The Peace Killers

by Ty Patterson

  ‘I know. My house will need to be cleaned up.’

  ‘This man you have appointed … he’s good?’

  ‘The best, prime minister.’

  ‘From which agency?’

  ‘He’s not from our country.’

  ‘U.S.’ Cantor worked it out quickly. ‘There’s no other country you would trust.’

  ‘Correct, sir.’

  ‘Do I know him?’

  ‘You have met him, prime minister. It was some time back. You won’t remember him. I can’t say more.’

  ‘You trust him?’

  ‘He found my daughter’s killers, Prime Minister,’ he said, simply.

  * * *

  Moscow

  * * *

  Andropov’s call with the FSB director hadn’t yielded much. All he got was that Peter Raskov was an agent, which he had known in any case. Zeb wanted to know where he was, as well.

  The spymaster brooded for a moment and then yelled, ‘Yuri!’

  ‘Peter Raskov,’ he told the flunky, one of his best hackers, when he arrived. ‘He’s FSB. Find out where he lives.’

  ‘He should be in our system.’

  ‘He isn’t,’ Andropov replied testily.

  Yuri’s face glowed. A challenge. He loved those.

  ‘You want this yesterday?’

  ‘Yes,’ the spymaster glared at him, and the man disappeared.

  * * *

  Ein Kerem

  * * *

  ‘We go as who we are?’ Navon looked at the map of the hotel spread out on the dining table.

  ‘Yes,’ Magal replied. ‘We are Mossad operatives. We have been cleared by Epstein. No one will stop us. Once inside the hotel, we find out where the negotiations are happening, check out the security, and then we’ll make our plan.’

  The handler had confirmed that his intel was correct. The negotiators were in the hotel to the right, not the one where they had spotted the ambassador.

  The two kidon had figured out that either the two hotels were connected in some way and the one on the left was a decoy, or Alice Monash had another meeting in the other establishment.

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow. I’ll let the handler know.’

  They didn’t consider disguises or cover stories. They were working to a plan the two had agreed on, a long way back. This would be their last job for the handler. It wasn’t that they didn’t enjoy it or had fallen out with him.

  The heat on Mossad after the killings will be too high. Every agent will be under a microscope. Chances are good we will be found.

  No, Magal shook his head unconsciously. It’s best we disappear after killing those remaining Palestinians.

  Eliel Magal and Navon Shiri would no longer exist. They had worked out a new career path for themselves. The two would turn into international assassins. That career move would provide them with all the darkness and edge they wanted.

  They would be international criminals, wanted by the world’s agencies. Magal shivered in anticipation. Yes, that was the right move. They would work as a team, taking jobs from whomever bid the highest.

  It was time to branch out on their own.

  But first, they had to finish the Palestinians.

  * * *

  Somewhere in Jerusalem

  * * *

  ‘You have the suicide killers lined up?’ Masih asked his lieutenants.

  ‘Yes, sayidi. Four of them.’

  ‘The car is ready?’

  ‘Yes. A Peugeot, packed with explosives.’

  ‘Those men know the route?’

  ‘It is easy. Down Emek Refaim. The hotel cannot be missed. It is to the right. They will blast through the security cordon, firing as they drive. They will smash through the glass doors. There are just three steps, which the car can easily climb. Once inside, they will detonate the explosives.’

  Masih nodded approvingly. He had come up with the plan after further recon on the hotel. There was too much security, outside and inside, for him to risk himself.

  No, he had told himself. Let the suicide killers take out as many as possible. The Israelis will evacuate the hotel. They will escort the negotiators to vehicles in the basement car park. Once they exit the hotel and reach the street … he smiled in satisfaction.

  He would be at street level. In an ambulance, wearing an EMS worker’s uniform. He would be in the right vehicle in the right place at the right time.

  Of course, no other ambulance in Jerusalem carried a grenade launcher.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Talbiya, Jerusalem

  Four days after Assassinations

  Seven Days to Announcement

  * * *

  Zeb was with Abraham, in a café not far from his hotel, in his Jarret Epstein disguise. The kidon was part of a three-person khuliyot that had been in the U.S. when the assassinations happened. Or so their mission report stated.

  The other operatives in the team were Mattias and Cale.

  Zeb had introduced himself when the operative arrived and had waited while Abraham went through the drill of calling Levin and confirming his identity. He had engaged the man in small talk, to get him comfortable before starting with hard questions.

  ‘Everything is in my report.’ The kidon scratched his stubble and looked away from Zeb’s steady gaze.

  ‘I know. I read it. I have to ask you these questions, however. It is how investigations work. You were tailing a Russian arms dealer in New York?’

  ‘Yes. Mattias, Cale and me. Groshky, the Russian, has sold arms to Hamas in the past. We have tried to catch him in the act but failed. We thought he was in New York for another deal, which is why we were following him.’

  ‘When did you hear about the assassinations?’

  ‘That evening. We turn cell phones off when we are on a mission. We checked them at our hotel, caught up on the news, and by then, the ramsad had recalled us.’

  He scratched his neck and fidgeted in his chair, not making eye contact.

  His behavior doesn’t mean anything. Some of the best agents I know don’t look directly at another person.

  ‘New York to Tel Aviv is about twelve hours. You could have come the previous day, killed those Palestinians, stayed back in Jerusalem and shown up as if you just landed after Levin summoned you back.’

  Abraham stiffened. ‘What are you implying?’ he barked, meeting Zeb’s eyes for the first time.

  ‘That you could be the killer. Just because you were in America proves nothing.’

  ‘I am sitting here,’ Abraham hissed through gritted teeth, ‘just because the ramsad asked me to cooperate with you. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to wild accusations. I did not kill—’

  His hand shot to his pocket and brought out his cell phone. He looked at it, his brows drawing together in astonishment.

  ‘I have to go,’ he rose abruptly and walked away without a backward glance.

  ‘Abraham—’

  ‘Later,’ the kidon shot over his shoulder and broke into a run.

  Zeb stared at him, puzzled. He waved the approaching server away, still wondering. A sudden premonition hit him. He checked his cell phone. Brought up his GPS tracker app. Narrowed his eyes when he saw the green dots for Beth and Meghan moving rapidly.

  Too rapidly. As if they were jumping … or fighting!

  He swore under his breath and broke out into a run, following Abraham.

  * * *

  The plan had been simple. Zeb would interview Abraham while the sisters broke into the kidon’s apartment. They would bug it, make copies of his computer’s hard drive and make clones of any cell phone they found. Zeb would ask him for his personal device and, if the operative carried it with him, make a copy of it. They figured the overt and covert operations, working in tandem, had a better chance of either clearing operatives of identifying suspects.

  The plan was good. Abraham lived alone and was single, so there was no danger of encountering a partner in his apartment.

 
; The sisters, wearing jeans, jackets and trainers, entered Abraham’s building. Once they reached his floor, unchecked by any person or security system, they looked for security cameras. They found none.

  They pulled on thick, dark vests over their jackets and masks over their faces. They looked the way they wanted to be seen, as burglars of indeterminable gender.

  Meghan picked the lock while Beth kept watch. They entered noiselessly and surveyed the apartment. Simple, almost spartan. A wicker chair in one corner, a glass coffee table that had the remains of dinner on it, cane furniture to another side. A TV on the wall next to the door, playing a news channel, sound muted.

  They broke off, Meghan going to one bedroom to the left, while Beth took the kitchen and the other rooms to the right.

  They were fifteen minutes into their search when a fist pounded on the door.

  ‘Abe!’ a voice called out from outside.

  Meghan rushed to the living room and looked across at her sister. They weren’t anticipating visitors. Levin’s notes on Abraham were clear. The operative was a loner, and visitors to his apartment were very rare.

  Zeb said he would keep the man occupied for at least an hour. The thought raced through Meghan’s mind as she considered escape options. The apartment was on the third floor, one window facing the street, the others looking over an inside yard.

  Busy time of the day. Traffic and pedestrians outside. Can’t go out of the street window. They didn’t know the building’s layout and couldn’t risk scaling down to the courtyard.

  ‘Abe!’ another voice yelled and the door shuddered as fists pounded on it.

  ‘Hide!’ Meghan whispered and was ducking back to the bedroom when the door opened.

  Two men framed in it, their laughter dying away, their eyes squinting at the masked figures in the living room.

  Mattias and Cale. She recognized them immediately.

  Something flew from Mattias’s hand straight toward her. She ducked instinctively, and the wine bottle that he had thrown crashed into the wall behind her. Before she could recover, the kidon was on her, smashing into her ribs. She went down, catching a glimpse of Beth and the other operative grappling furiously.

  They reacted so fast, she thought dimly as she tried to evade her attacker’s blows. They would. They’re Mossad. She couldn’t risk calling out to Beth. Nor can we allow ourselves to be unmasked. They wanted to maintain the cover that Epstein was operating alone.

  Mattias jabbed at Meghan’s neck. She jerked her head away at the last minute but wasn’t fast enough. His knuckles dug deep in her throat, dimming her vision, leaving her breathless.

  And with that came rage. She and Beth had trained with the best. She wasn’t going to allow a kidon to beat her.

  She twisted her hips to throw him off-balance and gouged an elbow deep into his side. His teeth were bared as he struggled to get his fingers under her mask and rip it off.

  She met his hard eyes and widened her eyes and smiled. He faltered for a fraction of a second. She headbutted him viciously, breaking his nose, and with another furious gouge to his ribs threw him to the floor.

  Meghan went on the attack, raining blows on him, risking a swift glance to see that Beth was holding her own against Cale. We need to overpower them and knock them out. We can then get away.

  The hard edge of her palm slammed into Mattias’s neck. The kidon reacted by rearing his legs up and slamming his knees into her back. She fell forward but didn’t ease her hold over him.

  She had drawn her fist back, aiming for his neck, when something slammed into her and sent her sprawling to the floor.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Jerusalem

  Four days after Assassinations

  Seven Days to Announcement

  * * *

  Zeb raced through the streets of Jerusalem, swerving around tourists, shoving away slower-moving pedestrians.

  Someone else must have been in the apartment. Or arrived when the twins broke in.

  Abraham had a start of just a few minutes. There! Zeb could see the kidon’s back. He was running swiftly, a hand cupped to his ear.

  Calling whoever is in the apartment? Getting reinforcements?

  Zeb leaped over a crouching mother, who was tending to her baby. Felt her startled glance. Called out a hasty sorry and powered forward. He had to reach the operative before he altered the equation in the apartment. That’s assuming the sisters haven’t been overpowered.

  He checked his phone. The green dots were still moving rapidly, randomly. They’re fighting.

  Abraham turned left. Zeb followed a minute later. A quieter street. Less obstruction. He could move faster. A right, and another right, and then the kidon disappeared into a building’s entrance. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t hear Zeb, nor did he sense his follower.

  Zeb entered the building. Empty lobby. The elevator was rising. He took the stairs. Left hand on the balustrade to guide him initially, two steps at a time.

  First-floor landing reached. Empty. He carried on, listening intently for shouts or gunshots. He heard none. He lost speed when he removed his backpack, unzipped his jacket and put it back on inside-out, so it was now a different color. He drew out a mask from his backpack and pulled it over his face. Hopefully that’ll be enough to fool Abraham that I am not Epstein.

  He slowed further when he reached the third floor. Opened the landing door carefully. No one visible. Entered it and then burst into motion when he saw the kidon’s apartment was open.

  He took everything in instantly.

  Yells of rage from men. Meghan on the floor, Abraham and another man over her. Beth had her right hand around the neck of another man, who was raining blows on her with his free hands. Both women masked. Neither making any sound. Abraham moved. His hand drew back to punch Meghan’s face.

  Zeb drew his Glock with blurring speed. He shot over Abraham’s head, the report echoing in the apartment. Everyone froze.

  ‘Move away,’ he ordered gutturally, deepening his voice deliberately.

  The three kidon—he recognized the other two attackers—looked at him. They didn’t move.

  He fired again, this time aiming just over Abraham’s shoulder. ‘MOVE!’

  The operative got up and stood to one side. Mattias joined him. Beth released her attacker and pushed him away. The sisters kept clear of his firing line and came to his side.

  ‘Who are you?’ Abraham asked menacingly.

  ‘Go to the bedroom.’

  None of the operatives moved.

  ‘You can’t outrun a bullet,’ Zeb grated.

  The kidon remained where they were.

  Zeb shot Abraham in his left thigh. The operative cried out in shock and anger, jerking from the impact. His friends grabbed him as he started falling and dragged him to the bedroom.

  ‘Shut the door.’

  They radiated hostility as they obeyed him.

  The next moment, Zeb and the sisters were out of the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

  They took the stairs, leaping down swiftly, two at a time. None of them speaking as Zeb holstered his weapon. They reached street level, zigged and zagged through passages, people scattering out of their way, cries of alarm following them.

  They reached a crowded market and slowed. Used the cover of a van to pull the masks off. Zeb nodded in the direction of a few restaurants. They went to separate establishments and into their restrooms.

  They emerged ten minutes later wearing no disguise. The sisters had changed their jeans and tops; Zeb was wearing a different jacket.

  They seated themselves in front of a restaurant, under an umbrella, and while Beth drew out a map of the city, Zeb placed their order.

  Three tourists, taking a break for a drink while deciding which historical attraction to visit next.

  ‘What happened?’ Zeb asked, when the server placed their order and left.

  Meghan’s lips quirked wryly, ‘Mattias and Cale happened. They had a key. Th
ey saw us and went on the attack.’

  ‘Abraham … you,’ Beth slid her shades down her nose, ‘how did that happen?’

  ‘He got something on his phone and took off suddenly. He didn’t say why.’

  ‘A call?’

  ‘No. Must have been some security alert. Something you didn’t spot.’

  ‘Nope,’ Meghan replied confidently. ‘We were careful. His apartment was unprotected. Which reminds me,’ she reached into her pocket and brought out her cell phone. Her eyes glinted in mischief as she brought up an app and put the device on speaker.

  ‘Who were they?’ a voice asked angrily.

  Abraham! Zeb recognized his voice immediately. ‘You bugged him?’ he asked in surprise.

  ‘Yeah,’ Meghan chuckled, and paused the recording. ‘There was one moment when my hand got caught in my jeans pocket. I used that opportunity to slip out the bug and insert it in his back pocket.’

  ‘And I have this,’ Beth said triumphantly, as she fished out a cell phone and placed it on the table. ‘Cale’s. It was on the floor. Must have fallen when we were fighting.’

  These two are something. Zeb shook his head in amazement. ‘What can I say!’

  ‘A lot,’ Beth grinned. ‘That you need us. Without us you are helpless. Shall I keep going?’

  He raised his hands in surrender and nodded at Meghan. She pressed play.

  ‘How do we know?’ a voice replied to Abraham, equally angry. ‘They were masked. We weren’t sitting around chatting.’

  ‘Did they say anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Groshky make us? In America? Could he have sent people after us?’

  ‘It is possible. But we were careful and he would have to move very fast. No, this felt like a burglary,’ the same voice replied. ‘Let’s get you to a hospital.’

  ‘No need,’ the other kidon spoke. ‘The round grazed his thigh. It is a shallow wound. We go to the hospital, there will be unnecessary records. We can treat this at home.’