The Syrian (Natasha Kelly, Mossad Spy)

by Felicia Mires

  They reached their destination, a high-rise, high-security complex in the fashionable district of Tel Aviv, where most foreign representatives to Israel chose to live.

  Agent 112 idled the car in the middle of the street and whistled. "Look at that."

  Bright security lights illuminated the white stucco building and lit the street alongside. Across the lane, a line of trees, maintained for visual appeal, provided sufficient shadow for an exercise in kidnapping.

  He parked the car under a large elm and twisted to face them all. "Happy Hanukkah."

  Ah, the Festival of Lights. What a bizarre sense of humor the man had.

  547 held up his arm to expose his watch, and Natasha nearly laughed when each of the others did the same. She held out her watch.

  "Ready…mark."

  She heard the simultaneous click of several watches then everyone but the driver climbed out.

  Underneath Natasha's black attire, she'd hidden a few surprises. She just couldn't shake a suspicion that something wouldn't go as planned. After pulling a black leather jacket over her white T-shirt, she joined the others.

  Few pedestrians traveled near the side entrance, which was one reason they'd chosen it. That, and the fact that it didn't have the habitual security guard.

  Natasha and 268 took positions on point at each corner of the building. Agent 329 twisted her ponytail into a tight bun then moved to block the security video while 547 hot-wired the entry card reader.

  If accomplished quickly enough, they'd be in the door and racing up the stairs before a security man could be dispatched to investigate the blocked security camera.

  The door swung open, and Natasha found herself climbing three flights of stairs behind her team. Thanks to all that running in the desert, she wasn't even winded.

  268 exited the stairwell first and assumed his position on the north end of the hall, signaling them to proceed. Agents 329 and 547 worked their breaking and entering at the victim's door, while Natasha stood at her post on the south side. To her surprise, Natasha's heart raced wildly. She hadn't thought a practice exercise would be this exhilarating.

  After precisely three minutes, 329, 547, and their captive, neatly bound and gagged between them, scrambled out of the victim's room and moved toward Natasha. 268 followed closely behind.

  It was Natasha's job to make sure the exit remained clear as they traveled down the stairwell. On the bottom floor, she peeked out the door of the stairwell. Nothing obvious caught her attention, so she entered. When she neared the exit door, she received quite a shock. The security guard was still evaluating the video camera while chatting with an elderly couple in evening dress. Natasha ducked back in the stairwell.

  "We can't escape. A couple is out there, talking to the security man."

  547 grimaced. "If we wait for the exit to clear, we run the risk of meeting security on their routine check of the stairwell."

  "We can't wait." 268 referred to his watch. "We're due at the base in twenty minutes."

  "How about Plan B?" asked Natasha as she pulled her shirt over her head.

  They all spoke at once.

  "What are you doing?"

  "What Plan B?"

  Under her T-shirt, Natasha wore a black lycra halter top. "I brought disguises." She grinned, throwing each person a T-shirt.

  In seconds, students from Texas A&M, UT Longhorns, Louisiana State, and The Hebrew University of Jerusalem stared back at her.

  "Now what?" asked 329, pulling her long hair free of its bun.

  "We can be party hoppers with a drunk friend."

  Natasha removed the gag and bindings from their victim, a young man in his late 20's.

  "If he cooperates, we'll fail this mission," said 268. "He's the kidnap victim."

  "We don't need his help. Now hurry."

  Natasha thrust a shirt at their captive. "Put this shirt over your head, or I blow your brains out."

  The sleepy young man jerked up to find her Berretta leveled at his head. Compliance was quick.

  Agent 547 nudged Natasha. "So…"

  "We make a quick drunk."

  Natasha lowered her Berretta and raised a slender, silver ink pen. She clicked it twice and the others watched in astonishment as a knock-out dart struck their kidnap victim. His mouth still hung open as he slid to the floor.

  "Throw his arms round your shoulders and drag him between you." Natasha opened the stairwell door, and they all followed her out. "Now sing…badly."

  Natasha wrapped her arm around the waist of 547 and sang off- key. "Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, life is but a dream." The others joined in, weaving back and forth as they made their way to the exit.

  The elderly couple and the security guard headed right for them. The silver-haired woman looked down her nose at Natasha then turned her face away.

  Snob. Natasha sidled up to the husband and ran a finger down the front of his tux. "Going to a party, luv? So are we. Drop off the hag and join us!"

  The elderly gentleman hid a smile when his tight-lipped wife snorted. "How dare you!" She dragged her husband down the hall. "Cecil, let's go. These young people are obviously drunk. I don't see why we pay extra for a secure building when foreigners are in and out at all hours."

  Her obviously long-suffering spouse attempted to placate her. "Now, now Miranda. It is their country, after all."

  The couple had provided the distraction they needed. Agents 268 and 329 had already made their way outside with the captive.

  In a loud voice, Natasha began the song again, grabbing 547 around the waist. He swung her around in a wide arc, dropped her back in a dip, then brought her up again right before the exit. They rushed out the door together.

  At the car, the four successful trainees dissolved into laughter. The relief from capturing their victim and the near miss with security had left them a little loopy.

  The driver lifted his head from the steering wheel and gaped at them. "What's going on?"

  "Floor it," said 547. "I'll explain on the way."

  Back at the Mossad training camp, the team delivered their still sleeping captive to the infirmary.

  Once the adrenaline began to fade, fatigue dogged Natasha's steps as they climbed the stairs of the training building. The usual guard sat behind the plate-glass, and he reached for the buzzer to let them in when they stumbled to the door.

  Their bootsteps echoed in the cavernous hallway as they made their way to an empty classroom. Natasha flung her pack on the floor inside the door beside the bags of her team members.

  Agent 112 sat in his usual position with chair balanced on the back legs, arms braced behind his neck. He grinned as Natasha dropped in the nearest chair. "Tired?"

  She nodded. All he'd done was drive the get-a-way car. No wonder he seemed so chipper.

  329 half-lay on the table, her hair a curtain across one side of her face. "Give me some paper before I pass out."

  268 reached back and grabbed a stack of forms. He flopped them down. "Here."

  The large muscled hand of 547 dropped several pens beside Natasha's outstretched hand. "We have to be up and running in the desert at 0500. That's about four hours." He picked up a pen and began to write.

  A thud sounded as 112 brought his chair down and reached for paper and pen. "My report won't take long. I drove, I waited, I drove again." He nudged Natasha. "Next time, I'm going in for the fun. Someone else can drive the car."

  "It was fun, but I'm beat."

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Someone hit you?"

  Natasha laughed. "Sorry, American slang for I'm tired."

  "Ah, I'm beat, too."

  "I think it would take a lot more than that to tire you out." He seemed a prime candidate for some ADHD drugs.

  They wrote up their individual reports before leaving one at a time. It was 0247 when Natasha dropped onto her bed. She glanced at her alarm clock. Two hours to sleep.

  Five minutes later, a knock on the door b
rought her jerking out of bed. "Who on earth…?"

  Before she reached the door, she heard an urgent voice outside. "Natasha, it's David, open the door."

  She ran. "David?"

  No welcoming smile greeted her as he walked past and shut the door. "Your brother called, and I believe we may have a problem. You're the only one who'll know. Please dress and come with me to a secure line."

  "Of course." Reeling with shock and unanswered questions, Natasha dressed in record time.

  David waited outside with the jeep running. She jumped in, and he threw the jeep in gear. "Your family is safe. However, there is an unscheduled shipment coming to your warehouse. The details concern me or I wouldn't have bothered you after your late assignment."

  "Katir would never call unless he was really sure something wasn't right. I'm glad you came."

  David pulled the car to a jolting stop and jumped out, leaving Natasha to make her own way. Something he'd never done before.

  Once inside, he handed Natasha a badge to wear. Without the badge, the movements of her body would set off an alarm.

  David took her to a small room that resembled a padded cell. "Sound-proof and secure." He motioned her in.

  A young man with a pair of earphones hanging around his neck sat inside, facing a large panel of switches and buttons. At the sound of the door, he swiveled toward them. "I have Katir Kelly on the line. Do you want it on speaker?"

  David glanced at Natasha, and she nodded.

  The young man spoke into a microphone. "Go ahead, Mr. Kelly." Then he handed the mike to Natasha.

  She noticed a considerable pause before Katir answered.

  "Natasha, are you there?" His anxious voice came through clearly.

  "Yes, it's me Katir. What happened?"

  Another long pause. "Houston is on high terror alert. The Port Authority has required advance notice from all warehouses for any incoming shipments. No ship is allowed into the Houston harbor unless it's been cleared. You know the drill. I gave them a list of everything we expect this week. Here's the problem...the Harbor Master called me at home. A ship, attempting to gain harbor access, claims to have a cargo for our warehouse. It's not a scheduled shipment. I've never heard of the ship. Their last port of call was Tel Aviv, but the ship originated from Africa. Have you been up to something I should know about? Benjamin said he didn't think so."

  "I have nothing unscheduled coming in. But surely that ship has other cargo. Are you telling me they won't let the ship in because of one cargo?"

  Silence filled the room while they waited. "No, you don't understand. This is a small ship. They say they aren't actively involved in shipping, just doing someone a favor. Our warehouse is the one listed for pick up and delivery. I've never heard of the intended customer. It's Yaakov Ibraham."

  Natasha and David jerked around to stare at each other. She whispered in his ear. "I can't let that ship into the Houston harbor, but we can't let it go either."

  "Natasha, are you still there?" asked Katir. "What do you want me to do?"

  David brought his mouth close to her ear. "Tell him to call the Harbor Master and have them stall for time. Then we'll call our friends at the CIA. We'll let them handle this."

  "Yes, Katir. I'm still here. Listen, this is what I want you to do." Natasha laid out the plan then waited.

  "All right," her brother agreed. "I'll do that. Are you well, Natasha?"

  "Yes, brother dear. I'm right as rain. And thanks for having the good sense to respond to a possible danger. I love you. By the way," she added, "see if you can get Mom and Dad to go to Elaine's. I know you can handle yourself, but maybe they should leave Houston for awhile."

  She looked up at David Benjamin as she waited for an answer. He nodded and lowered his voice. "It's a good idea to send your parents to visit your sister."

  Katir's voice came through again. "I love you, too. I already suggested they needed to visit Elaine. I called Elaine, too. She'll put on the pressure."

  He laughed, and Natasha grinned. Each time her parents went to visit Elaine for a couple of days, it turned into a couple of weeks because Elaine couldn't stand for them to leave again. Living on the California coast, she felt isolated from them all.

  "Katir, you are the best brother. You always think of everything. Gotta run. Love to Mom and Dad! Bye."

  "I'll call you if anything else develops."

  The line went dead, and David turned to the operator and flicked his head. The young man left the room without a word. When the door closed, they both started talking at once. David deferred to Natasha.

  "Is my family safe?"

  "I can only guess, but I would say yes."

  "What is Yaakov doing?"

  "He seems to be playing with you, Natasha. We checked the fingerprints on that note from the airport. There were two sets identified, and one set matches prints taken from John's room in the abbey. The other prints match a dead body found recently. He resembles your description of the man who handed off the note. I've brought a photo for you to identify…if you don't mind looking at a dead body."

  "I guess so. Hand it over." Natasha took one look at the picture and handed it back. "Yep, that's him. How did he die? What does it mean?"

  "Measles, that's the code name for an apparent death from natural causes that covers up an assassination. Perhaps the note really was from John. Yaakov realized John sneaked out a message and killed the messenger. Or, perhaps Yaakov is really warped and killed that man to make us think John sent the note."

  "David, I'm so tired I can't think. What is Yaakov trying to do to my warehouse? Is he warning me off by threatening my brother?"

  "That sounds entirely logical. He knows John leaked a message to you. He doesn't know what it said. So Yaakov is attempting to scare you away. I'll call our CIA connection now." David reached for the secure phone.

  The Trinity Pictures sector of CIA was familiar with the search for Yaakov, the Syrian. They were also aware that Natasha had joined Trinity Pictures. After a brief explanation, David ended the call.

  "They'll send someone immediately. Now we wait."

  Natasha's eyes burned from her long, stressful day, so she shut them for what seemed like seconds. Suddenly, David was shaking her awake. "I need to wait for fallout from this situation, and I need you where I can reach you. Why don't you return to your room until I come for you? I'll let you know as soon as it goes down."

  "I'm sorry, David. I won't fall asleep again, really. Besides, if you send me back to my room, Anya will come looking for me."

  "Anya has been apprised of your necessary absence from training. Return to your room and rest. You can't do anything here." David brushed his fingers across her hand. "Please."

  "I am tired. Thanks." She rose and walked to the door but paused to glance back at him. "You'll come get me?"

  "You have my word. Sleep well, Natasha, darling. Shalom."

  "Shalom."

  In no time, she was stretched out on the bed. Before sleep claimed her, her eyes popped open. I never asked Katir about Dirk.

  Three hours later, Natasha woke to a raging headache. After swallowing some aspirin and washing her face, she dropped back on the bed.

  "Lord, as usual, this seems a big mess. It's not that I don't trust You. I'm just reminding you to send angels to stand guard over my family to keep them in all their ways. You are so faithful to me. I thank you, Lord, and I ask you to make my paths straight. In Jesus' name, amen."

  Because she wasn't sure what would happen next, she showered and dressed. Now, she felt ready to go anywhere or do anything. She sat at the table and tried to read her Bible. When she thought she couldn't stand the waiting any longer, a knock came at the door. She rushed to open it. "Well?"

  A grim-faced David Benjamin stood at stiff attention outside the door. "The ship exploded outside the Houston harbor. It had been abandoned, and no other ships were damaged. The CIA discovered nothing."

  "My brother?" Natasha held her breath.

 
; "Is safe and under protective surveillance. Your parents will fly to Elaine's on the morning flight."

  Natasha collapsed against the doorframe. "Thank you, David. Were any agents harmed?"

  He turned to watch her face closely. "Dirk said it was close. When they got on board, no one was present, and the ship was wired to blow. They sustained minor injuries."

  "Dirk?" Natasha jerked upright. "Why was he…"

  "He's been working on your behalf. The Tonight Show was his idea to draw attention away from your spying activities. He was providing cover for you. In fact, Trinity Pictures approved his appearance." David eyed her warily. "And before you ask, it wasn't blowback. He meant everything he said. And now he's protecting your family…with his life if he has to. He does his job extremely well."

  Natasha walked in her room and sat in a chair. "What happens next?"

  "Your training will be intensified. Plans to infiltrate Yaakov's organization are progressing satisfactorily. We'll have a vacuamer in place backstopping a legend soon. Be ready. As you requested, your living quarters have been moved to Tel Aviv. If someone kidnaps you now, it's because they're supposed to. Unless called away, I'll sleep outside your door. If I leave, someone will take my place." He rose and turned to the door. "It's after seven. Have breakfast and return to your training group. I'll meet you in Tel Aviv tonight."

  "David, if I'm moving off the base, there's something I want you to memorize…my safety code. When I first moved out of my parents' home, I was nervous so I made up a code for my mother. If she called and I said I was all right, it meant I was in trouble, and she should call the police. If I said I was fine, then I really was safe. If I said everyone is all right, it meant someone was listening to our conversation."

  "Got it. I won't forget, Natasha."

  Natasha nodded and followed him to the door. His rigid stance revealed his reversion to work mode.

  "Shalom," she called after him.

  He barely turned. "Shalom."

  And that is life with an agent. No distractions from the job.