by David Khara
“Well I’m not...”
“Of course, better safe than sorry,” Bramble said as he walked over to the railing. “It’s your MO.”
“I’m losing patience, Titus, and my fingers are getting antsy.”
“I’ve already lost a lot of men trying to protect you. The military is a hundred percent prepared to maintain its secret program, even if it means taking out government agents.”
“And civilians. You know how much I hate it when civilians get hurt.”
“I feel the same way about my men.”
“Sorry to interrupt your testosterone-fueled conversation,” Jeremy interrupted. “But I have a question for Eli and Eytan.”
“What is it?” the latter asked.
“That guy in a wheelchair you spotted earlier, could you remind me what he looks like?”
“Unkempt, blue hat, long hair, pants that could use a wash. Why?”
“I’m on Tenth Avenue, and there’s a guy walking in my direction who’s giving me a mean look. He fits the description.”
“That’s impossible,” Eli said. He was an amputee.”
“Maybe someone should tell him that, because I can assure you he’s got two legs now, and he’s starting to run!”
“Go back up on the High Line, Jeremy! Get to Eli!” Eytan shouted. “Bramble, you bastard.” His finger was on the trigger, ready to fire.
“Morg, it wasn’t me! The program...”
Titus Bramble stumbled forward and collapsed against the railing. A geyser of blood gushed from his chest as he fell to the pavement. An orchestra of screams rose up. Serene just seconds ago, the park was now the picture of chaos. Onlookers scattered in all directions. Bolder bystanders took out their cell phones to call for help.
Eytan could see Jeremy frantically elbowing his way through the crush of people as he made a dash for the Chelsea Market. He was relieved when he saw the man giving chase lose Jeremy. Unable to get through the wall of pedestrians fleeing the High Line, he threw up his arms in frustration.
Eytan looked away from Jeremy’s pursuer to find Eli. He spotted him squatting beside the three attorneys, who were sprawled on the ground. He saw Eli draw the gun that he had kept hidden under his jacket.
“What happened to Bramble, Eytan?” Jackie asked. He was amazed at her calmness, considering the peril her husband was in.
“Someone took him out. There’s another sniper in the area,” Eytan responded as he scanned the surroundings. “Change of plans. Eli, don’t get involved, or else you’ll be on the sniper’s radar. Go see if Bramble is really dead, and, more important, get that earpiece. Jeremy, I can’t cover you anymore, I’m looking for that fucking shooter. He must be acting alone. Run to the south.”
“I’ll get knocked out like a bunny rabbit!” the young man panted.
“If they’ve sent men to follow you on foot, it means they want you alive. Jackie, pick up Jeremy at the next exit. Avi, you wait for Eli. In three minutes tops, the area will be swarming with cops, so get a move on!”
Jeremy obeyed. He dashed down the green pathway at the speed of a middle-distance runner.
Chapter 19
Eytan hated group missions, especially ones in urban settings. The crowds—always unpredictable—the possibility of police interference, and traffic issues alone made planning almost pointless. Added to that was the reality that killing was always easier than protecting. Titus Bramble’s gruesome end was resounding proof of that.
With one knee on the ground, Eytan went over his priorities as he got new information from his teammates and scanned the buildings for the likely location of the shooter. At the moment Bramble was killed, the CIA superstar was facing Eytan’s location west of the High Line, with his back to the Hudson. Based on the direction the blood spurted and the way the victim’s body moved on impact, Eytan concluded that the bullet was fired from a rooftop opposite his own position. Forcing the sniper out of hiding was becoming more crucial by the second. It was clear that he was watching the High Line mission play out and coaching his men on the ground as events unfolded—a strategy similar to the one the Kidon agent had set up that morning, a classic recon technique.
“All right, I’m parked at the bottom of the stairs on West Fourteenth Street,” Jackie announced, anxious to see her husband appear.
“Bramble is dead,” Eli said in turn. “But he...”
“If you’ve retrieved the device,” Eytan interrupted, “meet back up with Avi, and both of you head toward Jackie as fast as you can. Jeremy, how are you holding up?”
“I’m not holding up!” the out-of-breath moving target yelled. “That asshole is gaining on me. If I take those fucking stairs, he’ll catch up with me.”
“Shit!” Jackie cursed. “Someone else is about to go up the stairs. He’ll cut you off.”
“You’re just trying to cheer me up,” Jeremy moaned.
“Are you sure he’s one of the bad guys?” Eytan asked.
“A flash of light caught his attention. It was coming from atop a taller building about a quarter mile away on the other side of the High Line. He knew it was the sun hitting a rifle scope. Eytan was certain he had located the sniper who had succeeded in shooting Bramble with a single bullet despite the distance. In his entire career, Eytan had crossed paths with only two or three people capable of pulling off such a shot.
“Positive! Based on your description, it’s definitely our man! I’ll cut him off,” Jackie growled.
“Jackie, no!” Eytan ordered. “I don’t want you to be seen!”
“I don’t fucking care!”
Because of Jackie’s unexpected involvement, Eytan no longer had time to assess wind speed, attack angle, or the sniper’s distance—factors that were necessary to execute a direct hit. He was further hindered by the height of the sniper’s building and a parapet that protected him. Eytan could see only the top of his head. If he wanted to take the pressure off his friends, he had no choice. He had to sacrifice his own location and draw the attention in his direction, which meant using one of his back-pocket tricks sooner than he had planned.
He stood up to get a better view, took a breath, and pulled the trigger twice. His shots at the barrier surrounding the roof achieved the desired effect: his enemy was forced to hunker down, thereby losing his visual. Without pausing, Eytan pivoted toward the High Line and lowered his weapon. Down below, Jeremy was on the run. He had sped past another stairwell. Emerging from the steps was the man who had been in the wheelchair just a few minutes earlier. Seconds later, Jackie went rushing up the steps like a ball of fury.
The crowd at the southern end of the High Line was growing denser. Eytan’s line of vision was blocked. He didn’t dare to fire a shot for fear of hitting a bystander. But he was relieved to see Jeremy gain on his pursuer, thanks to his zigzagging. Had he been a weekend skier in his previous life as a trader? He hadn’t said anything about it. Meanwhile, Jackie was capitalizing on her tiny size, weaving in and out like a cat. It wouldn’t be long before she would swoop down on her prey.
“Eli, what’s your status?” Eytan asked as he swiveled back toward the sniper.
“I’m in the car with Avi. We’re going down Tenth Avenue toward the south side of the High Line.
“Permission to intervene granted.”
“We’re on it!” Eli replied.
Eytan focused on the sniper, who was looking back at him, standing upright as well, his weapon at his shoulder and aimed in the Kidon agent’s direction.
“Finally,” Eytan thought, satisfied.
It was impossible to fully make out the man’s features, which were partially obscured by his weapon, but his blond buzz cut and confident posture confirmed the agent’s hunch. This was a highly trained sniper fresh from the ranks of an elite squad. The fractions of a second Eytan had dedicated to analyzing Jeremy and Jackie’s situation had given his opponent enough time to ready his aim. In this kind of faceoff, even the smallest mistake or the slightest delay could be fatal. Just one shot, a
single bullet ripping through the air, and it would all be over.
The two men looked at each other for a brief moment, neither one moving. They were two fierce chess players, each determining his own moves while anticipating those of the opponent. Eytan knew his chances of hitting his bull’s eye were small, almost impossible. But he had also calculated that the commando wanted him alive. The sniper would shoot to kill only as a last resort. That leveled the playing field.
The Kidon agent held his breath, aimed his weapon at the parapet, and fired all his ammo, closing in on his opponent shot after shot with a perfect balance of speed and precision. He had only one thought: keeping the guy from sending any more orders to the bastards chasing his teammate. The sniper was forced to take cover as the parapet crumbled under the gunfire. It wouldn’t be long before Eytan’s new game plan paid off.
“I’m gaining on my guy!” Jackie shouted. “Shit! What the fuck is he doing?”
“What’s happening?” Eli asked.
“The two guys! They’re veering off toward a staircase.”
Ah, you’ve ordered them to withdraw, just as I hoped you would, Eytan said to himself. You’re doing your fucking job, asshole.
“Honey, you can stop running now,” Jackie yelled to Jeremy. “There’s nothing to be scared of anymore. I’ll go after them.”
Breathless, Jeremy didn’t need to be convinced.
“Negative! You’re going to do what I say, Jacqueline,” Eytan commanded as he kept up the pressure on his enemy. “Eli, new plan: go get Jeremy and Jackie. Use force if they refuse. Meet up with Avi in the Ford, and have him drive the three of you to her car. Then all four of you head north to Central Park: you and Jackie in one car and Jeremy and Avi in the other.”
“Got it.” Eli responded.
“Can you at least explain?” Jackie insisted, clearly pissed off and her eyes still glued to the two men as they went down the nearest stairwell.
“Now that I’ve given away my position, you’re no longer a priority,” Eytan replied calmly. “Plan B worked. The chief commando took his sweet time, but he finally directed his men toward their primary target. Me.”
He didn’t need to say the rest: they were going to play by his rules now.
Chapter 20
Alarmed by the increasing number of police cruisers speeding toward him, Avi was anxiously tapping the steering wheel. Having followed all the developments, he was praying that he wouldn’t screw up his part of the mission: speeding off as soon as the trader-turned-bookseller and his hot wife were safe and sound inside the rented Ford. The doctor felt a wave a relief when he saw the couple appear at the end of the street. Eli slid into the front seat. He was wheezing badly. No surprise, considering the state of his lungs. The other two hopped in the back. Jeremy was dripping with sweat. Jackie was wearing an expression that couldn’t be mistaken: Say one word to me, and I’ll clock you. No problem. A dedicated womanizer, he had gotten that look before.
“Drop Jackie and me off at her car,” Eli instructed, “And then head toward...”
“Central Park. Got it.” Avi finished Eli’s sentence as he pulled out.
“Are you really going to let Eytan fend for himself?” Jeremy asked.
“Welcome to my world,” Eli growled. “He just cut off his communication device, so we have no choice but to stick to his plan. He knows what he’s doing. The last thing he needs is us getting in his way, especially when some of us don’t fully understand the concept of following orders. If he tells us to withdraw, we withdraw. Period.”
In his rearview mirror, Avi watched as an angry Jackie curled up against the back door, arms crossed over her chest. Jeremy extended a hand to console her but pulled it back.
Avi quickly pulled up to the vehicle abandoned by Jackie and parked behind it. As she was about to get out of the sedan, she turned to Jeremy and gave him a passionate kiss.
Not a good sign, for sure.
~ ~ ~
Eytan dismantled his sniper rifle, carefully placing each piece in his cargo bag. His focus was no longer on the shooter, but on the goons that his opponent was sending his way. If they wanted to capture him, the best strategy would be to surround him. Two sets of stairs were the only access to the roof. The first set was inside the building. The second set was an exterior fire escape. Aside from a water tank, a typical fixture on New York rooftops, the Kidon agent had no means of cover. The sniper was most likely aware of this and had informed his accomplices. Nobody was more predictable than a military man. While this was reassuring, a question kept replaying in his head. How could Eli, a former agent with a sharp eye and proven experience, be duped by a fake cripple? This kind of mistake was understandable when someone was observing a scene through a sniper scope from afar. But from less than ten feet away?
He needed an answer to that question, but it could wait. The rooftop door opened, and three men emerged, stopping forty-some feet in front of him. They didn’t look like the same guys from the High Line. Each one had his own distinct look. There was the chill runner type with curly brown hair, a well-groomed metrosexual, and a third guy who looked like he spent most of his afternoons lifting weights at the gym. In Manhattan, these guys could walk the streets relatively unnoticed. The only thing that really made them stand out was the killer glare in their eyes and the microphones hooked to their collars. Eytan knew the mikes were attached to earpieces.
Eytan, squatting as he placed the last magazine with the rest of the equipment, zipped the bag. He stood up, cocked his head, and opened dialogue.
“Well, boys, if no one says anything, we could be here all week.”
“We’re obligated to inform you of the terms of your surrender,” the body-builder said.
“Ah, a negotiation. What a delicious surprise,” Eytan said as he put a hand inside a pocket.
Taken aback, the men drew their guns. The barrels looked much larger than normal.
“Cool it, guys,” Eytan said softly as he pulled out a cigar and matchbox. “I’m happy to listen to your bullshit, but let me enjoy the moment. A condemned prisoner is entitled to his last request, you know.”
Without paying much attention to his opponents, whose erratic lip movements indicated they were consulting their superior, he lit the cigar, flung the used match on the ground, and took a long drag.
“All right, kids, what did Daddy say?”
“If you give up, your friends won’t be bothered, and all you’ll have to do is undergo a few simple medical examinations before being released,” the one with the brown curly hair said.
“I’m onboard with the first part, but frankly a little troubled by the second bit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a fan of needles. They make me nervous.” Eytan could see the amused look on their faces. “No joke!”
“This is your last chance if you want to avoid any trouble.”
“I see. I just have one question then.”
“What is it?”
Eytan took one more puff before flicking his cigar to the ground.
“Who says I’m trying to avoid trouble, prick?”
~ ~ ~
Eli took the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition without making eye contact with Jackie, who was sitting beside him. He crawled slowly to the end of a narrow street, followed by Avi and Jeremy in the Ford.
Several police cruisers went hurtling down Tenth Avenue, sirens blaring. Eli stopped to let them go by.
“How bad is your respiratory problem?” Jackie asked.
“Nice to see you’ve regained your powers of speech. It’s pretty serious.”
“I’m sorry,” the young woman responded. “It must be especially upsetting for someone like you. You’ve had a physically demanding job.”
“Just the unfortunate effects of getting older. I hope it’s a very long time before you experience them,” he said while waiting patiently for the right moment to make his turn.
“What would you have done if you had to run
too?”
“I wouldn’t have been able.”
“That’s all I needed to know,” she said as she opened the car door and leaped out to Eli’s astonishment. “I’m gonna rush to Eytan’s position in case he’s still there,” she yelled as she sped off. “Leave the ride here. I might need it.”
Eli got out too. He raised his arms in confusion and turned to an also-stunned Avi. The doctor looked at Jeremy.
“You’ve got a ballsy wife!”
“I don’t like it when you talk about her that way.”
~ ~ ~
Eytan whipped back his jacket panel to grab the Glock pistol inside his belt. But before he could wrap his fingers around the handle, he felt metal pierce his thigh, chest, and shoulder. He eyed the darts and coolly removed them one by one.
“Tranquilizers,” he said before staggering, then falling to his knees.
The men recharged their weapons and approached the giant. They surrounded the Kidon agent, who was using all his strength to avoid face-planting. He kept his gaze on them despite his drooping eyelids, but they were growing heavier by the second.
“All right, we’ve got him, Sergeant. The second unit can retreat down the fire escape,” the body-builder told the sniper.
“There was a second unit on the fire escape?” Eytan babbled.
“The Marines are professionals. You were trapped like a rat in a cage.”
“True,” the giant admitted, turning his head toward the fire escape, where he had placed two explosive pucks.
He shoved his hand into his pants pocket.
“But some rats are rabid,” he spit as he pressed the detonator. A blast came in the next second, followed by the screech of shredded metal.
“What the...?”
The question went unfinished. Eytan whipped his right hand through the air and struck the body-builder in the leg, flipping him on his back. At the same time, he executed an uppercut to the metrosexual’s groin. The unlucky guy let out a shrill squeal and collapsed in front of Eytan. The agent delivered a second powerful blow to his perfectly coiffed head, leaving him with a nose gushing blood. Before the last man standing could dodge the giant, Eytan had grabbed him by the throat. The curly-haired dude struggled to breathe. As the body-builder tried to get up, Eytan used his free hand to draw his weapon, and without even looking, lodged a bullet in his skull.
