istanbul. What about it?’
‘There’s a security camera across the street. A bank. We hacked into it and got this.’
Meghan’s right hand came from behind her back, holding another photograph.
Hussain seated at a table outside the café. Another man facing him. Both of them drinking what seemed to be tea.
It was the second man that got Zeb’s attention.
‘That’s—’
‘Kamran Shahi.’ Meghan brushed a stray curl of hair back. ‘Iran’s nuclear guy. He’s responsible for their weapons program.’
Zeb studied the photograph again. Both men were in suits. Neatly trimmed beards. The Iranian seemed older, with grey flecks in his hair.
Iran had stopped its uranium enrichment program after it had struck a deal with the United States and Europe.
‘It could be innocuous,’ he said half-heartedly.
‘Could be,’ Beth agreed. ‘But you know what happened with another Pakistani nuclear scientist.’
Zeb nodded. The whole world knew.
A.Q. Khan, the ‘father’ of Pakistan’s atomic bomb, had sold nuclear secrets to Iran, North Korea and Libya. He had played a major role in nuclear proliferation in some of the worst regimes in the world.
He tossed the image on the desk and stretched his arms. Caught himself when he sensed something. The sisters seemed to be buzzing with excitement.
‘There’s more?’
‘Heck, yeah!’ Beth’s eyes flashed. ‘He’s planning another trip. To Europe. In a month’s time.’
* * *
And that led to Zeb flying to Istanbul a week before the Pakistani’s arrival, checking in to a decrepit hotel in Kadikoy as a local businessman.
His plan was to shadow the scientist and place a bug on him.
That plan changed when he spotted the couple who frequented the café each day. Mediterranean looks. Seemingly in love.
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Zeb wore a different disguise each day: an elderly man one day, a woman returning from shopping the next.
He was in his third older-man disguise when he got close to the couple and overheard their conversation. They had their heads close together and were almost whispering.
Zeb caught snatches of their conversation. How long they would be staying. When it would happen. How it would go down.
The it aroused his suspicions. Just that word, nothing else describing whatever the event was.
